EHW Ch5

“Big Brother,”

taking advantage of Gu Yunchuan’s silence, Gu Fangzhi said, “There’s something you don’t know. Today in court, His Majesty nearly beheaded half the ministers. When I saw those old officials crying and begging for their lives, I suddenly came to my senses.”

The anger on Gu Yunchuan’s face faded slightly.

Gu Fangzhi continued,

“I can’t just stand by and watch His Majesty walk down a crooked path.”

“Truly?” Gu Yunchuan asked.

Gu Fangzhi nodded solemnly.

When he grew serious, the light in his peach-blossom eyes turned soft and moist,
a sincerity that made it impossible not to believe him.

Gu Yunchuan looked at him—suspicious but thoughtful—and finally gave a slow nod.

“…And you?” he asked again. “Did the emperor say anything to you?”

Recalling the earlier ordeal of being repeatedly executed and reloading himself back into court,
Gu Fangzhi still felt a lingering chill in his chest.

He patted his heart and gave a nervous laugh.

“It’s fine, still alive.”

The Gu family wasn’t small.

There were four brothers in the main line, and Gu Fangzhi was the second.

There were also a few unmarried female cousins in the side branches.

But today, aside from Gu Yunchuan, he hadn’t seen anyone else.
He asked Ah-Qi and learned that the third brother had taken the youngest out hunting.

Gu Fangzhi sighed wistfully.

“Not having to work… must be nice.”

The original Gu Fangzhi’s room was lavishly decorated, a jumble of books, scrolls, and antiques
that gleamed luxuriously under the sunlight.

They were clearly the original owner’s prized possessions, but Gu Fangzhi didn’t understand a thing about them.

He flipped through an old book.

“Traditional characters, huh.”

Then glanced at the paintings.

“Also traditional characters.”

He tapped a porcelain vase.

“Hard.”

A hopeless illiterate.

After wandering around, the thing that pleased him most was the bed, the mattress soft, the quilt smooth and silky, obviously very expensive.

Still thinking about the fortune the original had hoarded, he muttered,

“Maybe it’s under the mattress?”

He struggled to roll up the bedding, but found no gold or silver—only a few books.

He opened one.

Oh. Erotic illustrations.

Male × male.

All his life, Gu Fangzhi had been confessed to by many people, and nine out of ten, and a half—were men.

He knew his looks were not rugged, but he wasn’t delicate either.

He never understood why he attracted so many men.

He’d never dated anyone, the only thing that ever made his heart flutter was the sight of his bank balance.

After skimming two pages, he stuffed the book back under the mattress, unimpressed.

He paced around the room again until Ah-Qi appeared at the door.

“Second Master, will you take your midday meal?”

Lunch was already set in the dining hall, where Gu Yunchuan had taken his seat.

Missing his right arm, he awkwardly held chopsticks in his left hand.

Seeing how much trouble he had eating,
Gu Fangzhi picked out a piece of fish, removed the bones,
and placed it gently into his brother’s bowl.

The servants nearby nearly dropped their trays.

In recent years, Gu Fangzhi had almost never eaten with anyone else.
Even when he did sit at the same table,
he’d start an argument within minutes, leaving everyone exhausted.

Yet today, not only was he not quarrelling, he even deboned fish for his elder brother?!

The servants and maids huddled together, whispering:

“What’s going on?”

“Did he change personalities?”

“No way…”

“Maybe he wants something from the Master.”

“I heard he made a mistake at court today…”

“Ah… I hope the Master doesn’t go soft-hearted.”

Catching the look on their faces from the corner of his eye, Gu Fangzhi silently sighed.
The original owner must’ve been truly awful, to be so despised by every servant in the house was no small feat.

At the table, Gu Yunchuan glanced up at him.

Perhaps he’d overheard the whispers, because Gu Fangzhi suddenly looked dazed—
head lowered, poking at his rice with his chopsticks, almost pitiful.

Gu Yunchuan had gone to the frontier with their father when he was young and stayed there for over ten years.

By the time he returned, one brother had become a conniving flatterer,
and another an idle, good-for-nothing scoundrel.

Though they shared blood, the four brothers barely knew one another,
and there had been plenty of conflict over the years.

But remembering what Gu Fangzhi had said to him earlier after court,
Gu Yunchuan felt he should at least show some encouragement.

After a moment’s thought, he raised his left hand, the calloused palm of a man long used to gripping weapons, rough with scars, and pressed it gently on Gu Fangzhi’s head.

“Thank you, Second Brother.”

Gu Fangzhi smiled at him.

Then, thinking his expression had looked a bit foolish, he reloaded the moment and smiled again, this time with just the right balance:
three parts clever, three parts calm, three parts composed, and one part sly.

A perfect ten.

That afternoon, Gu Fangzhi took a nap.
When he woke again, the sun was already setting.

Ah-Qi filled the bath with warm water and sprinkled in herbs and flower petals.

Gu Fangzhi studied the ancient soap beans and hair paste,
trying to figure out how to use them, and bent down to untie his belt.

Ancient clothes looked complicated—and were just as tricky to take off.

While he was struggling with the belt, a voice sounded behind him:

“Second Master, allow this servant to help.”

Gu Fangzhi nearly jumped out of his skin.

Seeing the maid’s hand about to touch his waist, he stepped back quickly,
the tips of his pale ears flushing red.

“N-n-no need! T-thank you!”

The maid blinked at him in confusion.

Gu Fangzhi steadied himself, reloaded the moment, and said in a calm, mysterious tone,

“In the future, there’s no need to attend me in this matter.”

The maid glanced at the wrinkled belt in his hands, baffled but obedient.

“Yes, Second Master.”

***
Hall of Mental Cultivation.

The bright yellow figure remained motionless, leaning against the imperial chaise.
Pei Xin let out a low, quiet laugh.

He had tried to take a sip of water, one moment the cup was in his hand, the next he found himself a full pace away from the table.

He gave up on drinking. After turning back three separate times, he was still standing motionless before the same desk.

When he finally managed to reach it and began reviewing a memorial, his brush danced across the page, writing two vigorous lines, only for the vermilion characters to vanish in the blink of an eye.

After rewriting twice, Pei Xin grew irritated. He scrawled an ugly “Reviewed” across the document instead. This time, at least, it stayed.

Later that afternoon he tried to nap, but dreams of the battlefield returned, the screaming, the blood, the killing.

He woke gasping, only to be plunged back into darkness again, a severed, blood-slicked head flying toward him through the void.

Under Yang Luhai’s horrified gaze, Pei Xin’s low chuckle deepened, growing wilder, until finally he was laughing outright, a sharp, unrestrained laugh that suddenly cut off.

His brows and eyes turned glacial.

“Yang Luhai.”

The words had barely left his lips when his vision went black again.

…Gu Fangzhi had used that sorcery once more.

Pei Xin’s anger darkened further.

“Yang Luhai.”

“Yang Luhai.”

“Your servant is here.”

“Yang Luhai.”

“Your servant is here.”

“Yang Yang Yang Yang Yang—”

“Servant servant servant servant—”

“Summon summon summon summon—”

Pei Xin drew in a long breath, violence flashing in his eyes.

“Summon Gu Fangzhi to the palace, at once!”

Yang Luhai froze, utterly caught off guard by the order.

“Ah—yes, Your Majesty!”

As the eunuch hurried to give the command, Pei Xin’s face grew even darker.

It had been a decision born of fury, but also of calculation.

There were questions he wanted answered.

First: why had Gu Fangzhi not used this vexing sorcery sooner or later—but chosen today, on his very first day holding court?

If it had been only to save his life at first, what of the countless times afterward?

Was it deliberate? Revenge? Something else entirely?

Second: why was he alone aware of it?

No one else had noticed a thing.

Had Gu Fangzhi wanted him to know—or was it accidental?

Third: did Gu Fangzhi realize that he, Pei Xin, could perceive the spell at all?

Pei Xin’s long fingers tapped lightly on the desk, the candlelight swaying across his eyes, making them look even deeper, darker.

As he silently lined up each suspicion in his mind, sounds came from outside the hall.
Yang Luhai’s voice announced,

“Your Majesty, Gu Fangzhi has arrived.”

Pei Xin turned the white-jade ring on his finger once, then lifted his hand slightly.

Yang Luhai immediately ushered Gu Fangzhi in.

Before long, soft footsteps sounded beyond the threshold.

Pei Xin raised his gaze.

Before coming, Gu Fangzhi must have been bathing.

His damp black hair was half gathered in a jade crown, the rest falling loose against his cheeks.

He wore a pale-moon robe of patterned silk, hanging loosely on his frame; perhaps from haste—or sheer carelessness—the belt was tied haphazardly, and his inner garment was wrinkled and uneven.

A faint, steamy scent clung to him.

It was the first time Pei Xin had seen Gu Fangzhi this close, close enough to notice the small light-colored mole on his cheek.

Yet such fine looks stirred not a trace of admiration in him.

He could only recall the endless torment of the day’s “witchcraft.”

Pei Xin narrowed his eyes; his gaze slid over Gu Fangzhi from head to toe like the tongue of a predator.

Then his thin lips curved faintly.

“Please, sir, be seated.”

At the exact moment Pei Xin spoke, Gu Fangzhi quickly saved his progress.

After the “save successful” message flickered before his eyes, he lifted his head to meet Pei Xin’s gaze.

At morning court, the emperor’s beaded coronet had hidden half his face; Gu Fangzhi had only glimpsed fragments through the gaps.

Now, without the veil of pearls, he finally saw him clearly—
sharp brows, deep-set eyes, a straight nose, and thin lips.

It was near bedtime; his waist-length black hair was unbound, cascading down his back like ink.
The dark robe embroidered with gold threads lent him a mist-shrouded, unreadable air.

Gu Fangzhi recalled the game’s description of Pei Xin—

“Reclusive, suspicious, sowing evil and reaping evil.”

He was so lost in thought that, as he stepped into the inner hall, he caught his toe on the threshold and stumbled.

“Ow—my—”

[Congratulations, Player, for achieving BE Ending – “Ah, to Be Young: Collapse and Nap Instantly.”]

Gu Fangzhi: “……”

Irritated, he reloaded from the last save.

This time, he carefully stepped over the raised doorframe, then performed an imperfect but serviceable court bow.

“This humble minister greets Your Majesty.”

Watching the man who had just cursed under his breath now acting as if nothing had happened, Pei Xin thought silently—

“……”