Before long, the maid returned with Gu Mingrong in tow, followed closely by Tingqin—exactly as Concubine Chang had instructed.
Seated at her rosewood tea table, the concubine cradled a steaming cup, observing her daughter's stormy expression over the rim.
"You're here," she said mildly, setting down the porcelain. "Sit."
"What did you summon me for?" Gu Mingrong slumped onto the adjacent cushion, petulance dripping from every syllable.
Concubine Chang smiled without answering. "I heard you visited your fourth brother this morning."
Though phrased as a question, both knew it was rhetorical—nothing escaped the concubine's web in this household. For decades, she'd ruled the marquisate's inner quarters with an iron grip softened by silk.
Gu Mingrong, raised in this court of whispers, responded listlessly, "Since you already know, why ask?"
The barb didn't faze her mother. "Did he best you today?"
That unlocked the floodgates. Between embellishments and outright fabrications, Gu Mingrong painted Gu Yanshu as a scheming villain—especially his "trap" about the prince's lethal marital history.
"...And he actually tried to make me say 'wife-killing curse' aloud!" Her voice spiked indignantly. "If only he'd died in the ancestral hall—"
"Enough!" Concubine Chang's cup met the table with a sharp clink. "Such words ill befit a noble maiden."
Chastened, Gu Mingrong mumbled apologies until her mother's demeanor softened.
"I know you're upset," the concubine sighed, stroking her daughter's hair. "But venom must stay behind closed doors. Understood?"
The subsequent reconciliation unfolded with practiced ease—honeyed words, girlish giggles, and strategic physical affection. By the time twilight gilded the windowpanes, Gu Mingrong departed in markedly brighter spirits.
Only then did Concubine Chang turn her full attention to Tingqin.
"Your mistress's account was... colorful. Now speak truth."
The maid's report, stripped of hyperbole, painted an alarming picture: Gu Yanshu's calculated vulnerability, his surgical verbal traps, that devastating final question about the imperial marriage match...
As Tingqin finished, the chamber plunged into tense silence until Fei Luan returned from escorting Gu Mingrong.
"Dismissed," the concubine told Tingqin, rewarding her with a silver hairpin. Once alone with her confidante, the mask slipped.
"That boy has become dangerous."
Fei Luan blinked. "Surely not. The young master's always been—"
"A spoiled fool?" Concubine Chang's nails scraped the teacup. "Not anymore. Today he asked Hongji how the Emperor obtained his birth chart."
The blood drained from Fei Luan's face.
Every noble knew the implication—such private details shouldn't reach imperial ears without family consent. And Marquis Gu's furious reaction suggested he'd pursue the leak...
To her.
Because Concubine Chang had orchestrated it all.
With her own son—Second Young Master Gu Yanzhou—as heir apparent, the marquisate's wealth and status would secure his future. But Tianqi's inheritance laws favored legitimate sons above all.
Gu Yanshu had to be removed.
The imperial marriage decree was her masterpiece: simultaneously eliminating the heir and binding the family closer to power. She'd even handpicked the official who "discovered" their supposedly auspicious birth chart match.
But those carefully buried threads now threatened to unravel.
"If Hongji investigates..." Fei Luan whispered.
The concubine's teacup cracked.
Fei Luan, Concubine Chang's most trusted handmaiden, knew all her mistress's secrets—even those requiring... unconventional solutions.
She immediately grasped the danger. "Shall I begin covering our tracks?"
"Impossible." The concubine's jade hairpin tapped impatiently against her teacup.
She'd considered this the moment she left Gu Yanshu's courtyard. But the truth was damning—most of her "loyal" servants were Marquis Gu's household-born staff. The few truly hers had been cultivated over decades at great cost.
The agent who'd leaked the birth chart? A marquisate groom's son. Any cleanup attempt now would only leave clumsier traces.
Fei Luan's face paled. "Then we let the marquis investigate?"
"Fool!" The hairpin snapped. Inaction would doom her standing just as surely.
After a weighted silence, Concubine Chang exhaled. "Fetch my plainest robe. We visit the Dowager."
Fei Luan's shoulders relaxed. The Dowager—Marquis Gu's mother and Concubine Chang's maternal aunt—had always been their ultimate safeguard.
Meanwhile, in Gu Yanshu's Courtyard
Bai Zhu burst in breathlessly. "Young master! Disaster—Concubine Chang has been confined!"
"Confined?" Gu Yanshu's eyebrow arched. He'd expected harsher punishment after the marquis's fury.
The attendant wrung his hands. "They say she angered the marquis! Half her servants were sold off!"
Gu Yanshu's lips thinned. So the concubine retained her position despite everything. Unacceptable.
"Aren't you concerned?" Bai Zhu fretted.
"Why should I be?"
The attendant blinked. "But... you always rush to defend her..."
A memory surfaced—the original Gu Yanshu's standing order: Report all Concubine Chang's affairs immediately.
Realization dawned. Bai Zhu wasn't conspiring; he was following obsolete instructions with dogged simplicity.
"Cancel that order," Gu Yanshu said coldly. "Her affairs no longer concern me."
As Bai Zhu nodded, another thought struck him. "Oh! They say the eldest young master returns soon!"
"Eldest Young Master... you mean elder brother?" Gu Yanshu took a moment to connect the title to the man in his inherited memories.
Seeing his master's calm reaction—unlike the usual bristling hostility—Bai Zhu ventured further: "Yes, word came days ago that he was returning. By my reckoning, he should arrive today."
"I see." Gu Yanshu nodded, sifting through recollections of Gu Yanli—the marquisate's legitimate heir, his full-blooded elder brother three years his senior.
Their relationship, according to memories, was... complicated.
Childhood encounters were scarce. Later meetings invariably ended in conflict—Gu Yanli's stern disapproval clashing against the spoiled younger brother's defiance. Concubine Chang's whispered poison hadn't helped.
By adulthood, they could scarcely occupy the same room without sparks flying.
Until now.
The courtyard's sudden flurry of bows announced the man's arrival. Through the doorway strode a figure in midnight-blue robes, his angular face all sharp planes and suppressed fury.
Gu Yanshu studied him—the same strong brows, same aristocratic nose as his own, but hardened by military bearing. Where the younger brother resembled a masterwork porcelain vase, the elder evoked a forged blade.
Then—
"Come."
Before Gu Yanshu could react, iron fingers clamped around his wrist, hauling him toward the door.
"Where—?"
"Anywhere!" Gu Yanli's voice was rough with urgency. "I've prepared horses at the city gate. Funds, supplies—enough to last you a lifetime. Leave Tianqi if you must. Just go."
The realization struck: He's helping me flee the marriage.
For a nobleman to defy an imperial decree... Gu Yanshu's throat tightened. This wasn't mere duty—this was sacrifice.
"And if I run?" He planted his feet. "What becomes of the marquisate? The Mu family?"
Gu Yanli froze at mention of their maternal clan. The grip slackened.
"Damn it all!" The older man's fist slammed against a pillar. "I warned you about that viper Chang! But no—'dearest Auntie' could do no wrong!"
The tirade Gu Yanshu expected never came. Instead—
A crushing embrace.
"Forgive me." The whisper rasped against his ear. "I failed you."
Something hot pricked behind Gu Yanshu's eyelids. Decades in the apocalypse had taught him trust was suicide. Yet here stood a man ready to burn his world down for him.
He cleared his throat. "Actually... marrying the Third Prince might not be so bad."
"What?" Gu Yanli could scarcely believe his ears, wondering if he had misheard.
"I said, marrying the Third Prince might not be so bad after all." Gu Yanshu gently withdrew from his brother's embrace and repeated his words.
Gu Yanli studied his younger brother's expression carefully—there was no trace of resentment or reluctance, only quiet conviction.
"Why would you say that?" he asked urgently.
Even if he hadn't asked, Gu Yanshu intended to explain thoroughly—lest his devoted elder brother, consumed by guilt, do something irreversible.
"Without this imperial decree, given my lack of accomplishments, I'd likely idle away my days in this manor, living an insignificant life."
At these words, Gu Yanli's expression darkened.
"So now you finally admit your shortcomings?"
No wonder he reacted this way—he had chastised the original Gu Yanshu countless times for neglecting his studies, only to be met with indifference.
"Ahem—yes, it's all my own doing." Gu Yanshu coughed lightly, taking the blame for his predecessor's failings.
To prevent further lecturing, he swiftly continued:
"But after the marriage decree, everything changes! Wedding a prince as his principal consort elevates me to imperial kin—a status most spend lifetimes striving for, yet I achieve it through marriage alone!"
"This..."
Gu Yanli frowned, sensing something odd about the argument but unable to pinpoint why.
"Moreover! The Third Prince will soon be enfeoffed as a king—second only to the Emperor. Once I marry him, I'll be third in rank beneath heaven itself! Where else could such an opportunity arise, if not through imperial decree?"
Gu Yanshu pressed his advantage, delivering this impassioned speech without giving his brother time to think. He concluded with a pointed question:
"Elder Brother, don't you agree?"
"Agree... I suppose—" Gu Yanli nodded reflexively before suddenly jolting to awareness. He glared at his brother. "Agree with what? You're a man! How can you entertain such thoughts?"
Tch. Tougher to fool than I expected.
Gu Yanshu sighed inwardly before adopting a solemn expression.
"Elder Brother, let me ask you—why do we study literature and martial arts? Is it not to serve in court?"
Though puzzled by this sudden shift, Gu Yanli nodded. "Yes."
"And why do we serve in court? Is it not to share the Emperor's burdens and achieve distinction?"
Master both arts, offer them to the imperial house. Without hesitation, Gu Yanli nodded again. "Yes."
"Then let me ask—if there were a way to both aid the Emperor and rise to prominence, would you take it?"
"Of course." Gu Yanli nodded once more—who wouldn't?
"And what weighs most heavily on the Emperor's mind now? Is it not the Third Prince's marriage?"
This time, Gu Yanli hesitated before reluctantly nodding. "...Yes."
After all, who in the capital didn't know of the Emperor's growing concern over his unwed son?
Seizing the moment, Gu Yanshu clapped his hands together.
"So you see, Elder Brother! Marrying the Third Prince solves the Emperor's worries while securing my advancement—is this not ideal?"
"True enough." Dizzied by the circular logic, Gu Yanli nodded automatically.
Only after doing so did he sense something amiss. Yet seeing his younger brother's pleased smile, realization dawned:
He genuinely wishes to marry the prince.
Recognizing this, Gu Yanli feigned ignorance and fell silent.
When no rebuttal came, Gu Yanshu secretly exhaled in relief—whether truly convinced or merely overwhelmed, his brother had been successfully diverted.
Some truths were better left unspoken—like how his motivation wasn't imperial concerns or social climbing, but rather...
A perfectly natural appreciation for the Third Prince's physique.
That confession would remain forever lodged in his throat.