Chapter 26: Bark for me, and I’ll let you go. Part 1

Night had already fallen by the time Gu Huaiyu returned to the Chancellor’s Manor. The front hall was brightly lit, and Yun Niang was already waiting beneath the gallery, holding a jade casket with both hands.

“My Lord,” Yun Niang said, dropping into a quick curtsy as she presented the box to him. “The ‘Hearing’ reports arrived just today.”

Gu Huaiyu pressed his fingertips to the space between his brows. The exhaustion of the past few days made even opening his eyes feel like a monumental effort. “Take them to the study.”

Seeing his poor complexion, Yun Niang couldn’t help but advise, “Perhaps My Lord should rest first? It wouldn’t be too late to look at them tomorrow.”

Gu Huaiyu shook his head noncommittally. The “Hearing” Yun Niang spoke of was his vast intelligence network, a web of spies and informants stretched across the entirety of Great Chen.

Emperor Rui’s ascension to the throne back then had been nothing short of a stroke of dumb luck.

The eldest son of Grand Empress Dowager Chen—the woman currently residing at West Mountain Temple—had been a short-lived wretch. He had passed away only a few years after taking the throne, leaving behind not a single heir.

For a time, the imperial clan had been locked in a bitter internal struggle, and the court was a chaotic mess of corruption.

Emperor Rui had originally been nothing more than an idle, wealthy prince. He spent his days composing poetry, painting, and admiring flowers. Then came the scandalous affair with Yuan Zhuo’s birth mother.

Grand Empress Dowager Chen had never thought much of this son to begin with, and that incident only made her despise him more. Even though he was her own flesh and blood, she had no desire to support his claim. Had it not been for his exceptionally eye-catching brother-in-law, the throne would never have fallen to Emperor Rui.

After his coronation, Emperor Rui had lived in constant trepidation, waking from nightmares every night, terrified that his seat would be snatched away.

Thus, he had secretly commissioned Gu Huaiyu to establish “The Hearing.” They placed pieces on every road and planted ears in every corner of the court. If someone so much as whispered in private, the Emperor wanted to know.

It was a tool that no one in court dared to mention, yet everyone feared.

Since Emperor Rui’s death, the entire “Hearing” system had belonged to Gu Huaiyu alone. It answered only to him.

Gu Huaiyu was meticulous by nature. Despite the sheer volume of reports, he insisted on reviewing them personally every day to ensure not a single whisper of wind escaped his notice.

Outside the study, Yun Niang walked along the veranda carrying a tray of freshly brewed ginseng tea. As she turned the corner, a tall figure leaning against a pillar blocked her path.

“General Pei?” Yun Niang paused, surprised. “Why are you still at the manor?”

Pei Jingyi took the tea tray from her hands, lifting it to catch a faint whiff of the aroma. “Didn’t the Lord Chancellor ask me to serve him?”

Yun Niang’s eyes widened slightly. In days past, didn’t you leave the moment dusk fell, terrified of staying a moment longer? You acted as if the Lord Chancellor were a man-eating tiger, yet now you’re volunteering for duty?

She couldn’t say it aloud, so she simply murmured, “I see. I shall leave it in your capable hands, General.”

Pei Jingyi carried the tray into the study, his breath hitching as a wave of heat hit him.

The underfloor heating was roaring, and the silver-charcoal in the braziers crackled, turning the entire room into something akin to a steamer.

Yet, Gu Huaiyu, reclining on the soft divan, seemed utterly oblivious to the scorching temperature. He was draped in a thin, plain white inner robe, his face so pale it was nearly translucent. In such a stifling environment, he wasn’t sweating at all; instead, his fingertips showed an unnatural, bluish-white tint.

Even the intense heat of the floors couldn’t warm his bones.

Pei Jingyi’s gaze darkened. He had long known Gu Huaiyu was frail, but he hadn’t realized the illness ran this deep.

Gu Huaiyu didn’t look up, tossing a slip of paper into the brazier. “Trim the wick. Make it brighter.”

Pei Jingyi walked to the candle stand to adjust the flame, then heard Gu Huaiyu’s next command: “Grind the ink.”

He picked up the heavy piece of pine-soot ink, catching a hint of cold fragrance. This Lord Chancellor didn’t just have scented shoes; even his ink was infused with perfume.

Pei Jingyi couldn’t help but look up. Under the candlelight, Gu Huaiyu’s falling hair shimmered with a faint, dark luster, likely treated with fragrant oils as well.

From the tips of his hair to the heels of his feet, the man radiated a scent that was refined and utterly devoid of vulgarity.

The men Pei Jingyi knew were either soldiers stinking of sweat or nomads smelling of mutton. Even the civil officials in the capital did little more than wear a scented sachet. When had he ever seen someone like Gu Huaiyu?

Gu Huaiyu’s lashes remained lowered as he studied a report. Suddenly, he spoke. “General Pei was unwilling to stay for even a second a few days ago. Why haven’t you left today?”

Pei Jingyi raised an eyebrow. He had noticed that from the moment he entered, the Chancellor hadn’t even flicked an eyelid toward him. “How did you know it was me?”

“I smelled you.”

Gu Huaiyu folded a report and set it into the box on the desk.

Pei Jingyi leaned closer. “Smelled what?”

“The stench of a dog.” Gu Huaiyu finally looked up, the corners of his eyes—reddened by the heat of the charcoal—curling with a hint of mockery. “It’s filling the whole room.”

Pei Jingyi detested being lectured like a dog, let alone being insulted so blatantly. In the past, he would have slammed the inkstone down and stormed out.

But today, he merely flipped the ink stick over and continued to grind with steady, even pressure. “I’m a man all alone in the world. It’s the same wherever I go.”

Gu Huaiyu looked up in genuine surprise, about to needle him on when his temper had become so docile, when his peripheral vision caught a glimpse of an urgent report peeking out from the casket. His expression shifted instantly.

[The Eastern Liao diplomatic mission has departed for the capital. They intend to marry Princess Mingzhu to the Emperor to forge a grand alliance. The Regent’s confidants are among the retinue—it is highly likely the Regent himself is traveling incognito.]

He calculated the dates in his head. Even with the fastest courier horses, it would take over half a month for a report to travel from the border to the capital. By his count, the Eastern Liao carriage would be at the city gates in less than ten days.