Chapter 60
LIN QINGYU DIDN’T HAVE MUCH of an appetite, but he did as Gu Fuzhou had said and opened the layered box in the carriage. The topmost section held freshly baked flatbread, the crispy, golden-brown surface still steaming. As he nibbled on a piece of flatbread, Lin Qingyu thought over everything that had happened the previous night once more, rearranging pieces of information into a coherent train of thought.
If he hadn’t known the truth in advance, he’d have assumed that Xiao Cheng had been afflicted with an acute disease. After all, although the crown prince’s situation seemed severe, the imperial guards had yet to take action. If the crown prince was assassinated, they were supposed to search the entire palace, weren’t they? So why had they only locked down the Eastern Palace?
What had Shen Huaishi done to Xiao Cheng? Had he escaped successfully? Where was he now?
Lin Qingyu knew that dwelling on these questions wouldn’t benefit him. All he could do now was wait and observe any future developments.
At noon, Gu Fuzhou rushed to Lin Qingyu’s residence. He didn’t vault over a wall this time; instead, he openly came in through the main entrance. Huantong was so excited to see the war god he admired that his hands shook as he served the guest tea.
Noticing how Huantong’s eyes shone with excitement, Gu Fuzhou made a show of being serious and stony-faced as he asked whether Huantong wanted his autograph.
Lin Qingyu had to applaud Gu Fuzhou’s willingness to tease and make fun at such a dire time. He dismissed the bewildered Huantong, then asked, “How are things in the palace?”
Gu Fuzhou drank some tea. “Xiao Cheng didn’t attend this morning’s court meeting. The excuse provided was that he’s unwell, and the prime minister presided over the meeting. Everything else was apparently the same as always, but the atmosphere in the palace feels off—like the calm before a storm.”
“He’s unwell? How unwell? Still conscious?” Lin Qingyu asked.
“I don’t know the answer to that,” Gu Fuzhou said.
The fact that several imperial physicians had remained at the Eastern Palace throughout the night indicated that Xiao Cheng was so severely injured that his life was at risk. Who had ordered that the Eastern Palace be locked down and that the prime minister preside over the morning meeting in the crown prince’s stead? Was it the emperor?
“I asked some guards on duty, and they haven’t received any news since last night. They haven’t heard about an assassin either,” Gu Fuzhou continued. “That means that neither Xiao Cheng nor the emperor want word of this to spread.”
Lin Qingyu nodded in agreement. The emperor’s condition had improved somewhat, but he was limited to reading memorials and meeting with his aides in his bedchambers, as well as having the final say in crucial matters. He’d entrusted everything else to Xiao Cheng.
If any misfortune befell the crown prince—who was essentially governing the nation—while the emperor was so sickly, it would leave the officials leaderless and thrust the nation into unrest. In the emperor’s position, Lin Qingyu would also have forbidden anyone to spread word of this assassination; he would also have ordered the Tianji Guard to investigate covertly.
The more Lin Qingyu thought about it, the more frustrated he became. “If Xiao Cheng died on the spot, things would’ve been much less complicated,” he said, massaging his temples. “Couldn’t Shen Huaishi have done better for once? Just for once?”
“Maybe he didn’t get cold feet on the spot, and he failed for some other reason.” Gu Fuzhou laughed. “Qingyu, have you heard about the retrospective method of deduction?”
Lin Qingyu hadn’t heard of that, but he had a sense of what Gu Fuzhou was getting at. “What do you have in mind?”
Gu Fuzhou pulled him up. “We’ll reenact what might’ve happened, with you as Xiao Cheng and me as Shen Huaishi,” he said eagerly. “Maybe this will help you straighten things out.”
Lin Qingyu sat back down. “How silly.”
“I’ll be Xiao Cheng, then? And you’ll be Shen Huaishi?”
Before Lin Qingyu could tell him how tiresome this seemed, Gu Fuzhou sat on the bottom bunk, gave him a sidelong glance, and started the scenario with a perfect imitation of Xiao Cheng. “Why are you still standing there? Did you forget how to satisfy me in bed, even though it’s only been a few days since you disappeared?”
That struck Lin Qingyu speechless.
Gu Fuzhou had proposed doing this to help Lin Qingyu relax, but he realized helplessly that it wasn’t working. While he brainstormed other ways to cheer Lin Qingyu up, Lin Qingyu said, “Shen Huaishi had been gone for two days at that point, so Xiao Cheng should’ve started by asking where he’d been, right?”
Smiling, Gu Fuzhou rectified his mistake. “Where did you go for the past two days?”
Lin Qingyu strode slowly to the front of the bed, running through possible responses from Shen Huaishi in his head. If the shadow guard had failed to kill Xiao Cheng in one move, then he’d very likely given Xiao Cheng a chance to deny his involvement in the massacre. “I…I want to ask you something. I hope you can give me an answer.”
Gu Fuzhou narrowed his eyes. “Not before you tell me where you went.”
Lin Qingyu pressed his lips together, a storm brewing in his eyes. Suddenly, something tightened around his waist—it was Gu Fuzhou’s arm, pulling him down. Lin Qingyu fell onto the bed; he wanted to free himself, but then he figured that Xiao Cheng would have done what Gu Fuzhou had, so he lay there and let Gu Fuzhou bear down on him.
Gu Fuzhou pushed himself up with one arm, his other hand seizing Lin Qingyu’s jaw. “A mere two days, and you’ve grown so disobedient,” he said coldly. “I asked you a question! Have you gone deaf? Did you hit your head? Can’t you hear me?!”
Gu Fuzhou didn’t put all his weight on Lin Qingyu—his muscular body hovered above—and he didn’t grip Lin Qingyu’s jaw too hard either. Lin Qingyu could easily have pushed his hand away, just as Shen Huaishi could easily have freed himself from Xiao Cheng.
But would Shen Huaishi have done that? Obeying Xiao Cheng’s orders came instinctively to the shadow guard, who was disciplined and trained until he became accustomed to appeasing another man in bed. He’d probably need more time to break free from his shackles and reject his instincts.
Thinking that, Lin Qingyu didn’t try to free himself; he merely cowered further back.
He actually didn’t know whether Shen Huaishi would cower from Xiao Cheng; he was the one who wanted to keep a distance between himself and Gu Fuzhou. They’d embraced before, but this was their first time lying one atop the other in the same bed.
From this angle, Lin Qingyu could take in the curve of Gu Fuzhou’s throat and his sharp, defined jawline. He was so much smaller than Gu Fuzhou, whose scent enveloped him from head to toe. This feeling—that of being dominated and controlled—flustered him for no reason.
“You insist on keeping silent? Very well.” Gu Fuzhou’s breathing grew ragged. “I have lots of ways to force your mouth open.”
He stopped moving, and Lin Qingyu feigned calm. “What are they?”
Gu Fuzhou looked down at the beauty mark under Lin Qingyu’s eye. After collecting himself for a while, he said, “I’ll skip five hundred words along these lines: ‘I’ll ravish and have my way with you until your clothes are rumpled and your long hair is undone…’”
Since he respected Lin Qingyu, he would never yank on his clothes. But touching his hair wouldn’t be that out of line, would it? Gu Fuzhou removed the hairpin holding Lin Qingyu’s hair up, and the ebony tresses came undone, cascading down Lin Qingyu’s shoulders like a waterfall that enhanced his captivating beauty.
Gu Fuzhou set the hairpin beside the pillow. “While Shen Huaishi agonized over the truth behind the Tianyu Sect’s destruction, Xiao Cheng subjected him to relentless physical humiliation. That finally smashed the subservience Shen Huaishi had developed over the years to smithereens—he awakened, ready to revolt!”
Such an emotional shift would be within reason, Lin Qingyu concluded, trying to push Gu Fuzhou away.
But Gu Fuzhou pressed closer and closer. “What’re you hiding from? I’ve fucked you so many times—why are you still afraid?” Gu Fuzhou continued, his voice deep. “There’s nothing to fear. You won’t need to bear any pain—I’m not at all big down there.” After trying and failing to stifle it, he burst out into laughter. “Sorry, sorry. I ruined the scene.”
Lin Qingyu pushed his palms against Gu Fuzhou’s chest, raising a brow. “Would Xiao Cheng say that about himself? He’d probably say the exact opposite.”
“You needn’t care about such details.” Gu Fuzhou chuckled quietly. “Go on.”
Lin Qingyu’s gaze darkened as he suddenly rolled atop Gu Fuzhou. Now straddling the “crown prince,” he picked up the hairpin by the pillow and held it against Gu Fuzhou’s throat. “How was the Tianyu Sect destroyed three years ago?”
Gu Fuzhou’s smile vanished. “Did someone say something to you?” he asked in extreme shock. “If you dare attack me, Shen Huaishi, I won’t show you any mercy!”
“I only have one question—who was it that annihilated the Tianyu Sect that night?” Lin Qingyu demanded again. “The Chiya Sect, or the Tianji Guard? Tell me!”
“Where did you hear that from?!” Gu Fuzhou snarled.
“Tell me! I want only the truth!”
“The truth?” Gu Fuzhou scoffed. “The truth is that you should’ve died with the Tianyu Sect! I saved you and did all I could to keep you alive! What more do you want?”
Lin Qingyu grew more immersed in the act, putting himself in Shen Huaishi’s shoes. “Everything I heard is true, then. It was the Tianji Guard who… It was you!”