Although Zhu Qingyu personally couldn’t stand Meili xiaolongbao, it was actually a famous delicacy in Jiangnan.
And the fact that Eunuch Fu had managed to send her such a regionally distinctive dish with such a complicated preparation process at a time that wasn’t a regular meal hour showed he had put thought into guessing her preferences. It also proved that Eunuch Fu had connections in the imperial kitchen and could pull strings.
Since Gu Zhao had already spent the money, Zhu Qingyu wasn’t about to starve herself in such a high-pressure environment. With a job this dangerous, she at least needed to eat her fill.
After finishing breakfast, as Gu Zhao packed up the food box to leave, Zhu Qingyu dropped her polite tone and said to him:
“Can you tell Eunuch Fu that when he prepares my meals, please don’t choose sweet dishes for the main courses, and don’t pick salty snacks for the pastries? Other than that, anything is fine.”
Gu Zhao chuckled.
“Just that?” He paused and added, “Actually, this is my fault. I told Eunuch Fu earlier that you were from Jiangnan, so he got it wrong. This time, I’ll say you’re from Shuzhong, and Eunuch Fu will handle it properly.”
Zhu Qingyu found this extremely strange and pressed him:
“I’ve told you at least three or four times that I’m from Shuzhong. Shuzhong, Shuzhong. How could you still tell people I’m from Jiangnan? Did you ever believe anything I said?”
Gu Zhao’s smile carried both self-mockery and sarcasm.
“The things you say—can they be trusted?”
Fair enough. When you spin too many lies, even a rare truth becomes unbelievable.
Zhu Qingyu straightened her expression.
“You’re right. I can’t fool you after all. I confess: I’m not really from Shuzhong. I came from heaven.”
Gu Zhao had been listening seriously, but when he heard the last part, he realized she had tricked him again. He let out a scoff and couldn’t be bothered to waste more words. Picking up the food box, he turned and left.
Having driven Gu Zhao away and avenged the Meili xiaolongbao incident, Zhu Qingyu felt her exhaustion from the night lift somewhat. She went to the desk and began sorting through the items Eunuch Man had sent, categorizing them.
But when she finished unpacking, she hit a wall.
Where was she supposed to put all this?
Looking around, the furnishings in Gu Zhao’s side room were undeniably sparse.
In the outer room, aside from the bookshelf, desk, square table, and chairs, there was only a row of cabinets against the wall—she had no idea what they held.
In the inner room, apart from a bed that would be cramped for two people, there was another row of cabinets, and beside them, two clothing chests.
It was clearly a bachelor’s temporary quarters, with nothing extra at all.
Her clothes had no place to go, nor did her makeup and powder.
Standing in the room with her arms full of belongings, Zhu Qingyu felt utterly lost when suddenly, outside, a commotion of voices and rapid footsteps erupted.
Gu Zhao entered, first handing her a newly issued cloak. “Eunuch Man has sent some things. Come out for a moment. It won’t take long—once they’re done, you can go to sleep.”
Zhu Qingyu assumed he meant she needed to greet someone. She put her things back down, put on the cloak, and followed Gu Zhao out the door.
Once outside, she was startled.
The small courtyard was packed with furniture and eunuchs. As soon as they stepped out, the eunuchs began carrying furniture inside in a steady stream.
A eunuch with a round, cheerful face, looking blessed with fortune, came over with a smile.
“Lord Gu, Lady Zhu.”
Gu Zhao returned the smile. “This is Eunuch Man. If you ever need anything after I’m not around, just ask him.”
Zhu Qingyu greeted Eunuch Man, who quickly excused himself to direct the workers. Within moments, he was gone.
Whether it was because the palace staff worked that efficiently or because Gu Zhao had emphasized the need for speed, in less than a quarter of an hour, Eunuch Man had led his people away.
When Zhu Qingyu stepped back into the side room, she almost thought she had entered the wrong one. It had completely transformed.
In the outer room, a new set of standing cabinets had been added beside the old ones, already stocked with complete sets of tea sets.
An extra chair had been placed in front of the desk, with a new set of writing implements on top.
A spring vase had been set in the corner, filled with blooming winter plum blossoms, their scent filling the room with a subtle fragrance.
Many new books had been added to the shelves. Zhu Qingyu pulled one out at random—it was a play script.
She guessed that even Gu Zhao wouldn’t dare place explicit storybooks inside the palace, so as a compromise, he had chosen plays instead. Even the Empress Dowager and imperial consorts could openly watch plays, so they would certainly be safe.
Entering the inner room, she found that a dressing table with a mirror and drawers had been added against the wall. Next to the original clothing chests sat another, brand-new one.
Between the bookshelf and the bed, a folding screen had been placed, blocking any prying eyes from the outer room.
Behind the screen, the narrow bed—which had previously looked meager—now bore a thick quilt. Upon closer inspection, the pattern even featured mandarin ducks playing in water.
The entire side room, though still small, no longer felt empty and sparse.
Now, it was packed full, as if every corner were filled to the brim.
Zhu Qingyu looked at this completely refreshed, fully stocked room and felt a bizarre illusion wash over her. The scene struck her as uncannily like a newlywed couple, where the bride’s dowry filled the bridal chamber.
What was wrong with her today?
It had to be because she hadn’t slept all night, and her exhaustion was conjuring these strange thoughts. She was letting her imagination run wild.
Gu Zhao didn’t notice her unusual state and said, “The new furniture is all for you to store your things. Go ahead, put them away.”
Just go to sleep, hurry up and sleep. Once she woke up, everything would be fine. She would be back to normal.
Zhu Qingyu quickly stuffed the items from the desk into the cabinets. As soon as she was done, she headed to the inner room, announcing, “I’m going to sleep now. I won’t see you out.”
She sat on the bed, took off her shoes, and was about to remove her outer robe when she saw Gu Zhao following her in.
Gu Zhao stood at the doorway, watching her. “Alright, sleep.”
How could she sleep with someone staring at her like that?
It wasn’t that she had never undressed in front of him before—they had been far more intimate. But under these circumstances, for some reason, Zhu Qingyu felt inexplicably nervous.
Seeing her hesitate, Gu Zhao left again.
She quickly took off her robe, climbed into bed, pulled the covers over herself, and lay flat, closing her eyes, determined to sleep without wasting time.
But no sooner had she lain down than she heard Gu Zhao’s footsteps returning.
Zhu Qingyu opened her eyes. Gu Zhao came to the bedside, holding a teacup. She looked at him in confusion.
“Don’t you need to go to the Grand Secretariat?”
Earlier, he had left work early. Now he was even skipping work entirely?
She had planned to sleep while he was away at the Grand Secretariat to avoid overlapping schedules. That was why she had been rushing.
Gu Zhao, who had originally thought she might want water when he saw her hesitate, now found himself staring at Zhu Qingyu, who was actively lying under the covers. His heart thumped wildly in his chest, and he forced restraint into his voice as he said:
“Qingyu, I’m not going to the Grand Secretariat today. I didn’t sleep all night either. I need to rest.”
