EHW Ch35

The nighttime conversation had somehow left Pei Xin’s liver burning with frustration.

If an imperial physician had been there to check his pulse, he would’ve marveled, “His Majesty truly has the vigor of a dragon.”

Still, thanks to Gu Fangzhi’s presence, Pei Xin managed to sleep reasonably well that night.

The next morning, after breakfast, Pei Xin prepared to return to the palace.

Though it had been a “private visit in disguise,” he hadn’t made any effort to conceal it.

As a result, word spread fast, officials and commoners alike crowded the long streets, trying to catch a glimpse of the young emperor from behind the guards’ line.

Most did it out of respect, though curiosity was stronger: everyone wanted to see what the little emperor actually looked like.

Some said Pei Xin was strikingly handsome; others claimed he was a terrifying figure with pitch-black skin, crimson eyes, and a gaping, blood-red mouth, no wonder he’d frightened armies off the battlefield.

The crowd was so dense that the sedan moved forward at a turtle’s pace. Pei Xin’s patience thinned by the second, his face growing darker.

Sharing the same carriage, because Pei Xin didn’t trust him not to cause trouble, Gu Fangzhi quickly noticed the emperor’s foul mood.

He understood, though. Anyone would be irritable sitting in traffic on the way to work.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a Go board. Turning to Pei Xin, he suggested, “Your Majesty, shall we play a game to pass the time?”

Pei Xin glanced at him.

He didn’t love Go, but he was good at it, sharp, decisive, ruthless, just like his temperament.

His second brother was more devious, preferring direct confrontation in both warfare and Go, always scheming, never straightforward.

If it were Gu Fangzhi… Pei Xin couldn’t quite imagine what kind of player he’d be.

Curiosity won out. “Very well.”

Gu Fangzhi unfolded the board. Pei Xin took black and moved first.

In truth, Gu Fangzhi’s Go skills barely surpassed a child’s, he’d taken one semester of lessons in grade school and forgotten most of it.
He only suggested it to improve Pei Xin’s mood, afraid the emperor might lose his temper, storm out, and start chopping people in the crowd.

It was meant to be a lighthearted game, but Pei Xin played like a demon, showing no mercy.

Gu Fangzhi’s stones were wiped out one after another. He felt so wronged he wanted to throw sand in Pei Xin’s face.

When Gu Fangzhi first proposed playing, Pei Xin had already anticipated he might use his witchcraft to undo bad moves.

But surprisingly, Gu Fangzhi didn’t.

As his white stones were devoured one group after another, Gu Fangzhi’s spirits sank lower and lower. His head drooped, and even the little mole on his cheek seemed to lose color.

He looked utterly bullied.

Pei Xin had to admit it, he was bullying him a little.

There was a twinge of guilt, yes, but it was easy to ignore. Watching Gu Fangzhi flounder was simply too satisfying.

Pei Xin’s lips curved faintly upward, his mood lifting.

He placed another black stone and captured a cluster of white.

Then Gu Fangzhi said calmly, “I’ll let you have that one.”

Pei Xin’s vision went black for a second.

In the blink of an eye, Gu Fangzhi picked up the same white stone and moved it elsewhere.

Pei Xin: “……”

Ah.

There it was, cheating mode activated.

Unfazed, he chased with his black stone and captured it again.

Gu Fangzhi said, “I’ll let you have that one.”

Darkness flashed before Pei Xin’s eyes once more, time rewound, and Gu Fangzhi moved the stone again.

Pei Xin pursued.

Gu Fangzhi: “I’ll let you have that one.”

Pei Xin narrowed his eyes and kept playing.

Gu Fangzhi, sing-song this time: “I’ll~ let you have it~.”

Pei Xin: “…………”

This insufferable cheat was actually being stubborn about it.

At this rate, the board would wear thin before either admitted defeat.

In the end, the “intense” match concluded with Pei Xin’s loss.

Gu Fangzhi, humble as ever, said, “Your Majesty’s opening was so aggressive I feared I’d be crushed outright. Fortunately, my luck turned midway.”

Pei Xin: “……”

Not even worth arguing with.

After all that time-rewinding nonsense, his head spun. If Gu Fangzhi hadn’t deliberately gone easy at the end, Pei Xin suspected they’d still be locked in battle for the rest of eternity.

He was just about to exhale in weary relief when he heard voices outside the carriage, 

“Ah! The wind just blew the curtain up! Did anyone see what he looks like?”

“No, didn’t see, ”

“But is it true he’s pitch-black all over, with red eyes and a gaping mouth?”

Gu Fangzhi: “……！”

Talking trash about the emperor right next to the emperor himself, courting death!

He quickly rewound time by two minutes, leaned out the window, and called to the guards, “Keep the crowd back. Don’t let anyone spread nonsense.”

The soldiers saluted and went to enforce order.

Satisfied, Gu Fangzhi sat back down, tapping an imaginary wooden fish in his mind.

+1 merit.

As for Pei Xin, 

The townsfolk’s words still echoed faintly in his ears, cutting in and out.

The young emperor who could slaughter ten men on the battlefield without tiring now felt prematurely aged, slumping against the side of the carriage in exhaustion.

Even after returning from court later that day, the suffocation in his chest hadn’t faded.

Yang Luhai, noticing his sour mood, offered helpfully, “Your Majesty seems weary. Would you care for a bit of diversion?”

Pei Xin raised a brow, not quite yes, not quite no.

Knowing the emperor’s no often meant yes, Yang Luhai continued tentatively, “Perhaps a tavern, to try the people’s food? Or the training grounds, to inspect the troops? Ah, there are a few new horses at the eastern hunting range, wild-tempered and unbroken. Would Your Majesty like to tame one?”

Pei Xin lifted an eyebrow again, interest.

Yang Luhai smiled. “Then this servant shall prepare the horses and carriage.”

“Mm,” Pei Xin replied.

An hour later, he arrived at the royal hunting grounds.

Winter was near. The vast field was cold and desolate, brittle yellow grass trembling in the wind. In the distance, a few sleek, well-fed horses were pacing lazily, a strangely beautiful bleakness.

The stablemen had long been waiting for him.

Their leader, a short, sturdy man with a brush mustache, bowed low before leading out a magnificent black stallion.

Its mane hung long enough to brush its belly; tufts of white hair covered its hooves. The horse snorted restlessly, hooves stamping, tossing its head again and again, trying to wrench the reins free from the handler’s grip.

Pei Xin noticed that the black stallion’s back and legs were marked with long scars hidden beneath its thick mane.

He recognized them at a glance, gun- or spear-wounds. “A warhorse?”

“The Emperor’s eyes are as sharp as ever,” the middle-aged man replied. “It was captured from Liaoyue.”

Pei Xin nodded.

Warhorses were intelligent and loyal to their masters. Any tamed beast would be difficult to retrain, but this one had likely belonged to a general’s personal mount, which explained its defiance toward unfamiliar hands.

He reached out and took the reins.

Sensing a stranger’s presence, the horse grew even more restless.

Pei Xin yanked the reins hard. His strength was immense; the stallion was forced to lower its head. Seizing the moment, Pei Xin pressed down on its neck, muscles tightening like a drawn bow, then in one swift motion vaulted onto its back.

Feeling a rider on its spine, the horse reared and neighed shrilly, galloping and twisting, trying to throw him off.

Everyone watching, huntsmen, attendants, held their breath, not daring to intervene.

Pei Xin leaned forward, his thin lips close to the horse’s ear, and whispered something.

Miraculously, the animal began to settle.

Still murmuring softly, he tugged the reins; though the horse was far from tame, it actually started to circle under his command.

The onlookers stared, dumbfounded.

When Pei Xin finally had his fill and dismounted, the mustached man hurried forward. “Your Majesty! What did you say to it? How did you calm it so quickly?!”

Pei Xin replied with a few words, not in the common tongue of the Central Plains. The sounds were strange, lilting at the end.

While the crowd blinked in confusion, he spread his arms slightly so that Yang Luhai could straighten his disheveled robes, and said, “I spoke to it in Liaoyue language.”

To be precise, it was a battlefield command used for warhorses in Liaoyue.

The stallion understood, and, mistaking Pei Xin for one of its own, immediately obeyed.

The man was full of awe.

He kept praising Pei Xin all the way and personally brought out the finest horse in the hunting grounds.

Pei Xin mounted and galloped two quick laps around the field. The sharp wind washed away the pent-up irritation he’d felt that morning after dealing with Gu Fangzhi.

Yet somehow, his mind drifted back to the image of Gu Fangzhi returning to the capital, bumping along awkwardly on that little short horse.

Pathetic, yes, but amusing in its own way.

Then he remembered Gu Fangzhi chatting happily with Qin Xuan the entire ride back.

Pei Xin’s lips tightened in a faint pout.

Gu Fangzhi had behaved himself all day, no spells, no nonsense, he probably wasn’t causing trouble right now either.

Feeling lighter, Pei Xin took another few laps until he was finally satisfied.

But just as his feet hit the ground, a sudden burst of furious barking came from the distance.

The mustached man clicked his tongue. “That beast’s at it again! Your Majesty… forgive the disturbance. This humble servant deserves death for spoiling your enjoyment.”

Pei Xin had sharp hearing; beneath the barking he caught the sound of someone shouting angrily.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“It’s a dog someone forced on me not long ago,” the man explained, a trace of fatigue on his face. “A small white thing, beautiful but impossible to handle. The moment something displeases it, it bites everything, give it food, it bites; take it for a walk, it bites; play with it, it bites… anything it can reach, it destroys. It’s even chewed half the bed by now.”

He sighed. “It’s hard to say who’s master anymore. I tried training the little beast for ten days, but instead it trained me. Now, whenever it bares its teeth, I rush to take it out or feed it jerky, otherwise it’ll throw a tantrum that never ends.”

Pei Xin: “…………”

Something about that story felt uncomfortably familiar.

He suspected there was a hidden meaning behind it.

Besides, compared to the trouble Gu Fangzhi gave him, this dog didn’t seem that bad.

So it tore up a few things, big deal.

At least it didn’t stutter in front of the entire court, make the palace servants think their emperor was a blood-thirsty tyrant, convince monks he had a swearing habit, and suggest marrying the Grand Tutor into the harem…

Pei Xin closed his eyes. He refused to think further.

Whoever said that dog was bad, compared to his living father Gu Fangzhi, it was practically a saint.