Gu Jiao’s eyes sparkled with sharp suspicion as Huai’an lowered his gaze and spoke slowly: “In recent days, many in the court have sought to pressure the Left Prime Minister by leveraging the Xie family matter.”
“Your Majesty has always refrained from meddling in court affairs, yet in handling this, several officials have already faced consequences.”
“You are perceptive. Surely you can see for whom His Majesty acts?”
Gu Jiao paused, slightly taken aback.
Ning Fei had once mentioned that those who caused trouble for the Left Prime Minister’s household had been dealt with quietly, without causing a stir, but had not explained the details. Gu Jiao had assumed it was all due to Gu Qingxing’s careful handling.
Yet it was Jun Heng… indeed, it was Jun Heng.
She suddenly realized that she had never truly feared that Jun Heng would harm her.
Even after three years apart, and despite all that had happened, she trusted him without reason.
Taking a deep breath, she turned to Huai’an. “It’s still early today. Huai’an, would it be convenient to speak for a moment?”
Huai’an shook his head. “Your handmaiden—”
“If it is inconvenient, then I suppose it’s equally inconvenient for me to accept this command token,” she interrupted him with a smile before he could refuse.
She suddenly wanted to know certain things—things she should have learned three years ago.
After a brief pause, Huai’an sighed: “You still have that temperament.”
“But Huai’an has changed considerably. You used to speak so plainly before,” Gu Jiao said, her eyes smiling.
Huai’an smiled faintly in return, a trace of nostalgia in his eyes. “Back then…”
“You remember how your handmaiden was, but do you still recall what His Majesty was like at that time?”
What was Jun Heng like back then?
A memory flashed before Gu Jiao’s eyes.
…
“Jun Heng, aren’t you going to look at that wooden figure? It’s so intricate!”
Amid the boys’ excited exclamations, Gu Jiao noticed Jun Heng sitting in the pavilion reading. She stepped closer, curious.
Jun Heng glanced briefly, then returned to his book. “It’s just a toy to amuse children. Boring.”
Gu Jiao leaned closer to see the book in his hands, then looked at the wooden figure being circled by the boys.
The wooden figure had been made by Ning Fei. Its form was no different from other wooden figures, but with newly learned mechanisms, he could manipulate it to perform movements. Not particularly remarkable, but unusual enough.
Boring?
She tutted softly, thinking that the prince truly lived up to his title—he had insight beyond his years.
The boys quickly grew distracted, pairing off to play in the courtyard, leaving the wooden figure casually placed on the table indoors.
After watching for a while, Gu Jiao felt warm and wanted to return to her room for water. She pushed the door halfway open—and noticed Jun Heng had somehow entered the room.
He crouched by the desk, eyes fixed intently on the wooden figure. Curious, she paused, quietly observing him.
After some time, Jun Heng lifted his hand, imitating Ning Fei’s earlier demonstration, pressing the switch behind the wooden figure. As it creaked into motion, his eyes brightened slightly.
No different from the boys he had just called “boring.”
She watched silently for a while, then closed the door again, realizing that Jun Heng—the Seventh Prince—was only a year older than her.
He was at the age to enjoy playful mischief, yet always pretended to be distant from others.
…
A faint smile touched Gu Jiao’s lips. Her insistence on dragging Jun Heng to play later on had actually stemmed from this.
“He always wears a stern face, flaunting his prince status, almost daring others to approach.”
“But he’s no more composed than Ning Fei,” Huai’an added lightly.
“Yes, back then His Majesty couldn’t stay in Dongyi Hall. After rising in the morning, he would leave the palace without even breakfast.”
“But later, he never mentioned leaving the palace again.”
Gu Jiao was silent.
“Because of you?” she asked after a long pause.
“After you left Dongyi Hall that day, His Majesty shut himself away for a long time, refusing everyone. I had no choice but to stand at the door, saying I needed to go to the Left Prime Minister’s residence to fetch you. Only then did His Majesty open the door.”
Huai’an sighed, recalling Jun Heng emerging from the hall, his mind clouded with gloom: “Your Highness, those words may have hurt you, yet His Majesty was not any happier himself.”
“Pardon me, Your Highness, but over these years, you have been too harsh on His Majesty at times.”
Gu Jiao: …
Did Huai’an misspeak, or had she misunderstood? Too harsh on him?
She smiled faintly. “And what makes you say that?”
Huai’an lowered his gaze. “When has His Majesty ever truly argued with you? After that incident, he became even more reticent. At times, he would stare at one spot for a long time.”
“Sometimes, when encountering Minister Gu, he would try to say something, but in the end, it was only customary greetings.”
“I’ve always felt that your bond over the years could not have been as estranged as it appears, yet…”
Gu Jiao listened quietly, the smile fading from her lips.
“But Huai’an, the one who created this situation was not you.”
She lifted her gaze to Huai’an. “You know this.”
That day, Jun Heng had stood there in his princely robes, coldly ordering Huai’an to escort her away, making her realize for the first time that he and she were not on the same path.
Huai’an remained silent for a moment, then took the command token from the box and handed it to her. “If you cannot let it go, why not ask His Majesty yourself?”
…
Several neatly stacked memorials lay on the desk. The ink Huai’an had prepared had begun to dry. Jun Heng sat at the writing table, holding the brush, but the memorials beneath it were already stained with ink.
He seemed unaware, staring dreamily at the incense burner.
After Huai’an left, enough time passed for one incense stick to burn. He must have already passed Yulu Palace, seeing her.
He wondered how she would react to receiving the token.
Surely not with the joy he hoped for—perhaps she would suspect ulterior motives.
Jun Heng thought of Mu Wan’s words:
“You’re not really planning to lock her away in a golden chamber for life, are you?”
“I cannot linger in the imperial capital. I must return quickly to inspect the troops, lest the Left Prime Minister force the palace and you cannot be saved.”
“I have it under control,” he said coldly, turning his head.
“Does it matter to Your Highness if she resents you for it?”
…
Jun Heng’s brush slipped from his hand onto the desk. He stared blankly for a moment before picking it up again and resting it against the inkstone.
Resentment? More than resentment, he did not want her to treat him with distant politeness any longer.
Those memories, which seemed to constantly surge and churn in his heart, were nothing but a dream—a beautiful dream that had ended in despair.
Jun Heng looked toward the window, and once more, her figure appeared beside another.
His face paled slightly. He closed his eyes, hiding the flash of pain that lingered there.
He knew all too well he could not hold onto her—not then, not now.
And yet he chose to yield. If Mu Wan had not mentioned it, he wouldn’t have been able to hold out for more than a few days anyway.
The command token had long been prepared. Or perhaps, from the moment she entered the palace, he had been waiting for her to come to him.
He had already considered how to explain his intentions…
Huai’an had guessed Jun Heng’s thoughts and several times suggested fetching her, but Jun Heng had stopped him each time.
Every day, he had his shadow guards report on her condition, so he knew she had no desire to see him.
His hope gradually faded, leaving only coldness and despair.
She seemed never to have cared for him at all.
Until his illness flared again—finally allowing Huai’an to go to her—but her distant attitude had made him impulsively strike back with Xie Chongyu’s words.
Thinking of this, Jun Heng’s lips curved in self-mockery as he glanced toward the door, unable to stop wondering—if she accepted it…
Would she come to him?
“Creak—” The hall door opened.
Jun Heng snapped back to the present. Instinctively, he straightened his robes and picked up his brush, writing a few strokes on the already smudged memorial before him.
Footsteps drew closer, and his grip on the brush stiffened.
Huai’an had said her complexion was fine this morning. He wondered if that was meant to coax her…
The inner hall curtains were lifted. He clenched the brush, then loosened his grip, raising his eyes.
Huai’an hadn’t fully stepped in yet, awkwardly pausing mid-step, maintaining a strange posture. Jun Heng’s gaze at her was so sharp, it was as if her presence there was a grievous crime.
She stepped fully inside. Jun Heng instinctively looked away, letting his head droop, and a faint loneliness seemed to seep from him.
“She accepted it?”
Huai’an turned back hesitantly. “Uh… yes.”
Jun Heng paused mid-stroke. “Did she say anything?”
Or had she rushed back to the Gu Xiang residence already?
Huai’an opened his mouth: “Your Highness…”
“She said, His Majesty’s intent touches her deeply, and she could not resist coming to see you.”
A clear voice rang from behind Huai’an in the hall.
Jun Heng was startled. His eyes widened as Gu Jiao tilted her head toward him, a smile in her expression, holding a plate neatly piled with chestnut pastries.
His fingers trembled; ink dripped onto the memorial, the characters smeared beyond recognition.
Huai’an’s eyes swept between them, then pulled a chair for Gu Jiao and stood respectfully to the side.
Placing the plate on the desk, Gu Jiao sat down, casually glancing at the memorial beside Jun Heng.
“I originally wanted to bring some from Xianyun Pavilion, but these pastries are best fresh from the kitchen, so I had the palace chefs prepare some for the journey.”
“The last time at Yulu Palace, you left in a hurry. I tried one for you—it was delicious.”
She curved her eyes in a smile, nudging the plate closer to him.
Jun Heng’s hand twitched on the brush but did not reach out; his gaze remained fixed on her.
She sighed softly. “Would His Majesty really deny me even this courtesy?”
Her voice carried a faint note of grievance.
Next, she picked up a pastry from the plate.
Behind her, Huai’an cleared his throat lightly.
“How is it?” Gu Jiao asked, propping her head on her hand with a smile at Jun Heng.
Crumbs clung to his lips, but he turned his head, avoiding her gaze. “So-so.”
“Is that so?” She nodded. “Then one day, shall we go together to taste Xianyun Pavilion’s pastries?”
Jun Heng’s head shot up. Countless emotions surged in his eyes.
Since leaving Dongyi Hall, she had never spoken to him so naturally.
It was as if the three years of distance had never existed.
“Jun Heng,” she said softly, looking at him.
The person who had been staring straight at her just now suddenly held his breath.
Huai’an glanced outside the window, then at Jun Heng’s dazed expression, and quietly stepped back to guard the hall outside.
“What do you want from me?” His voice was extremely soft, almost afraid of disturbing the moment.
Gu Jiao looked up at him but did not answer directly. Instead, she spoke to herself: “I came to ask you for an explanation… but now, I regret it.”
“What?”
Her sudden words scrambled Jun Heng’s already hazy thoughts.
“I’ve been wondering these past few days—what did I do wrong back then that made you so angry?” she said, frowning, sighing lightly. “But asking now… it seems awkward to bring it up again.”
“You were very stern back then. I was afraid that if I asked, I’d be sent away again.”
She could not help laughing. “It would be unpleasant to part on bad terms every time we meet. It would make me seem… unbearable.”
The man opposite her breathed a little faster. Then he lowered his eyes. “I did not—”
Did not dislike you.
“Mm, I thought so too,” Gu Jiao replied without hesitation.
She pulled the command token from her sleeve and placed it on the desk with a smile. “What I want to know now is this: His Majesty gave it to me—does this mean that all past grievances are now erased?”
“You mean… I no longer hold a grudge over your ruining my birthday, and you forget those unpleasant things? Is it… a reunion of old friends?”