The study at Prince Yi's Residence.
Gu Moran had just raised his teacup to his lips when the system panel popped up.
[Warning: Ye Qingyun, the son of destiny, has made contact with the chancellor's residence. His fortune value's growth rate has increased to 3% per day.] [Countdown to the poetry gathering: 2 days.] [Su Yao emotional anchor point detection: after Ye Qingyun arrived in the capital, the Heavenly Dao Correction Force's pull on Su Yao increased to 17%.]
Before the fragrant tea reached his mouth, Gu Moran tasted a hint of bitterness on the tip of his tongue.
He stared at the last line.
The Heavenly Dao Correction Force was pulling at Su Yao.
Pulling her back onto the original story's track?
Is it sick in the head?
She's my fucking wife~!!!
He turned toward the Clear Frost Courtyard.
The lights were still on over there.
Gu Moran reached out and pressed a hand against the inkstone.
"Ye Qingyun."
"You want to make a splash at the poetry gathering."
"Fine."
Gu Moran pressed the inkstone down onto the paper.
"I'll liven things up for you!"
That night, he slept at the Clear Frost Courtyard again, and Su Yao's voice became completely hoarse.
Early the next morning.
Gu Moran had just returned to his study when Boss Zhao's covert agent arrived.
The agent placed an oilpaper packet on the desk, his cuffs still damp with morning dew. After entering, he first glanced out the window to make sure no one was in the corridor, then pushed the first secret report forward half an inch.
"Your Highness, the list of judges for the Hanlin Academy's poetry gathering is out."
Gu Moran didn't rush to open it. His fingers rested on the edge of the envelope.
If the list consisted entirely of upright officials, a reputation for talent would be enough to compete at the gathering; if the second prince's people were mixed in, tomorrow's contest would be about more than poetry.
He opened the envelope and unfolded the sheet. Five names were written on it.
Zhou Wenyuan, reader-in-waiting of the Hanlin Academy.
Xie Huai'an, chancellor of the Imperial Academy.
Feng Shouzheng, left vice minister of rites.
Han Heting, a great Confucian scholar.
Xu Wenli, vice minister of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices.
Gu Moran's gaze traveled between Zhou Wenyuan and Xu Wenli. He pressed a fingertip against the paper; the ink had dried hard, leaving a faint raised texture beneath his touch.
"Xu Wenli is on it too?"
The agent nodded and bowed lower.
"The Xu Clan borrowed money from the second prince's residence three months ago. On the books, it went through a silk shop in the west of the city. It wasn't much, three thousand taels, but Xu Wenli's son entered the Imperial University just last month."
Gu Moran put down the list and tapped Zhou Wenyuan's name with his fingertip.
"Zhou Wenyuan paves the way for Ye Qingyun, Xu Wenli helps keep the proceedings under control, Feng Shouzheng upholds the rites and rules, Han Heting lends the event prestige, and my father-in-law sits in the middle as a counterweight no one would dare offend lightly."
At the words "father-in-law," the corner of the agent's mouth twitched, and he quickly lowered his head again.
"Your Highness, there's a second report."
Gu Moran opened the second envelope. The writing on the page was denser, detailing Ye Qingyun's movements the previous night.
After leaving the chancellor's residence, Ye Qingyun hadn't returned to the Azure Cloud Inn. He had gone to the Pine Moon Bookshop in the south of the city and stayed until three quarters past midnight. He had bought twenty sheets of jade-panel xuan paper and three sticks of ten-year-old pine-soot ink, and had also borrowed the bookshop's back room to write for two hours.
Gu Moran finished the last line. Outside, breakfast vendors' cries drifted in from beyond the wall, and the aroma of hot oil hitting a pan overpowered the smell of ink.
The capital was waking to a bustle, and so was the deadly trap.
"Being turned away from the Su residence didn't break him. It made him even more excited."
The agent hesitated.
"According to the bookshop keeper, Ye Qingyun wrote until the middle of the night. At one point, he slapped the table and said:
'After tomorrow, there will be no one left in the capital who looks down on me, Ye Qingyun.'"
Gu Moran folded the secret report and burned it over the candle.
"The face of a commoner who's suddenly struck it rich. An impoverished man from a humble family fears nothing more than being overlooked; the more people stand in his way, the more he thinks he's standing where the winds of opportunity blow."
The system panel popped up before his eyes, red lettering scrolling along the edge of his vision.
[Ye Qingyun, son of destiny: fortune value continues to rise.] [Fortune compensation channel activated following contact with the chancellor's residence.] [Source of compensation: the emotional thread of the old Ye-Su engagement.]
Gu Moran looked at the line of text. The tea had gone completely cold by the time it reached his mouth, its bitterness settling at the back of his tongue.
The image that surfaced in his mind was of Su Yao the night before last, half-sitting against the desk, her hand clutching his lapel and refusing to let go.
The old Ye-Su engagement.
The Heavenly Dao really has no decency!
Seeing that he wasn't speaking, the agent took half a step back.
"Your Highness, should we have someone keep watch over Madam Su?"
Gu Moran looked up at him.
"Watch her for what?"
The agent bowed his back.
"Since Ye Qingyun has an old engagement with the Su Clan, what if he finds a way to send Madam Su a letter..."
Gu Moran set down his cup. Its porcelain base struck the wooden desk with a short tap.
"There's no need to watch the Clear Frost Courtyard."
The agent froze for a moment.
Gu Moran handed the list of judges back to him. His voice remained steady, but he enunciated every word.
"If someone can only be kept by watching them, sooner or later they'll leave."
The agent took the paper and didn't dare say anything more. He had retreated to the door when Gu Moran called him back.
"Watch Ye Qingyun's page, watch Zhou Wenyuan's carriages and horses, and watch Xu Wenli's son. Before tomorrow's poetry gathering, I want to know who every one of them has spoken to."
"Yes."
After the agent left, Gu Moran went out to the corridor to wash his hands. The well water had just been drawn, and its chill crept from his palms to his wrists.
As he dried his hands, Uncle Fu came hurrying over from the other end, carrying a stack of fabric samples.
"Your Highness, the dress fabrics for Madam Xie have arrived. There's moon white, lake blue, and a bolt of bamboo green with a subtle woven pattern."
Gu Moran glanced over them. The lake blue was too conspicuous, the moon white too plain. The bamboo green's subtle pattern didn't catch the eye in the morning light, but the fine design would show whenever the sleeves moved. It was just right for Xie Wanqing.
"Bamboo green."
Uncle Fu secured the bolt in his arms.
"That was my thought as well. Madam Xie is proper by nature; she'd only feel uncomfortable wearing anything too bright."
Gu Moran walked outside. The bluestone paving beneath his feet was still damp, and his boots left faint traces of water as he stepped.
"Tell the sewing room to let the waist out half an inch and narrow the cuffs. She'll be getting to her feet to recite poetry in front of everyone; her sleeves mustn't drag."
Uncle Fu noted the instruction and followed half a step behind.
"Your Highness, Madam Su barely touched her breakfast."
Gu Moran slowed a little.
"Did the Clear Frost Courtyard say so?"
"Biyu came to the kitchen for plain congee. She said her young lady's throat wasn't feeling well."
Beyond the corridor, the wind passed beneath the flower trellis, carrying a hint of the cold fragrance of white plum blossoms.
Gu Moran pressed his fingers together inside his sleeve but said nothing more.
He had just turned the corner of the covered walkway when he saw Su Yao limping toward him from the other direction.
She wore a light cyan jacket and skirt today, her hair arranged neatly in a bun. Her expression was a few degrees colder than it had been last night. She held the seventh volume of Strategies for Governing the State in her arms, its spine bent slightly under her fingertips.