Under a lone moon, at Yulu Palace.
Gu Jiao leaned against the soft couch. After Jin Shi had closed the door and left, she retrieved the belongings left by that Ning young master.
Staring at the cover for a while, lost in thought, she slid the book open through the gap in the pages.
Something was tucked inside—a wooden tag left for her by Ning Fei last time.
She took a hairpin and let her casually tied hair fall down her back, cascading over her shoulders.
Holding the end of the hairpin tightly in her right hand and the wooden tag in her left, she hesitated for a moment, then stabbed down hard.
Releasing her grip, the tag fell and rolled across the floor a few times, finally landing face up.
Gu Jiao lowered her gaze to her hands, sighed, and set down the hairpin, picking the tag back up.
The sharp tip of the hairpin had etched a shallow-to-deep groove across the tag’s surface. She ran her fingers over the cut, pausing at the two names engraved there.
…
“What wish did you make?”
At the Lantern Festival during the Shangyuan Festival, the night sky was bright with various lanterns and fireworks.
Among the bustling crowd, she stood by a tree tied with red strings and tags, poking curiously at the people around her.
Today, Fei had insisted on bringing her here, saying that wishes made here would be blessed by the tree spirit.
Along the way, street vendors had coaxed her into spending a few taels of silver for a seemingly ordinary tag, claiming it to be a “fate tag.” She had happily carved her words onto it.
Xie Chongyu brushed off the debris from the tag and stood, smiling at her. “If you tell your wish aloud, it won’t come true.”
Gu Jiao pouted in mock disappointment. “Really? I was hoping to help you fulfill it, but if you won’t tell me—”
A shadow fell, and she found herself in his arms.
“You already know my wish, don’t you?” he murmured with a soft sigh.
She leaned comfortably against him. “Hmm? I know?”
He bent closer, whispering clearly into her ear: “Everything Xie Chongyu desires this life, all is tied to you alone.”
“May it be so, tonight, and every year after.”
…
Tonight, and every year after.
Gu Jiao’s fingers traced over the names, a complex expression surfacing in her eyes.
In the end, she could not pick up the hairpin again. She tucked the wooden tag back into the book and stored it in the far corner of her desk.
Afterwards, she reached once more for Jun Heng’s palm print.
That so-called promise—if it had truly been only to placate him—would have been easy to accept.
Yet… her brow furrowed.
Jun Heng…
…
With Jun Heng’s palm print in hand, more than a month later, Gu Jiao stepped through the gates of the Left Prime Minister’s residence once again.
Gu Qingxing, napping on a lounge in the courtyard, opened his eyes at the sound of footsteps and saw his daughter efficiently directing the imperial guards to clear the snow from the steps.
“What are you doing?” Gu Qingxing sat up, asking with amusement.
Gu Jiao did not turn her head, replying tersely: “This snow is about to freeze. At your age, you could fall and hurt yourself.”
“At my age?” Gu Qingxing repeated her words, shaking his head with a smile. “First time I’ve ever heard someone say that about me.”
Gu Jiao stepped onto the cleared steps to test for slipperiness, patted her hands in satisfaction, and then turned to him.
Gu Qingxing wasn’t wrong. As a senior official of the current dynasty, he was over forty. Some fine lines had appeared at his eyes, and his temples showed a touch of gray. Yet his demeanor remained steady and scholarly—hardly the “old man” her words implied.
Of course, that was how others saw him.
“Not ready to admit you’re getting old?” Gu Jiao asked, casually sitting on a nearby stone bench.
Gu Qingxing pretended to nod heavily. “Yes, at my age, it’s hard to resist.”
He rose, slightly bowing to the guards behind her. “Thank you for your efforts. Tea has been prepared in the side courtyard; why not rest a while?”
The lead guard, clearly familiar with him, nodded and led the others out of the courtyard.
“You knew I would return, huh?” Gu Jiao clicked her tongue.
Gu Qingxing sat back down, smiling. “I happened to run into Huai’an Gonggong at the Ning residence yesterday.”
“The Ning residence?” Gu Jiao asked, puzzled.
“Fei’er got into trouble because of you, and Ning Taifu was quite upset. I couldn’t intervene, but fortunately, Huai’an Gonggong arrived in time.”
“And he said… you and Jun Heng have reconciled?” she asked, looking at him.
Gu Qingxing had watched Gu Jiao grow up and knew about the past rifts.
“Sort of,” Gu Jiao replied, resting her chin on her hand.
Gu Qingxing fell silent, pondering. “Last time I asked Fei’er to bring you words, it was rushed. Faking your death to leave the palace wasn’t a good solution.”
Gu Jiao nodded. “I know. I thought the same.”
Yet Gu Qingxing shook his head.
“It wasn’t that there were no other options, but I hesitated back then. Now… things may be clearer.”
“Hmm?”
“If I resign and live a leisurely life, what do you think?”
Gu Jiao’s eyes widened, staring at her father, yet she saw no hint of jest.
For a moment, she did not know whether to laugh or be annoyed.
Yes. As long as Gu Qingxing was no longer the Left Prime Minister, no matter the ties between the Gu and Xie families, they would not matter.
“Father, tell me,” she said, concern in her voice, “did you slip on the snow and hit your head?”
She even stood, ready to check him.
A glare made her sit back down sheepishly.
“You said I’m old, right? Time to retire and hand over responsibilities.” He glanced at her frustrated expression and spoke calmly.
Gu Jiao looked up quickly, then lowered her gaze, pouting a little.
“Alright, then—you retire and hand over your duties, but I’m not leaving. You can go wherever you like to live in seclusion.”
This time, it was Gu Qingxing’s turn to frown.
Gu Jiao continued: “Even if you leave, Jun Heng probably won’t care much about my well-being. After all, it’s only scraps and leftovers—getting sent to the cold palace or something isn’t a big deal.”
As she spoke, she even raised a hand to wipe away a nonexistent tear from the corner of her eye.
Gu Qingxing: …
“Enough,” he said helplessly, looking at her. “Stop pretending; I won’t bring it up again.”
“But Jiao Jiao,” he sighed softly, “my consideration isn’t entirely for your sake.”
“I just… feel that I’m no longer very suitable for this position.”
“Father,” Gu Jiao stood and crouched beside him, looking up earnestly, “I often hear the common people on the streets speak of you. Do you know what they say?”
Gu Qingxing lowered his head to look at her. “What?”
“Many things. Some say you are upright and incorruptible, some praise you as the rightful leader of all ministers, and…”
Gu Jiao curled her lips into a smile. “Some even say that when they look for a husband in the future, he should resemble the Left Prime Minister.”
Seeing Gu Qingxing chuckle, she laughed as well. “So you see, how could you bear to let such a good Left Prime Minister retire?”
In the end, Gu Qingxing did not insist further. The resignation petition he had long prepared was finally handed over to Gu Jiao.
Clutching the petition, Gu Jiao breathed a sigh of relief and returned to her room.
Looking at the familiar displays, she leaned against the headboard and closed her eyes.
Her father had genuinely scared her today—what if he really retired…?
Then she would probably be the greatest sinner in the capital.
Gu Jiao enjoyed wandering the streets and alleys, and she often overheard people speaking of Gu Qingxing. The praises matched what she had just told him.
At times like these, she felt proud. She knew her father better than anyone. He had always been a man of integrity and honor.
He had once been the young power-wielding minister frequently discussed in teahouses and taverns of the imperial city, riding his horse by the tilted bridge, greeted by women with red sleeves.
Though the years had passed, his radiance remained undimmed.
Everyone knew him as an outstanding minister, but only Gu Jiao knew what he was like as a father.
Her mother had passed when she was very young, leaving Gu Qingxing to care for her alone.
As a child, whenever she found the street’s clay sculptors fascinating, Gu Qingxing, unwilling for her to wander too much, had prepared a patch of ground in the rear garden of the residence. He would spend hours with her making all sorts of strange little figures, often leaving them covered in tiny clay marks.
The odd little figures they made together were placed in the study. Ning Taifu once saw them and, curious, almost broke them while playing, prompting Gu Qingxing to store them safely.
Later, she became close to Ning Fei. Misunderstandings arose, and her father spent a whole night talking with Ning Taifu, tense and worried.
Eventually, Ning Fei, brought out to drink water, accidentally witnessed the scene, marking the first time Gu Qingxing had ever been driven out of a room.
When Ning Fei recounted it as a joke, she finally understood why her father’s gaze toward her had always carried a touch of sternness.
It was understandable—he had a daughter. Seeing her get involved with someone like Ning Fei, he naturally felt upset.
Later, she truly found someone she liked.
Even knowing that Xie Chongyu’s status had many complications, Gu Qingxing never interfered with her feelings and even helped arrange her marriage.
And now, he talked about retiring…
Fools would believe it.
Her father had no other intentions over the years. He only wanted, following the late emperor’s instructions, to help Jun Heng become capable and independent as soon as possible, and then to witness peace and prosperity under a wise and virtuous ruler.
Because of her, she would likely be restless for the rest of her life.
Gu Jiao opened her eyes, placing the petition on the candle flame, letting it be consumed by fire and turn to ashes.
Having done that, she released her hands and fell back onto the bed.
…
The next morning, Gu Jiao woke early.
Rubbing the dark circles under her eyes, she opened the door to see a figure standing straight in the courtyard, draped in a snow-white fox fur coat. The morning sunlight cast a warm glow on him, coating his tall figure in a soft golden light.
She was momentarily dazed, instinctively opening her mouth to call a name—but the person had already turned. Half of his long black hair was tied, the rest cascading freely, silver ribbons at the ends fluttering in the breeze.
Jun Heng?
She quickly realized and swallowed the name she had almost spoken.
“Your Majesty?” She steadied herself and smiled lightly.
Before leaving the palace, she had entrusted Huai’an to inform him that she would return today, and with the imperial guards following, Jun Heng should not be worried she had run away.
Perhaps because he left in a hurry, a few strands of hair had escaped his hairpin, glinting in the morning light.
“Last night, Lord Fu of Changjin Temple passed away.”
Gu Jiao was slightly taken aback. “Was it illness?”
Fu Shian, Minister of Changjin Temple—she knew little about him, only remembering that he had long suffered from a chronic ailment.
Jun Heng had just started to speak when Gu Qingxing hurried into the courtyard, Huai’an behind him.
Likely due to haste, he was dressed a little messily, his hairpin slightly askew.
Seeing Jun Heng, he frowned imperceptibly. “Your Majesty, you still need to pay attention to your health. The imperial physician said you shouldn’t overexert your thoughts.”
“What is there to worry about?” Jun Heng asked him dismissively.
“Lord Fu passed away in the early hours. His family first informed Prime Minister Yan, who then sent word to me,” Gu Qingxing said, filled with helplessness.
“I intended to report this to you after dawn. Prime Minister Yan had no intention of disturbing you, yet you received the news early.”
Gu Jiao, listening beside him, glanced at Jun Heng’s still stern expression and immediately understood why Gu Qingxing said this.
Even when sick, this man didn’t know how to ease his concern.
She could not help but ask: “Lord Fu’s passing was serious enough for you to come here personally?”
Had the Fu family already become so influential without her knowing?
Jun Heng glanced at her, and she inexplicably sensed a trace of helplessness in his eyes.
Before she could ask more, Gu Qingxing continued: “The Fu family has mostly been taken care of.”
“Your Majesty, shall we move to the main hall?”