EHW Ch27

Gu Fangzhi had no idea what kind of relationship Qin Xuan had just misunderstood between him and Pei Xin.

Once the dishes were ordered, Gu Fangzhi smiled politely. “Thank you, General, for letting us share your table.”

Qin Xuan’s eyes flicked again to the faint red mark peeking out from Gu Fangzhi’s collar. “…It’s fine.”

He poured himself a cup of tea, but instead of drinking, he simply held it in front of his lips, voice low.

“You and His Majesty…”

Gu Fangzhi froze mid–rib bite. “What?”

Qin Xuan opened his mouth, then shut it again, unsure what exactly he wanted to say.

When did it start between you and the Emperor?

You’d better not harbor any improper thoughts.

But none of those words were his place to say.

And besides, this was broad daylight, he couldn’t risk letting anyone overhear.

At last, suspicion and warning both condensed into a single vague sentence:
“Yang Luhai should’ve already told you everything beforehand.”

Told me… what?

Gu Fangzhi blinked in confusion, then realized Qin Xuan must be referring to the night watch duty.

He nodded. “Yes, Eunuch Yang sent an older lady to brief me.”

Qin Xuan grunted. “Oh… Yang Luhai’s quite considerate.”

At least he’d known to find a woman to do the explaining, saved them both the awkwardness.

The topic wasn’t one to linger on, and luckily, the waiter arrived with their food. Qin Xuan tapped the table lightly. “Eat.”

With his sharp, cold face and curt words, Qin Xuan gave off the air of black stone from the frontier, hard, unyielding, silent. Sitting across from him didn’t bother Gu Fangzhi, but poor Song Jingzhou looked so tense he barely touched his meal.

Gu Fangzhi urged him, “Eat some more rice.”

Song Jingzhou blinked. “Rice… West?”

Gu Fangzhi chuckled.

After enjoying the other man’s confused expression for a moment, he reloaded and repeated properly, “I said eat a bit more, otherwise you’ll get hungry at night.”

Song Jingzhou smiled. “Don’t worry, brother. I sleep early. By the time hunger comes, I’m already fast asleep. My mother says I’m easy to feed.”

The mention of sleeping made Gu Fangzhi think of Pei Xin again.

He’d once had a college roommate with severe insomnia, dark circles hanging nearly to his chin, and he’d thought that was bad enough.

Turns out Pei Xin was even worse.

Would the Emperor call him into the palace again tonight to “keep watch”?

He was still mulling it over when hurried footsteps thundered up the stairs, Ah-Qi, drenched in sweat and out of breath.

Gu Fangzhi’s gut clenched. Something was wrong. He stood up at once. “What happened?”

“General Qin. Lord Song.” Ah Qi quickly bowed to them both, then lowered his voice to Gu Fangzhi:
“Second Master, can you return home now? The young master’s fallen ill, he’s crying for you.”

‘Manman’s sick?’

Gu Fangzhi’s brows furrowed tight. “What happened? Is it serious?”

“At noon one of the boys didn’t watch the fire properly, the kitchen caught flame. Not a big one, but the young master saw it. He got frightened, had a seizure, and now he’s burning with fever.”

‘Noon?’

Gu Fangzhi’s first instinct was to open the “game menu” in his mind and check his save files.

The last save had been just now, several hours past noon already.

The earlier slot, Save 1, dated back to the royal hunting grounds when he and Pei Xin were discussing the Western Envoys. Too far.

A hand suddenly gripped his arm.

Gu Fangzhi jumped, then saw it was Qin Xuan.

“I know a physician who specializes in children,” Qin Xuan said. “I’ll take you there for medicine.”

Gu Fangzhi nodded hard.

The clinic Qin Xuan mentioned wasn’t far; they could reach it on foot.

Qin Xuan’s strides were long, forcing Gu Fangzhi to half-jog behind him, panting by the time they arrived.

The white-browed, white-bearded doctor examined Manman’s symptoms as Ah Qi explained them and prescribed a few calming medicines.

Gu Fangzhi clutched the medicine and hurried back to the Gu residence, heart pounding the whole way.

When he arrived, Gu Yunchuan was by Manman’s bedside, gently wiping sweat from the boy’s brow with a damp cloth.

Manman was asleep, face pale, brow furrowed in restless discomfort.

Hearing footsteps, Gu Yunchuan looked up.

He stepped out, quietly closing the door behind him, and met Gu Fangzhi’s eyes.

Gu Fangzhi had run all the way back, bent over, hands on his knees, gasping for breath.
His hair had come loose, strands falling across his flushed cheeks, as if someone had painted a stroke of vermilion on cool jade.

The exhaustion made his normally mild features seem unusually vivid and alive.

Seeing his brother’s anxious face, Gu Yunchuan felt a flicker of pride and relief.

He raised his calloused left hand and patted Gu Fangzhi’s head. “Don’t worry. The doctor’s already been. It’s just a fright. A few doses of calming and fever medicine will set him right.”

Only then did Gu Fangzhi exhale in relief.

Gu Yunchuan noticed the medicine bag in his hand. “And this?”

“From the clinic General Qin took me to. The doctor there prescribed it for Manman.”

“Qin Xuan?”
At the name, Gu Yunchuan’s usually stoic face shifted slightly.
He was a former southern general; Qin Xuan commanded in the north. They’d never met, one defending the south, the other the frontier, both once pillars of Great Qi.

Now Qin Xuan still served the country, while Gu Yunchuan, left with only one arm, had lost both title and command.

He hid the ache behind a calm expression and simply asked, “Do you want to go see him?”

Gu Fangzhi nodded.

Just as Gu Yunchuan said, the illness wasn’t serious. The fever was mild, the boy only whimpered occasionally in his dreams.

Once Gu Fangzhi had checked on him up close, his heart finally steadied.

Otherwise, when Gu Huaiyu returned and saw his precious little brother suddenly burning with fever, he’d probably go full villain mode on the spot.

By evening, Manman was better, awake and able to eat a bowl of porridge. His small voice was still hoarse when he mumbled, “Fangfang-ge, can I sleep with you tonight?”

“Of course you can,” Gu Fangzhi said warmly.

He told Ah-Qi to bring over his bedding. After taking his medicine, Manman curled up beside him like before, resting his head on Gu Fangzhi’s arm like a sleepy kitten.

Gu Fangzhi soon drifted off as well, only to wake again not long after.

He gasped softly, “Ah—ahhh—my arm’s numb—completely numb—!”

Trying not to wake Manman, he bit his lip, wiggling his arm in slow, silent agony.

Still, the boy stirred awake, staring in the dark, puzzled by his odd movements.

Gu Fangzhi: “……”

For the sake of dignity, Lord Gu chose to reload.

After three more reloads and several attempts, he finally achieved Perfect Clear: Slept Through the Night Without Waking the Child.

He let out a long, contented sigh and got ready to sleep.

Sleep crept in quietly.

Then, all of a sudden, Gu Fangzhi’s eyes snapped open.

Something was wrong.

No matter how he thought about it, it didn’t make sense.

Gu Yunchuan only has one arm, his right one, Gu Fangzhi even gestured to himself — so how on earth did he manage to wring out that wet towel with one hand?

The Hall of Mental Cultivation

That night, Grand Tutor Sun entered the palace to speak with Pei Xin.

The last time they’d met, Pei Xin had deliberately ignored the man’s long lecture under the excuse of “consulting Lord Gu’s sorcery,” nearly making the old tutor cough up blood in rage. This time, Grand Tutor Sun had lost his patience altogether,  he entered without even waiting for permission.

Pei Xin had half a mind to order him thrown out immediately, but after all, the antique porcelain passed down through three generations might not survive such commotion. So he grudgingly let the man stay.

Clearly, his temper had improved somewhat, perhaps from being worn down by Gu Fangzhi.

But Grand Tutor Sun had no real urgent matter.

After the usual formalities about Pei Xin’s health and studies, the old man eventually circled back, as always, to his favorite topic—

“Your Majesty, the harem remains… empty.”

Pei Xin’s expression turned to frost.

He hated hearing that line.

People always said such things under the guise of “concern for the emperor,” when in truth, it was nothing but an excuse to satisfy their own petty desires.

As the tutor went on nagging, he failed to notice that the candlelight in the hall shimmered across Pei Xin’s sharp features, casting a glacial sheen over his eyes, like a blade gleaming under moonlight.

His lashes lowered slightly, but couldn’t hide the deep impatience rolling within.

His thin lips pressed down. His entire figure exuded biting cold.

“My patience,” Pei Xin said, his voice deep and quiet, every word glazed with the frost of a winter night, “has its limits.”

The words struck like thunder.

Grand Tutor Sun froze. The rest of his sentence died halfway in his throat.

Pei Xin stopped fiddling with his jade ring, rose to his feet, and said coldly,

“You may leave now, Grand Tutor.”

Grand Tutor Sun stood, flustered.

Then, Pei Xin’s vision suddenly went black.

When his sight returned, he was back on the chaise longue, and Grand Tutor Sun was once again standing before him.

“Your Majesty, the harem remains empty…”

Pei Xin: “…”

What the hell was Gu Fangzhi doing?

Couldn’t he pick a worse time? He’d finally suffered through that entire lecture, and now it was looping again?

Irritation surged to the point that cold air could practically be seen rising from his scalp.

“My patience,” Pei Xin repeated, “has its limits.”

The poor Grand Tutor trembled so hard this time he nearly keeled over.

But then Pei Xin’s vision went black again.

“Your Majesty, the harem remains empty…”

Pei Xin: “………”

“My patience has limits,” he said flatly, cutting the man off, “but you’d best not test them.”

Grand Tutor Sun: “???”

What?

Darkness again.

Then—

“The Bodhi tree is not a tree; the mirror has no stand. All conditioned phenomena are like dreams, illusions, bubbles, and shadows.” (Note ①: a Buddhist verse about impermanence.)

After being made to relive the same moment three times by Gu Fangzhi’s “save reloads,” Pei Xin had achieved a level of enlightenment.

All his earlier irritation vanished without a trace.

Not only was he no longer angry, he almost wanted to laugh.

Grand Tutor Sun once again began, obliviously,

“Your Majesty, the harem remains empty—”

Pei Xin leaned back lazily.

“Then what shall we do? Why don’t you come keep me company in the harem, Grand Tutor?”

Grand Tutor Sun froze. “This old servant—this old servant—this old servant…”
He turned bright red and stammered at last, “B-but this old servant… has a bad back…”

Pei Xin didn’t respond. Propping his cheek on one hand, he watched with satisfaction as the old man’s face cracked in horror, waiting calmly for Gu Fangzhi’s spell to wash everything clean again.

But—

Gu Fangzhi didn’t reload this time.

And so, one month after his coronation, the new emperor officially declared in the Hall of Mental Cultivation:

“The court shall admit a new concubine, male, seventy years of age.”

Grand Tutor Sun fell silent.
The entire hall did.

Everyone looked at one another in horror.

They all knew an emperor’s words could never be taken as mere jest,  least of all from Pei Xin, who wasn’t known for joking.

At last, Eunuch Yang Luhai broke the deathly silence, voice trembling:

“Y-Your Majesty… shall I… shall I issue the decree, and have the servants make the necessary arrangements?”

Pei Xin: “…………”

Arrange what?

He should rather have them arrange a funeral!

A grand one, starting tomorrow — and bury Gu Fangzhi with full honors in the imperial tomb!