At that moment, Vice Minister Gu’s gaze was unlike any before—like a sudden storm arising from a calm sea, as if to blot out the sky and devour everything.
Deeply fixed by such a gaze, an indescribable, strange feeling stirred in her heart.
Zhu Qingyu felt as though she were a small boat adrift in the storm, uneasy and flustered, with no anchor. Instinctively, she lowered her eyes to shut out the tempest.
Vice Minister Gu had already let go and said,
“I’m sorry.”
Zhu Qingyu stood up. When she looked again, his eyes were clear and calm once more.
Gu Zhao’s clothes hung half on him; the other half had slipped to his waist. In this half-covered, half-exposed state, he smiled with a full face of apology and a hint of embarrassment.
“I’m very sorry. Please forgive me.”
Medical staff see no gender, but they do see beauty and ugliness.
Vice Minister Gu’s features were naturally handsome, and in this half-clad state, his muscles appeared powerful even more, his physique vigorous and majestic—every inch of him exuded masculine charm.
If Zhu Qingyu dared to think disrespectfully, Vice Minister Gu’s current appearance was the kind she would save and revisit repeatedly while scrolling through her phone in the modern world. If he started a live stream with no beauty filter, she couldn’t help but throw money at him.
But Zhu Qingyu had no mind to appreciate Vice Minister Gu’s charm and aura now.
She understood why Gu Zhao apologized.
Though Vice Minister Gu held power and authority, he was only twenty-two—a college student’s age, the most energetic time, but also the most susceptible to stirrings of passion.
He flared up easily, as clearly shown last time and now.
Such matters weren’t fit for discussion. If she responded and brought them up, it would only make things more awkward. Besides, that strange feeling still lingered in her heart, refusing to fade.
Zhu Qingyu leaped over the topic almost out of instinct.
She backed away several steps, and finally only said:
“Judging by your situation, it’s probably just surface injuries. Apply some medicine to promote blood circulation and reduce bruising—both external and internal. It should heal in a few days. Is there any bruising where you were hurt?”
Gu Zhao watched her, who had drawn close, step back step by step until she was out of his reach.
He had already restrained himself enough. The earlier incident wasn’t entirely his fault—she bore some responsibility too. Why couldn’t she show him a bit of understanding?
Seeing her retreat, Gu Zhao smiled as gently and harmlessly as the first spring breeze:
“Qingyu, I can’t see it myself. Could you please take another look for me?”
Seeing Zhu Qingyu hesitate in place, silent, Gu Zhao repeated his old trick, saying considerately:
“If it’s inconvenient for you, then forget it. I’ll have Xiong Kun come take a look instead. It’s the same.”
The same tactic suddenly failed. Zhu Qingyu latched onto his words and quickly replied:
“Good, I’ll call someone for you. This afternoon, I’ll have Uncle Qi deliver the medicine. Take the internal medicine three times a day. For the external one, have your attendant apply it each morning and evening.”
With that, Zhu Qingyu turned and ran, disappearing in an instant.
Hearing her call out for Xiong Kun from the outer room, Gu Zhao’s spring-like warm smile vanished without a trace.
Gu Zhao stood up, expressionless, pulled up the undergarment she had torn down, then fetched his outer robe and dressed himself leisurely.
Even though the inner door was open, and Zhu Qingyu had summoned Xiong Kun as Gu Zhao instructed, Xiong Kun stood in the outer room, not daring to enter.
It wasn’t until Gu Zhao, fully dressed, came out that Xiong Kun stood there, head bowed, hardly breathing.
Gu Zhao went to the table and began his lunch.
Without needing a command, Xiong Kun voluntarily reported the information he had gathered:
“I just asked. During your absence, Madam Zhu came every noon to deliver meals to Zhang Jingyan, which is why she was here.”
The food at the government office wasn’t good, but Gu Zhao had eaten far worse.
During the hardest times in the palace—when the current Empress Dowager, then the Empress, was under house arrest, when Noble Consort Gao ruled the harem, and the late Emperor wanted the Second Prince as Crown Prince without reason to depose the current one—there was a period when Gu Zhao accompanied the current Emperor, secretly eating the coarse meals of the lowliest palace attendants for a long time.
So even the present Emperor, exalted as the Son of Heaven, had endured much hardship before ascending the throne.
And yet she talked of loyalty and respect, but in truth, she merely fended him off with empty words. She clearly knew the government office food was poor—why did she know to deliver meals only to Zhang Jingyan and not a portion for him?
Chewing tastelessly, Gu Zhao said flatly:
“Put what Zhang Jingyan wrote in the study. I’ll read it later. Tell him he doesn’t need to come tomorrow.”
After lunch, Gu Zhao returned to the study, opened the box on the shelf again, took out the account books, and also the ledgers and documents Zhang Shen had compiled recently for allocating supplies to suppress the bandits.
Actually, having obtained the fragmented but detail-accurate accounts later dictated by the second shopkeeper, Gu Zhao had already formed a conclusion.
He deliberately summoned Zhang Shen to the government office, under the guard of soldiers and before his own eyes, to fabricate the records—all to avoid any case of misjudgment or wrongful accusation caused by Zhang employing his shop managers or advisers.
Fairly speaking, as the chief merchant of Yangzhou, Zhang Shen was truly a man of talent. The materials he produced were rigorous, detailed, concise, and accurate, with no errors or omissions.
Even among all the people Gu Zhao had employed in the court, few could write documents as solid as Zhang Shen’s.
Looking at each alone didn’t show it, but placing the two account books together, despite different handwriting, the personal style in the lines was so distinct it almost leaped off the page.
Both human and material evidence were at hand—the crime of deceiving the emperor, with irrefutable proof.
Gu Zhao set the account books aside, then laid out paper and ground ink. He picked up his brush to write his monthly secret memorial to the Emperor.
After finishing the memorial, he sealed it in the box for secret reports and summoned Xiong Kun:
“As usual, send it by six-hundred-li express to the capital.”
Zhu Qingyu said she would send Uncle Qi with the medicine in the afternoon, and indeed, it arrived that afternoon.
Before bed that night, Gu Zhao stood before the mirror, slowly applying the medicine to the bruise on his waist.
The room was empty. She had appeared briefly, then fled in panic.
Lying in bed, even after taking the calming medicine she had prescribed, his mind was filled with the scene of her running away that afternoon, making it hard to fall asleep.
As was his habit, he took out that plain handkerchief, brought it to his lips, kissed it gently, and whispered with a smile:
“The great house is about to fall—where else can you flee? Qingyu.”
