“We shall do it.”
The Son of Heaven stood beside Gu Huaiyu, holding the scrolls with both hands and spreading them out one by one for his review.
Gu Huaiyu didn’t think much of it. It was only natural for the “little beast” to serve him; it wasn’t as if he hadn’t done so before.
He might not care, but every eunuch and censor in the room turned pale, forcing themselves to look away and pretend they saw nothing.
Reviewing the scrolls this way was much more convenient. Gu Huaiyu only needed to lift his eyes slightly and nod or shake his head to decide a candidate’s fate—whether they would enter the Imperial Academy or be dismissed and sent back to their hometown.
The Censor nearby watched with a trembling heart. Between a single nod or a shake, lives were decided.
A nod meant they stayed.
A shake meant they were discarded.
Yet the Son of Heaven remained steady at his side throughout, his eyes lowered as he watched Gu’s face, carefully flipping the pages and handing him the scrolls. The hall was so quiet one could hear the soft rustle of paper.
Before long, an attendant entered quietly—a young eunuch carrying a blue-and-white porcelain bowl of medicine.
“My Lord Chancellor, it is time for your medicine.”
Gu Huaiyu sat up. The color of the medicine seemed darker than what he usually drank. Before he could speak, Yuan Zhuo said, “We had the Imperial Academy of Medicine change the prescription. It is milder than the previous one.”
A new medicine?
Gu Huaiyu stared at the bowl, his fingers motionless. Why was the little beast concerned about his health? Shouldn’t he be praying day and night for Gu to fall terminally ill so he could seize power?
Seeing his hesitation, the Emperor suddenly reached out and took the bowl. Under everyone’s shocked gaze, he lowered his head and took a large gulp.
“It is not poisoned.” His voice was low as he handed the bowl back, a trace of the medicine still staining the corner of his lip. “We have tested it.”
Gu Huaiyu wasn’t actually worried about poison; that would be far too desperate. He felt a sense of amusement in his heart as he took the bowl.
But as he reached out, Yuan Zhuo’s fingertip accidentally brushed the back of his hand. The medicine in the bowl sloshed, and a few drops spilled onto Gu Huaiyu’s pale skin.
The liquid was scalding.
Almost instinctively, Yuan Zhuo leaned down, his tongue heavily licking across that patch of reddened skin.
The back of Gu Huaiyu’s hand was cool. The bitterness of the medicine mingled with the clear fragrance on his sleeves, creating a sensation that was almost intoxicatingly heavy.
Yuan Zhuo’s tongue lingered uncontrollably. That spot of skin quickly grew hot under his touch, like a smear of rouge blooming on a field of snow.
The hall plunged into an instantaneous, deathly silence.
The brush in the Censor’s hand hit the floor with a clack. Eunuch Xu hurriedly closed his eyes, wishing he could poke them out right then and there.
Gu Huaiyu’s eyebrows twitched as he slowly withdrew his hand.
Yuan Zhuo seemed to snap awake. He jerked upright, looking back at the back of Gu Huaiyu’s hand, which still bore a glistening trail of moisture. That was his…
“Your Majesty.”
Gu Huaiyu pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the back of his hand as if nothing had happened, his tone calm and undisturbed. “Do you have candidates in mind for the top three ranks?”
In the past, the King of Wu had sucked the pus from a soldier’s wound, and the soldier was so moved by his grace that he swore to serve him unto death.
But what happened later?
Later, after that soldier died on the battlefield, the King of Wu immediately took the man’s wife and daughter as concubines.
Yuan Zhuo had learned quickly. He had even mastered the art of “winning over hearts.”
Unfortunately, he was using it on the wrong person. Gu Huaiyu didn’t fall for such tricks.
Yuan Zhuo stared at the wrist held before him. The cinnabar mole between the wrist bones was faintly visible. He felt a lingering sense of dissatisfaction, a ridiculous urge to tear away those bothersome sleeves and…
Startled by the thought, he took a panicked half-step back. It took a long time before he could say, “We have them in mind.”
Gu Huaiyu’s gaze swept over the thick stack of scrolls on the desk. He intended to test the Emperor’s judgment. “Your Majesty, pick them out and let me see.”
Yuan Zhuo didn’t dare look at his face. Feigning composure, he flipped through the scrolls and pulled out three, lining them up on the desk.
As Gu Huaiyu expected, the Top Scholar was indeed Xie Shaoling. He nodded slightly. The Second Scholar was also the person he had in mind. Only the Third Scholar—the Tanhua—was different.
He fell into a moment of contemplation. Looking at the reddened tips of the young Emperor’s ears as he bowed his head, Gu suddenly reached out. “Come here.”
Yuan Zhuo froze before walking to his side, his eyes lowered in a posture of humble learning.
“Your crown is crooked,” Gu Huaiyu said softly.
Yuan Zhuo leaned in stiffly, slightly holding his breath. He felt the cool fingertips brush over the top of his head. These hands had caused countless heads to roll, yet at this moment, they were gently adjusting his imperial crown.
Gu Huaiyu asked softly, “How is Dong Danyu’s talent?”
“…Superior.”
“Why did you not choose him?”
“…”
Gu Huaiyu suddenly reached out and gave the Emperor’s ear a sharp, ruthless pinch. “Is it because he is the son of Grand Preceptor Dong?” he asked irritably.
Yuan Zhuo hissed in pain but didn’t pull away. He simply kept his eyes fixed on the floor.
The ear between Gu Huaiyu’s fingers grew hot from the pinch. He released his grip and commanded softly, “Look at me.”
Yuan Zhuo slowly lifted his eyes. His dark pupils stared straight into Gu’s, carrying a hint of stubbornness.
