Chapter 84 Part 2

Hong Fu slowly squatted back down, head bowed as he resumed kneading Liu Yuanxun’s legs. In a low voice, he murmured, “This old servant will remember.”

Silently watching him, Liu Yuanxun said, “Eunuch Hong, look me in the eye and say it again.”

Hong Fu’s hands stilled for a beat. He sighed, then tilted his head up to meet Liu Yuanxun’s gaze. Stripped of his usual obsequious air, he spoke with uncharacteristic earnestness. “Little Master, life is suffering—that’s just how it is for everyone. You think Gu Lianzhao has it rough, but there are countless souls out there with it far worse. Can you pity them all? Each person has their own fate, Master.”

“I know everyone has their fate,” Liu Yuanxun replied. From the start, only one thing had truly concerned him. “If Gu Lianzhao died in the plague, that would be his fate. If he perished on the road from famine, that too. Even if he fell during an Embroidered Uniform Guard mission, it would still be his fate, and I wouldn’t stand in the way.”

“But,” Liu Yuanxun continued, his tone sharpening, “his misfortunes cannot be ones that I cause.”

Hong Fu chuckled. “All right, all right. This old servant has your words engraved on his heart. I’ll keep them foremost in my mind, etched right into my skull.”

Liu Yuanxun sighed helplessly. “Eunuch Hong…”

“This old servant knows. He knows it all.” Hong Fu rose to his feet and waved over a palace maid holding a long robe. “Little Master, why not try on this garment to see if it fits? If it does, this old servant can report back to the palace right away.”

With accurate measurements, the palace embroiderers wouldn’t possibly produce something ill-fitting. Liu Yuanxun gave the pale crimson robe a glance. “No need to try it. But as a man, this color feels a touch too delicate and pink.”

“Red is auspicious,” Hong Fu insisted. “Red brings good fortune. His Majesty knows you dislike garish hues, so he specially ordered the embroiderers to use this fine tribute silk. It’s red, to be sure, but so pale it’s just right for your birthday.”

It was merely a robe, so Liu Yuanxun let the matter drop. “Very well, leave it here. You may return to the palace.”

Once Hong Fu had departed, the study grew utterly still.

Liu Yuanxun sat lost in thought for a spell before turning to Ling Ting at his side. “Tomorrow morning, send someone to the Commandery Office to check. If A’Qiao isn’t tied up, bring him back to the residence.”

Ling Ting nodded and stepped forward to refill Liu Yuanxun’s tea. In a soft voice, he suggested, “Why don’t I go myself? That way, anything you need said can be conveyed on the spot.”

“That works too.” Liu Yuanxun agreed, then inquired, “What has Ling Qing been occupied with these past few days? I haven’t caught sight of her in ages.”

Ling Ting smiled. “Still overseeing that palanquin. It’s likely nearly finished, so she’s been supervising the craftsmen.”

At that, Liu Yuanxun smiled as well. He read a while longer as daylight faded into evening.

The night slipped by unnoticed. Come morning, Ling Ting escorted Liu Yuanxun to Taichang Temple before riding off to the Embroidered Uniform Guard Commandant Office.

After a gate guard went in to announce him, Ling Ting waited by the entrance guard post. More than half an hour passed before Gu Lianzhao appeared—and the sight left Ling Ting momentarily stunned.

In just five days, Gu Lianzhao had visibly lost weight. His robust frame prevented him from looking completely worn out, but the stern intensity that once defined his features had faded, replaced by a subdued and weary demeanor.

“Lord Ling.” Gu Lianzhao regarded him, voice faintly raspy. “What do you need?”

“It’s this,” Ling Ting said, clearing his throat. “Tomorrow is the Master’s birthday. As the Prince’s consort, custom requires you to accompany him into the palace, so…”

Gu Lianzhao cut him off. “He sent you?”

Ling Ting hesitated, then met his eyes. “Eunuch Hong visited the residence first, and then…”

Gu Lianzhao remained utterly impassive. He didn’t scoff or sneer as he once might have. The listlessness clouding his brow seemed to have devoured every trace of emotion, dulling even his voice to a flat, lifeless calm. “Understood. When do I go?”

“If it’s convenient,” Ling Ting murmured gently, “perhaps return to the residence with me?”

“The Imperial Prison has unfinished business.” Gu Lianzhao’s reply was curt. “I’ll head to the Prince’s residence this evening.”

“Very well.” Ling Ting nodded. “I won’t keep you, then. Farewell.”

Gu Lianzhao nodded. “Safe journey.”

The words caught Ling Ting off guard, prompting a surprised glance.

Yet Gu Lianzhao’s face stayed coldly impassive—colder even than upon his first arrival at the residence. The difference lay in that earlier chill carrying undercurrents of feeling, whereas now every emotion had sunk into profound stillness, rendering him remote.

Unable to make sense of it, Ling Ting simply nodded, swung onto his horse, and departed.

Gu Lianzhao wasted no time after his departure, turning straight back toward the Imperial Prison.

…

Still at Taichang Temple, Liu Yuanxun asked upon Ling Ting’s return, “Has A’Qiao come back to the residence?”

Ling Ting reported, “Lord Gu said the Imperial Prison work is pressing; he’ll return this evening once it’s done.”

With the Right Assistant Minister of Taichang Temple waiting nearby, Liu Yuanxun asked no more, merely nodding for Ling Ting to withdraw.

Yet by full nightfall, Gu Lianzhao had yet to appear.

“Master,” Ling Ting ventured, “should I send a servant to inquire?”

“No need. We’ll wash up and retire for now.” Liu Yuanxun closed his book and massaged his aching, weary brow. “He promised to return, so he will. No doubt he’s held up by prison duties.”

Ling Ting bowed in acquiescence and tended to Liu Yuanxun’s ablutions with care. He lingered by the bed, tidying for quite some time, until faint sounds stirred in the courtyard. Only then did he depart.

The two eunuchs remained vigilant at the door. Gu Lianzhao entered the courtyard but halted at the threshold, standing there as if awaiting permission.

“Lord Gu,” Ling Ting whispered, “the Master is already asleep. If you need to freshen up, you could make do at my quarters?”

“No need.” Gu Lianzhao kept his voice equally low. “With the Prince retired, I mustn’t disturb him. The side room will do for the night.”

Liu Yuanxun was asleep, and without his orders, no one would bar Gu Lianzhao from the side room.

Once, Ling Ting might have welcomed such deference, but the suspicion of Gu Lianzhao harboring Pure Yang Internal Energy had changed his view. This attitude now stirred concern instead.

Even so, with Gu Lianzhao already heading for the side room, Ling Ting could hardly intervene. He watched helplessly as the man’s figure vanished behind the shutting wooden door.

…

The birthday rites were set for afternoon, but Liu Yuanxun entered the palace at first light. Following tradition, he would linger at Shou Kang Palace until then, celebrating afterward with Liu Yuanze.

The Ling siblings arrived bright and early to assist with his toilette. Liu Yuanxun stood groggily, mind clouded, submitting to Ling Ting and Ling Qing’s ministrations.

Once somewhat revived, Ling Qing proffered her gift: a pillow of dubious needlework.

Liu Yuanxun peered at it intently but could only discern a large bird—precisely what sort eluded him. Shifting tack, he asked, “It has a pleasant scent. Calming herbs inside?”

Ling Qing grinned. “Filled with flower petals and medicinals. Subtle and refined, with genuine soothing properties—ideal for your journey to Jiangnan.”

Liu Yuanxun leaned in for a closer whiff; floral and herbal notes mingled into a crisp, appealing fragrance perfectly to his taste. “Very thoughtful. I like it a great deal.”

“As long as the Master does,” Ling Qing said with a sweet smile, turning to Ling Ting. “Bro! You’re up!”

Ling Ting offered a superb brush: jade shaft, wolf-hair tip—an unmistakably costly item, thoughtfully selected. Liu Yuanxun couldn’t very well chide him for extravagance now and accepted it smilingly.

Once the gifts were received, Ling Ting murmured, “Master, Lord Gu retired to the side room upon returning last night. He’s been standing in the courtyard since. Shall I summon him?”

Liu Yuanxun’s smile dimmed a fraction. “Do that.”

Gu Lianzhao’s internal force was keen enough to catch their words from afar, yet he made no move to enter, holding his post outside like some formal acquaintance. Only upon Ling Ting’s summons through the opened door did he follow inside.

He dropped to one knee at once, saluting with utmost propriety. “This subordinate greets the Prince.”

Ling Qing went rigid, eyes flicking between the kneeling Gu Lianzhao and Liu Yuanxun before the mirror. Silence blanketed the room.

“Rise.” Liu Yuanxun’s response was even. His gaze flicked to Gu Lianzhao, pausing on the man’s drab, dust-streaked attire. “Palace protocol is exacting; that outfit won’t do, Lord Gu. Ling Qing, select something fitting from my wardrobe.”

Gu Lianzhao rose and took position against the wall, head lowered, fading into the very air—no visible reaction to Liu Yuanxun’s directive.

Ling Qing dismissed it as petty squabbling, sticking out her tongue covertly before edging out along the wall.

A quarter-hour later, she bustled back in, arms laden with garments: vivid dyes, ornate trimmings, waist sashes agleam with intricate gold embroidery.

Liu Yuanxun usually favored plain colors in his daily attire, so his darker garments were mostly brand new.

Ling Qing piled the clothes onto the bed and asked, “Lord Gu, which one do you like? How about this one?”

The piece she selected was a deep midnight-black long robe, embroidered with large white lotuses in gold and silver thread. It was both elegant and opulent—perfect for the occasion.

Gu Lianzhao responded indifferently. “Any one will do.”

Once the robe was chosen, Ling Qing picked out a matching sash and boots. She stuffed them into Gu Lianzhao’s hands and pushed him toward the side room. “Lord Gu, hurry up and change. We’ll still need to redo your hair afterward.”

These were the prince’s clothes, after all. The fabric was exquisitely fine, and the robe bore subtle silver embroidery of large white lotuses. The pattern wasn’t obvious when the garment hung still, but as it moved, the lotuses caught the shifting light and shimmered brilliantly—an extravagant display.

Gu Lianzhao changed with swift efficiency, but when he stepped out, an inexplicable nervousness gripped him. He tugged self-consciously at the black mink trim edging his cuffs, drew a deep breath, and rounded the screen.

There were only three people in the room, yet his gaze instinctively sought out Liu Yuanxun in the center. The moment he caught sight of that faint flush of pale red, however, he dropped his eyes and subtly clenched his fist.

“It looks wonderful!” Ling Qing said deliberately, to lighten the mood. She turned to Liu Yuanxun. “Master, don’t you think so?”

Gu Lianzhao had never particularly liked Ling Qing. It wasn’t outright dislike—he simply found her constant chatter overwhelming. But this time, her words held some strange power, sending his heart straight into his throat.

“Mm.” Liu Yuanxun’s voice remained even, betraying no special emotion.

Gu Lianzhao clenched his fist tighter, unable to help himself.

In the next moment, however, Liu Yuanxun spoke again. “It does look good, but it’s too plain. Give him that black leather sash—the one with the red gem in the center.”

Ling Qing acknowledged the order and handed it over.

The prince’s accessories were crafted for lavish beauty. They were pleasing to the eye, but their clasps were intricate. Gu Lianzhao took the sash, yet his unfamiliarity with it left him fumbling to secure it for a long while.

Ling Qing moved to assist, but Gu Lianzhao waved her off. “I’m not accustomed to others getting so close. I’ll forgo the sash.”

Instinctively, Ling Qing glanced at Liu Yuanxun. He was watching Gu Lianzhao, his expression complex, his eyes filled with what seemed like pity and a touch of reluctance.

“You do it, Master,” Ling Qing said, inwardly proud of her quick thinking. She offered the sash to Liu Yuanxun. “Lord Gu isn’t used to others, but he must be used to you.”

Liu Yuanxun paused, on the verge of refusal. But when he glimpsed Gu Lianzhao’s noticeably thinner profile, he let out a silent sigh in his heart and accepted the sash from Ling Qing.

The birthday had passed, and now they were going their separate ways. Why not preserve even this last shred of courtesy?

As Liu Yuanxun drew near, Gu Lianzhao instinctively held his breath.

They had stood even closer before, yet after a mere six days apart, Liu Yuanxun’s mere proximity made every muscle in his body tense.

Liu Yuanxun always appeared so delicate in daily life—easy to enfold protectively in his arms. But now, standing quietly before him, Gu Lianzhao realized with a start that they were nearly the same height.

Slender white fingers encircled his waist for a brief moment before withdrawing. They made no direct contact, but the nearness was tension enough.

With the sash fastened, Liu Yuanxun circled behind Gu Lianzhao and took a seat. “There. Now, let’s comb your hair.”