EHW Ch22

The official road was wide, but it couldn’t escape the occasional bump.

Gu Fangzhi had just been thinking how boring carriage rides were. He planned to ask someone that evening if there were any storybooks or picture scrolls to borrow for entertainment the next day, when suddenly, the wheel hit something hard and jolted violently.

Pei Xin was fine; the backboard of the carriage gave him something to lean on.
Gu Fangzhi, caught off guard, lurched forward.

Pei Xin reacted quickly and caught him.

He steadied him with one hand. “Teacher, sit properly.”

Gu Fangzhi thanked him and returned to the seat across from Pei Xin.

Pei Xin glanced up at the man still pretending to be meek and wronged, absently rubbing his fingers together.

Just now, his palm had pressed against Gu Fangzhi’s waist.

He wasn’t sure if his own body ran cold or if Gu Fangzhi’s ran warm, but the soft heat of that touch still lingered at his fingertips.

And…

That waist was slim.

No wonder he couldn’t get up on a horse.

At first, Gu Fangzhi didn’t think much of it after thanking Pei Xin.

But the longer he sat curled up in the corner, the more embarrassed he felt.

As the old (self-made) saying went: You can swagger a thousand miles on confidence, but you can’t walk a single step after losing face.

Gu Fangzhi decided not to dwell on it, he simply reloaded.

Across from him, Pei Xin had just picked up a grape. The next moment, he bit into his own finger instead.

Pei Xin: “……?”

What?

Again with the sorcery? Why now??

Before he could think further, the carriage jolted once more, “ka-thunk”, as it rolled over a rut in the road.

Gu Fangzhi toppled toward him.

Pei Xin instinctively reached out to catch him again, and immediately understood.

So that was it.

The damn sorcerer was so concerned about losing face that he’d rewound time just to redo the fall.

And yet even after redoing it, he still fell!

Pei Xin was speechless.

Overhead came Gu Fangzhi’s small, frustrated exhale. Pei Xin almost laughed. He tightened his grip a little and pushed him back upright. “Teacher, sit properly.”

As he did, a mischievous thought crossed his mind, his thumb brushed lightly along Gu Fangzhi’s side, almost as if measuring.

Hmm. Yes, definitely slim.

The thought had barely formed when darkness swept over his vision again.

“Ka-thunk.” Another bump, another jolt.

Gu Fangzhi came tumbling toward him again.

Pei Xin: “……”

He’d been wrong.

No matter how slim the waist, there was no reason to keep testing it. He didn’t have any strange fetishes, thank you very much.

He pushed Gu Fangzhi back once more, rolled his eyes the moment the other wasn’t looking, and sighed.

Then he noticed Gu Fangzhi’s sleeve twitch, it looked like he was about to cast the spell again.

There were three thousand ways to suffer in this world; sometimes, self-rescue was the only path.

Pei Xin quickly spoke, trying to interrupt the casting. “Teacher, do you know something?”

Gu Fangzhi paused mid-gesture, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “What is it, Your Majesty?”

Pei Xin toyed idly with the jade pendant at his waist, wrapping its tassel around his pale finger. “Recently, a few ministers seem dissatisfied with you again. I received a secret report saying that once we return to the capital, they plan to jointly impeach you.”

Gu Fangzhi: “…Huh?”

He asked, “You mean besides the ones from last time?”

Pei Xin nodded.

Gu Fangzhi frowned. “Why?”

Ever since transmigrating, Gu Fangzhi had followed one guiding principle: stay low-key.

The original host had already made plenty of enemies, inside and outside court, all eager to see him fail. Gu Fangzhi had no intention of stirring up trouble. His only goal was to help Great Qi avoid war, to prevent the devastating conflict he knew was coming.

Pei Xin didn’t answer directly. “You have no guesses?”
After a pause, he added, “Surely you must know who would be first to accuse you?”

Gu Fangzhi: “……”
“How would I know that?”

He looked deeply aggrieved and pointed at himself. “I’m so well-behaved! So diligent! My life now is nothing but work and more work, and somehow I’m still everyone’s imaginary enemy? Unbelievable, I just, ugh, ”

Pei Xin: “……”

In truth, these past few days he’d only been handling urgent affairs; the less pressing matters were left to the ministries or the Right Chancellor.

Even if someone did intend to impeach Gu Fangzhi, that news shouldn’t have reached him yet.

He’d only said it to shift the topic, and to test him.

Because so far, he still knew very little about Gu Fangzhi’s sorcery.

He knew the man could turn back time, yes, but not how far, or under what limits.

At first, he’d assumed Gu Fangzhi could only rewind to his most recent use of magic, yet he’d seen him go even further back.

And though he’d witnessed him return to the past, he’d never once seen him move forward in time.

So this question had been a deliberate trap, meant to probe him.

But somehow, it only left Gu Fangzhi looking pitifully wronged.

Pei Xin suddenly felt… a little guilty.

He forced out an awkward reassurance. “It’s not that bad.”

But it didn’t help.

Gu Fangzhi sighed dramatically. “Ah! Others live a lifetime on the battlefield. Me? I didn’t even graduate, and I’m already living like a pack mule…”

Pei Xin: “……”

‘Graduate?’

What in the world did that even mean?

Gu Fangzhi buried his face in his hands.

Seeing him like that, completely disregarding his image, Pei Xin could already guess what would happen next,  he was definitely about to cast his spell and rewind time again.

Maybe it was because of that “leave-no-trace” sorcery of his that Pei Xin, for once, acted in a way entirely unlike himself, both in temperament and in royal dignity.

He reached out and ruffled Gu Fangzhi’s hair roughly. “Enough, enough. What’s there to be so aggrieved about?”

If anyone should feel wronged, it was him.

He had long noticed that Gu Fangzhi’s hair was curlier than most. Now that his hand was actually in it, he realized the texture was quite different too, springy, soft, and faintly fluffy to the touch.

Gu Fangzhi sighed again and reloaded to just after Pei Xin’s question.

He’d already thought up an excuse, so he put on a suitably troubled expression and replied, “Your Majesty, though I serve with all my loyalty, my conduct may be clumsy and thoughtless, inevitably offending my seniors in court. I dare not speculate recklessly, only beg that Your Majesty enlighten me, so I might know where I have erred.”

Pei Xin didn’t even need to open his eyes to know what Gu Fangzhi would say.

Endless polite nonsense, the same useless flattery.

He didn’t really listen, just leaned back, resting a loose fist against his nose.

Even though Gu Fangzhi had rewound time, even though Pei Xin hadn’t touched his head this time, the faint scent of osmanthus still seemed to linger in his palm.

A day and a half later, Pei Xin returned to the capital.

Upon entering the city, all eyes were on the emperor’s procession.

For the sake of imperial dignity, Gu Fangzhi naturally couldn’t share Pei Xin’s carriage anymore.

Fortunately, according to a long, roundabout chain of orders (Pei Xin → Yang Luhai → a eunuch → the stablehand), the horse Gu Fangzhi had been riding was said to be unwell.
They replaced it with a shorter, gentler one.

It might’ve looked a bit ridiculous to others, but for Gu Fangzhi, it was perfect.

He managed to get into the saddle without incident and sighed with relief.

Pei Xin lifted the curtain and, seeing that Gu Fangzhi was finally mounted without issue, and without needing to rewind time, he, too, breathed a sigh of relief.

Seeing Pei Xin relax, Yang Luhai also sighed in relief.

Then the eunuch. Then the groom.

Gu Fangzhi: “?”

Was there… a leak somewhere? Why was everyone exhaling like that?

Amid the chorus of relieved sighs, a figure approached him.

“Gu Fangzhi.”

Gu Fangzhi turned his head.

The man wore military garb, sharp, neat, and commanding.

Handsome, composed, unmistakable.

It was Qin Xuan, the fan-favorite general from Founding Emperor, the very one Gu Fangzhi had mooched countless supplies from in his playthroughs.

Gu Fangzhi quickly cupped his hands.

“General Qin, long, mooch, no see.”

Qin Xuan: “……?”

Gu Fangzhi pressed the reload button.

He cupped his hands again, politely correcting, “General Qin, long admired, long admired.”
Then, seeing Qin Xuan remain silent, he asked, “General Qin… were you looking for me?”

Qin Xuan nodded.

He’d come for two reasons: first, to inquire about Gu Yunchuan’s condition; second, to warn this newly favored court official not to harbor improper ambitions now that Pei Xin trusted him.

But the problem was, the horse Gu Fangzhi rode was too short.

Barely reached his waist. Its tiny hooves clip-clopped nonstop, struggling to keep up.

The entire sight was… not exactly conducive to a serious conversation.

Qin Xuan decided to keep it brief.

“Give my regards to Gu Yunchuan. And you, don’t get any ideas.”

Gu Fangzhi’s little horse went clop-clop-clop. “Yes, sir.”

Then realizing how that sounded, he reloaded.

“Yes.”

Qin Xuan grunted, tightened the reins, and started to turn away.

But Gu Fangzhi called out, “General Qin! General Qin!”

Qin Xuan looked back. “What is it?”

Gu Fangzhi asked, “Could General Qin tell me more about the battles at the border? About defending against the enemy?”

Qin Xuan frowned.

He was about to ask why, but Gu Fangzhi’s eyes were so bright, so sincerely curious, that he relented.

He figured he might as well test him a little. “Very well.”

When Gu Fangzhi had played the game, he’d liked Qin Xuan as a character. But seeing him in person, the heroic figure, the calm authority, brought all those character descriptions to life.

Fifteen cavalrymen, storming an enemy camp by night to capture their commander alive.

Ambushed by tens of thousands on his return, but turning the tides by luring them across an unfrozen river.

Trapped in a starving fortress, yet leading a light cavalry raid to break through against all odds.

Gu Fangzhi couldn’t help but feel genuine admiration.

It was the same kind of awe a kid had for Ultraman,  or an adult for cold, hard cash.

Still, he remembered his persona.

He swapped “That’s awesome” for “I am humbled by your prowess.”

He replaced “Holy crap” with “How magnificent!”

And “HAHAHAHA” became “How delightful, how splendid!”

When someone’s talking, time passes quickly. Before he knew it, they’d reached the palace gates.

Qin Xuan pulled the reins. “That’s enough for today.”

Gu Fangzhi: “This humble servant is unworthy, how magnificent, how splendid, how humbled, how splendid indeed!”

Qin Xuan: “……?”

Reload.

Gu Fangzhi smiled modestly, cupping his hands again. “Very well. Safe travels, General Qin.”

Then he tried to dismount.

But getting down was harder than getting up.

He lost his balance and nearly fell-

Fortunately, Qin Xuan caught him. “Careful.”

Reload.

Dismount again.

Wobble.

“Careful,” Qin Xuan repeated.

Click. Reload again. “I refuse to believe this! Once more!”

 

Imperial Palanquin.

Pei Xin had already found his coping mechanism for Gu Fangzhi’s sorcery, reading.

When reading or reciting texts, time wouldn’t be wasted; even rewinds couldn’t rob him of progress.

He closed the book just as the carriage jolted to a stop.
Outside, Yang Luhai called, “Your Majesty, we’ve arrived.”

Pei Xin answered, stood, and stepped out,  and his vision went black.

When it cleared, he was right back at the top step.

Gu Fangzhi had cast his spell again.

‘Don’t tell me… he can’t get off the horse?’

The thought almost made Pei Xin laugh.

He turned his gaze back, and sure enough, there was Qin Xuan, holding Gu Fangzhi steady.

Pei Xin: “……?”

He knew they’d been talking on the way back, but seriously, how could they still have things to say?

The smile on his lips slowly faded.

Expression flat, he stepped down again, and darkness swallowed his sight once more.

Two steps down, back to the top.

Not far away, Qin Xuan caught Gu Fangzhi again.

Pei Xin looked away, stepped down again, 

Blackout.

Once more.

Three steps that felt like an endless staircase.

What was this, the Great Wall climb?