Xie Shaoling’s figure had practically frozen into an ice sculpture in the snow. Hearing the door open, he slowly raised his head. The frost on his eyelashes fell away, revealing bloodshot eyes beneath. The glare of the snow made his vision blur; in the haze, he saw a pristine white figure standing on the steps. He instinctively wanted to call out “Master Plum,” but he immediately snapped awake.
There was no Master Plum. Only the Lord Chancellor of the dynasty.
Gu Huaiyu stepped down the stairs and reached out a hand. “Get up.”
Xie Shaoling was frozen stiff, his mind not as sharp as usual. Before he could react, he heard the other man say: “I will only say this once. If you do not want to get up, then—”
Xie Shaoling immediately grabbed his hand. He was startled by the searing warmth of the palm. Gu Huaiyu frowned slightly at the coldness of the boy’s hand, but he closed his fingers anyway, pulling him toward the house.
As Xie Shaoling stumbled to his feet, the snow fell from his body in clumps. He had imagined a thousand scenarios last night—perhaps cold mockery from Chancellor Gu, or perhaps a formal “Top Scholar Xie, please rise.” He never expected to be led into the room by the hand.
That hand was warmer and softer than he had imagined. It was slender and delicate, yet the fingertips bore thin calluses from years of writing. When their palms met, there was a strange sense of rightness.
Inside, the underfloor heating was burning fiercely, and charcoal braziers were set in the four corners. The heat hit him like a wave. As Xie Shaoling thawed, the snow on his robes melted, dripping onto the carpet in dark stains.
Gu Huaiyu released his hand and stood opposite him, looking him up and down like a drowned rat. “Take them off.”
Xie Shaoling froze. A flush crept onto his pale face. “Take… take what off?”
Gu Huaiyu tilted his chin, finding it amusing. “Your clothes, naturally. Did you think I would ask you to take off your trousers?”
The tips of Xie Shaoling’s ears turned beet red. He stole a glance at Gu Huaiyu before looking away. His fingers were stiff as he unfastened his jade belt. When his outer robe slid down, it revealed a thin white inner garment. The youth’s frame was lean and clear, his back as straight as a stalk of bamboo. He suddenly paused, hesitating as to whether he should continue.
Seeing his embarrassment, Gu Huaiyu’s brow arched. We’re both men, what is there to be shy about?
“Take it all off. Don’t ruin my carpet.”
Xie Shaoling’s breath hitched. His dark eyes remained fixed on Gu Huaiyu as he obediently removed his inner shirt. His torso showed the first hints of muscle, though it still carried the lingering slightness of youth.
Gu Huaiyu unfastened his own mink cloak and draped it over the boy’s shoulders, tying the silk ribbons with a few quick motions. “Tell me. Why were you kneeling at my door?”
Wrapped in the mink fur, Xie Shaoling felt the residual warmth of Gu Huaiyu’s body. The heat washed over his freezing skin like a tide. More overwhelming was the scent—the cold fragrance of agarwood mixed with mugwort, drifting into his nose and making his blood run hot.
“To atone,” he said. His voice was so hoarse it startled him, and he immediately lowered his tone. “To atone to Your Lordship for my arrogant words during our first meeting.”
Gu Huaiyu sat on the brocade couch, leaning against a soft pillow. He had already guessed as much. Xie Shaoling was sensible; he knew that the nonsense he’d spouted at Heyue Restaurant could have cost him his head.
Gu Huaiyu picked up a carved porcelain plate from the side table. On it were several pieces of Osmanthus Cake—pale yellow and soft, decorated with gold-leaf petals and arranged neatly.
“It’s cloyingly sweet. Consider it a reward.”
Xie Shaoling was so hot he was sweating; he didn’t feel hungry at all. Just as he was about to shake his head, his gaze froze on the plate. On the edge of one piece of cake was a small, delicate bite mark. His breath hitched, and his Adam’s apple bobbed.
“Well?” Gu Huaiyu deliberately pushed the plate half an inch closer. “What is the Top Scholar hesitating for?”
Xie Shaoling snapped back to reality. As he took the plate with both hands, his fingertips trembled uncontrollably. How could he bear to eat the piece with the bite mark? He picked up a piece next to it and took a careful, small bite.
Gu Huaiyu saw that he understood. There was an old historical allusion of “sharing clothes and pushing food”—even Emperor Gaozu’s treatment of the Great General Han Xin was nothing more than this. By showing such favor today, regardless of whether Xie Shaoling’s surrender was genuine or calculated, he would understand the depth of the gesture. In this court, there were very few people whom Gu Huaiyu would personally clothe and share food with.
Since he had already played the part of the generous patron, Gu Huaiyu decided to be candid. He watched the Top Scholar eat slowly. “How do the snacks in my manor compare to the tea and cakes at the Drunk Immortal Pavilion?”
The Drunk Immortal Pavilion was the gathering place for the Pure Stream faction.
Xie Shaoling paused, took out a handkerchief to wipe the corners of his mouth, and said solemnly, “My Lord, Grand Preceptor Dong is plotting…”
