Upon hearing Gu Zhao’s response, the Eldest Grand Princess felt nothing but frustration.
She had come to the capital this time precisely for her two daughters’ marriages.
When the late Emperor was still alive, the Eldest Grand Princess was the Emperor’s full-blooded elder sister, revered by the entire realm. Having grown up alongside the current Emperor, her status was naturally incomparably exalted.
The decades of peace in the northern frontier were half attributed to Grand General Wen’s illustrious military achievements, which kept the northern barbarians in check, and half to the Eldest Grand Princess’s presence in the north. No matter how intense the infighting at court, no one dared to seize the Wen family’s military authority, nor could they think of making trouble for the Wen household.
But times had changed. The late Emperor was gone, and now the reigning Emperor was her nephew.
Whether by blood or by affection, their bond was far thinner. The Wen family’s standing had naturally plummeted compared to when the late Emperor was alive. Otherwise, no one would have been so audacious as to embezzle the northern frontier’s military funds or dare to produce counterfeit medical supplies for the army.
The northern frontier was far too desolate. Aside from the Wen family itself, there were truly no families of suitable status for marriage. The Eldest Grand Princess had no choice but to turn her gaze toward the capital.
The Gu family and the Xie family—one was the Empress Dowager’s maternal clan, the other the Empress’s maternal clan. Both had become the most prominent imperial relatives after the Emperor ascended the throne. After careful consideration, the Eldest Grand Princess judged them to be the most suitable choices, whether in terms of family conduct, upbringing, or the quality of the marriageable young men themselves.
But this year was truly unlucky. It seemed she had failed to bow to the right deities. Neither negotiation had succeeded.
During their first meeting, Vice Minister Gu had not appeared. The Eldest Grand Princess, possessing her own pride, had already excluded Gu Zhao from consideration.
If not for the fact that Gu Zhao had visited her residence to apologize with sincere earnestness, that his talents and appearance were indeed exceptional, and that the Empress Dowager herself had come to speak on his behalf, the Eldest Grand Princess might never have softened and given him a second chance.
And now, unsurprisingly, she should never have softened. That one moment of leniency had led to this infuriating turn of events.
Gu Zhao had come before her to break off the engagement. Who did the Eldest Grand Princess think she was? In her life, she had always been the one to infuriate others, never the one made furious.
Now that she had suffered this grievance, she felt irked. And when irked, she felt the urge to retaliate. So she straightened her expression and said:
“Vice Minister Gu, the women of my Wen family have their own taste and standards. Trash that others discard is not fit to enter our household. Even if you had not spoken, I would have written to the Empress Doward end this matter. But I will speak frankly: your so-called devotion is nothing but self-deception—or even bullying under the guise of status. I suspect the other party does not truly hold you in regard. This is merely wishful thinking on your part.”
In matters of marriage, the parents’ command and the matchmaker’s words were paramount. The elite families were especially strict about such conventions.
Gu Zhao, having come on his own to reject the marriage, behaved in an utterly improper manner and was fully aware that he was in the wrong. Therefore, no matter what the Eldest Grand Princess said, he remained inwardly unshaken. He bore every remark without protest.
Only when she accused him of wishful thinking, self-deception, and bullying under the guise of status—each accusation striking his heart—did he falter. He could not parry them.
The morning’s fleeting kiss had filled his heart with countless sweet, illusory bubbles. Now those arrows of the Eldest Grand Princess’s words punctured them all, leaving them gone without a trace. His entire heart felt hollow.
The Eldest Grand Princess watched Vice Minister Gu’s usually composed expression change. Clearly, her words had struck home.
Now that someone else was upset, the Eldest Grand Princess finally felt satisfied. She picked up the military procurement documents again and said to Gu Zhao:
“Vice Minister Gu, let us set this matter aside and discuss official business.”
The Eldest Grand Princess’s carriage heading back to the northern frontier was an immense procession, stretching magnificently along the official road.
The general arrangement was that the ceremonial vanguard led the way, with armed guards on horseback flanking the front and rear, as well as both sides. In the middle, various carriages were surrounded.
The Eldest Grand Princess’s carriage took the lead, followed by those of the two Wen young ladies. The third carriage carried Zhu Qingyu, while Gu Zhao’s carriage had been assigned to the fourth spot that morning. After them came the carriages of the Eldest Grand Princess’s attendant officials and a long line of supply wagons.
As Gu Zhao emerged from discussing official business with the Eldest Grand Princess, he saw the window of the third carriage open. Xie Ze, still riding his little donkey, was keeping pace alongside the carriage, speaking to Zhu Qingyu, who leaned by the window.
Because of the morning’s great misunderstanding, Zhu Qingyu had hidden herself in the carriage all morning, pretending to sleep, too embarrassed to come out.
It wasn’t until she heard the little donkey’s braying that curiosity got the better of her. She opened the window and saw Xie Ze was indeed nearby.
The Wen young ladies’ carriages were just ahead, no more than a few steps away.
Zhu Qingyu watched Xie Ze lingering by her carriage, too afraid to move forward, yet unable to bring himself to fall back. She asked him:
“Are you wanting to talk to her, but too afraid? Haven’t you told your family yet?”
Xie Ze’s face was full of the melancholy of love’s plight. Finally finding someone who knew the inside story, he could no longer hold back and rambled:
“I told her, and she scolded me—said I was driving a wedge between her and her sister. That day, my mother misunderstood and made a scene at your place. Then I told my mother, and she scolded me too, saying the Wen family wasn’t a dish I could pick and choose from, and that switching partners was out of the question. Doctor Zhu, it’s so hard for me. What do I do?”
On other matters, Zhu Qingyu might have given Xie Ze advice. But in matters of the heart, she herself was incapable of handling things. She had had to, literally, walk away. How could she possibly give Xie Ze any advice?
Observing others was like reflecting on oneself. Seeing the usually carefree and unbridled Xie Ze now become anxious and uncertain over love, she compared him to herself. Once again, she decided: this world was already so difficult, so full of hardship—she had no intention of adding to her own burdens by stepping into Xie Ze’s footsteps and tasting the bitterness of love.
Absolutely not!
Since Zhu Qingyu had no useful advice to offer Xie Ze, she could only provide emotional support, sighing along with him.
Just as they were talking, they saw Gu Zhao approaching on horseback. Zhu Qingyu immediately slammed the window shut and shrank back into the carriage.
She was so fast that Xie Ze was stunned. Gu Zhao rode over and saw the now-closed window. His heart sank even further.
Wishful thinking, self-deception, bullying under the guise of status—yes, that was exactly who he was. Even so, he still foolishly yearned for the immortal who had descended to earth to pause for him, to bestow her favor on him. He even hoped to claim her by force, if necessary.
Thinking that her medicine would soon be ready, and that even if she did not want to see him now, he could still find an excuse to see her later, Gu Zhao merely nodded at Xie Ze and rode past.
Through the gap in the window, Zhu Qingyu watched Gu Zhao pass by. Only then did she open the window again.
Xie Ze looked at Zhu Qingyu, feeling that something was not quite right.
This wasn’t because Xie Ze paid no attention to gossip. Since that day’s misunderstanding, fearing he would cause trouble for Doctor Zhu, he had not gone to Green Bamboo Lane at all. He had no idea that Gu Zhao had moved next door.
And lately, being consumed by his ill-fated romance, he had neither entered the palace nor had the energy to keep up with what was happening to Zhu Qingyu in the palace.
Xie Ze stared at Gu Zhao’s retreating figure again, bitterness in his heart. His face contorted in pain as he said:
“Most likely, my cousin went to discuss marriage arrangements with the Eldest Grand Princess. Having to watch her marry someone else—it hurts me so much.”
Just moments ago, Zhu Qingyu had been able to sigh along with Xie Ze, but upon hearing these words from him, she was momentarily stunned.
Xie Ze gathered the reins and added,
"No, I must go and ask my cousin."
After Xie Ze had been gone for quite some time, Zhu Qingyu still leaned against the carriage window, staring at the sky outside.
He was going to marry?
That was true—with a family background like his, he should have married long ago.
The daughter of the Wen family, such a fine young lady... it was a good match.
She had long anticipated this. There was nothing unusual about it, nothing surprising.
Beyond the carriage window lay a winter’s overcast sky, with no sun, no clouds, no rain or snow, and not even a single bird in sight—just an empty emptiness.
Zhu Qingyu touched her own chest and felt a hollow ache in her heart as well.
It must be that she had been staring at this empty sky for too long, her mood touched by the scene.
Zhu Qingyu closed the carriage window, shutting out the sight to ease her mind.
Wrapping herself in a blanket, she still felt somewhat unsettled, thinking to herself, indeed, an overcast day always puts one in a bad mood.
It was surely because of the overcast day, and not because of any sense of loss.
