Jin Shi saw Gu Jiao return and instinctively lifted a smile toward her. But when he caught sight of the person behind her, his smile froze halfway.
Behind Gu Jiao, Mu Wan greeted her with a gentle smile.
Jin Shi drew in a sharp breath, staring at Gu Jiao in shock. His eyes were full of the unspoken thought: “Madam… have you really let things go this far?”
Gu Jiao remembered what she had said while teasing Jin Shi earlier, then glanced at the equally puzzled Mu Wan and decisively chose to remain silent.
“Why do I get the feeling that this little girl in the palace is… afraid of me?”
Mu Wan looked curiously at Jin Shi, who had nearly rushed out in panic and almost collided with the doorframe earlier, and asked.
Gu Jiao answered with certainty: “She’s shy.”
Patting the seat beside her, she deftly shifted the conversation: “Now that no one else is here, General Mu, are you willing to begin?”
Mu Wan didn’t overthink it. Sitting down, she feigned thoughtfulness. “Stories require payment, you know. I wonder, Madam, how much will you give?”
Gu Jiao smiled. “Then… a jar of fine wine from Qingkeyuan? When we open it next, I’ll drink with you until neither of us can stand.”
“Using my wine to repay a debt? Only you could say something like that,” Mu Wan shook her head, smiling.
Gu Jiao placed her hands on the table and raised an eyebrow without shame.
Mu Wan’s story was not long. She told it slowly, calmly, as if speaking of things that had nothing to do with herself.
She had never lied to Gu Jiao—her original name really had been Mu Wan.
That year, General Mu Yin Feng had just returned to Linyang after leading his troops to probe the Tianyu forces in Beimo, and he found Madam Mu softly coaxing little Mu Wan in her arms.
When Mu Wan was passed to him, the legendary Mu Lao General, still trembling from the battlefield, almost dropped her.
Her name was chosen by Madam Mu, a simple name common for a family girl. But as Mu Wan grew, Madam Mu’s worry only deepened.
The Mu residence in Linyang was quiet. Mu Yin Feng mostly stayed in the camp, so the household often consisted only of Mu Wan and her mother.
Aside from a few trusted aides who occasionally visited, most people hadn’t even seen Madam Mu, let alone Mu Wan.
As Mu Wan grew older, she occasionally watched her father practice spear drills in the morning. Curious, she picked up a spear taller than herself and began mimicking him.
Mu Yin Feng, usually stern, was surprised. Amused, he taught her a few moves by hand.
What he had thought was mere child’s play soon became serious practice. One day, he quietly asked her if she wanted to follow him to the military camp.
Mu Wan agreed at once. The two understood each other immediately and, without telling Madam Mu, went to the camp.
Life in the camp was inconvenient, so Mu Yin Feng entrusted Mu Wan to his deputy, claiming she was his nephew sent for military training.
After a while, Mu Wan became more at ease in the camp, and the soldiers all knew of the “porcelain-like boy” in the General’s family.
Over time, Mu Wan changed her name to one that sounded the same but was written differently—Mu Wan became Mu Wan.
By the time Madam Mu discovered her daughter’s daily comings and goings, Mu Wan was already well-integrated with the soldiers.
Mu Yin Feng had to work hard to soothe his wife, who still worried that her daughter was taking her role as a boy too seriously.
So, the first time they returned to the capital, Madam Mu gently pointed out the young women of the imperial city to Mu Wan, hoping she would take an interest in being a girl.
Whether it worked or not, Mu Wan understood one thing—long skirts were indeed inconvenient for sword practice.
When Gu Jiao first met Mu Wan, she had already switched to skirts under Madam Mu’s influence, and being unused to them, she had stumbled several times along the way.
“The first time, my father wanted to keep Mother and me in the capital. But Mother didn’t trust him, so she refused,” Mu Wan tilted her head. “I wanted to say goodbye to you, but on the day I left, you happened not to be in the residence.”
Returning to Linyang, under Mu Yin Feng’s careful guidance, Mu Wan’s military skills gradually improved. Later, when it was discovered that she effectively ran the Mu residence, Mu Yin Feng made their relationship public.
But at Mu Wan’s suggestion, the public story was that she was a son.
At the time, she thought that using this name would prevent chaos if the soldiers learned she was female. Unbeknownst to her, this temporary ruse set the stage for future events.
The last thing Mu Yin Feng did for Tianyu was receive Gu Qingxing’s letter and return to the capital to help Jun Heng ascend.
After an old injury flared up, he rode swiftly, but he didn’t make it to Linyang and collapsed along the way.
Madam Mu managed his affairs alone. That evening, after seeing Mu Wan asleep, she quietly followed her husband in spirit.
“I actually knew all along. Long ago, Father had promised Mother he would stay with her in life and death,” Mu Wan said, tilting her head. Her eyes were not noticeably red, but Gu Jiao saw the faint glimmer of tears.
“Before leaving, he went back on his word and told me to take care of Mother. I knew those words were meant for her. And she, of course, smiled and nodded.”
Gu Jiao let out a small sigh. Madam Mu… she had only wanted to reassure the old general.
Looking at Mu Wan, she spoke softly, “To accompany one’s beloved through life… perhaps that was what Auntie sought as well.”
“Mm.”
Mu Wan closed her eyes and, when she opened them again, they were clear and steady.
“Later, His Majesty came.”
One purpose was to pay respects to the deceased, the other to ask Mu Wan’s opinion.
To remain in the capital or return to Linyang.
Jun Heng’s meaning was clear: for the Mu family, no matter where Mu Wan chose to stay, she need not worry about anything. She would be at ease.
But Mu Wan chose neither. Instead, she asked Jun Heng for one thing.
She wished to take her father’s place and station herself in Linyang.
Apart from his wife and daughter, the only thing the old general cared for were the soldiers he had trained.
“Father is gone. But if I stay, the Mu family will not fall apart,” she said to Jun Heng, kneeling before him, her words deliberate.
Gu Jiao listened quietly, as if witnessing the passionate, resolute youth herself.
Mu Wan smiled faintly. “His Majesty agreed, and my father’s former subordinates helped me establish my authority in the army. Looking back at the previous twists and missteps, it seems… it was destined.”
“You concealed your identity to prevent unrest?” Gu Jiao understood.
Mu Wan nodded. “After Father’s passing, morale was half gone. I could not take the risk.”
“So, you made the best of a mistake,” Gu Jiao’s eyes softened with faint pity.
“My identity is known to His Majesty and Chancellor Zuo. They silently allowed me to continue hiding it,” Mu Wan glanced at her and said wryly, “Don’t look at me like that, as if I’m suffering.”
“If I had the chance again, I would still choose the same path.”
Gu Jiao was momentarily stunned, then shook her head with a smile. “I was too narrow-minded.”
She got up, poured two cups of water, and handed one to Mu Wan. “Consider this my apology.”
Mu Wan lifted her cup, glancing left and right. “I’ve seen plenty of people use tea in place of wine—but you really do take the easiest route.”
“But still…” She stood as well, her smile bright and open. “To mutual encouragement.”
…
“Master.”
Xie Jiu hurried inside. Seeing Xie Changling quietly giving instructions to a man who looked like a military officer, he swallowed his words and stood silently to the side.
“You may go first,” Xie Changling said, casting a glance at him and gesturing for the man beside him to withdraw.
Once the man left, Xie Changling turned to him. “Xiao Jiu, go on.”
Xie Jiu stepped forward several paces and knelt on one knee. “Master, the hidden agent in the Gu residence has returned.”
“Mm.” Xie Changling shifted the candle stand aside, his expression calm and unreadable. “How badly was Gu Qingxing injured?”
“As you instructed, the agent didn’t strike hard. But there was quite a stir in the palace, and Emperor Chengxi has reassigned another batch of shadow guards to the Gu residence.”
After finishing his report, Xie Jiu couldn’t help lifting his head. “Activating a sleeper we planted for so many years, only to leave Chancellor Gu lightly wounded—wasn’t that a waste?”
After this incident, inserting another person into the Gu residence would be nearly impossible.
Xie Changling closed the book at his side, his lashes lowering. “Gu Qingxing did genuinely look after Chongyu. For that alone, his life should not be taken.”
“Then why—”
“This move was never aimed at Gu Qingxing,” Xie Changling replied calmly.
Seeing Xie Jiu still puzzled, he didn’t elaborate further. “Xiao Jiu, from today onward, you no longer need to follow me.”
Xie Jiu was startled. “Master—did this subordinate do something wrong?”
Xie Changling leaned back in his chair, black hair loose, his features blurred by candlelight. “Chongyu needs someone dependable at his side. You’ve been the one carrying messages between the capital and elsewhere all these years. With you accompanying him, I can rest easy.”
“You’re worried about Second Young Master?” Xie Jiu finally relaxed.
“This can’t be hidden from him for long. I never intended to hide it,” Xie Changling rubbed his brow. “When the time comes, whatever he wants to do, don’t stop him.”
“Second Young Master has been much better lately. Master… you could try talking things through with him properly.”
In the past, the brothers had been stationed apart. Even if they rarely met, their bond remained. But now…
Xie Jiu pressed his lips together. He had no close kin; to him, the shadow guards who grew up together were irreplaceable family. Watching the two brothers grow so distant truly weighed on his heart.
“I’ve already said everything that needed to be said. He should have his own conclusion by now—there’s no need for more words,” Xie Changling said lightly.
“I know he’s suffering. If circumstances hadn’t forced my hand, I wouldn’t have pushed him this far either.”
Xie Jiu frowned, wanting to ask more, but seeing the exhaustion Xie Changling could no longer conceal, he bowed and quietly withdrew.
Xie Changling sat alone for a long while. His shadow swayed against the wall, flickering several times before slowly merging with his slumped, weary figure.
…
After opening her heart to Mu Wan, the gloom weighing on Gu Jiao gradually dissipated.
In this world, eight or nine out of ten things went unsatisfactorily—but under Gu Qingxing’s protection, she had scarcely ever suffered real hardship.
Compared to Mu Wan, the matters she had been dwelling on now seemed almost trivial.
In the days that followed, she stayed at the Gu residence, focusing on caring for Gu Qingxing, lest he refuse to rest despite his injuries.
Then one morning, she happened to see Jun Heng emerge from Gu Qingxing’s room—and only then realized it had been a long time since she last saw him.
She smiled at him from afar. His gaze paused briefly on her before darkening, and he turned away abruptly, leaving in haste.
Gu Jiao was puzzled, but her concern for Gu Qingxing took precedence, and she didn’t dwell on it.
Gu Qingxing’s injuries had mostly healed. Reclining on the soft couch by the window, he wore an unusually grave expression as he pondered something.
“Worrying about the country again, Chancellor Gu?” Gu Jiao pushed the window open a little wider and pulled a thin blanket over him.
Only then did Gu Qingxing notice her. As her hand reached up to rub his temple, he sighed softly. “There’s been unrest in Yan County.”
“What happened?” Anything that troubled Gu Qingxing was rarely minor.
“A few days ago, a scholar in Yan County made a passionate speech on a stage, denouncing Magistrate Yuan He for exploiting his protection by powerful court officials to increase taxes and line his own pockets, disregarding human lives.”
As he spoke, a chill flickered in Gu Qingxing’s eyes.
“The yamen caught wind of it and secretly sent men to arrest him. The scholar was fiercely resolute—he immediately rammed himself onto their blades.”
Gu Jiao’s brows knitted tightly. “Was what he said true?”
“The imperial inspector sent to Yan County reported that last autumn, dozens of farmers clashed with officials over grain levies. Several mu of farmland were burned to the ground.”
Gu Qingxing fell silent for a moment. “This is only a drop in the ocean… If not for the scholar’s death igniting the anger of the upright faction, none of it would ever have reached the capital.”
“And the powerful official shielding Yuan He does exist—Minister of Revenue Yuan Qing, his paternal uncle.”
He closed his eyes. “To force men of learning to remonstrate with their blood—I feel deeply ashamed.”
Gu Jiao’s frown deepened. “They dared go this far?”
“These past few years…” Gu Qingxing paused. “The court has grown far too lax.”
Gu Jiao froze.
“Did you see His Majesty just now?” he asked suddenly.
“Yes,” she nodded truthfully.
“He came specifically because of this matter,” Gu Qingxing lowered his gaze. “It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him truly enraged.”
Jun Heng? Gu Jiao struggled to follow his train of thought, her hands stilling.
“Jiaojiao, do you remember when I said His Majesty possesses the makings of a wise ruler?”
She recalled his expression at the time and murmured, “But you also said… his heart isn’t in it.”
Jun Heng’s lack of interest in the throne was hardly a secret. Otherwise, how could court officials so openly curry favor with the left and right chancellors?
She didn’t know what Jun Heng had experienced over the years—but she vaguely felt that the current him viewed everything before his eyes with a trace of weariness.
Or perhaps… self-destruction?
The word surfaced unbidden, sending a faint tremor through her heart.
“When one sits in that position, how can one remain untouched by its burdens?” Gu Qingxing sighed softly. “His Majesty has blamed the disaster in Yan County on himself.”