EHW Ch6

“Please rise, Teacher.”

 

Pei Xin had considered many possibilities, but he hadn’t expected Gu Fangzhi to cast a spell right after falling in front of him.

 

He lifted his gaze and took the opportunity to observe him carefully.

 

He had heard that in the northern and western regions, the people practiced witchcraft rituals. It was said that before casting, they performed elaborate preparations, bathing to purify themselves, chanting incantations, moving their hands in intricate gestures.

 

But Gu Fangzhi’s witchcraft seemed to require none of that. His arm merely moved slightly inside his sleeve, and time itself rewound.

 

A formidable sorcerer indeed.

 

Retracting his gaze, Pei Xin raised a hand toward him. “Be seated.”

 

When Gu Fangzhi was summoned to the palace, Gu Yunchuan had personally warned him: when meeting His Majesty, he must mind his manners. Even if he wished to offer earnest advice, he must never clash with Pei Xin.

 

In a world so rigidly stratified, the emperor held absolute power over life and death.

Gu Fangzhi wasn’t even sure whether sitting down would offend Pei Xin, or not sitting would.

 

He quietly overwrote the “save file” from his earlier fall and sat down. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

 

He waited in silence for a few seconds. Seeing that Pei Xin neither grew angry nor ordered him dragged out for execution, Gu Fangzhi finally relaxed and sat properly.

 

“I have a few questions for you, Teacher.” Pei Xin said.

 

“Please ask, Your Majesty.”

 

Pei Xin curved his lips slightly, leaned back against the armrest, and lazily toyed with the white jade ring on his finger without speaking.

 

The art of emperorship, first, show power, then grant favor.

 

Pei Xin intentionally stayed silent, wanting Gu Fangzhi to grow uneasy.

 

And Gu Fangzhi was uneasy indeed.

 

Pei Xin’s quietness felt oddly heavy. After thinking for a moment, Gu Fangzhi suspected perhaps his earlier tone had been too cold and displeased the emperor.

 

Fortunately, if there was one thing he had in abundance, it was save files.

 

He reloaded the latest one, cleared his throat, and spoke with exaggerated enthusiasm:

“Your Majesty! Please ask! Your humble subject will speak nothing but the truth, sparing no detail!”

 

Pei Xin: “…”

 

Why say the same line twice, with two completely opposite tones? What was he playing at?

 

Pei Xin looked at him suspiciously, but Gu Fangzhi hid his thoughts well, smiling gently with lowered eyes.

 

“Your words at court this morning…” Pei Xin finally said. “I found them most enlightening.”

 

He gestured for the attendants nearby to withdraw, then continued, “But I am curious—what secret knowledge does my teacher possess that can help me conquer all under heaven?”

 

Gu Fangzhi smiled again.

 

At that moment, his mind was full of random tidbits he’d collected while playing the game:

“Prime Minister Meng and the Minister of War share a bed,”

 

“The Emperor of Western Liao, though mighty in appearance, prefers to be pressed beneath women,”

 

“General Zhu of Great Feng thinks his son is his twin brother’s, but the boy is actually born of his wife and her sister…”

 

None of it was remotely useful.

 

As for something that could truly impress Pei Xin—he couldn’t think of anything for the moment.

 

He quickly saved the game again and fell into thought.

 

Suddenly, inspiration struck. He looked up.

 

“Your Majesty, I once heard a children’s rhyme.”

 

“Let’s hear it.”

 

“Zhao rises in the north, Zhou keeps its rites;

Qi knows Heaven’s will—

and falls by Heaven’s will.”

 

It was a phrase that appeared at the beginning of his first playthrough of Founding Emperor, and for some reason, it had stuck with him.

 

Telling Pei Xin this was risky.

 

Even a wise ruler wouldn’t be pleased to have someone say to his face that he would one day lose his kingdom.

 

But since Pei Xin was calm enough to call him “Teacher” now, Gu Fangzhi decided to take the gamble, to give him a shock, to make him realize the gravity of things.

 

After today’s morning court session, everyone had seen Pei Xin’s violent temper. If he didn’t say it, no one else would dare.

 

And worst case—he could always reload the save.

 

Pei Xin’s reaction was far calmer than expected. His face and posture didn’t change; he still lounged lazily on the armrest. But his gaze… grew dangerous.

 

Gu Fangzhi hurried to add, “It’s just a silly children’s rhyme.”

 

“Gu Fangzhi.”

 

Pei Xin no longer said “Teacher”—only his name.

 

“Do you understand what you’re saying?”

 

Gu Fangzhi already had one finger hovering near the glowing “Load” button in the air.

But instead of pressing it, he invoked Pei Xin’s late father as a shield:

“Your Majesty, I was left behind by the late emperor, I am here to help you.”

 

Pei Xin sneered.

 

Then, suddenly, realization flickered in his eyes.

 

Wait.

 

“I was left behind by the late emperor” → implies his father knew of Gu Fangzhi’s ability.

 

“I am here to help you” → explains why his father had left this seemingly useless, duplicitous man to him.

 

Why only now did Pei Xin learn of Gu Fangzhi’s power? → because he himself had just become emperor; Gu Fangzhi would only serve the emperor—the will of Heaven he had mentioned earlier.

 

A hint, then.

 

A sly, roundabout warning from this crafty man.

 

But… something still didn’t add up.

 

If he truly meant only to assist him, why had he been rewinding time repeatedly even when Pei Xin wasn’t present?

 

What had he been doing?

 

Was he not afraid of being discovered?

 

Or did he not know that Pei Xin already knew about his ability?

 

In a flash, Pei Xin’s thoughts raced.

 

The more he looked at Gu Fangzhi’s calm, smiling face, the more unfathomable the man seemed.

 

Gu Fangzhi, unaware of what Pei Xin was thinking, pressed on earnestly, “Your Majesty is Heaven’s chosen, brave, wise, and swift of thought. Your humble servant pledges to serve you with all his heart. My loyalty shines as bright as the sun and moon!”

 

Pei Xin still only smiled faintly and said nothing.

 

Under that gaze, Gu Fangzhi began to feel awkward.

 

Catching sight of the porcelain teacup on the table, he asked, “Your Majesty… would you like some tea?”

 

Pei Xin: “…”

 

At the mention of tea, he was reminded that earlier today, he had walked back and forth sixteen times, and still hadn’t managed to drink a single cup.

 

For the moment, he didn’t want to drink tea ever again.

“I’m not drinking,” Pei Xin said coldly. “I dislike tea.”

Gu Fangzhi blinked in confusion. 

Pei Xin: “?”

Realizing how foolish that sounded, Gu Fangzhi’s ears turned red. He quickly reloaded his save file and, this time, smiled properly.

“Indeed, Your Majesty. It’s late, best not to drink tea.”

Pei Xin: “……”

He stared at Gu Fangzhi again, studying him from head to toe, sensing something off.

At morning court, when Gu Fangzhi was irritated, he’d roughly push his loose hair back, and earlier, when he tripped over the threshold, he had muttered curses under his breath.

But the Gu Fangzhi before him now smiled so calmly, so confidently—it was impossible to tell what he was thinking.

Pei Xin felt something strange but didn’t show it on his face.

Regardless, this man was dangerous. If he couldn’t get rid of him, he should at least keep him close. win him over.

After a few more polite exchanges, Pei Xin said,  “I have only just ascended the throne, and there are still many matters at court I do not yet understand. In the future, I shall have to trouble my teacher often.”

Gu Fangzhi was delighted.

And why wouldn’t he be?

His survival rate was directly proportional to Pei Xin’s virtue. If the emperor was willing to listen, half of the tension in Gu Fangzhi’s chest finally eased.

The other half remained, though, because Pei Xin’s sudden friendliness was suspicious. No tyrant, however impulsive, should turn into a model, respectful young man just because of a few flattering words.

Gu Fangzhi decided to be cautious. He intentionally did not overwrite the save file from when he first entered the Hall of Mental Cultivation, in case something went wrong and he had to reload and start over.

***

By the time he left the hall, the moon was high in the sky.

On the way back to the Gu residence, Ah-Qi, remembering that Gu Fangzhi hadn’t eaten dinner before being summoned to the palace, stopped at a street stall and bought a packet of pastries, passing it through the carriage window.

Gu Fangzhi, moved, unfolded the oiled paper and picked up a neatly cut square piece with both hands, taking a bite.

…It was awful.

The coarse flour sucked all the moisture from his tongue; by the time he finished chewing, it was unclear whether there was filling inside or just some stray foreign object—like a hidden trap laid by the shopkeeper.

And there was a faint rancid taste.

Honestly, anyone curious about what history tastes like could give it a try.

The flavor lingered like a curse, one bite, and its stench haunted the mouth for eternity.

Gu Fangzhi instantly regretted not saving before eating.

He grabbed the teacup on the table and rinsed his mouth furiously, finally washing away the vile aftertaste.

Ancient people went to bed early. By the time he returned to the Gu residence, the place was quiet, with only a few servants walking softly through the night.

Gu Yunchuan had ordered a meal left for him, but Gu Fangzhi couldn’t bring himself to eat, his stomach was already churning.

After some thought, he concluded it must’ve been that cursed pastry.

Clutching his abdomen, he lay groaning on the bed, torn between reloading and enduring another hour-long carriage ride. After much inner debate, he chose the former.

***

After Gu Fangzhi left, Pei Xin entered the bath chamber.

Years on the battlefield with his father and brothers had left him haunted by nightmares—retribution, perhaps, for his bloodstained hands.

The imperial physicians had prescribed many calming herbs for his nightly baths. They didn’t cure the problem, but at least helped him sleep a little.

Pei Xin shed his robes and sat in the bath. The light brown medicinal water wrapped around his lean, pale body.

The bitter scent of herbs rose with the steam. Pei Xin exhaled deeply.

Closing his eyes, he replayed his entire conversation with Gu Fangzhi, combing through every detail, every word, trying to unearth more about the man.

He became so lost in thought that Gu Fangzhi’s voice seemed to echo in his mind, “Your Majesty, would you like some tea?”

Ha.

That trickster had the nerve to ask that.

Wait, Something’s wrong!

Pei Xin’s eyes snapped open—and there was Gu Fangzhi, sitting right in front of him.

His expression darkened instantly.

A moment ago, he’d been bathing, so naturally, he assumed he was naked. He quickly raised a hand to cover himself, only to realize he was, in fact, clothed.

“Ah, wrong save file,” Gu Fangzhi muttered to himself, then, noticing Pei Xin’s sudden motion, tilted his head curiously.

 “…Is this street dance?”

Pei Xin: “……?”