They had traveled to the lake separately, but for the journey home, there was no reason for Xie Yuechan and Gu Jingan not to share a carriage.
Gu Jingan watched from behind as she cradled the pots of “Foreign Peppers” like they were the crown jewels. She carefully tucked them into a secure spot beneath the seat before finally settling in. For a moment, they sat in silence, looking at one another.
It was Xie Yuechan who finally broke the tension.
“Thanks for those. But really—how did you know I wanted them?”
The unexpected prize had left her in a radiant mood. Gu Jingan cleared his throat, offering a vague explanation. “I believe I overheard your maid giving instructions to the staff once.”
He wasn’t about to admit to snooping through her personal sketches, even if he had stumbled upon them by accident.
“Well, regardless, these are a treasure,” she said, beaming. “When it gets a bit hotter and they’ve fully ripened, I’ll make you my special Chili Fried Pork.”
“Chili?” Gu Jingan asked, puzzled by the term.
“Ah… I mean the Foreign Peppers!” she corrected herself quickly. “I call them ‘chilis’ because they have such a sharp, pungent kick.”
Over the past few weeks, their paths had rarely crossed. Gu Jingan was busy with his official duties and late-night dragon boat practices with the Crown Prince, usually sleeping in his study. When they did meet, it was usually because he’d find her dining at a table she’d moved into the courtyard, and she would casually invite him to join her. Outside of those meals, they left each other alone—a dynamic that was surprisingly harmonious.
The mention of the pepper brought back the memory of her “Mapo Tofu.” It had been silken, numbing, and incredibly spicy. He had uncharacteristically polished off three bowls of rice that evening, finding the flavor addictive.
Of course, his stomach had paid the price for a full day afterward. He had nearly made a fool of himself in front of the other scholars at the Imperial Academy. Still, as a thank-you for the meals she’d shared with him, these two pots felt like a fair trade.
“I noticed you seem to quite like spicy food,” she said, reaching down to gently brush the tip of a pepper. Just looking at them made her happy. “It’s a pity there are only two plants. We won’t get much of a feast this year. I’ll have to dry half of them for seeds so we can have a proper harvest next year.”
What she didn’t mention was her memory of that tofu dinner. While Gu Jingan had enjoyed the meal, he clearly wasn’t used to the heat. Within minutes, his face had flushed a deep, brilliant crimson. It was the first time his “ethereal immortal” persona had been touched by the heat of the mortal world, and it had made him look strikingly handsome.
Gu Jingan had been too focused on his rice to notice her stealing glances at him, much less realize she felt she’d gotten the better end of the deal.
So this is what they mean by ‘beauty is a feast for the eyes,’ she had thought. He ate the tofu; she ate the view.
Since then, a bit of mischief had taken root in her. She frequently prepared hot or spicy dishes specifically to see that “lofty flower” of a man get a little flustered by earthly sensations.
Fortunately, Gu Jingan was oblivious to her wicked little hobby. Had he known, his shame and irritation would have surely driven him to never share a table with her again.
Yet, as the days passed, Gu Jingan found himself increasingly perplexed.
If she didn’t care for him, then who was the woman who had relentlessly pursued him and insisted on marriage after being rescued from the water? That had definitely been her.
But if she were truly head-over-heels in love, he couldn’t feel a shred of that obsession in their daily life. She no longer did anything outrageous or clingy—aside from the occasional bizarre phrase that popped out of her mouth.
He had spent years watching the way his elder brothers interacted with their wives. He knew what a marriage looked like, and his intuition was telling him something unsettling.
He couldn’t shake the feeling that Xie Yuechan viewed him as just another fixture in the Gu manor—no different from a decorative vase on a shelf or a little maid sweeping the courtyard.
He was deeply confused, but since he couldn’t exactly ask her directly, he was forced to provide his own explanation.
She… she must still love me, right? he reasoned. Why else would she have sabotaged her own reputation just to marry me?
If she had truly fallen out of love, well, that was for the best. It meant that when the time eventually came for them to part ways, he wouldn’t have to carry such a heavy burden of guilt.
As for her becoming… normal? That was undeniably a good thing.
Having reasoned it out, Gu Jingan felt a quiet sense of relief wash over him.
Everyone of status in the Gu household had been out today, save for Gu Changsheng.
Left to his own devices, the boy had found the day utterly tedious. He had long ago grown bored of wandering the gardens, and the silence of the empty manor only made it worse. Thus, the moment he caught the distant rattle of carriage wheels, he perked up instantly.
“Is it Father and Mother? Are they back?”
Butler Hao, a man of similar years to the Grand Tutor who had served the family for decades, looked down at the frailest young master with genuine affection. “Young Master, the Duke and Old Madam are already having dinner served at Taoran Pavilion. Would you like to head over and join them for the evening meal?”
“Ah…” Changsheng’s eyes darted around. Normally, he would have agreed without hesitation—dinner at Taoran Pavilion was much the same as dinner in his own quarters. But today, he hedged. “Father and Mother have been out all day; they must be exhausted. They’ll likely want to turn in early after they eat. I shouldn’t disturb them. I’ll go and pay my respects first thing in the morning.”
Butler Hao was visibly moved by this perceived maturity. “Young Master has truly grown up! You’ve learned to be so considerate of the Duke and the Old Madam. They’ll be overjoyed when I pass along your words!” The old man’s eyes actually began to shimmer with unshed tears.
Anxious to get moving, Changsheng patted the old butler’s hand. “Butler Hao, don’t you have matters to report to my mother? Go on, then. I can find my own way back.”
“Right! Yes, of course!” Realizing he did indeed have urgent business to discuss with the Old Madam, the butler quickly wiped his eyes with his sleeve and hurried off.
Once he was gone, Changsheng turned to his personal attendants. “You all go about your business. Qiushui is enough to look after me.”
He didn’t head for his own courtyard, however. Instead, he led Qiushui on a winding path through the manor, eventually veering—with a slightly guilty conscience—toward Luoxue Residence.
On the way, he happened upon his second brother, Gu Zheng, and Princess Duanmin. The atmosphere between the couple seemed tense, though Gu Zheng maintained his usual dashing, carefree air.
“Changsheng! Where are you off to?” Gu Zheng asked with a grin. He glanced at the nearby buildings and came to a sudden realization. “Ah, coming to find our third brother?”
His expression shifted to one of mock sympathy. Knowing his youngest brother was physically weak, he gave the boy’s shoulder a few light, teasing pats. “Just a few more years, lad. Once you’re a bit older, you won’t have to live under his thumb every single day.” His tone was thick with schadenfreude.
“Second Brother,” Changsheng replied, rolling his eyes inwardly. “Second Sister-in-law didn’t wait for you. She’s already quite far ahead.”
“What? Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Gu Zheng spun around to see that she had indeed walked off. Forgetting his teasing, he snapped his folding fan shut with a sharp clack and scrambled to catch up. “Duanmin! Why are you walking so fast? Wait for your husband! Really… Ying’ying isn’t what you think!”
The only response he received was the cold set of the Princess’s retreating back.
Changsheng watched them for a moment, shook his head with a sigh, and continued toward Luoxue Residence.
Luoxue Residence was a newly built courtyard, reserved specifically for Gu Jingan after his marriage. His former quarters in the front court now sat mostly empty, save for the occasional hours he spent in his study there handling official business.
In the Imperial Academy, Gu Jingan held the position of Director of Studies. Though he was only of the fourth rank, he was the youngest Director since the founding of the Great Qi, assisting the Chancellor in overseeing the entire academy’s discipline and instruction.
After much effort to understand the role through Changsheng’s explanations, Xie Yuechan had finally reached a realization: in modern terms, he held the title of Vice Principal, but in reality, he did the work of a Dean of Students.
No wonder Changsheng feared him more than any of the other doctors or professors.
Fearful or not, Changsheng had an appointment with Xie Yuechan, and he arrived at her door with a heart full of eager anticipation.