After everything was burned, Gu Yun still couldn’t sleep that night.
On that slip of paper, there was nothing inappropriate… only a single short line:
“The rain in the capital has cleared. I have asked the Observatory; the next few days will remain sunny. A-Yun may return at leisure.”
Perhaps because of his earlier wet dream, those words struck him as overly intimate, like a long blade of grass silently curling around him, tightening until even his breathing trembled.
Gu Yun pulled the quilt higher, covering his head.
…
Just like the capital, the place he was in was also clear and sunny.
Gu Yun rose early, washed up, quickly ate breakfast, and immediately got the craftsmen back to work.
The sky was like a vast abyss, drifting clouds passing through it.
Before long, several more days had passed.
He had not finished the planned number of components, but there was no more time to delay. He had already “fevered” for several days. If it continued, he would simply have to die of it, and performing a medical miracle would not be realistic.
He removed his heavy makeup, packed up his belongings, and the group set off lightly.
As they neared the capital, the team split into two. Yan Zhao led the craftsmen and completed parts toward a workshop outside the capital, while Gu Yun and Li Lan continued toward the Eastern Palace.
The carriage rolled on. Gu Yun leaned against the wall, listening to the wheels’ rhythm shift from chaotic to orderly as the road smoothed out.
He looked listless, raising a hand to press his faintly aching temples. What he touched first was not his skin, but strands of newly grown, smooth hair. Not too long, not too short. Just enough to be inconvenient. He wanted to cut it, but in this era, he had to keep it long.
He brushed his hair aside and massaged his temple lightly.
“Bang!”
A loud crash came from outside, followed by chaos.
Gu Yun lifted the bamboo curtain slightly. Not far away, a luxurious carriage had crashed into a roadside stall. Horses reared and neighed; the ground was a mess. Servants rushed forward. Some went to control the horses, others to seize the culprit who had caused the accident.
Li Lan rode up beside him and leaned down: “Princess Hanzhu’s carriage always moves recklessly fast. People in the capital usually avoid her in advance. No one knows why today someone stood right in the road and refused to move, so she hit them.”
Gu Yun looked at the man on the ground.
He was thin, not especially pale, but his skin looked unusually delicate. He was clearly not a labourer.
The princess’s attendants were beating him. He rolled on the ground. Though Gu Yun couldn’t see his face, when his collar was tugged loose, he caught sight of a small scar on the side of his neck.
“Will he be killed?” Gu Yun asked.
“Probably not,” Li Lan replied. “The princess was reprimanded recently after someone died in her street violence.”
Gu Yun lowered the curtain. “Let’s go.”
If the answer had been worse, he would have felt uneasy. But he would not intervene. He couldn’t, not without dragging himself and even the Crown Prince into trouble.
Hooves struck the ground. Wheels turned. By the time sunset arrived, they reached the Eastern Palace.
Gu Yun got down, found a quiet place, and rested briefly. Youth returned quickly; after a short nap he felt refreshed.
He changed into eunuch attire. At night, escorted by palace attendants, he and Li Lan entered the Eastern Palace.
The palace was still as solemn as ever… quiet, disciplined, oppressive in its order. The orange glow of lanterns faded into a low grey tone, the sky above fragmented into sharp geometric shapes by palace walls.
Gu Yun crossed one threshold after another until he reached the side hall of Chunhe Hall.
Inside, Zhang Zhangshe and Zhao He were attending closely to “him,” while others had been sent away under the pretext of maintaining a quiet environment for recovery.
Seeing Gu Yun return at last, the two smiled brightly and hurried forward.
They did not ask what he had been doing outside, only chatted about recent news from the capital.
For once, Gu Yun’s life paused. Even ordinary conversation felt soothing.
Afterward, he bathed. Emerging with the scent of flowers, he sat lazily on the bed, drinking fruit tea and flipping through popular novels. He wanted a short rest before returning to work.
Night deepened. Fatigue crept in. He rubbed his eyes, closed the book, and glanced at the empty couch. He stared for a while.
Where was Chao Yan? Why hadn’t he returned?
It wasn’t that he missed him intensely, but without him, something felt wrong, like a gap waiting to be filled. And there were matters from the workshop he wanted to report.
He waited a while longer, still no return. So he washed up and went to sleep. Probably working overtime. After all, even craftsmen had to, so how could the Crown Prince not?
Let him work. For the people, for the state. More overtime, more virtue.
He slept until dawn. The couch remained empty, perfectly neat, without a single crease.
Unable to hold back, he got up and asked Zhang Zhangshe whether the Crown Prince had rested in the main hall.
Zhang Zhangshe looked at him with relief. Finally, he was asking about the prince. Truly, he had shown too little concern before; sometimes it even seemed as if the prince could appear beside another woman and he would not care. She even wondered if their supposed mutual affection was real.
“The Crown Prince did not return last night,” she said.
“Didn’t return?” Gu Yun raised his brows.
Zhang Zhangshe explained: the Crown Prince was investigating old items from Cining Palace that had leaked into the common market. The Emperor was pressing him, so he likely would not return for several days.
Gu Yun felt a brief, subtle disappointment, but it passed before he could grasp it. Instead, his eyes slowly brightened.
A thought formed: an excuse to leave the Eastern Palace again for many days. Perhaps even more than ten. He could claim concern for the Crown Prince’s health and go to “copy Buddhist scriptures in prayer.” No one would dare stop him. To obstruct such a pretext would be to offend the Crown Prince himself.
His mood lifted instantly.
After two leisurely days in the palace, he left again under the pretext of prayer, heading straight for the next workshop.
…
Meanwhile, Chao Yan was already aware of Gu Yun’s return, but he was trapped in investigation work and unable to leave. He had followed leads to another location and stayed there. After several days, the case was finally solved.
As Consort Shu had suspected, the culprit was indeed Li Changxi, a former servant of the Empress Dowager.
But even after identifying him, Chao Yan continued investigating to uncover collaborators and recover stolen relics, so as to satisfy the Emperor. Many items had already been melted down or repurposed.
Now that the case was closed, the rest should have been simple. Arrest the names on the list. Recover the relics.
Much had already been secured, shortening the process significantly. If all went smoothly, it would take two days.
But on the second evening, just as the net closed, Li Changxi’s younger brother and sister escaped after a leak of information.
The plan collapsed. Chao Yan’s irritation surged.
He pushed back his sweat-dampened hair, leaning against a doorway, his expression dark. His eyes were cold and glassy, like frost-coated beads. No one around dared breathe.
After a moment, a cold wind passed. He straightened and mounted his horse.
“I leave Li Changxi to you two for interrogation,” he said to the officials. “I will go after the fugitives. Do not torture him before I return.” And then he rode off.
At sunset, chaos filled the northern gate of the capital. Soldiers shouted for carts to move quickly before curfew.
The world was dim gold, like a veil over everything.
Chao Yan’s men split into groups at each gate. He personally led a few to the north.
A guard asked, “Your Highness suspects they disguised themselves to escape the city?”
Chao Yan did not answer. He sat on horseback, watching the gate. Then, from the distance, wheels and hooves approached.
A simple carriage appeared; one that should not have been there.
The curtain lifted slightly. Inside, someone looked out.
Chao Yan saw them. And they saw him.
Across the crowd, their eyes met.
