Gu Fuzhou seized Lin Qingyu’s wrist. “When a cadre of assassins under the imperial court’s purview loses the emperor’s trust, it is destined to die,” he snapped. “No one could have saved them, not even me. Sparing your life alone was already…”
“Silence!” Lin Qingyu gripped the hairpin tightly, pushing its tip down into Gu Fuzhou’s throat and almost piercing his flesh. “I’ll never believe you again! Die!”
They’d reached the climax of their scenario—and, at the worst time possible, Huantong’s voice called to them from outside the door. “It’s time for your dinner, Young Master. By the way, is Great General Gu staying for a meal?”
Gu Fuzhou and Lin Qingyu traded looks.
“Perhaps Shen Huaishi was interrupted too,” Gu Fuzhou said.
“Maybe.” Lin Qingyu climbed off the general. “And that frightened Shen Huaishi, so he missed and then didn’t have time to finish him off.”
“You sound more and more like someone from my hometown by the day.” Gu Fuzhou remained prone; he couldn’t be bothered to move. “We’re just guessing, though. Only Xiao Cheng and Shen Huaishi know what happened that night, I think. Let’s just wait—we’ll have news in no time.”
“The Eastern Palace servants keep secrets well,” Lin Qingyu said pensively. “If we want information, we’ll have to depend on Hu Ji or Xiaosongzi.”
“Who’s Xiaosongzi?”
“A eunuch at Qinzheng Hall. He’s told me a lot of things.”
“I’d expect that from someone named Xiaosongzi—he’s as chatty as a songbird,” Gu Fuzhou joked.
Lin Qingyu had nothing to say to that.
Having heard no answer, Huantong asked, “Young Master, are you in there?”
“Will you stay for dinner?” Lin Qingyu asked Gu Fuzhou.
“Suuure,” Gu Fuzhou said, drawing out the word. “I can eat three big bowls of rice per meal—and have Huantong prepare extra meat.”
Lin Qingyu’s hair was still undone, so he gave Huantong orders with the door closed. Lacking a mirror, he attempted to tie his hair up a few times, but to no avail. He couldn’t keep himself from complaining, “You could’ve reenacted the scene without taking out my hairpin.”
“I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself,” Gu Fuzhou said with a chuckle. “Here, let me give you a hand.”
As Lin Qingyu sat by his desk, letting Gu Fuzhou style his hair, something occurred to him. “Oh—let me touch your abdominal muscles.”
“I didn’t expect you to ask to feel my abs,” Gu Fuzhou said in gratified surprise. “Come on. Don’t be shy. Touch away.”
Lin Qingyu ran his hand over Gu Fuzhou’s abdomen a few times. “I wasn’t wrong, then.”
“About what?”
“Those muscles aren’t as firm as before,” Lin Qingyu joked.
Astounded, Gu Fuzhou touched his abdomen. “Impossible! I lift weights daily!”
“I’ve heard that, to build all that muscle, Great General Gu used to exercise at the training ground in the capital for eight hours a day. How long do you spend lifting weights daily?”
“About an hour,” Gu Fuzhou said, his tone sullen.
“You should take care of your figure, Old General Gu,” Lin Qingyu replied blandly.