Zhu Qingyu had rarely spoken to Gu Zhao with such coldness and severity as she did today.
One-sided affection, self-deception, and the abuse of power.
When these words came from others, they had already left Gu Zhao at a loss for words. Now, spoken by her own lips, it felt as if she had slapped him twice—his face burned with shame, and he was utterly mortified.
Because this was the truth.
All along, he had clung to the faint pretense of affection Zhu Qingyu gave him—reluctant reassurances, a few hollow gestures—to deceive himself into believing that she might harbor even half a shred of genuine feeling for him.
But today, she chose to withhold even that sliver of illusion.
Originally, Gu Zhao had come to confront Zhu Qingyu with full confidence. She had been avoiding him all day, and he planned to use that as a pretext to lodge a complaint against her, press her into a defenseless position, and then forcefully stay.
But now, facing her accusation, Gu Zhao dare not even cross her threshold. Flustered, he hurriedly explained,
“No, Qingyu, I never meant to disrespect you. I only came to check on you—to see how your wounds were healing.”
Zhu Qingyu looked at him with a calm, almost detached expression.
“Now that you’ve seen, you can go. Or is it that seeing isn’t enough? You want to sleep with me? You count on your high position and power, while I’m insignificant, assuming that even if you take liberties with me, I’d have no redress. That’s true, isn’t it? You have more power than I do, and there’s nothing I can do about it. If you want to sleep with me, then come on in. I can go along with it until you tire of me, until I become numb to it, until I’m so worn down that I can’t resist you anymore.”
After this long tirade, Zhu Qingyu felt a sharp sting in her throat, which even pulled at her chest, a dull ache settling over her heart.
Those medicines the Imperial Academy doctors prescribed didn’t seem to work at all. She had drunk so much of them—why did it still hurt so much?
Hearing her words, Gu Zhao felt as if he were falling apart.
“No, Qingyu, that’s not how it is.”
Zhu Qingyu still watched him with that same calm, almost numb expression.
“Then what is it? You don’t want to sleep with me? From now on, you’ll treat me only as a colleague—just fellow officials in court, with no trace of romantic desire or love between a man and a woman?”
Gu Zhao’s eyes reddened at the corners as he looked at her, unable to utter words of denial or justification.
All along, this was what he had felt for her: an uncontrollable obsession and desire.
What he coveted from her had always been the affection between a man and a woman. Even if she were a celestial maiden descending from the heavens, even if he were to suffer divine retribution for desecrating such a goddess, his resolve would never waver. He yearned to marry her, to share a life of children and growing old together.
He wanted nothing to do with so-called camaraderie of court officials!
Seeing him silent, Zhu Qingyu made her judgment:
“Your silence means you agree. Vice Minister Gu, you were the one who introduced me to officialdom and taught me how to write court memorials. You bestowed upon me the grace of patronage, and for that, I am truly grateful. From now on, in the court, I will treat you with the respect due to my mentor. During festivals, when you marry or have a child, I will be sure to send gifts, congratulate you on your marriage, and wish you abundant descendants. Let it be so between us. Vice Minister Gu, it’s late. It’s inappropriate for a single man and woman to speak like this alone. Please take your leave.”
With that, she did not give Gu Zhao the chance to respond. With a sharp slam, she closed the door.
She had spoken far too long today. The strain on her throat sent a spreading pain deep into her chest.
Zhu Qingyu leaned against the door, inhaling and exhaling slowly, trying to ease the growing bitterness and agony.
It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay.
She told herself, it will all get better.
There was no sound from outside the door—neither footsteps nor voice.
But Zhu Qingyu knew he hadn’t left. He was still there.
After a long while, a voice finally came from outside.
“I don’t agree.”
The suddenness of it made her heart leap, nearly escaping her control.
She covered her mouth with her hand, leaning against the door. Slowly, she slid down to sit on the floor, hugging her knees, burying her face in them.
The voice from outside returned, this time thick with sobs.
“I don’t agree. I’m a ruthless, shameless villain and a brute who bullies others through power. But I still don’t agree. I don’t want your gifts. I only want you. Unless you have the guts to kill me, you can’t just get rid of me this easily. I won’t allow it.”
Then came the sound of footsteps retreating.
Something wet slid down her cheek—tears, soaking into the fabric covering her arms.
After he was far enough, Zhu Qingyu stood up, wiped away her tears, quietly climbed into bed, pulled up the blanket, and went to sleep.
The pain in my heart is only temporary, she told herself. This is just withdrawal.
It will be okay. It will be okay. It will be okay.
Zhu Qingyu turned over, curling up under the blanket.
It’s almost New Year’s, she thought. It’s so cold here in the north—so cold I can’t sleep. I’ll ask Aunt Zhuyue for another blanket tomorrow. That way, I’ll surely manage to fall asleep.
The next morning, Aunt Zhuyue came as usual with a handmaiden, knocking on Zhu Qingyu’s door to rouse her and help her with her morning routines.
When Zhu Qingyu opened the door, Aunt Zhuyue was taken aback.
“Good heavens, Doctor Zhu, your eyes are so swollen!”
Zhu Qingyu suddenly missed Nanny Qin. If Nanny Qin were there, she wouldn’t have asked.
Perhaps because the Eldest Grand Princess seldom had to read others’ moods, her attendants lacked tact, and were far too straightforward.
Aunt Zhuyue led the handmaiden inside, still observing her eyes and chattering.
“Could it be from insect bites? Oh dear, traveling has its trials. When we reach the next big city and take a rest, I’ll prepare a separate bed set for you.”
People of the Eldest Grand Princess’s ilk, including Miss Wen, carried their own belongings on these trips—bedding, drinking cups, even bowls. Because Zhu Qingyu was abducted by the Eldest Grand Princess on short notice, and the relays they passed these two days were on the outskirts, Aunt Zhuyue hadn’t had time to get ready.
As Aunt Zhuyue had kindly supplied an excuse for her, Zhu Qingyu smiled.
“Yes, the insects around here are particularly vicious.”
To avoid running into Gu Zhao again, Zhu Qingyu finished breakfast and quickly hid herself in her carriage.
She needed time, and he did too—time to adjust and to sever ties.
Even though the entourage was immense, and she was inside a carriage with the shutters closed, somehow, every time she heard a horse’s hooves, she knew it was Gu Zhao passing by.
Peeking through the slit between the windows, it was indeed him.
The first time, Gu Zhao stopped beside her carriage and asked,
“Did you sleep well last night?”
Zhu Qingyu had sat up but pretended to still be asleep, playing dead.
The sound of hooves moved ahead, in the direction of Miss Wen, and further beyond, to the Eldest Grand Princess.
She couldn’t help but wonder who he was going to see. When she caught herself, she quickly admonished herself: whoever he goes to, it’s none of your business. Don’t think about it anymore.
The second time was when Gu Zhao returned, passing by the carriage, he asked again:
“Still asleep? There seems to be a plum grove ahead—a rare sight. Would you like to get up and open the window for a look?”
Zhu Qingyu continued to play dead, ignoring him.
The sound of hooves faded into the distance again, and Zhu Qingyu thought he wouldn’t return.
When the hoofbeats sounded for the third time, someone lifted the curtain at the front of the carriage.
Zhu Qingyu was startled, her heart nearly leaping out of her chest.
Surely he wasn’t going to force his way in and share the carriage with her?
But the curtain was only lifted a crack, and a sprig of winter plum blossoms was thrust inside.
Someone outside the carriage said:
“Since you didn’t see it, I picked some for you. Take a sniff—doesn’t it smell lovely?”
After he left again, it was quite some time before Zhu Qingyu crawled over and gathered that sprig of plum blossoms into her arms.
The carriage was filled with a delicate fragrance—the scent of the winter plum was so intense it couldn’t be ignored, and so commanding it couldn’t be refused. So commanding that it seemed capable of burrowing into one’s very heart.
