EHW Ch14

After saving Grand Preceptor Sun and the others from losing their tongues, Gu Fangzhi felt a little proud of himself.

He thought his role was a bit like that of a behind-the-scenes mastermind …well, a behind-the-scenes white hand rather than black.

Even if no one knew what he had done, and even if he was still just a seventh-rank minor official, it still felt pretty cool.

The next morning, the little seventh-rank official packed his bag and went to say goodbye to Manman.

Today was the day Pei Xin would host the foreign envoys for a royal hunting event.

Before he left, Gu Yunchuan specially reminded him: “During the hunt, don’t show off too much.”

Gu Fangzhi: “……”

He pointed to himself. “Show off? What, am I supposed to be the prey?”

Gu Yunchuan: “……”

After a brief pause, Gu Yunchuan said, “I mean don’t hunt everything by yourself. Leave some for the others.”

Wait, so the original body had that kind of skill?

Gu Fangzhi waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry, Brother.”

He couldn’t even shoot properly in FPS games, what hunting was he going to do here?

If he didn’t embarrass himself, that’d already be a win.

Seeing Gu Fangzhi’s guilty expression, Gu Yunchuan almost laughed.

He patted his younger brother’s shoulder twice. “Go on, then.”

***

The officials were to gather at the palace gates.

Though Gu Fangzhi woke early, it seemed the others didn’t even need sleep, they were already there when he arrived.

The officials were busy flattering each other, with crowds forming especially around Qin Xuan.

The young general, however, seemed utterly uninterested in socializing. Head slightly bowed, he fiddled with the exotic red pendant hanging from his waist, occasionally nodding and saying a few perfunctory words.

Noticing Gu Fangzhi’s gaze, Qin Xuan lifted his eyes sharply.

His features were upright, his sword brows and star-like eyes striking, but that look in them reminded Gu Fangzhi of Pei Xin.

They both carried that same battlefield sharpness.

The officials surrounding Qin Xuan followed his gaze and noticed Gu Fangzhi as well.

After all, Gu Fangzhi was currently the emperor’s favorite, Pei Xin’s “chosen one.”

Seeing several officials already calling, “Lord Gu!” “Master Gu!” and starting toward him, Gu Fangzhi panicked and quickly found Song Jingzhou.

“Brother Song! Want some pastries?!”

Song Jingzhou blinked. “Sure.”

The two hid in a corner, nibbling pastries in peace at last.

After a short while, Pei Xin appeared.

All the officials kneeled. Once the ceremonial blessing for the journey was read aloud, servants brought forward the horses.

Gu Fangzhi froze.

He quickly saved his progress, then asked Song Jingzhou, “Wait, we’re riding there? Isn’t everyone supposed to run behind the carriages?”

That’s how it always looked in dramas! A grand procession following the imperial carriage, so majestic!

Song Jingzhou thought he was joking and chuckled a few times before realizing he was serious.

He explained, “Maybe in other nations, but Great Qi prizes martial strength. We have plenty of excellent horses. From old men of eighty to children of five, who here can’t ride?”

Gu Fangzhi: “……”

Well, that’s awkward. He couldn’t.

So he reloaded to the moment before asking the question, looked at the horses being led over, and took a deep breath. “Alright, let’s do this.”

He took the reins from the servant.

His horse was a tall, deep brown stallion with a diamond-shaped mark on its forehead.

“Nice to meet you, buddy,” Gu Fangzhi said nervously. “Please take care of me today.”

He walked to the horse’s side, gripped the reins, and with one big heave—

His leg didn’t quite make it over, and after wobbling twice, he fell flat on his back.

Blushing furiously, Gu Fangzhi reloaded.

Second attempt, he lifted his leg higher this time, but his arms weren’t strong enough to pull himself up.

He ended up draped awkwardly across the horse’s back, half-sprawled, struggling to right himself.

The horse wasn’t having it. With a loud neigh, it bucked and threw him off.

【Congratulations, player has reached a Bad Ending — “Straight for Life.”】

Rubbing his sore nose, Gu Fangzhi sighed and reloaded again.

***

Pei Xin sat in his imperial carriage, eyeing the plate of pastries set on the small table before him.

He’d never cared for sweet, sticky things, but recalling the sight of Gu Fangzhi and Song Jingzhou earlier, crouched in a corner sneaking pastries like two mischievous children, he couldn’t help but find it amusing.

He picked up a plum blossom pastry and took a bite.

After two chews, he frowned.

The Imperial Kitchen had adjusted the recipe to suit his taste, but even so, he couldn’t stand the cloying texture.

How could Gu Fangzhi eat this stuff with such relish?

He set down the half-eaten pastry and lifted his tea to rinse his mouth, but then everything went dark for a moment, and the half-eaten pastry on the table had reappeared, whole again.

Pei Xin: “……”

Well. At least it was a convenient feature.

The carriage swayed lightly as the imperial entourage departed for the hunting grounds.

Bored, Pei Xin drew the jade-inlaid dagger from his waist and removed the jade pendant hanging beside it.

As a child, he’d enjoyed carving on animal bones he scavenged, but his father and elder brothers had found it too disturbing and forbade it.

So he switched to carving jade and animal bones instead of human ones.

He casually traced the outline of a bixie—a mythical lion-beast—onto the circular jade piece.

Its lines were sleek, the expression fierce and dignified. Just as he finished and was about to admire it, that familiar sensation hit again.

The design vanished from the jade in an instant.

Pei Xin arched an eyebrow, showing no real surprise.

After a pause, he calmly set down the knife, calmly returned the pendant to his belt, and calmly muttered, “Damn you, Gu Fangzhi.”

Having lost all mood for carving, he picked up a storybook the servants had prepared for him to pass the time.

It was titled Night Tales in the Temple, about an old monk telling ghost stories to his disciples in a ruined temple after a disastrous battle.

The writing was simple yet gripping, full of twists and haunting imagery, it had become quite popular among commoners.

Propping his chin with one hand, book in the other, Pei Xin’s eyes skimmed the page:

“In that fleeting instant, a white shadow rushed to the bedside, revealing a grotesque face. She said to this poor monk—”

Pei Xin turned the page.

And in the next second, the half-turned page fell back to where it was.

Pei Xin: “……”

He turned the page again.

It flipped back.

Pei Xin: “…………”

What in the world was Gu Fangzhi doing this time?!

And what the hell did that ghost woman say to the monk?!

To think he’d just been feeling Gu Fangzhi was actually useful!

Face darkening, Pei Xin lifted the carriage curtain and peered out.

By now, he was adept at locating that troublesome “living ancestor” amid a crowd.

His gaze swept over the lines of riders and landed precisely on Gu Fangzhi—

Just in time to see him tumble right off his horse.

He was too far away to make out Gu Fangzhi’s expression, but he could see the man clutching his arm as if hurt.

No wonder he’d been using witchcraft nonstop, turns out poor Gu Fangzhi simply couldn’t get on the horse.

The palace horses weren’t new; they’d been raised for years and had good temperaments.

How on earth could a full-grown man be bullied around by a horse like that?

As Pei Xin was thinking this, Gu Fangzhi triggered another rewind. Pei Xin set his book down on the table, spine-down.

“Yang Luhai.”

“Your servant is here.”

Pei Xin said, “Have Gu Fangzhi ride in a carriage.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Yang Luhai was about to leave when Pei Xin called him back again.

“Forget it. Let him ride with me.”

That “living ancestor” of his seemed cursed with bad luck—take your eyes off him for one moment and he’d be face-down in the dirt again. Without his time-reversal magic, he’d probably have been missing a limb or two by now.

Better to keep him right under his nose; at least then Pei Xin could read in peace.

Yang Luhai bowed again and left, turning back three times with each step, since time itself kept rewinding around him.

Soon, light footsteps approached outside the carriage.

Yang Luhai’s voice came through the curtain: “Your Majesty, Lord Gu has arrived.”

Pei Xin said, “Come in.”

After a moment, the carriage dipped slightly with added weight.

From outside came Gu Fangzhi’s hesitant voice: “Your Majesty, this minister is entering.”

Pei Xin gave a short hum of assent.

Gu Fangzhi lifted the curtain and stepped inside.

The air carried a faint, bitter herbal scent, the smell of Pei Xin himself.
Gu Fangzhi bowed formally, and at the emperor’s gesture, sat nervously in the seat opposite him.

He asked cautiously, “May I ask what Your Majesty has summoned this minister for…?”

Pei Xin: “……”

For what?

For the sake of my sanity and to keep you from dying under a horse’s hoof, that’s what!

Feigning ignorance!

Pei Xin almost wanted to sneer but only said, “Nothing urgent. It’ll be convenient to consult my teacher along the way.”

Gu Fangzhi nodded without suspicion.

Perhaps still shaken from the failed horse ride, his face looked a little pale, and that slight weakness made his features even more striking.

Pei Xin said, “At ease, Teacher. I’ll read for a while.”

He picked up the book he had set down earlier.

Gu Fangzhi, meanwhile, sat still for a few moments, finally catching his breath.

He glanced around the carriage, it was every bit as luxurious as one would expect of the emperor’s transport. Compared to his own shabby little cart, this was spacious and bright, with cushions far softer and more comfortable.

Then his eyes landed on the plate of pastries.

They were small, delicate, and beautifully made, just looking at them made one’s mouth water.

Gu Fangzhi reached out, picked one up, and took a bite.

Pei Xin’s hand paused mid-page as he caught the motion in his peripheral vision.

That plum blossom pastry… it was the same one he had eaten earlier before time reversed. The very same one Gu Fangzhi had restored by accident.

Watching him take a delicate nibble of his pastry, Pei Xin suddenly felt oddly uncomfortable.

He was about to say something when Gu Fangzhi frowned.

The man tossed the pastry back onto the plate and muttered, “Tastes worse than crap, sticks worse than crap, and somehow still isn’t sweet. Disgusting.”

Pei Xin: “…………”

Urgh.

The moment the words left Gu Fangzhi’s mouth, Pei Xin watched helplessly as the half-eaten pastry magically reformed into a perfect, untouched piece on the table.

Pei Xin closed his eyes for a long moment. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down several times as he swallowed back the wave of things he wanted to say. In the end, all that remained was pure, silent exasperation.

The journey to the hunting grounds took a full day.

By the time they arrived at the temporary palace that afternoon, Gu Fangzhi was miserable.

He had never sat in a carriage for so long before, his back ached, his waist hurt, and the jostling on the rough road had made him carsick.

When he stepped out, his legs gave out, and he nearly slipped to the ground.

That’s it, he thought, lying flat, face serene—ready to reload.

But a hand caught his arm and pulled him upright.

Pei Xin steadied him, and as he thought back over the day’s ridiculous events, he couldn’t help but laugh.

Through the sleeve fabric, his long, jointed fingers unconsciously brushed Gu Fangzhi’s forearm twice. With a lingering smile, he asked,

“Teacher, why are you always this unlucky?”