Furthermore, Hu Ji had overheard a conversation between Lord Xie and the crown prince in the Eastern Palace. The crown prince, now seemingly uninterested in the nation’s affairs, had ordered that the party who’d attempted to assassinate him be seized and brought to the capital. Despite everything, he mentioned repeatedly that the culprit must be captured alive.
Lin Qingyu headed straight from the palace to Gu Fuzhou’s residence. When he got there, Yuan Yin led him onto the premises. “The great general is exercising in the training ground.”
Lin Qingyu went over to see a half-naked Gu Fuzhou lying down, propped up on his arms, his body in a straight line. He repeated a cycle of slowly lowering his body and pushing it back up again, muttering under his breath, “Seventy-seven, seventy-eight, seventy-nine…”
“Great General, Imperial Physician Lin is here,” Yuan Yin reported.
“Eighty!” Gu Fuzhou’s breath left his lips in a drawn-out exhalation. Standing up and haphazardly pulling on the garment presented to him, he joked, “Ah—Imperial Physician Lin saw me! I’m mortified!”
Lin Qingyu’s mood, which had soured after he heard that Xiao Cheng had revived, lifted somewhat. “I’ve helped you bathe. I’ve seen everything.”
Gu Fuzhou dismissed his servants, then said, “That was my previous body. You haven’t seen this body naked.”
“Am I not allowed to?”
“Didn’t you say that my abs had gone soft? You can look after I firm them up.” Gu Fuzhou lifted the hem of his top to wipe his sweat. “I’m so motherfuc—so damn beat. In the past, I could play basketball for ages, and I wouldn’t have been as drained as I am now. Time really is unforgiving…”
Lin Qingyu cut him off. “Xiao Cheng woke up from his coma.”
Gu Fuzhou raised a brow, unsurprised. “What’d I say? He has plot armor, so he won’t die that easily. But our mission wasn’t a complete failure—the emperor may not tolerate a weak, feeble crown prince who can’t be bothered with the nation’s affairs. Whatever happens will depend on whether Xiao Cheng does his job well.”
That would only become evident in the future, though.
Lin Qingyu pondered the matter, then instructed, “Arrange for us to remarry as soon as possible.”
That made Gu Fuzhou pause. The corners of his lips quirked up. “Now you’re rushing it, huh?”
Remembering the emperor’s actions toward him, Lin Qingyu replied, “We already made up our minds anyway. Dragging it out further will only complicate things. Or did you change your mind and decide to marry the seventh princess instead?”
“Of course not,” Gu Fuzhou said. “But are you really sure?”
“Do I not look like it?” Lin Qingyu asked instead of answering.
“I mean, have you thought about what’ll happen after we marry? How are we going to…” Gu Fuzhou trailed off awkwardly. “Uh, how are we going to live as a married couple?”
Drawing a blank, Lin Qingyu replied hesitantly, “We’ll be getting married again because we’ve been forced to, so our life as a married couple will be as it is now…presumably.”
Gu Fuzhou pouted. “If that’s what you think, I won’t propose to you seriously.”
Lin Qingyu didn’t know what he meant by that. “Propose? Propose what? A plan?”
“Take this.”
Gu Fuzhou flicked his fingers, and something golden arced through the air into Lin Qingyu’s hands.
It was a ring made of pure gold and decorated with simple embossments, much thinner than the thumb rings men usually wore. Despite its dainty size, the ring was exquisite.
Lin Qingyu gave Gu Fuzhou a perplexed look. “What is this?”
“In my hometown, people wear a ring like this on their third finger when they are certain they’ll marry each other,” Gu Fuzhou explained. “It’s a tradition.”
“Is that so?” Lin Qingyu replied.
Gu Fuzhou talked about his hometown often. It sounded like an entirely different world, with bizarre things like “air conditioners” that had saved Gu Fuzhou’s life most days in summer. Long distances, comparable to that between Yongliang and the capital, could be traversed in three hours. Men came of age at eighteen years old and could lawfully marry at twenty-two. But if they went to Gu Fuzhou’s hometown now, their marital bond—one between two men—wouldn’t be acknowledged.
Ever since the pair first met, it had always been Gu Fuzhou who adapted to Great Yu’s customs. Lin Qingyu thought he should respect those of Gu Fuzhou’s hometown on occasion, so he made to slide the band onto his third finger, only for Gu Fuzhou to stop him loudly: “What are you doing?!”
“Didn’t you say that I should put it on?” Lin Qingyu asked, bewildered.
Gu Fuzhou couldn’t help laughing. “You can’t put it on yourself. I have to do it for you.”
“Is that another of your hometown’s customs?”
“Yeah.”
“How troublesome.” Lin Qingyu extended his left hand. “You do it, then.”
Gu Fuzhou’s expression suddenly turned solemn. He stared at Lin Qingyu’s fingers for a while, then wiped his hands with a cloth and plucked the band from Lin Qingyu’s palm carefully.
Lin Qingyu noticed Gu Fuzhou’s hands trembling slightly—he was nervous.
Yet Lin Qingyu had never seen Gu Fuzhou appear so dignified. It was as if he was completing the most important task of his life—and that made Lin Qingyu feel edgy too.
Gu Fuzhou must’ve held the band in his palm for a long time, for it was warm when he slowly slid it onto Lin Qingyu’s third finger. There, the band shone dazzlingly under the sunlight. It felt strange.
Once Lin Qingyu was wearing the ring, neither of them spoke for a while.
Lin Qingyu composed himself. “Are you done?”
“Wait. I should say something melodramatic now. Let me think…” Gu Fuzhou took a deep breath, then grabbed Lin Qingyu’s hand and placed it on his chest. “Now, Qingyu, I entrust the latter half of my life to you,” he said passionately.
The latter half of his life? A life in which Lin Qingyu never married a woman or had children, spending every moment with Gu Fuzhou instead; in which they bantered, joked, and raged together, occasionally plotting and getting up to no good; in which they supported each other until the end of their lives?
That seemed…acceptable.
“Mm.”