Asking for leave
Gu Jinghong secretly climbed out of the window and pulled Qingwu to a secluded spot.
"Qingwu, how did you get in? Where have you been these past few days?"
Qingwu said, "I'm sorry to have troubled you, Grand Secretary. The guards at the Prince's mansion seem... less tight than before. I discovered the trail of the 'Southern Wind Secret Box' and dared not be negligent, so I have been tracking its whereabouts."
"The South Wind Secret Box?" Gu Jinghong's heart sank suddenly—the Lord of the Pavilion had repeatedly instructed that the South Wind Secret Box be retrieved, as it was said to be related to the life and death of many strongholds of the Qianyuan Pavilion in the southwest region, and could not be lost.
What was the result?
Qingwu's voice was extremely low, carrying the damp chill of rain, "Your Excellency, 'Falcon's' whereabouts have been confirmed. At three-quarters past 7 PM on New Year's Eve, meet him in the back alley of the 'Fu Rui Xiang' silk shop on North Drum Tower Street. He's carrying the 'Southern Wind Secret Box'!"
Qingwu's voice sounded even more solemn amidst the sound of rain, "The Lord said that the secret box itself has seven layers of ingenious locks, and the authenticity of the clues inside is difficult to determine. Only if you, the Grand Secretary, retrieve it in person can its authenticity be confirmed. 'Falcon' is an old fox, extremely vigilant. The time and place of the rendezvous were released by him at the last minute, and our people... cannot guarantee its safety. Grand Secretary, I'm afraid... you will have to make the trip yourself."
The sound of rain pattering against the umbrella also pattered against Gu Jinghong's heart.
On New Year's Eve, Beigulou Street... the most bustling and chaotic place in the capital. Venturing out of the mansion right under Xiao Chengyan's nose... no problem, let's try it first.
The last trace of hesitation in Gu Jinghong's eyes vanished instantly, and he looked directly into Qingwu's resolute eyes, uttering only one word: "Okay."
Qingwu nodded, his figure disappearing silently like a shadow blending into the rainy night, leaving only a few drops of water on the window frame that were quickly washed away by the rain.
...
December 21
As the year draws to a close, lanterns adorn the Prince's Mansion, but they do little to warm Chen Anju.
Watching Xiao Chengyan frown and finish his medicine once again, Gu Jinghong took a deep breath and finally broke the silence that had lasted for days.
She wore a light blue robe and stood a few steps away from the desk, her chin slightly raised, her gaze calmly fixed on Xiao Chengyan's hands as he reviewed the memorials.
"Your Highness." Her voice was clear and steady, sounding particularly abrupt in the quiet study, "New Year's Eve is approaching, and this servant would like to request a few days' leave."
Xiao Chengyan's hand holding the pen suddenly paused.
The pen hovered above the memorial—this was the first thing she had said to him since she demanded a clear distinction between the two.
Not reconciliation, not explanation, but... asking for leave? Leaving?
He slowly raised his eyelashes and looked at Gu Jinghong.
He hadn't looked closely for a few days, and she seemed even thinner. The light blue robe made her face appear somewhat pale, but her eyes were unusually calm, carrying a sense of detachment. The contrast between her angry, accusing gaze that day and her current tranquility made his heart inexplicably clench.
He looked at her without saying a word. The air in the study seemed to be sucked out instantly, leaving only a heavy sense of oppression.
Gu Jinghong met his gaze and continued, "My godfather is seriously ill and is suffering alone at the end of the year. I need to go out of the manor for a day to visit him and do my part. I will return on New Year's Eve."
The word "godfather" caused a barely perceptible astringent taste to rise on Gu Jinghong's tongue, which she quickly suppressed.
With a "click," Xiao Chengyan put down his pen.
His eyes were slightly red, his hands were folded on the desk, but his body leaned forward slightly, his deep eyes were locked on her, and there was shock, anger and a trace of hurt that even he himself did not realize.
"Taking leave?...Gu Jinghong, what do you mean by this?"
Gu Jinghong was slightly taken aback and subconsciously frowned.
According to her understanding of Xiao Chengyan, shouldn't he have asked questions like "Who is your godfather?", "Where does he live?", "When will you return to the manor?", etc.? Why did he suddenly say "What do you mean?"?
...Was she not clear enough just now?
Gu Jinghong was unaware that Xiao Chengyan had swallowed those questions whole.
He instinctively wanted to use his princely authority and the rules of the palace to pin her down, question her about the authenticity of her "godfather," and warn her about the rules of duty during festivals... But as he looked at Gu Jinghong, her slightly trembling voice from that day uncontrollably echoed in his mind:
"But what about you, Your Highness? In these past few days, have you ceased testing me in every single way?"
"...Shouldn't we keep our boundaries clearer?...Why must you...crush even this tiny bit of breathing space?"
Immediately, the question that came out was replaced by "What do you mean by this?"
If he continues to test her, wouldn't that confirm her accusations of "testing," "humiliation," and "pushing her at every turn"? After all, according to her, she was only trying to repay a debt of gratitude...
Looking into her calm, almost indifferent eyes, Xiao Chengyan felt an unprecedented sense of powerlessness and frustration. He was a master strategist in military campaigns, yet he seemed completely unable to control the emotions and decisions of this "maid" before him.
She wasn't asking; she was informing. She drew a line, and then she was leaving.
This realization fueled the nameless fire within him, yet he had nowhere to vent it, eventually transforming it into a cold, weary, and self-deprecating rage.
He leaned back abruptly in his chair, letting out a very soft, almost breathy, cold laugh.
After a long pause, he uttered a single word, empty and cold: "Okay."
A hint of surprise flashed across Gu Jinghong's eyes, clearly not expecting him to so easily "give up" on the questioning.
She nodded slightly: "Thank you, Your Highness."
Watching her cold, retreating figure, Xiao Chengyan suddenly felt inexplicably angry, and his voice rang out again: "Wait."
Gu Jinghong stopped walking, but did not turn around.
"Remember your words. On New Year's Eve, I will see you back at the manor to serve the medicine. If you are late, or cause any trouble outside... Gu Jinghong, I will make you understand that the words 'clear distinction' are not something you can decide on your own. The manor has its own rules."
This was both a warning and the last bit of control he was leaving himself.
Gu Jinghong turned to look at Xiao Chengyan. Although his eyes were still sharp and piercing, they were bloodshot, his face was pale, and he was thin. She nodded again, "Yes."
Without saying another word, he turned around decisively and left.
The door was gently closed, separating the inside from the outside.
A deathly silence returned to the study.
Xiao Chengyan remained seated, motionless, as the flickering candlelight cast shadows on his cold, handsome face.
His deep eyes stared at the closed door, a complex mix of emotions churning within them. There was the sting of being told to leave by her cold indifference, the regret for his earlier outburst of questioning, the suspicion and wariness about her motives, and the powerlessness of being bound by her clear-cut separation.
Perhaps... there was still a faint, uncertain expectation stirred by her words, "I will definitely return on New Year's Eve"?
Finally, all his emotions dissolved into a deep, inky darkness in his eyes. He slowly closed them, his long, slender fingers pressing firmly against his throbbing temples, his Adam's apple bobbing.
He threw himself back into that boundless work.
...
22nd day of the twelfth lunar month
[Near Furuixiang Silk Shop]
The cold wind, carrying fine snow, stung people's faces.
Gu Jinghong, wrapped in a worn cotton headscarf and carrying a half-empty vegetable basket on her arm, mingled in the crowd of people buying New Year's goods, but her gaze, like a spider web, silently clung to the "Yuelai Inn" diagonally opposite.
At this moment, the window of the second-floor room C was tightly closed, like a nailed coffin, and the wooden window frame looked unusually heavy under the reflection of the snow.
A gray sparrow fluttered down onto the windowsill, its tiny claws speckled with a few ochre-colored mud spots—the distinctive earthy color of Shilipo.
She felt a slight chill and noted down the loosely scheduled shift changes and the path the slightly plump manager's figure took as he moved around the front of the restaurant.
Hawk is a cautious and cunning man. If the meeting is really to take place in the back alley of Furuixiang Silk Shop, he will definitely make arrangements and scout the location in advance.
He was confident in his cunning, hiding in a bustling inn, believing that the most dangerous place was the safest. Little did he know that the bit of ochre mud from Shilipo on the soles of his boots, and the unusually thick window, had already torn a hole in his carefully constructed "blind spot."
【Jinwang Mansion Study】
On the first day after Gu Jinghong left, Xiao Chengyan did not realize how uncomfortable he was.
Zhixin carefully placed the medicine bowl in the corner of the table piled with military reports.
"Your Highness, the medicine... it's getting cold." The voice was barely audible.
Xiao Chengyan glanced at the medicine, which emitted a bitter smell that seemed to hit his brain directly, and frowned slightly: "Take it away."
Zhixin was stunned for a moment, then obediently took the medicine bowl away.
Changfeng, standing at the door, looked at the bowl of medicine that Zhixin had brought out, sighed softly, and shook his head.
Zhixin glanced helplessly at Changfeng, then turned and left.
...
25th of the twelfth lunar month
[The backyard of Yuelai Inn]
The snow fell like goose feathers, creating a chaotic scene.
Gu Jinghong, his back hunched, his tattered felt hat pulled low, his face covered in coal dust, pushed his creaking wheelbarrow through the thick snow.
"The charcoal deliveryman! The shopkeeper told him to come to the woodshed!" The rough voice was drowned out by the wind and snow.
While unloading the coal, her sharp eyes had already etched the layout of the backyard, the open-air wooden staircase leading to the second floor, and the blind spots in the corridor outside the C-shaped room into her mind.
Despite the wind and snow blinding her, she could see clearly.
At the beginning of Chen Shi (7-9 AM), a figure wrapped tightly in black hurriedly went out in the snow, heading towards Shi Li Po.
An hour later, he returned through the snow, the few ochre mud spots on the edge of his boots like indelible marks.
More importantly, the moment the door opened and closed, a flash of cold metal light appeared on the inside of the door crack, and Gu Jinghong's pupils contracted slightly—it was the unique chilling glint of a high-quality steel mechanism, without a doubt. This door itself was probably the first deadly lock.
Just as I was about to take a closer look, the shopkeeper's shout came from the direction of the woodshed in the backyard, and a shop assistant was clumsily knocking over a stack of empty baskets.
Gu Jinghong immediately lowered his head, piling the charcoal blocks even louder, complaining roughly about the "slippery roads due to the heavy snow." Out of the corner of his eye, he kept a close watch on the door of room C. He saw the dark figure cautiously peek out and glance at the noisy area before slamming the door shut. The "click" of the lock was barely audible in the wind and snow.
Gu Jinghong's lips curled into a chilling smile.
The wind, snow, and the New Year were her opportune moment, but the hawk's excessive caution only exposed his unease and morbidity.
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