To Zhu Qingyu’s surprise, Gu Da ren didn’t summon a servant—he personally poured the tea.
She rose, bowed slightly, and accepted the cup, holding it without drinking:
“It’s not that Jingyan is careless or rude. I came of my own accord because he went to the Huaibei salt fields a few days ago and isn’t in Yangzhou. There was no one at home. I first sought Prefect Liu, but he said he could not decide. My little sister-in-law is still unmarried and cannot be kept in jail. So I had no choice but to trouble you, sir. Please forgive me.”
Gu Zhao looked at the untouched tea in her hands and smiled:
“Madam Zhu, you helped Xie Ze and did me a great service. Otherwise, if something happened to him, I would have difficulty explaining it to Her Majesty. Between us, there is no need for formalities. You are facing a difficulty, and it is commendable that you came to me. I will naturally help. But have you considered why this happened just after Zhang Jingyan left, forcing you to come?”
Even Zhu Qingyu could sense the irregularity today. Gu Da ren’s suspicion was reasonable.
Yet she refused to believe this had anything to do with Zhang Shen. For her, the only person she trusted in the world was Zhang Shen, and no one else.
She met his gaze and smiled:
“There must be some misunderstanding. I cannot speak for others, but Jingyan is my husband—I know him well. He is not the sort to act opportunistically or resort to crooked ways, especially toward a commissioner he respects.”
Her expression and sincerity—unquestioning devotion to her husband—made Gu Zhao avert his gaze for a moment.
He looked toward the storm raging outside and said:
“Since you vouch for him, I naturally trust it. But today, Prefect Liu assigned a maid who resembles you somewhat. Madam Zhu, this coincidence—am I overthinking?”
Zhu Qingyu recalled the figure she had seen earlier at Liu’s office. No wonder it felt familiar—it resembled herself.
She and Gu Zhao had spoken only a few times. How could Prefect Liu conjure such an idea?
The only possibility was that when Gu Zhao spoke to her at the clinic that day, someone overheard and passed it along to Liu.
This could be troublesome. With only the two of them present then, would Gu Zhao think she was colluding with Liu?
Was he suspecting her of some femme fatale scheme?
Regardless, she had to clarify she was not in cahoots with Liu.
With a serious expression, she said:
“Sir, I did not speak of that day to anyone, nor to Jingyan. As for others, they may have heard rumors and misunderstood.”
Before she finished, Gu Zhao suddenly stood. Surprised, she watched him approach, one hand on the back of her chair, leaning slightly toward her:
“Oh? A misunderstanding? Pray tell, Madam Zhu, what exactly was misunderstood?”
His tone was calm, expression ordinary—but his proximity was intimate, his gaze sharp as a hunter locking onto prey. Zhu Qingyu felt her mind alert, unable to move.
A strand of his damp hair brushed her cheek as he leaned closer, carrying the fragrance of soap and lingering bath steam. She recoiled slightly, her back hitting his hand on the chair.
His hand was as cool as his hair.
Trapped, she replied, meeting his gaze:
“He underestimated you, sir, and overestimated me. You are a man of virtue, and I am but an ordinary woman.”
Gu Zhao studied her carefully, silently evaluating if her words were sincere.
She added:
“Sir, this matter concerns neither Jingyan nor myself. I respect you, but I would never seek to ingratiate myself. Do you trust me?”
Seeing her sincerity, Gu Zhao’s attention shifted to the untouched tea. He suddenly smiled, standing:
“Madam Zhu, I harbor no misunderstanding. If you truly had intentions, you would not have hesitated even to touch this tea.”
As he rose, the subtle, imposing aura that had pinned her in place dissipated.
So the tea and his closeness were a test?
Had she failed, he might have immediately accused her of collusion with Liu.
As for not drinking the tea, it was her habit—she never drank things given to her alone, outside formal occasions.
Embarrassed at being called out, she sipped the tea, explaining:
“Your tea is excellent, sir. I simply was anxious about my little sister-in-law and did not pay attention.”
Gu Zhao watched her drink, his smile softening:
“I see. I overthought it. I understand the matter now. I will handle the rest.”
He glanced toward the door and instructed:
“Xiong Kun, escort Madam Zhu back. Tell Prefect Liu I said to release her. If he has further questions, let him ask me directly.”
Xiong Kun, still in his raincoat and sword at hand, nodded:
“Yes, sir. Madam Zhu, please.”
Zhu Qingyu stood, performing a deep bow:
“Many thanks, sir. When Jingyan returns, my husband and I will come to properly thank you.”
She emphasized “my husband and I,” but Gu Zhao neither acknowledged nor refuted it.
Stepping outside and retrieving her umbrella, she was about to leave when Gu Zhao called:
“Madam Zhu.”
She turned:
“Sir, any further instructions?”
His expression was unreadable, voice measured:
“Madam Zhu, in the future, bring more people with you when going out, especially while I am still in Yangzhou.”
The implied meaning of his final words left her unsure how to respond. She only nodded silently, then turned again, stepping out into the relentless storm.