EHW Ch25

Gu Fangzhi: “?”

Was he opening the Hall of Mental Cultivation the wrong way?

Why was Pei Xin suddenly asking him to stand vigil?

Wait, what exactly did “stand vigil” mean again? Something like sleeping on a little cot outside the bedchamber, just in case the person inside needed something at night, right?

How much did this job even pay for him to be doing the work of three people?

In a city as vast as the capital, surely he wasn’t the only ox pulling the cart?

This was pure exploitation.

Besides, the original body’s bed was big, soft, and warm, while the “night watch” cot was tiny and miserable…

After weighing the pros and cons, Gu Fangzhi decided to refuse.

Yang Luhai, seeing Gu Fangzhi remain silent while Pei Xin’s face darkened, grew nervous.

He whispered urgently, “Gu Lang, Gu Lang… you should thank His Majesty for the honor…”

Gu Fangzhi, already planning to reload, was in his fearless, god-mode phase. He plopped himself right down on Pei Xin’s bed.

“Don’t rush me. I’m thinking.”

Pei Xin: “……”

Oh, how he wanted to kick this man straight off the bed.

Before he could act on the thought, though, his vision went black.

Gu Fangzhi had used his sorcery again.

Time reset to the moment Gu Fangzhi arrived at the dragon bed.

Pei Xin propped himself up as before. “Teacher, tonight you will stand vigil for Us.”

Gu Fangzhi reloaded.

Pei Xin: “Teacher, tonight you will stand vigil for Us.”

Gu Fangzhi reloaded again, and again, even trying to insert other topics mid-conversation to divert Pei Xin’s attention.

But somehow, Pei Xin’s words always circled back to the same point: “Teacher tonight teacher tonight teacher tonight…”

Gu Fangzhi: “……”

What the hell was going on?

Wasn’t this supposed to be a random event trigger? Like when he offered candy to Manman and her dialogue options were different every time?

Could it be that Pei Xin asking him to stand vigil wasn’t just on a whim?

If this was something Pei Xin had actually thought through, that made it even stranger, why him, of all people? Though Pei Xin called him teacher, it was clear from his attitude that Gu Fangzhi was nothing more than a dispensable court official.

Gu Fangzhi suddenly looked up. “Wait, you’re not lusting after my body, are you?”

Pei Xin: “?”

Pei Xin: “……”

‘Heavens above, bear witness to my innocence!’

Pei Xin nearly rolled his eyes out of his skull. Fortunately, Gu Fangzhi was only joking; he immediately rewound time again.

And so began another round of endless tug-of-war.

Pei Xin: “Teacher tonight tonight tonight stand vigil stand vigil stand vigil stand vigil…”

Normally terse, Pei Xin felt like he’d already used up all the words he’d speak for the next seventeen years.

A slow irritation began to burn in his chest.

Ever since discovering Gu Fangzhi’s sorcery, he’d treated the man fairly well, yet Gu Fangzhi couldn’t even do something as simple as keep vigil for him?

So all his consideration meant nothing? Was Gu Fangzhi still afraid of him, still on guard?

That thought made the stuffy, restless feeling in his chest tighten further.

Before Gu Fangzhi could cast again, Pei Xin suddenly reached out and caught his hand beneath his sleeve, the hand that was just beginning to move for a spell.

Pei Xin’s touch was cold. The sudden movement startled Gu Fangzhi, a chill running through him.

Those long, pale fingers rested over the back of his hand, smooth yet firm. The white jade ring on Pei Xin’s index finger pressed cool and hard against his skin.

Gu Fangzhi lifted his eyes to meet Pei Xin’s.

Pei Xin said evenly, “Teacher, tonight you will stand vigil for Us.”

Unlike before, this time his voice carried a low note of anger, but deep in his gaze, there was also something faintly wounded.

Gu Fangzhi suddenly thought of a lone, injured wolf. He wasn’t sure what possessed him, maybe his brain short-circuited, but for some reason, Pei Xin looked… a little pitiful.

Before he could stop himself, he murmured, “This servant obeys.”

Pei Xin hadn’t expected him to agree.

Those sharp eyes widened slightly in surprise, then narrowed again in satisfaction.
“Good,” he said softly. “Later, We shall have the outer room prepared.”

***

Pei Xin arrived at court a bit late that morning, and everyone had already heard he’d summoned Gu Fangzhi to discuss the “night-watch matter.”

Openly, officials praised him for his respect toward his teacher.

Privately, they whispered that Gu Fangzhi was clearly the emperor’s favorite.

Some of the more scandalous gossip even went so far as to suggest that Gu Fangzhi served His Majesty with his looks.

No one knew how he’d managed it, but whatever the method, one word summed it up: favor.

Meanwhile, the “favored minister” in question was hard at work like a beast of burden in the Ministry of Rites.

With Pei Xin’s first birthday celebration since his coronation approaching, two imperial requirements had been issued:

1. It must be grand.

2. It must be frugal.

The Ministry’s dilemma wasn’t how to make it grand or how to make it frugal,  but rather, how to buy all the materials for building a nuclear warhead with a budget of only five thousand coins.

Impossible.

Gu Fangzhi stared at the material lists until his vision blurred and his hair started to fall out, yet still couldn’t come up with a plan.

Song Jingzhou, ever sympathetic, poured him a cup of tea.
“Brother Xian, don’t panic. Minister He and the others are brainstorming as we speak.”

“You’re still too naïve, kid.”

Gu Fangzhi casually hit save, giving Song Jingzhou a look full of pity.
“In truth, the usual way it works is, the leaders handle the thinking, and we handle the finding ways to make it happen.”

Song Jingzhou: “Pfft.”

No sooner had he said it than a dry cough came from behind them.

Both of them froze.

Frame by frame, they turned their heads, only to see Minister He walking past.

Gu Fangzhi glanced at Song Jingzhou’s suddenly pale face and murmured, “Don’t panic. I’ll save you.”

He reloaded the timeline, reached for the cup of tea Song had just handed him, and took a slow sip before declaring brightly,

 “You’re absolutely right, brother! We must have unwavering faith in our leaders’ leadership! Follow the leaders in everything!”

The words had barely left his mouth when a faint yet deeply satisfied chuckle sounded from behind.

Ah… men.

Your name is vanity.

***

By dusk, Gu Fangzhi and Song Jingzhou were out on an errand—checking the shops around the city to see if they could find cheaper alternatives for the imperial birthday banquet’s candles, decorations, and fabrics.

But they’d gone only to the honest shops, the ones that didn’t swindle the poor.

The prices still dazzled Gu Fangzhi’s eyes, and before long he gave up on work altogether, dragging Song Jingzhou to browse the roadside stalls.

Come to think of it, this was the first real stretch of free time he’d had to wander the streets since arriving in this ancient era.

He picked out a handwoven tiger-head necklace for Manman. Seeing that the vendor was an old man with calloused hands, he also bought a few colorful cords, one each for Gu Yunchuan and Gu Huaiyu.

After strolling a bit longer, Song Jingzhou urged him, “Brother Xian, you’d best head back to the palace. The sun’s about to set, you wouldn’t want His Majesty waiting.”

Gu Fangzhi agreed, climbed into his small sedan chair, and made his way to the palace.

Once he disembarked, he told Ah-Qi, “Tell my brother not to save me any dinner.”

Ah Qi grinned. “Of course, Second Master. Everyone in the capital already knows you’ll be keeping vigil for His Majesty tonight. Second Master, you’re truly favored these days.”

Gu Fangzhi: “……?”

Did they really have to make “keeping vigil” sound so much like “sharing the emperor’s bed”?