EHW Ch8

On the way to work, Gu Fangzhi managed to fish a bit more information out of Song Jingzhou and learned that the Ministry of Rites in this era was somewhat different from what he had read about in history books.

Still, the basic structure remained the same,
Below the Minister were five departments, each responsible for matters such as ceremonies, music, imperial examinations, and state sacrifices.

But none of that had much to do with Gu Fangzhi.

He was merely a siwu, in plain terms, a low-level clerk, a glorified errand boy.

Anyone could order him around.

Now that Pei Xin had ascended the throne, countless trivial tasks flooded in, everything from palace banquets to receiving foreign envoys, preparing for the imperial exams, and sorting out old archives. All of it required the Ministry of Rites’ involvement.

Everyone in the ministry was running ragged. Even though Gu Fangzhi had been left behind by the late emperor for Pei Xin’s service, he was no exception. The workplace atmosphere was fiercely competitive and utterly dehumanizing.

He was kept on his feet all day, finally getting a brief moment of rest only by evening.

As dismissal time approached, work finally began to ease up a little.

Gu Fangzhi sat in the outer hall with his colleagues, sipping tea and catching his breath.

The Vice Minister of Rites, Zhuang Kuan, a refined, middle-aged man, smiled at him approvingly after a sip of tea.

 “Master Gu, you’ve done excellent work today.”

…Well, of course he had.

The first days on a new job were always full of mistakes. He had misplaced documents, forgotten instructions twice, rolled his eyes at superiors more times than he could count, and nodded off repeatedly.

He had reloaded so many times, dozens if not a full hundred, that his save files were practically worn thin. But at least the final outcome was flawless. In his colleagues’ eyes, Gu Fangzhi now appeared capable and efficient, having redeemed much of his former lazy and slippery image in just one day.

But that brought a new problem,

The excessive reloading made his day feel endlessly long. While others worked eight hours, Gu Fangzhi had effectively worked ten or more.

Now he slouched in his chair, half-listening to idle chatter while nodding off.

The conversation among his coworkers wasn’t much different from the old men chatting over chess outside his apartment back home, topics ranged from who had bought a new carriage, to whose wife was finally pregnant, to the rumor that a bestselling author was actually a fourteen-year-old prodigy.

Something clicked in Gu Fangzhi’s mind. He turned and quietly asked Song Jingzhou,
“Speaking of age… do you remember how old His Majesty is this year?”

The game’s world-building hadn’t been entirely detailed; players had to deduce the characters’ ages themselves. Most players had guessed the tyrant Pei Xin was somewhere between nineteen and twenty-three when he took the throne.

As he spoke, Gu Fangzhi heard movement outside, the sound of voices and footsteps. A carriage had arrived; someone was likely waiting to pick him up.

Judging by the timing, Ah-Qi should be here soon. Gu Fangzhi casually saved his progress.

Song Jingzhou lowered his voice. “You’ve forgotten, Master Gu? His Majesty is seventeen. In a few months, we’ll need to begin preparations for the imperial birthday banquet.”

“Seventeen?” Gu Fangzhi raised an eyebrow and sighed. “So young.”

The words had barely left his lips when a cool, cutting voice sounded behind him,
“I am very young?”

Gu Fangzhi: “……”

What’s with this talk about big or small, mature or not, how uncivilized.

Also… why was Pei Xin here?!

***

Pei Xin had suffered through a miserable day.

He had thought that since Gu Fangzhi was working in the Ministry of Rites, there would be no chance for him to use his witchcraft. But Pei Xin was wrong.

No matter the time or place, at any moment, he might find himself dragged backward in time by Gu Fangzhi’s spells.

Expression blank, voice flat, he said to Yang Luhai,
“Get, get, get, get the carriage, leave, leave, leave, the palace.”

Yang Luhai nodded three times, bowed three times, and asked nervously,
“Wh-where, where, where is His Majesty, going, going, going?”

Pei Xin’s voice was ice. “The Ministry of Rites.”

He was going to see for himself what that man was up to!

When they arrived, Pei Xin didn’t even announce his presence, he went straight in.

At the doorway, he saw Gu Fangzhi, back facing him, slumped lazily in a chair, dozing off.

His head dipped forward again and again, and with each motion, the back of his neck was briefly exposed, revealing pale, porcelain skin and the faint outline of his spine.

Seeing this, Pei Xin’s lips curled faintly.

After two days of torment at Gu Fangzhi’s hands, watching him so tired he could barely stay awake gave Pei Xin a deep, petty satisfaction.

But just as he was feeling pleased, Gu Fangzhi woke up,  and the first thing out of his mouth was a remark about how young Pei Xin was.

Instantly, the satisfaction vanished.

***

Pei Xin’s sudden appearance sent a jolt through the entire Ministry.

Gu Fangzhi, in particular, nearly had a heart attack.

Clutching his chest, he instantly reloaded the save file from a few moments earlier.

In front of him, Song Jingzhou was mid-sentence again:
“You’ve forgotten, Master Gu? His Majesty is seventeen. In a few months, we’ll need to begin preparations for his birthday banquet.”

Gu Fangzhi took a deep breath.

This time, eyes wide, he feigned amazement and exclaimed with genuine enthusiasm,
“So old! His Majesty is so mature!”

Song Jingzhou: “……?”

Pei Xin: “……”

Acting.

Pei Xin almost laughed from sheer exasperation. Still, one mystery was finally solved, 

Gu Fangzhi likely didn’t know that Pei Xin could sense when he used his magic.

Otherwise, why hadn’t he explained anything after suddenly appearing in his bath last night? Why was he still putting on this ridiculous performance now?

Pei Xin cast a sidelong glance toward the shadow behind the doorframe, where his figure half-flickered in the dim light, a ghostly emperor watching silently.

Meanwhile, Song Jingzhou blinked at Gu Fangzhi in confusion.
“Seventeen years old, too old? My mother still says I act like a child.”

Gu Fangzhi: “……”

This kid really doesn’t know what the word ‘death’ looks like, huh.

Afraid that Song Jingzhou’s words might offend Pei Xin, Gu Fangzhi immediately reloaded the save.

Once again, Song Jingzhou said, “Master Gu, have you forgotten? His Majesty is seventeen this year. In a few months, we’ll need to start preparations for his birthday banquet.”

“Big! So big!” Gu Fangzhi exclaimed, “Such a wise and brilliant emperor will surely lead us to scale greater heights and behold even more beautiful vistas, to stride toward a brighter future! I’m truly honored to be part of this wonderful family!”

It was a speech he had memorized verbatim from the internet for his graduation interview. He hadn’t gotten to use it in real life, but who would’ve thought he’d finally apply it here.

As he spoke, Gu Fangzhi found the situation increasingly funny. He tried to hold it in, but eventually couldn’t help bursting into laughter.

It was the first genuine laugh he’d had since arriving in this ancient world. His peach-blossom eyes curved into crescents, and even the tiny mole on his cheek seemed to come alive, full of mischievous charm.

Pei Xin hadn’t expected the man who’d been spouting grand patriotic slogans to have such a vivid, human side.

A moment later, Gu Fangzhi cast another spell, rewinding time once more, this time managing not to crack up.

Pei Xin turned and left.

Those outside the Ministry of Rites were startled and unsettled, seeing the emperor arrive and leave again so abruptly.

When Pei Xin’s carriage finally rolled away into the distance, everyone exchanged glances and collectively let out a heavy sigh of relief.

Back when he was Crown Prince, Pei Xin had already been hard to read; now as emperor, his every move seemed even more baffling. They’d heard he had summoned a monk to the palace that morning, only to hurl insults and drive the man out after asking a single question…

Truly terrifying.

***

Inside, Gu Fangzhi sat down and wrote an elaborate essay praising Pei Xin’s brilliance.

When he finished and glanced behind him, Pei Xin’s figure was already gone.

He couldn’t tell whether his flattery had worked or not.

After chatting with his colleagues for a bit longer, Gu Fangzhi finally stood up, ready to go home for the day.

Ah-Qi was waiting outside and greeted him with a piece of gossip.

“Third Young Master and Little Young Master have returned.”

Gu Fangzhi smacked his forehead, right, the original host had two younger brothers.

In the game, they were practically background extras, so unimportant they didn’t even get proper character portraits, just black silhouettes. Their biographies weren’t even mentioned.

Worried he might say something wrong, Gu Fangzhi used his trusty deflection tactic, the same one he’d used to baffle Song Jingzhou.

 “Let me test you. Based on your own perspective and interpretation, analyze the personality and stylistic archetypes of Third Young Master and Little Young Master.”

Ah-Qi, who had never suffered through writing academic papers, looked as though his head might split open.

After two save reloads’ worth of questioning, Gu Fangzhi finally got a rough understanding of the two brothers.

The fourth brother, Gu Wenli, nickname Manman, was only four years old, a tiny dumpling of a child.
From Ah-Qi’s description, everyone in the Gu household adored him. He didn’t sound like one of those feral brats who could suddenly awaken world-ending powers.

The third brother, Gu Huaiyu, however, was an entirely different story.

At nineteen years old, he was, plainly speaking, a lunatic.

Gu Huaiyu was said to detest everyone except his little brother Manman. His temperament was eerily similar to Pei Xin’s, slapping people he disliked and beating others with reckless ease.

He was also a hopeless drunkard, often spending entire days at taverns, lying on the floor inebriated. Many in the capital had seen him passed out drunk on the streets.

At first, Gu Fangzhi was shocked by Gu Huaiyu’s behavior. But as he listened, a strange sense of familiarity grew.

He frowned tightly, and finally recalled a name. “Ark!”

In the later stages of Founding Emperor, the protagonist recruited a mysterious assassin named Ark.

Ark always wore a mask, his face completely hidden.

His methods were eerie and ruthless, and there were missions that only he could accomplish.

Everyone assumed he was a fiercely loyal bodyguard, until one night, he broke into the protagonist’s chambers.

That section of the game had been an intense chase sequence. The quick-time events were nerve-wracking, buttons flying everywhere, and a single mistake meant instant death. Gu Fangzhi had saved over ten times just to clear it and manage to counter-kill Ark.

When confronted by the protagonist, Ark had said, “Because you killed my brother.”

The realization made Gu Fangzhi break out in a cold sweat.

If Gu Huaiyu was that Ark… then he was about to meet one seriously dangerous madman.

The carriage soon reached the Gu residence.

The front courtyard was bare, lacking flowers or greenery, its sparse simplicity carried a kind of postmodern desolation.

Following the stone path, Gu Fangzhi soon heard a child’s cheerful laughter ahead.

Rounding a corner, he saw a young man in silver robes standing with his hands behind his back, smiling brightly at him.

The moment he laid eyes on Gu Huaiyu, Gu Fangzhi’s hands moved on instinct, frantically saving and resaving multiple times, terrified the man would suddenly launch into an in-person boss battle.

But Gu Huaiyu merely greeted him pleasantly:  “Second Brother, you’re back?”

His tone was clear and composed, showing no signs of sudden violence.

Gu Fangzhi exhaled in relief.

Thank goodness, It was the not-yet-fully-crazy Gu Huaiyu!