Because of Zhu Qingyu's voluntary touch, Gu Zhao was frozen in place like a mortal bewitched by a fairy.
He dared not move, dared not speak, and even held his breath.
Was she still half-asleep?
Gu Zhao thought to himself, feeling as though the cheek she had touched was burning, scalding hot.
That heat spread from his face through his entire body, setting his blood ablaze. From his mind to his body to his heart, everything stirred restlessly, craving all sorts of untimely pleasures.
Why did she touch me?
She must be half-asleep and mistaking me for Zhang Jingyan!
His mind was filled with anger at being a substitute for someone else, his heart brimming with bitter, painful jealousy, yet his body refused to obey either his mind or his heart, shamelessly clinging to the warmth of her palm.
When Zhu Qingyu tried to pull her hand away, Gu Zhao immediately clasped it, pressing it back against his cheek, nuzzling her palm like a spoiled child, then biting her finger fiercely and declaring:
"That was for someone else just now. I want mine too—more than his."
Zhu Qingyu had no idea what he meant. The spot where he bit her ached and itched at the same time. As the saying goes, the fingers are connected to the heart—that strange mix of pain and tickling seemed to be in her fingertips and deep in her chest at once.
Gu Zhao was too close. Close enough that she could clearly see the look in his eyes—both fierce, as if he wanted to devour her, and pitiful, as if he demanded an explanation.
These two conflicting expressions twisted together on his face, yet oddly seemed perfectly in sync.
Looking at his face so near, Zhu Qingyu had to admit: Lord Gu was strikingly handsome, certainly possessing the capital to rely on his looks.
In terms of appearance, he had sharp brows and bright eyes, a dignified manner. Every gesture revealed the elegance and poise of a noble son from a prestigious family.
In terms of physique, he was heroic and powerful, radiating masculinity and charm.
If this were modern times, with Lord Gu’s looks, he could enter the entertainment industry, cultivate a noble son persona, and have countless young ladies swooning and spending money for him.
Thus, Zhu Qingyu reasoned that the strange feeling between them just now must stem from this.
She had only just entered the palace, witnessed a fierce life-and-death conspiracy, bore the emperor’s safety on her shoulders, and suffered from lack of sleep—her mental defenses had been worn down by the cumulative pressure.
Under such circumstances, she had been momentarily dazzled by his beauty and lost her head—that was why she touched him.
Ah, so she was that kind of shallow, vulgar person.
"He who knows others is wise; he who knows himself is enlightened."
Being vulgar was fine. Facing her own vulgarity wasn’t difficult for Zhu Qingyu.
Openly acknowledging her shallowness and sorting out the sequence of events gave her a grounded feeling instead.
Oh, so it was just because I’m shallow and vulgar, and nothing else.
Zhu Qingyu let Gu Zhao hold her hand and said:
"I’m so hungry, I’m dizzy from it."
Hearing that hunger had made her dizzy, Gu Zhao immediately tensed up, abandoning all thoughts of comparing himself to others. He quickly got up and said:
"Then hurry up and wash up. I had Steward Man bring some things for you."
Zhu Qingyu followed Gu Zhao out of the inner chamber. On the octagonal table sat a food box and a brass pot, and on the desk by the window lay a pile of items.
Gu Zhao opened the food box at the octagonal table to set out breakfast, explaining:
"Things from outside the palace can’t be brought in—only palace items are allowed. I figured the maids’ supplies might be too rough for you, so I asked Steward Man to go to the Ladies-in-Waiting in the Storage Palace and get things according to the standard for palace maid candidates. Those should all be good quality and new. Take a look and see if anything’s missing. If you need more, tell me, and I’ll arrange it through the Imperial Household Department."
Zhu Qingyu roughly flipped through the items. Steward Man had brought a very complete set—not only basic necessities like a brass basin, tooth powder, towels, and clothes, but also advanced items like eyebrow pencils, rouge, scented soap, and face cream. It was indeed thorough, so she replied:
"It’s very complete. Don’t lack a thing."
Since Qianqing Palace might summon them at any moment—and once there, they could be stuck for the whole day with no idea when they’d rest next—the two quickly washed up and hurried through breakfast.
As they ate, Gu Zhao kept staring at her chopsticks, watching whatever she ate.
Zhu Qingyu felt uncomfortable under his gaze and asked:
"Why are you staring at me? Is my table etiquette not up to palace standards?"
Gu Zhao kept his eyes on her chopsticks:
"No. I’m just seeing what you like to eat. The imperial kitchen here cooks according to different masters’ tastes. Even the same ration can be made into several dishes. If you go early to pick up the meal, you can choose. Tell Attendant Fu in advance, and he can grab your favorites before they’re gone. That way you won’t suffer through months of dishes you dislike for nothing."
She had no idea where he learned so many little palace life hacks, nor how young he was when he suffered and how long it took him to figure out all these tricks.
The person who had eaten nasty dishes for months and suffered in vain—well, everyone knew who that was.
Zhu Qingyu replied:
"Eat quickly. Don’t worry about me. I’m not picky; I can eat anything."
Gu Zhao raised an eyebrow, smiling faintly, and called her out:
"Oh? Not picky? Then who was it that just ate a plum-filled pork bun like it was poison and downed several mouthfuls of congee to wash it down? If you’re really not picky, I’ll instruct Attendant Fu to grab that same dish for you every day."
Lord Gu struck with precision, and someone immediately surrendered.
Zhu Qingyu pressed her palms together, blinked her big eyes pleadingly, and looked up at him pitifully:
"Master, I was wrong. Please, don’t do this to me."
Having lived in Yangzhou for several years as a Sichuan native, Zhu Qingyu had tried her best to understand the sweet cooking tradition of Jiangnan.
But a meat bun with sweet filling? As a Sichuan-born person, she could understand and respect it, but making her eat it was too painful. It completely upended the eating habits she’d grown up with.
In front of Gu Zhao, Zhu Qingyu was always calm, serene, rarely showing any emotional fluctuation.
So seeing her so relaxed and playful—it added a layer of lively charm to her peerless beauty, making her look like a fairy descending to earth. For a moment, she seemed to radiate light.
They had known each other for over a year, and it wasn’t his first time seeing her. Gu Zhao had thought he was already used to her beauty.
But here, in this side chamber, with her tired from the night’s work, just a single smile or expression stirred his heart again. Caught off guard, he was smitten and moved.
Gu Zhao quickly averted his eyes and even started to stammer:
"Oh, oh, okay. Let’s, um, switch for something else."
