Snowflakes, fine as grains of salt, drifted through the air and vanished into the profound silence of the night.
By the time Xie Shaoling arrived before the Chancellor’s Estate, his shoulders were already covered in white. The towering gates of the residence loomed large, and the lanterns hanging beneath the eaves swayed in the wind, casting an orange-red glow upon the accumulating snow. Two rows of armored guards stood as still as statues, their grim presence no less imposing than those guarding the palace gates.
“Is this Top Scholar Xie?” a cheerful voice called out.
Xie Shaoling looked up and saw a handsome man standing on the steps with a smile. It was Liu Erlang.
“His Lordship said the Top Scholar would surely come tonight.” Liu Erlang rubbed his hands together, exhaling a cloud of white mist. His smile was welcoming. “He specifically ordered me to wait here for you.”
Xie Shaoling felt the tips of his ears grow warm. He gave a slight nod. “My thanks to the butler.”
As Liu Erlang led him inside, he stole curious glances at the young man. Many members of the Pure Stream faction had defected to Gu Huaiyu’s side before, but none had done so with such earth-shattering flair.
Xie Shaoling passed through several corridors, screen walls, and stone bridges. Braziers lined the path, keeping the walkways warm and the surroundings as bright as day. In the courtyard, the plum trees stood in silence, their branches bowing slightly under the weight of the remnant snow.
Upon reaching the inner sanctum of the sleeping quarters, Liu Erlang made a gesture of invitation. “Please, Top Scholar.”
Xie Shaoling looked up and saw lanterns draped in plain gauze hanging before the bedchamber. The candlelight filtered through the thin fabric, and the area was deathly quiet. Seeing him stand still, Liu Erlang lowered his voice. “There is no need for an announcement. His Lordship is waiting for you inside.”
Suddenly, Xie Shaoling lifted his robes and knelt firmly on the stone steps.
Liu Erlang was stunned. “Top Scholar, what is the meaning of this?”
With his back as straight as a spear, Xie Shaoling stared at the candlelight inside the room and enunciated two words clearly: “To atone.”
Atone again?
Liu Erlang was speechless. Not long ago, another man had knelt here in broad daylight—wild and unrestrained, his muscular torso bare. When asked, he too had claimed he was here to “atone.”
One after another… why do they have so many sins to atone for?
Liu Erlang couldn’t be bothered with him and turned back toward the outer courtyard.
The snow began to fall more heavily, settling on Xie Shaoling’s shoulders and hair, gradually coating him in a thin layer of white. He knelt with incredible stability, his spine unyielding like a pine tree, just as he had in the imperial hall. Even the frost on his eyelashes remained undisturbed.
When Pei Jingyi stepped through the snow into the rear of the Chancellor’s Estate, he saw what looked like a snowman from a distance.
He certainly does love to kneel.
Pei Jingyi stood a short distance away, narrowing his eyes as he slowly scanned the boy from head to toe, then back again. He looked like a wolf scrutinizing an opponent—calm, silent, with a hint of playful mockery in his eyes. After a moment, Pei Jingyi withdrew his gaze and stepped into the room, which was as warm as spring.
Gu Huaiyu was still leaning against the desk, looking over a series of reports. He suddenly heard the crisp, methodical sound of ink being ground. The rhythm of the inkstick hitting the stone was so precise it felt as though it had been measured with a ruler.
He gave a lazy yawn, a trace of fatigue flickering in the corners of his eyes. “General Pei… have you developed a taste for serving this Chancellor?”
Pei Jingyi ground the ink with a fluid, practiced motion, unhurried and composed. “Your Lordship was in the spotlight today. I feared someone might take advantage of the chaos to attempt an assassination, so I came specifically to keep watch tonight.”
Gu Huaiyu found it amusing. In the entire Great Chen Dynasty, the two people who wanted him dead the most were currently within his reach—one outside the door, and one right beside him.
“The General is truly thoughtful,” he remarked indifferently.
Pei Jingyi’s brow quirked as he set the inkstick down. “I was impulsive before. I hope Your Lordship can find it in his heart to forgive me.”
Gu Huaiyu turned his head to look at him, letting out a soft, questioning, “Hmm?”
“Is the General referring to the time he nearly shot this Chancellor dead with an arrow?” He paused briefly, giving Pei Jingyi no chance to answer before letting out a soft chuckle. “Or perhaps the time you nearly strangled me? Or could it be… the time you burned the handkerchief I gave you?”
A flicker of amusement suddenly sparkled in Pei Jingyi’s eyes. In the past, he would have cursed this treacherous Chancellor for his shamelessness, but at this moment, he found this aggressive, biting attitude to be… somewhat cute?
Gu Huaiyu tossed the report aside and propped himself up languidly. “Since the General knows he was wrong…” His gaze drifted to Pei Jingyi’s knees, and he tilted his chin slightly. “Then show your repentance.”
The amusement in Pei Jingyi’s eyes instantly turned to ice. He pressed his tongue against his back molars and forced a roguish smile. Folding his long legs, he slowly sank to his knees.
