Gu Ci reached toward the small side table for one of the delicate pastries, but on account of his chest wound, his hand fell just a fraction short.
Just as he was sheepishly about to pull his hand back, a slender, fair hand with distinct knuckles picked up a pastry and extended it right before his eyes.
Gu Ci hurriedly flashed a smile and accepted the treat. “Thank you, Your Highness.” Yet Jun Yichen did not spare him so much as a single glance.
After he had continuously eaten whatever unspecified number of pastries Jun Yichen kept handing him, Gu Ci began to reach his limit. Seeing yet another sweet held out right in front of him, a wave of panic washed over him, and he chuckled ruefully to plead for mercy. “Your Highness, please spare me. I genuinely cannot eat another bite.” One more morsel and he was going to toss his cookies.
Jun Yichen was deeply engrossed in the book in his hands. His slender fingers paused slightly as they turned a page, and he instinctively lowered his gaze to sweep across the side table. Three of the four pastry plates had been emptied down to crumbs, and he was even holding a piece from the final plate in his hand.
A faint jolt of surprise rippled through him. He hadn’t realized he had absentmindedly fed Gu Ci so many snacks.
Realizing what he had just done, he quickly poured a cup of tea, propped Gu Ci up, and personally helped him drink it down.
Only then did he leisurely settle back into his seat across the table, resuming his reading with the unshakable stillness of a meditating monk.
From start to finish, he didn’t utter a single word to Gu Ci, plunging even the usually irrepressible Gu Ci into a state of melancholy.
The two maintained that silence all the way. Out of consideration for Gu Ci’s injuries, the carriage traveled at a crawl, finally reaching the capital by dusk.
Uncle Zheng had been waiting at the city gates since early on with the estate’s guards.
Spotting the Seventh Prince’s entourage approaching, he eagerly hurried forward a few steps, clutching the carriage window with tears streaming down his face as he grabbed Gu Ci’s hand. “Young master, you’re finally back! If anything had happened to you, how could this old slave go on living? I truly have no face left to meet the Duke!” Leaning against the window frame, Gu Ci let Uncle Zheng clasp his hand while a profound wave of emotion washed over him.
Jun Yichen lifted the carriage curtain and stepped down, offering a slight nod in Uncle Zheng’s direction.
Only then did Uncle Zheng realize that his young master wasn’t the only occupant in the carriage; the Seventh Prince was there as well.
He hurriedly bowed to Jun Yichen, his voice thick and raspy. “Thank you, Your Highness, for looking after the young master all the way.” Although their young master had been wounded while protecting the Seventh Prince, loyalty to the sovereign and defense of the realm were military precepts carved into the very bones of the Gu family. Naturally, Uncle Zheng was not foolish enough to blame the prince, especially since he had heard that the Seventh Prince had tended to the young master with utmost care throughout his recovery.
Jun Yichen’s face slipped back into the affable, smiling facade he wore for everyone. He lightly steadied Uncle Zheng with a hand and replied, “It’s no trouble at all. A-Ci was injured because he saved me, so looking after him was only right. I still need to return to the palace to report to His Majesty, so I will leave A-Ci in your hands.”
Watching Jun Yichen behave this way, a strange, nameless ache welled up in Gu Ci’s chest.
Throughout the journey, Jun Yichen’s distant demeanor had left him feeling sidelined and hurt, causing the corners of his eyes to prickle with heat.
Jun Yichen took the reins handed over by Mebai and vaulted cleanly onto his horse. As his horse’s flanks brushed against the ground and the animal slowly turned around, he cast a glance back toward Gu Ci, who was half-leaning out of the carriage window.
At that single glance, Gu Ci’s slightly reddened eyes and pitiful, aggrieved expression were deeply etched into his heart, jolting his senses. The suffocating oppression that had choked him the entire journey instantly dissipated. He stiffly wrenched his gaze away, terrified that he would give in to the wild impulse to run over and pull Gu Ci into his arms.
His chest felt as though it were blocked by a thousand-pound boulder, making breathing difficult, it was the unmistakable ache of a heartbroken heart.
“Your Highness, we must enter the palace,” Mebai, riding parallel to him, said with the grim air of someone marching to their execution.
He had no desire to interrupt his master staring at Lord Gu, but with so many court officials and commoners watching, his master was meant for great things; when reputation needed guarding, it had to be guarded.
Jun Yichen let out a soft breath, gathered the reins, and trotted toward the palace gates, sensing that something inside him had undergone a earth-shattering transformation.
Following his return to the capital, the Emperor issued a decree exempting Gu Ci from reporting to the City Guard for the time being, while also suspending his duties as an imperial study companion, ordering him to focus entirely on recuperation until all matters were revisited after the new year.
And so, Gu Ci was graciously ushered into a retired lifestyle of being fed the moment he opened his mouth and dressed the moment he raised a hand. Uncle Zheng prepared elaborate medicinal tonics for him three times a day, though thankfully without forcing him to stay bedridden; he was at least allowed to stroll around the courtyard, otherwise he surely would have gone mad.
During this period, his grandfather stationed away on the northern frontier sent a family letter. The missive praised his righteous act of valor in saving the Seventh Prince, while cautioning him against letting favor inflate his ego, urging him to perform his duties diligently and prioritize his safety. At the very end, his grandfather casually dropped that his old bones were still remarkably sturdy, though he missed his precious grandson dearly.
Gu Ci hadn’t held any high expectations for the contents of the letter. After all, a military commander wielding massive troop strength like his grandfather had all family correspondence monitored by designated watchers.
Just like the letter he was reading now, it had undoubtedly been screened by someone else before ever reaching his hands.
That was an unspoken understanding between him and his grandfather.
With the arrival of the twelfth lunar month, the weather grew progressively colder.
By the end of the month, his grandfather was due to return. The Daqing Empire maintained a special provision allowing border-guarding generals to return to the capital for annual duty reporting as the year came to a close, granting them a month-long holiday to spend a joyful reunion with their families.
As Gu Ci recuperated, he grew increasingly familiar with the system.
Case in point: its three unyielding daily inquiries: “Host, when do you plan to go find the villainous大佬?” “Host, have you given up already?” “Host, aren’t you afraid of being erased by this world if you fail the mission?”
From initially offering perfunctory brush-offs, Gu Ci had now progressed to total, unabashed slacking.
After all, with him currently laid up with injuries, the system naturally dared not torment him, lest they all suffer a mutual wipeout.
Truth be told, he wanted to wrap up the mission as quickly as possible, too.
Yet, over the past few months, he had submitted countless formal visitation requests to the palace hoping for an audience with the Seventh Prince, only to be met every single time by Mebai’s expressionless reply: “His Highness says Lord Gu should focus on recovering his health. There’s no need for the lord to worry about matters in the palace; His Highness is doing very well.” As a mere subject, he couldn’t exactly break into the imperial palace by night.
He was truly a handful.
Meanwhile, watching his master lapse into another trance, Mebai finally blurted out, “Your Highness…” Seeing that the other man didn’t cut him off, he pressed on, “Lord Gu has sent another formal invitation, asking you to share wine at the Prosperity Restaurant. What are your thoughts?”
Though Mebai didn’t understand what friction had arisen between his master and Lord Gu, he could tell that his master hadn’t had an easy time of it these past few months either.
Besides, his master’s emotional volatility lately was far from a healthy sign.
Perhaps Lord Gu was the only one capable of bringing peace back to his master’s mind; he always felt that Lord Gu held a uniquely irreplaceable place in his master’s world.