Yuan Zhuo leaned against the desk to steady himself. His handsome face was flushed with an unusual heat, his eyes shimmering with a strange, dark light as his chest heaved. “I have noted it.”
The moment the palace doors closed, Yuan Zhuo slid down against the desk. His shoulders shook with tremors as he lowered his head and closed his eyes, suppressing something deep within.
He stared at the specks of blood on his palm—blood that had been smeared there when Gu Huaiyu pinched his face. It was Gu Huaiyu’s blood.
His tongue involuntarily licked the seam of his lips. The metallic taste of iron mixed with the scent of bitter wormwood from the man’s body. He actually tasted a hint of eerie sweetness—a sweetness more intoxicating than the finest wine or delicacies.
“Your Majesty…” Eunuch Xu brought over a wet cloth to wipe his face, but the Emperor seized his wrist.
Yuan Zhuo’s breathing was unnaturally heavy. “Don’t wipe it.”
Eunuch Xu cursed his own sharp eyes. He couldn’t help but notice the Emperor’s burning red ears. This wasn’t the flush of rage. As for what kind of fire was burning, Eunuch Xu didn’t dare think further. He retreated in a panic, knocking over a lampstand behind him with another loud clang.
In the silent hall, the Emperor’s voice was low and raspy as he murmured a name. “Huaiyu… Brother Huaiyu…”
Caught off guard by the mention of Gu Huaiyu’s courtesy name, Eunuch Xu wanted to weep. He fled the hall as fast as his feet could carry him, terrified of seeing anything else that might cost him his life.
***
Gu Huaiyu left the Hall of Chaste Government and entered the inner palace with practiced ease. The Emperor was not yet of age to marry, so the inner palace currently housed only the Empress Dowager and the Consorts of the late Emperor.
The Empress Dowager was his elder sister, Gu Wan. Since she had given birth to Gu Huaiyu’s little nephew, the late Emperor had elevated her to the rank of Empress and shown even more favor to his brother-in-law.
By the time Gu Huaiyu emerged from the inner palace, the sun was sinking in the west. The palanquin bearers and the Iron Eagle Guard were waiting on the imperial path. Seeing him approach, they hurriedly lifted the curtain. “Does the Chancellor wish to return to the manor?”
Gu Huaiyu had one more matter to attend to. He stooped into the palanquin. “Exit through Changqing Gate. This Chancellor wishes to see someone.”
Outside Changqing Gate lay the training grounds of the Imperial Guard. A few crows perched on the hitching posts before the gate.
The curtain remained closed. The Centurion on duty knelt before the palanquin, shouting, “This humble subordinate greets the Lord Chancellor!”
Gu Huaiyu lifted the side curtain, looking at the training grounds nearby. The dark mass of the Imperial Guards was practicing mounted archery, horses galloping through clouds of dust. “Which one is the Chief Military Inspector?”
A Chief Military Inspector was a mid-level rank in the Imperial Guard—neither large nor small, a mere fifth-rank post.
The Centurion didn’t dare look at his face. He nodded excitedly. “The Chancellor is looking for the Chief Inspector? I will go fetch him.”
Gu Huaiyu only wanted to catch a glimpse of his future “blood bag.” “No need. Just point him out to me.”
The Centurion pointed toward the southeast corner, where the dust was thickest.
A fiery red horse reared up. The youth on its back drew a recurve bow into a full moon. He was shirtless, exposing a powerful and beautiful back; a leather waist guard clung to his skin, outlining a lean, forceful waistline. As the sunlight spilled over his sweat-drenched back, it reflected a shimmering golden light.
It was a half-span of gold-thread embroidery—a totem. From his shoulder blades to the small of his back, black and gold-red threads depicted the wondrous sight of a hundred beasts paying homage.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
Three arrows pierced the air in a triangular formation. The first split a willow leaf swaying a hundred paces away; the following two chased the wind and lightning, thudding into the tail of the first arrow in one smooth motion. As the shafts collided, they let out a crisp ring.
The training grounds suddenly erupted into deafening cheers that swept through the air like a tide.
Gu Huaiyu raised an eyebrow, his finger—adorned with a thumb ring—tapping rhythmically against the window frame. “What is his name?”
“To answer the Lord Chancellor, it is Pei Du, Pei Jingyi.”
“Pei Jingyi.” He confirmed the name once. Watching the youth swing out of the stirrups and dismount, he dropped the curtain. “Return to the manor.”
In the dusty training grounds, Pei Jingyi carelessly unslung the quiver from his waist. He suddenly narrowed his eyes, looking toward where the official palanquin was disappearing.
His lieutenant followed his gaze but saw only the retreating back of the palanquin. “What are you looking at, General?”
Pei Jingyi reached back and ripped off his sweat-soaked waist guard, revealing a savage wolf-head tattoo on his side. He spoke languidly. “A beauty.”
“Where’s the beauty?” The lieutenant looked around for ages but couldn’t see a trace of one.
Pei Jingyi kicked him from behind, acting as if nothing had happened. “What are you staring at? Get back to horse drills!”
The lieutenant wailed, clutching his backside as he scrambled away.
Pei Jingyi took one more look toward the direction the palanquin had vanished, letting out a faint, lingering click of his tongue.
