The emperor's movement broke the stillness.
Qin Lu bowed. "This son greets Father Emperor. May Your Majesty enjoy eternal peace."
Before the formalities completed, Qin Yuan waved dismissively. "Enough ceremony—how many times must I say it?"
That casual tone carried a thread of warmth Gu Yanshu hadn't anticipated.
Qin Lu straightened smoothly, accustomed. "Gratitude, Father."
Watching this exchange, Gu Yanshu's assumptions fractured.
Since when did they share such rapport?
The original Gu Yanshu, typical wastrel, had cared nothing for court politics—leaving the transmigrator to piece together imperial relationships from fragments.
His conclusions had been grim:
Qin Lu commanded 60% of Tianqi's armies, peaking at 80% during crises.
Battlefield legends whispered of his personal death squad—loyal beyond military seals, moving as one terrifying entity.
Even if half those tales were exaggeration, such power would terrify any emperor.
History overflowed with generals slaughtered for less.
The male bride decree had seemed confirmation—a humiliating leash for an overmighty subject at the exact moment succession debates intensified.
Yet now...
"Lu'er mentioned you were unwell yesterday." The emperor's gaze settled on Gu Yanshu. "Improved today?"
"Much better, Your Majesty."
Qin Yuan moved to a side table, gesturing to low stools. "'Better' isn't 'recovered.' Sit."
The stools' height posed problems for Gu Yanshu's current... condition.
But imperial grace couldn't be refused.
Just as he hesitated, an arm steadied his descent—Qin Lu's support vanishing the instant he was seated.
The emperor missed nothing.
"Lu'er seems... fond of his princess consort?"
Qin Lu's expression remained marble-carved. "Adequate."
To outsiders, this might sound like denial—but those who knew the prince recognized miracle status in that single word.
Qin Yuan chuckled. "If you call it 'adequate,' I'm reassured. I'd feared mismatching you..."
He trailed off, glancing at Gu Yanshu. The unspoken hovered:
Feared shackling you to a liability.
Gu Yanshu's eyes narrowed.
Too late for regrets now that the deed's done.
Was this paternal concern genuine? Or political theater now that the "threat" was neutered?
Qin Lu disrupted his speculation. "Father overestimates the matter."
Unfazed by his son's stoicism, Qin Yuan continued warmly: "You're of age—you deserve someone who cares for you."
The capital's whispers about Qin Lu's "wife-slaying curse" held uncomfortable truth.
After the first betrothed's sudden death, Qin Yuan dismissed it as misfortune.
Then came the pattern:
Every noble daughter considered for marriage met accidents—illnesses, carriage wrecks, even a bizarre drowning in a knee-deep pond.
When court astrologers declared Qin Lu's destiny "hostile to matrimonial stars," the emperor initially suspected fratricidal schemes.
Only after exhaustive investigations—and six more tragedies—did acceptance dawn.
Yet Qin Yuan refused to let his son remain unwed.
Royal dignity demanded otherwise.
More privately: He wanted someone to warm that battlefield-chilled bed.
Thus the decree—however unsuitable Gu Yanshu seemed, their matched birth charts offered hope.
Qin Lu's voice softened minutely. "This son burdens Father."
That rare concession drew a smile. "No burden if you're content."
Observing them, Gu Yanshu revised his theories.
Their rapport held genuine affection—astonishing for imperial father and son.
Qin Yuan's temperament proved unexpectedly mild, his questions to Gu Yanshu thoughtfully inclusive.
No wonder Gu Yanli dared encourage escape—this emperor's mercy was legendary.
When Chief Eunuch Wang finally coughed—"His Majesty, the Noble Consort awaits..."—Qin Yuan released them with reluctant warmth.
En Route to the Noble Consort's Palace
Gu Yanshu sorted memories from pre-wedding briefings:
Qin Lu's birth mother—Concubine Wan—died in a fire when he was three.
At six, the childless Noble Consort (her fertility lost birthing Princess Second) took him in.
Noticing his silence, Qin Lu misread it:
"Mother's gentleness exceeds Father's. No need for anxiety."
"My thanks for the reassurance." Gu Yanshu smiles.
Between the palanquin, steadying hands, and now this—his war god had a covert nurturing streak.
Soon they stood before the Noble Consort's vermilion gates.
Noble Consort Meng Xiyan—one of Tianqi's highest-ranking imperial women—held court in chambers dripping with jade and rosewood.
Gu Yanshu had expected maternal warmth between her and Qin Lu, given she'd raised him since childhood after losing fertility.
Reality proved... cordially distant.
Their interactions carried polite restraint bordering on indifference.
Perhaps that explained her startling leniency—no刁难 whatsoever.
Departing her palace, Gu Yanshu almost felt cheated.
Gu Yanli had drilled him endlessly on worst-case scenarios:
If the emperor humiliates you...
If the noble consort schemes...
If you encounter the princes' birth mothers...
Yet none materialized. The audience passed smoother than morning dew evaporating.
At the palace gates, realization struck:
"Where's His Highness?"
Zhi Ge bowed. "The prince had urgent matters. Ordered this servant to escort you back."
Gu Yanshu nodded, masking curiosity as the carriage rolled toward the manor.
Meanwhile, in a phoenix-painted hall...
Consort Hui lounged on brocaded cushions, extending lacquer-red nails for polishing as her spy reported:
"The princess consort has left."
A dismissive wave sent the informant away with silver ingots.
From her lower seat, Consort Li set down her teacup. "Noble Consort Meng restrained herself remarkably."
"Since when has she ever lacked restraint?" Consort Hui's laugh dripped venom. That honorific—Noble Consort—curled mockingly on her tongue.
Their mutual loathing was no secret.
Equal in family prestige, separated only by half a rank, Consort Hui—birth mother to the First and Fourth Princes—naturally despised the woman sheltering her sons' greatest rival.
Consort Li ventured carefully: "I'd thought she might resent the princess consort..."
"Why bother?" Consort Hui examined her nails. "His Majesty gave both stick and carrot."
That "carrot"—Qin Lu's princely title—churned her stomach.
Throughout Tianqi's history, many crown princes had first been enfeoffed as kings.
This "honor" resurrected Qin Lu's succession prospects, unraveling her half-year's machinations to saddle him with a useless male bride.
"Perhaps my move was ill-timed," she murmured.
Consort Li pretended not to hear, focusing on her tea's steam.
Consort Hui had clawed her way to power through bloodied palace intrigues—one setback meant nothing.
Besides, her scheme wasn't entirely ruined.
"No matter," she mused, admiring her freshly crimsoned nails. "That Young Master Gu is delightfully stupid."
The idiot bride had been her masterpiece.
For years, Qin Lu's iron-fisted control over his household had frustrated her—until she found this perfect weakness:
A stunningly beautiful fool.
What warrior could resist such temptation when legally bound?
Judging by yesterday's "illness" and today's palanquin reliance, even the legendary War God had fallen into the honey trap.
And fools made excellent pawns.
Through Gu Yanshu, breaching Qin Lu's impenetrable defenses would be child's play.
Her lips curled in genuine pleasure.
Prince Li's Manor
The supposed "fool" currently flopped across his bed like a stranded fish.
Though the imperial audience passed smoothly, his body's protests grew louder by the hour.
Flat on his back, Gu Yanshu's mind raced through today's revelations:
Father-son relations better than expectedPossible succession moves aheadNoble Consort's conditional affectionHidden tensions beneath palace calmMost puzzling—where had Qin Lu vanished to earlier?
As if summoned, servants' greetings echoed outside:
"Your Highness returns!"
Gu Yanshu barely turned his head as Qin Lu entered carrying an ornate box.
"Still in pain?"
"Perhaps Your Highness should experience it firsthand next time?"
The box halted mid-air as Qin Lu's eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Does my princess consort find my performance lacking?"
Gu Yanshu's chest tightened. Threats already?
Weighing his husband's combat skills against his own current state, he surrendered:
"...Just joking."
"Jokes have consequences." Qin Lu set down the box, sitting bedside. His hand reached toward Gu Yanshu.
"Y-Your Highness?"
Gu Yanshu instinctively shrank back.
Surely he's not that petty—
"What nonsense are you imagining?" Qin Lu sighed. "I'm checking your injuries."
"Injuries?"
Before comprehension dawned, Qin Lu flipped him over with practiced ease—
Exposing the very "wounds" Gu Yanshu would rather die than acknowledge.
"N-none exist!" He squirmed, voice cracking.
Last night's bold provocations seemed a lifetime ago. Now, fully clothed in daylight, the scrutiny burned.
Qin Lu remained oblivious to his shame, delivering a light smack to still his wriggling.
"Stay still."
Flames erupted across Gu Yanshu's entire body.
Before Gu Yanshu could protest further, Qin Lu's unexpectedly solemn tone froze him:
"The imperial physician warned untreated injuries may cause lasting harm."
"Neglect them, and fever could follow—then treatment becomes far more difficult."
"After applying ointment, I'll massage the affected meridians. You'll feel relief by tomorrow."
As Qin Lu's deep voice continued methodically listing medical instructions, embarrassment gradually gave way to dawning realization.
"Earlier... you went to the Imperial Hospital?"
"Mn."
The prince's indifferent acknowledgment made it seem utterly normal—consulting court physicians about such private matters.
"I overstepped that night." Qin Lu's fingers, applying salve with newfound gentleness, betrayed rare contrition. "I'll exercise more restraint hereafter."
The hospital visit had been enlightening. Physicians explained what battlefield manuals never covered—how first encounters strained male physiology far beyond female counterparts.
Without their guidance, he'd never have guessed the extent of damage beneath Gu Yanshu's bravado.
Now seeing the inflamed evidence himself, yesterday's suffering made terrible sense.
Gu Yanshu buried his face deeper into the pillow, leaving only crimson-tipped ears exposed.
Complex emotions swirled—something tart and sweet intertwining—until his whirling thoughts condensed into one scandalized realization:
How could anyone discuss such matters with imperial physicians?!