A third-rank official was merely an example to Zhu Qingyu.
One cannot see the true face of Mount Lu because one is lost within its folds. She couldn't explain to a scholar-official raised in a feudal society what feudal class oppression was, or what inequality in status and position meant.
She only brought up this example to help him understand what truly stood between them, not because she genuinely expected him to elevate her to the position of a third-rank court minister.
How could such a thing ever be accomplished?
A fantasy!
But Gu Zhao said, "We've made a pact."
Clearly, there was yet another misunderstanding between them. She had not intended to make any pact with him, and he seemed once again ready to embark on a fruitless endeavor.
This was not the purpose of Zhu Qingyu's heartfelt speech today. She wanted a clean and decisive end, but he had interpreted it as a new beginning.
Their understandings were poles apart. How could this ever come to an end?
Zhu Qingyu called out to him again:
"Master Gu, I think you've misunderstood. I wasn't making a pact with you. I was only—"
Gu Zhao had his hand on the door panel, one foot already out of the private room, ready to leave. Hearing her words, he stepped back inside, turned his back to her, and said in a voice still calm:
"Misunderstood? I misunderstood? Zhu Qingyu, are you trying to back out?"
Zhu Qingyu stood up:
"That's not what I meant. We must have talked past each other. I was only speaking hypothetically. 'Hypothetically' means it was just an analogy."
Gu Zhao closed the door. The distinct sound of a door bolt sliding into place echoed.
It was a dangerous signal. Uncle Lyu, outside the door, tested the waters with a tentative call:
"Madam, is something wrong?"
Gu Zhao turned around. A deep, somber look flickered in his eyes, and a slight smirk curled at the corners of his mouth:
"Answer him. Tell him what's wrong."
Zhu Qingyu had seen this expression on Gu Zhao before, once on the boat. When he was in a towering rage, this was how he looked. It was a deliberately suppressed calm, the last stillness before a storm.
It was precisely this version of Gu Zhao that Zhu Qingyu feared.
She could, of course, call for help. In the bustling crowds of Fan Tower, one cry for help would make this matter known to everyone.
But if this affair were blown out of proportion, it would only add a romantic scandal to his reputation. For her, and for Zhang Shen, it would be a devastating blow.
Zhang Shen had just received his official seal that very day and had virtually no foundation in the court. By tomorrow, the entire city would be spreading rumors that he had secured his position by selling his wife.
How many people were eyeing the position of Jiangning Weaver? And how many were eager to dig up his weaknesses and drag him down? Once such rumors ran rampant in the capital, the impeachment memorials from the censors would be enough to devour Zhang Shen, a newcomer without any established foothold in officialdom.
As if reading her thoughts, Gu Zhao approached step by step, his smile deepening:
"Zhu Qingyu, answer him. Tell him what's happening inside here. Or I'll tell him myself."
Zhu Qingyu involuntarily stepped back, then again, and replied:
"Uncle Lyu, it's nothing. I have something to discuss with Master Gu."
She retreated again and again, but Gu Zhao pressed forward, cornering her against the wall with no way to escape.
One hand braced against the wall, trapping her in his embrace; the other lifted her chin, his thumb pressing against her lips. He looked down at her and pronounced judgment from on high:
"I just told you, if you dare to back out, you know what I'll do. But it seems you don't know clearly enough, so let me tell you plainly exactly what I will do."
Zhu Qingyu reached up to push his hand away:
"Master Gu, let's talk this over. Please listen to me."
If he was determined to restrain her, her strength was like a mantis trying to stop a chariot—completely insignificant.
Gu Zhao remained unmoved. He didn't want to hear another word from her.
When she spoke, her lips brushed lightly against his fingers, just like that night of passion when she had taken the initiative to touch him.
A barely controllable tingling and tickling sensation, from the fingertips she softly brushed, spread through his entire body, tempting Gu Zhao until he nearly gasped.
She had made a mistake. She had reached an agreement with him and so rashly tried to back out. He had every reason to punish her.
From that night until now, through so many days and nights, lost each night in drunken, sinking dreams, and forced to restrain himself during the day—now he had a reason. He could no longer hold back. He no longer needed to.
Gu Zhao bent down and bit the lips he had trapped and rendered unable to escape. A gentle taste, sweeter than he remembered. That sweetness intoxicated him, and in an instant, he lost all control. He surged in, invading wantonly, devouring her evasions and restraint completely into his mouth and throat.
Between her lips and teeth was the sharp, spicy taste of the wine he had just drunk. Biting back the urge to cry out, Zhu Qingyu turned her head the moment he paused to breathe, gasping, dodging his next advance.
Gu Zhao lowered his head to her ear, and heavy, desire-laden breaths coiled around her as he spoke:
"Zhu Qingyu, do you think you have a way out? Look clearly then. Where is your way out? I don't mind telling you—the Emperor granted you to me long ago. You haven't been his wife for a long time. From the moment you stepped into the capital, you have already belonged to me. If you want to back out, I'll ask the Emperor to arrange a marriage for us right now. Tell me, in the Emperor's eyes, who do you think he will protect more? Me, or him?"
Zhu Qingyu looked at him in shock, trying to judge whether this statement was true or false.
Meeting her astonished expression, Gu Zhao's smile carried the inescapable pressure of a superior:
"Frightened, aren't you? You see? You already agreed to me, so why do you want to back out? Frightened? Then remember this moment well. Remember what it feels like to be forced by me yet not even dare to call for help. Zhu Qingyu, if you want to refuse me, then first become me. Only when you become me will you have the right to talk about refusal. Now answer me: the things you have already promised me—do you still intend to back out?"
Under this pressure, Zhu Qingyu dared not anger him further and went along with his words:
"Putting aside whether I can become you for now, but if I did become you, then I could choose not to be with you. Are you sure you want to go down this path?"
That mouth, which tasted so sweet when he kissed it, somehow spoke words he hated to hear.
Gu Zhao was angered:
"This path—who chose it in the first place?!"
They were the true husband and wife!
Right now, he could present the three letters and six gifts, marry her with proper ceremony, and become her rightful spouse!
Who insisted on taking such a shocking, thorn-filled path in the first place?
Was it him?
The angrier he got, the more his teeth itched. He lifted her chin again and bit down hard, almost drawing blood, to vent his pent-up fury.
This time, Gu Zhao really kissed her until she couldn't breathe. She could barely stand, and had he not pinned her against the wall, she would have slid down.
Gu Zhao supported her and finally let her go. Panting heavily, he asked:
Can you feel it? Zhu Qingyu, I don't have that much self-control. I'll give you one last chance. Keep the promise you made to me—yes or no? I only want to hear yes. If it's anything else, you leave me no choice. Today, I'll exercise my right and take you as my wife.
