After returning home from the palace, Gu Fu sat in the carriage, pondering how she would explain things to Gu Qizheng.
Earlier in the palace, the Empress had told her, “How about this: I help you escape the city, you go far away and never come back. The world is vast; there will be a place for you. You won’t have to worry about your marriage anymore and can live freely.”
Gu Fu almost thought she had misheard.
But when she looked up, she saw the Empress’s extremely serious expression.
Those eyes gazed deeply into hers, as if looking through her and at someone else.
Gu Fu was certain that the Empress wasn’t joking. Although she didn’t understand why the Empress had such a reaction, she chose to ask seriously, “Can one truly live freely this way?”
Leaving the capital, leaving the Gu family, leaving Gu Qizheng who turned a blind eye and allowed her to learn martial arts from Master Wu, leaving her grandmother who waited for five years on Mount Zuowang to protect her reputation, leaving her eldest brother who, despite not agreeing with her actions, still covered her tracks along with Mu Qingyao… leaving them…
Could she really live freely?
She stayed in the Northern Border claiming it was to protect her country. But leaving now just for her own desires, how could she face her brother and say she wasn’t ashamed?
The Empress was stumped by Gu Fu’s question—
Yes, could one really live freely by leaving like this?
If it were possible, why didn’t she leave back then? Clearly, she could have. She had money and connections built over many years of travel, wasn’t afraid of hardship, and was easily satisfied. As long as she had a place to stay and a bowl of tofu soup, she would be happy. With such simple needs, she could have gone anywhere.
But what about her parents and siblings if she left? Defying the imperial decree and escaping marriage would likely mean her entire family would die for her freedom.
So, she married the then Crown Prince, who thankfully turned out to be much better than she had imagined. Slowly, they became familiar, relied on each other, and trusted each other completely…
When the previous Emperor was about to pass away, they had their toughest times. The Emperor expended great effort and, with the help of the Imperial Preceptor, ascended the throne. Even then, they lived cautiously.
It took the Emperor, the Imperial Preceptor, and her three years to finally achieve their current status, and now, she had become the most respected woman in the world.
So why did she want Gu Fu to escape just now?
The Empress didn’t understand. Perhaps it was because she wanted to know if, had she not married the Emperor, fallen in love with him, and had her family remained well, she could have continued to roam outside instead of being trapped within these four palace walls…
Greedy, greedy.
The Empress came to her senses, patted her forehead, and refocused on Gu Fu, saying, “If you stay, you’ll most likely have to get married.”
This wasn’t something that could be easily explained.
As a woman unwilling to marry—such a thought would be seen as madness by those who couldn’t understand it.
Ask them why, and they could argue eloquently. When you refute them point by point, they would say it’s self-evident, needing no reason, as if it were a law of nature.
So, Gu Fu’s situation was not optimistic.
“Delay it as long as possible. Maybe after a few more years, no one will want to marry me,” Gu Fu accepted the situation.
As for her younger sister, though seniority dictates the order, rules are made by people and can be changed. She had initially said this just to scare Gu Shishi, just like she scared Aunt Yang with the prospect of finding a new wife for their father.
After this conversation, the two, who met for the first time, felt their relationship subtly become closer.
The Empress didn’t insist on helping Gu Fu escape but instead proposed, after some thought, selecting a husband for her from all the unmarried men in the capital. She seemingly casually said, “If we’re lucky, it could take up to a year.”
Gu Fu found it unrealistic: “Even the eldest princess didn’t receive such treatment. How would His Majesty agree to this for me?”
It was too impractical.
“What if it could make money?” the Empress asked.
Gu Fu immediately showed a keen interest.
After all, Gu Fu was the former commander of the Northern Army. No one understood better than her that over the years, the court’s military funding to the Northern Frontier was getting increasingly delayed. Given the frequent trade between the eastern borders and various regions of Dayong, customs duties were collected regularly. Yet, the funds were stretched thin because two years ago, the Emperor ordered the construction of a new canal, and last year, there was a locust plague in the southwest, leaving people with no harvest. After Prince Ying led troops to provide disaster relief, the state treasury was indeed running low.
If they could extract money from the noble families in the capital, the Emperor would certainly not hesitate.
The Empress also told Gu Fu, “The Military Manufacturing Bureau developed a type of paper intended to replace silver notes, but it was rejected due to high production costs. Now it can be used and sold at high prices for voting, and it can’t be counterfeited. If the noble families want their sons to stand out, they’ll have to spend a lot of silver.”
Gu Fu asked, “Then the final chosen one…”
What if the Emperor really arranged a marriage for Gu Fu?
But before finishing the thought, Gu Fu realized something: nearly a year’s worth of selection, only specifying to find unmarried men, but not saying they couldn’t marry during the selection period. Officially, it was about choosing the most outstanding man in the capital. They couldn’t just discard someone for not being outstanding if they got married, could they? That wouldn’t make sense.
Even if they agreed not to marry in advance, couldn’t they still get engaged first?
The Emperor couldn’t just break up an engagement without a word.
The more Gu Fu thought about it, the more feasible the idea seemed. If the Emperor saw through it… well, they could deal with it then.
The carriage stopped at the entrance of the Gu residence. Gu Qizheng hadn’t returned yet, so Gu Fu went to see the Old Madam first, asking her to hold off on selecting a husband for her.
The Old Madam was puzzled, so Gu Fu told her about the Empress’s plan to choose a husband for her, mentioning that it would be a grand event but not revealing that this grand scheme was not intended to end with her getting married.
Even someone like the Old Madam, who had seen many storms, was shocked: “How… how is this possible?”
When Gu Qizheng returned and heard about it, he reacted the same way: “Ridiculous!”
Gu Fu sat obediently by the side, drinking tea. If it was decided, who cared if it was ridiculous or not?
…
“Imperial Preceptor, His Majesty has summoned you to the palace. It’s still about Marquis Gu.”
It was Li Yuming again at the Qitian Tower, summoning Fu Yan to the palace to discuss matters related to Gu Fu. However, this time, Fu Yan did not refuse.
Behind Fu Yan, Gu Fu’s konghou lay shattered on the ground, its carved cloud and floral-patterned wooden frame broken in two. His usual desk for reviewing memorials was overturned, and ink, brushes, paper, and a pile of memorials scattered on the floor.
Black ink and crimson blood mingled on the ground, with several masked assassins’ corpses lying around. A young attendant was directing the secret guards to clean up the bodies, placing them in burlap sacks and lowering them down the tower with ropes to save manpower.
The Qitian Tower was originally only guarded up to the fifth floor, with particular vigilance on the first floor, where guards rotated shifts day and night. However, since Gu Fu had once stormed into the Qitian Tower, running all the way to the seventh floor and pinning Fu Yan against the wall in a playful manner, guards were also stationed on the sixth and seventh floors.
Thus, despite the assassins being skilled martial artists from the Jianghu, Fu Yan remained unscathed.
After changing his clothes, Fu Yan entered the palace. Upon learning of the assassination attempt, the Emperor was very concerned. He inspected Fu Yan from head to toe and only relaxed once he was sure Fu Yan was unharmed.
“The assassins were all from the martial world. We found no identifying evidence or markers on their bodies, but judging by their martial arts style, they likely belong to a sect in the southwest.”
The Emperor’s face darkened. “Investigate!”
Li Yuming accepted the order and withdrew.
Fu Yan, standing beside him, straightened his clothes that the Emperor had disheveled before sitting down and asking, “What about Marquis Gu?”
The Emperor, reminded of the matter, recounted the Empress’s idea in detail to Fu Yan and pointed out its flaws, seeking Fu Yan’s advice on how to improve it and coordinate with the secret guards.
After listening, Fu Yan’s expression turned sour. “Your Majesty, there is something I haven’t reported to you.”
The Emperor said, “Go on.”
Fu Yan said, “Marquis Gu is my remedy; she can cure my insomnia.”
The Emperor was surprised by this revelation. After questioning Fu Yan in detail, he suddenly asked, “Then why don’t you marry her?”
Fu Yan looked at the Emperor but remained silent.
The Emperor, whether sensing something or simply accustomed to Fu Yan’s various refusals regarding marriage, waved his hand and said, “If you don’t want to, then forget it. Anyway, we still have some time. Maybe before we select a candidate, we can find another way to cure your insomnia.”
Fu Yan’s hand, hidden in his sleeve, slowly clenched. It felt strange; in the past, the Emperor would have insisted a bit more. Why was he so straightforward this time? But since the Emperor had decided, Fu Yan couldn’t say much more.
The two discussed until sunset. Fu Yan, unwilling to stay overnight in the palace, returned to Qitian Tower before the street drum stopped.
Feeling down, Fu Yan even skipped dinner. When Gu Fu arrived and found her konghou replaced with a new one, she realized Fu Yan had been attacked by assassins.
Gu Fu sat across from Fu Yan, leaning her elbow on the desk, and asked, “Did you find out who was behind it?”
Fu Yan shook his head. “No, but…”
Gu Fu prompted, “But?”
Fu Yan replied, “It’s probably Prince Ying.”
The assassins were from a southwestern sect, and coincidentally, Prince Ying went to the southwest for disaster relief last year. It seemed too convenient.
Gu Fu suddenly remembered that Fu Yan had once used the excuse of capturing her to shoot an arrow at Prince Ying, making her curious. “What kind of grudge do you two have?”
Fu Yan rarely smiled, but this time it was a cold smile. “As long as he lives, I can never be at peace.”
However, the Emperor’s concern for his brother made it impossible for Fu Yan to take drastic action against Prince Ying.
Gu Fu stared at Fu Yan’s face, marveling at his beauty, thinking that even his cold smile could stir hearts.
Speaking of Prince Ying, Gu Fu remembered something else—she had once overheard the Emperor refer to himself and Fu Yan as brothers in Fu Yan’s bedroom. So she asked, “What’s your relationship with the Emperor?”
Gu Fu had also asked Mu Qingyao about this before, though not directly. She had subtly inquired about the Imperial Preceptor’s origins, only to receive a fantastical answer: the Imperial Preceptor was supposedly the child of a mortal woman and an immortal, with an aura of divinity that caused his hair to turn white at birth. Gu Fu found this hard to believe.
At least she could confirm that, in the eyes of others, the Imperial Preceptor did not come from the royal family.
Fu Yan also remembered that day when Gu Fu hid in his bedroom and overheard the Emperor’s words to him. But instead of telling her directly, he asked, “Why should I tell you?”
Gu Fu raised her hand, resting her head on it casually. “Just tell me, I’m curious.”
Gu Fu was prepared for Fu Yan not to say anything, thinking it was normal for someone to keep personal and possibly royal secrets.
Unexpectedly, Fu Yan actually told her, “My mother was the late Empress Dowager Huiwen.”
Empress Dowager Huiwen? That would make Fu Yan and the Emperor siblings.
Fu Yan continued, “I was born with white hair. The late Emperor saw me as an ill omen and ordered the palace servants to bury me alive under the palace walls as a form of suppression.”
Gu Fu’s eyes widened, but Fu Yan remained calm as if recounting someone else’s story. “Because my mother was extremely kind to the servants, the palace maid assigned to bury me alive remembered her kindness and found a way to smuggle me out of the capital. Eleven years ago, I returned as a disciple of the Immortal Master of Penglai.”
The Immortal Master of Penglai told the late Emperor that Fu Yan was a soul he had subdued under the palace walls and refined into human form. Not only was his resentment gone, but staying by the Emperor’s side would ensure his health. Thus, Fu Yan transformed from an ill-fated ghost baby into the late Emperor’s esteemed guest.
When the late Emperor was gravely ill, he even ordered Fu Yan to be turned into an elixir for consumption. However, by then, the palace was under the control of Fu Yan and the current Emperor, so the late Emperor couldn’t harm Fu Yan in the slightest.
Gu Fu took a long time to process all this and then asked Fu Yan, “Did I just learn something incredibly dangerous?”
After recounting his old story, Fu Yan felt much better, took a sip of tea, and joked, “Yes, I can’t let you leave here alive.”
As soon as he said this, a group of secret guards in black robes and masks burst in through the windows, brimming with killing intent.
Gu Fu stared at them in shock, then turned to look at Fu Yan, who was also stunned, clearly not expecting his rare joke to be taken seriously by his subordinates.
Gu Fu couldn’t help but burst out laughing. “…Pfft!”
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