Gu Jiao hurried out of the room. She had just stopped briefly at the fork in the corridor and was about to step forward when a voice suddenly sounded behind her.
“Where are you going?”
She turned back in surprise. “Jun Heng?”
Jun Heng’s expression was dark. He pressed his lips together as he looked at her, as though he had already been waiting there for quite some time.
“You were waiting for me?” she asked uncertainly.
Almost at the same moment, Jun Heng asked, “You still don’t plan on going back?”
“What?” Gu Jiao was caught off guard by the abrupt question.
He lowered his gaze slightly, his tone tinged with bitterness. “Haven’t you been staying at the Gu residence for quite a while now?”
Gu Jiao suddenly understood and couldn’t help laughing. “Are you afraid I’ll run away?”
“I’m just worried about my father,” she explained patiently. “Besides, I was planning to go back today anyway.”
She glanced behind him and asked, “Why didn’t Huai’an come with you?”
It was rare not to see Huai’an following behind him. It felt as though something was missing.
“He’s at the execution ground.” Jun Heng turned and leaned against the wall, his expression calm. “Overseeing the execution of Yuan He and Yuan Qing.”
Yuan He—the magistrate of Yan County.
Hearing this, Gu Jiao’s gaze darkened. She looked at Jun Heng thoughtfully.
In truth, even if he hadn’t been waiting for her here, she had intended to seek him out anyway.
This saved her quite a bit of trouble.
She didn’t mention Yuan He again and instead said, “Do you remember Minghua Tower?”
…
Minghua Tower stood in the most prosperous district of the imperial capital. Because of its elevated position, it was also called Star-Picking Tower. From the top floor, one could gaze afar at the solemn, towering palace city, as well as the layered streets and winding alleys below.
A view stretching for a thousand miles seemed to be gathered within arm’s reach.
For Gu Jiao, this place also held a past worth remembering.
Back then, it had been Jun Heng’s birthday. No matter how much she thought about it, she couldn’t come up with a birthday gift worthy of him. So after the guests had dispersed, she dragged Jun Heng out of the palace by herself.
She had deliberately asked Huai’an beforehand—Jun Heng rarely left the palace to wander about and wasn’t very familiar with the imperial city.
After much deliberation, she finally brought him to Minghua Tower in a mysterious fashion.
When the birthday banquet ended, night had already fallen. By the time the two of them reached the top, panting from exhaustion, lights had already been lit in every household.
The moonlight was soft and fluid. A bright, full moon hung high in the sky, silvery radiance pouring down like water. Candlelight flickered faintly among the pavilions and towers both near and far, interweaving with one another.
Without bothering about the dust on the ground, Gu Jiao leaned against the wall and sat down, exhausted, then patted the empty space beside her.
Jun Heng had drunk some wine, and after walking without rest all the way up, a faint flush colored his cheeks. He hesitated for a moment before sitting down next to her.
The night was dark as ink. Silver light spilled down, and as the thin mist dispersed, stars gradually revealed themselves, glimmering faintly.
The streets had already quieted. In the tranquil, peaceful atmosphere, the breathing of the two of them slowly eased.
Gu Jiao secretly studied Jun Heng’s expression, wanting to hear his thoughts. After waiting a long while with no response, she couldn’t hold back and asked, “Well?”
Though it was an ordinary sight, standing atop the tower made it feel as though the bright moon and stars were only an arm’s length away—something unattainable in everyday life.
Gu Jiao had heard people describe it this way before, but this was her first time truly reaching the top.
“This is your birthday gift?” Jun Heng’s voice was hoarse, yet unexpectedly gentle.
Gu Jiao smiled awkwardly. “You don’t lack gold, silver, or jade. As for calligraphy and paintings, I’d only end up borrowing flowers to offer them back to you. I really had no other choice, so this was the best I could do.”
He turned his head and looked at her for a long time before softly saying, “If it’s a gift, then it can’t be casually given to someone else again.”
“Since the Seventh Prince has spoken, of course I’ll agree,” she replied lazily.
…
Standing on the tower again, recalling the promise from back then, Gu Jiao couldn’t help feeling a little emotional.
After that, she truly never came here again.
Turning her head, she saw Jun Heng standing beside her, gazing out over the unobstructed imperial city. His eyes, dark as black jade, flickered with light and shadow.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked.
He came back to himself and instead asked, “Why did you suddenly think of coming here?”
Gu Jiao leaned against the railing and followed his gaze into the distance. “I’ve always heard people say that from the top of Minghua Tower, you can almost take in the entire territory of Tianyu. I’ve been curious for a long time but never had the chance to see it.”
The only time she’d been here with him had been at night.
“No chance?” he repeated softly.
“When you promise someone something, it’s not good to go back on your word.” Gu Jiao curved her lips slightly.
Sometimes, when she saw Minghua Tower from afar, those conversations she once had with him would surface in her mind, along with a lingering sense of regret.
“But I’ve been here,” he said.
His words caught her completely by surprise.
“Oh?”
Jun Heng didn’t continue.
A faint bitterness surfaced in his eyes, along with the melancholy stirred by memory.
That year, on his birthday, it had also been here. He had lifted his head to look at the star-filled sky. Beside him was her light, steady breathing, and the feelings he had struggled with for so long suddenly became clear.
He didn’t dare look at her, yet felt that if he didn’t say something, he would be betraying this unexpected joy.
After hesitating again and again, he finally spoke his heart in a low voice: “Gu Jiao, I’m very happy.”
“Next year…” He turned his head, wanting to catch her gaze, only to freeze in place.
Gu Jiao had already rested her head on her own arm, her face turned toward him, sleeping peacefully and serenely.
Jun Heng looked at her for a long time. He raised his hand, wanting to brush away the stray hair at the corner of her lips, but when he felt her warm breath, he abruptly withdrew his hand. In the end, he simply removed his outer robe and draped it over her.
Later, whenever he thought back to that night, he could no longer recall the scenery atop the tower. All he remembered was her sitting beside him, completely relaxed, a faint smile on her lips.
At the time, there had been some regret—but he had thought there was no need to rush.
Yet later on, he never again had the chance to say it.
…
Pulling himself out of the past, Jun Heng looked at Gu Jiao. Her eyes were still clear and bright, as though the passing years had left no ripples upon her at all.
She hadn’t come again—but he had made this place his only solace.
Sometimes in the daytime, sometimes at night, whenever he couldn’t suppress the urge to seek reconciliation with her, he would come here and stay for a long while.
Then he would tell himself: see, perhaps everything had already been decided by fate. Maybe the moment he failed to finish that sentence, all that followed was already destined.
“Clearly… it was just one step away.”
Jun Heng had already been unsettled today. With his thoughts in turmoil, he momentarily lost track of when he was, and even his voice began to tremble.
“Jun Heng?” Seeing something was wrong, Gu Jiao raised her voice slightly to call him.
But Jun Heng shook his head and stepped backward, his eyes gradually clouded by gloom and despair.
“I seem to always make the wrong choices.”
He had been wrong back then, and afterward, wrong again and again. Even after becoming the ruler, he had not fulfilled his duties for a single day.
Seeing the corners of his eyes growing redder by the moment, Gu Jiao didn’t even have time to think. A habit formed long ago made her call out instinctively, “Ah Heng?”
The moment the name left her lips, both she and Jun Heng froze where they stood.
Chapter 22
Gu Jiao hurried out of the room. She had just stopped briefly at the fork in the corridor and was about to step forward when a voice suddenly sounded behind her.
“Where are you going?”
She turned back in surprise. “Jun Heng?”
Jun Heng’s expression was dark. He pressed his lips together as he looked at her, as though he had already been waiting there for quite some time.
“You were waiting for me?” she asked uncertainly.
Almost at the same moment, Jun Heng asked, “You still don’t plan on going back?”
“What?” Gu Jiao was caught off guard by the abrupt question.
He lowered his gaze slightly, his tone tinged with bitterness. “Haven’t you been staying at the Gu residence for quite a while now?”
Gu Jiao suddenly understood and couldn’t help laughing. “Are you afraid I’ll run away?”
“I’m just worried about my father,” she explained patiently. “Besides, I was planning to go back today anyway.”
She glanced behind him and asked, “Why didn’t Huai’an come with you?”
It was rare not to see Huai’an following behind him. It felt as though something was missing.
“He’s at the execution ground.” Jun Heng turned and leaned against the wall, his expression calm. “Overseeing the execution of Yuan He and Yuan Qing.”
Yuan He—the magistrate of Yan County.
Hearing this, Gu Jiao’s gaze darkened. She looked at Jun Heng thoughtfully.
In truth, even if he hadn’t been waiting for her here, she had intended to seek him out anyway.
This saved her quite a bit of trouble.
She didn’t mention Yuan He again and instead said, “Do you remember Minghua Tower?”
…
Minghua Tower stood in the most prosperous district of the imperial capital. Because of its elevated position, it was also called Star-Picking Tower. From the top floor, one could gaze afar at the solemn, towering palace city, as well as the layered streets and winding alleys below.
A view stretching for a thousand miles seemed to be gathered within arm’s reach.
For Gu Jiao, this place also held a past worth remembering.
Back then, it had been Jun Heng’s birthday. No matter how much she thought about it, she couldn’t come up with a birthday gift worthy of him. So after the guests had dispersed, she dragged Jun Heng out of the palace by herself.
She had deliberately asked Huai’an beforehand—Jun Heng rarely left the palace to wander about and wasn’t very familiar with the imperial city.
After much deliberation, she finally brought him to Minghua Tower in a mysterious fashion.
When the birthday banquet ended, night had already fallen. By the time the two of them reached the top, panting from exhaustion, lights had already been lit in every household.
The moonlight was soft and fluid. A bright, full moon hung high in the sky, silvery radiance pouring down like water. Candlelight flickered faintly among the pavilions and towers both near and far, interweaving with one another.
Without bothering about the dust on the ground, Gu Jiao leaned against the wall and sat down, exhausted, then patted the empty space beside her.
Jun Heng had drunk some wine, and after walking without rest all the way up, a faint flush colored his cheeks. He hesitated for a moment before sitting down next to her.
The night was dark as ink. Silver light spilled down, and as the thin mist dispersed, stars gradually revealed themselves, glimmering faintly.
The streets had already quieted. In the tranquil, peaceful atmosphere, the breathing of the two of them slowly eased.
Gu Jiao secretly studied Jun Heng’s expression, wanting to hear his thoughts. After waiting a long while with no response, she couldn’t hold back and asked, “Well?”
Though it was an ordinary sight, standing atop the tower made it feel as though the bright moon and stars were only an arm’s length away—something unattainable in everyday life.
Gu Jiao had heard people describe it this way before, but this was her first time truly reaching the top.
“This is your birthday gift?” Jun Heng’s voice was hoarse, yet unexpectedly gentle.
Gu Jiao smiled awkwardly. “You don’t lack gold, silver, or jade. As for calligraphy and paintings, I’d only end up borrowing flowers to offer them back to you. I really had no other choice, so this was the best I could do.”
He turned his head and looked at her for a long time before softly saying, “If it’s a gift, then it can’t be casually given to someone else again.”
“Since the Seventh Prince has spoken, of course I’ll agree,” she replied lazily.
…
Standing on the tower again, recalling the promise from back then, Gu Jiao couldn’t help feeling a little emotional.
After that, she truly never came here again.
Turning her head, she saw Jun Heng standing beside her, gazing out over the unobstructed imperial city. His eyes, dark as black jade, flickered with light and shadow.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked.
He came back to himself and instead asked, “Why did you suddenly think of coming here?”
Gu Jiao leaned against the railing and followed his gaze into the distance. “I’ve always heard people say that from the top of Minghua Tower, you can almost take in the entire territory of Tianyu. I’ve been curious for a long time but never had the chance to see it.”
The only time she’d been here with him had been at night.
“No chance?” he repeated softly.
“When you promise someone something, it’s not good to go back on your word.” Gu Jiao curved her lips slightly.
Sometimes, when she saw Minghua Tower from afar, those conversations she once had with him would surface in her mind, along with a lingering sense of regret.
“But I’ve been here,” he said.
His words caught her completely by surprise.
“Oh?”
Jun Heng didn’t continue.
A faint bitterness surfaced in his eyes, along with the melancholy stirred by memory.
That year, on his birthday, it had also been here. He had lifted his head to look at the star-filled sky. Beside him was her light, steady breathing, and the feelings he had struggled with for so long suddenly became clear.
He didn’t dare look at her, yet felt that if he didn’t say something, he would be betraying this unexpected joy.
After hesitating again and again, he finally spoke his heart in a low voice: “Gu Jiao, I’m very happy.”
“Next year…” He turned his head, wanting to catch her gaze, only to freeze in place.
Gu Jiao had already rested her head on her own arm, her face turned toward him, sleeping peacefully and serenely.
Jun Heng looked at her for a long time. He raised his hand, wanting to brush away the stray hair at the corner of her lips, but when he felt her warm breath, he abruptly withdrew his hand. In the end, he simply removed his outer robe and draped it over her.
Later, whenever he thought back to that night, he could no longer recall the scenery atop the tower. All he remembered was her sitting beside him, completely relaxed, a faint smile on her lips.
At the time, there had been some regret—but he had thought there was no need to rush.
Yet later on, he never again had the chance to say it.
…
Pulling himself out of the past, Jun Heng looked at Gu Jiao. Her eyes were still clear and bright, as though the passing years had left no ripples upon her at all.
She hadn’t come again—but he had made this place his only solace.
Sometimes in the daytime, sometimes at night, whenever he couldn’t suppress the urge to seek reconciliation with her, he would come here and stay for a long while.
Then he would tell himself: see, perhaps everything had already been decided by fate. Maybe the moment he failed to finish that sentence, all that followed was already destined.
“Clearly… it was just one step away.”
Jun Heng had already been unsettled today. With his thoughts in turmoil, he momentarily lost track of when he was, and even his voice began to tremble.
“Jun Heng?” Seeing something was wrong, Gu Jiao raised her voice slightly to call him.
But Jun Heng shook his head and stepped backward, his eyes gradually clouded by gloom and despair.
“I seem to always make the wrong choices.”
He had been wrong back then, and afterward, wrong again and again. Even after becoming the ruler, he had not fulfilled his duties for a single day.
Seeing the corners of his eyes growing redder by the moment, Gu Jiao didn’t even have time to think. A habit formed long ago made her call out instinctively, “Ah Heng?”
The moment the name left her lips, both she and Jun Heng froze where they stood.