Setting down the proposal, Wen Qingxiao didn't immediately point out the issue. Instead, he abruptly changed the subject:
"I heard the Fourth Young Master Gu recently married His Highness Prince Li?"
Though Wen Qingxiao rarely left his secluded courtyard, he wasn't entirely cut off from the outside world.
Especially since he and Gu Yanli were close friends—Gu Yanli had even complained to him about the imperial marriage arrangement not long ago.
"Yes."
Gu Yanshu nodded slightly.
Wen Qingxiao lowered his gaze, piecing together the implications.
"It seems the relationship between the Fourth Young Master and His Highness is... harmonious?"
Though phrased as a question, his tone carried certainty.
At the mention of Qin Lu, the corners of Gu Yanshu's lips curled upward unconsciously, his expression softening.
"Quite harmonious, indeed."
"That explains it."
Wen Qingxiao's fingers tapped lightly against the proposal on the table.
"His Highness Prince Li's reputation is... less than favorable. With the capital's gossip largely controlled by the First Prince's faction, the Princess Consort's intention here is to seize control of public discourse and reshape the people's perception of Prince Li, correct?"
His address for Gu Yanshu had subtly shifted—no longer "Fourth Young Master Gu," but "Princess Consort."
"Sixth Young Master Wen is as sharp as ever."
Gu Yanshu didn't deny it, offering praise instead.
No wonder Wen Qingxiao had earned his literary fame at such a young age.
With this level of insight, had that accident not occurred, he might already be one of the empire's most influential officials by now.
Wen Qingxiao remained expressionless, sidestepping the compliment to praise Gu Yanshu's proposal instead.
"The Princess Consort's plan is exceptionally ingenious. Based on this proposal, I predict that within half a year, Prince Li's estate won't just dominate the capital's discourse—it will also command immense prestige among scholars and intellectuals."
When Gu Yanli had briefly mentioned the newspaper concept days ago, Wen Qingxiao had already glimpsed its potential.
That was why he'd agreed to meet Gu Yanshu in the first place.
Now, seeing the detailed proposal, he was even more impressed.
Despite his own celebrated intellect, Wen Qingxiao found himself humbled.
This concept—its brilliance, its lofty ambitions—was something he couldn't have conceived himself.
His praise held no empty courtesy—only genuine admiration.
"You flatter me, Sixth Young Master Wen."
Gu Yanshu couldn't fully accept the compliment.
After all, the newspaper concept wasn't his original idea—it was built on centuries of accumulated knowledge, something Wen Qingxiao lacked access to.
Besides, Gu Yanshu had a feeling Wen Qingxiao's next words would pinpoint the proposal's critical flaw.
Sure enough, Wen Qingxiao continued:
"As ingenious as this newspaper concept is, has the Princess Consort considered how His Majesty might react once Prince Li's estate controls public opinion and garners the scholars' support? How will Prince Li's estate navigate that?"
The question cast a heavier silence over the already quiet study.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Gu Yanshu felt a cold sweat prickle at his back.
Right—what would the emperor think then?
He'd been so focused on building Qin Lu's reputation for the succession battle that he'd overlooked a crucial detail:
The emperor was still in robust health. Barring unforeseen circumstances, he could remain on the throne for another decade or more.
Historically, emperors never tolerated subjects who amassed both military power and intellectual influence.
Wen Qingxiao, just from reading the proposal, had foreseen the newspaper's ability to rally scholars.
Prince Li's estate was already walking a tightrope.
If this plan succeeded, it might accelerate their downfall.
Even the wisest can overlook the obvious.
And Gu Yanshu had missed this fatal oversight.
After a tense pause, he ventured cautiously:
"Are you suggesting... the newspaper shouldn't be launched?"
Abandoning the idea would be disappointing, but compared to the alternative, it seemed a small price to pay.
At worst, he could still influence public opinion through the teahouse's storytellers—slower, but safer.
"It's not that it shouldn't be launched," Wen Qingxiao countered, "but that Prince Li's estate shouldn't be the one to launch it."
"Not Prince Li's estate?"
Gu Yanshu frowned.
If not them, then who?
He had no interest in handing such a powerful tool to someone else.
Perhaps sensing his confusion, Wen Qingxiao clarified:
"An endeavor of this magnitude—one that benefits generations to come—should naturally be entrusted to His Majesty."
Gu Yanshu was intelligent, even visionary, but he'd grown up in an era of equality, far removed from the intricacies of feudal politics.
Wen Qingxiao, raised in this system, understood its nuances far better.
Now, his suggestion opened a path Gu Yanshu hadn't considered.
As Wen Qingxiao lifted his teacup for a sip, he posed another question:
"Does the Princess Consort understand our current emperor?"
"Not particularly well."
After a moment's thought, Gu Yanshu gave an uncertain reply.
Gu Yanshu had never deeply studied Emperor Qin Yuan's character, but one thing was clear—this ruler was far from the incompetent figure rumors made him out to be.
Though they'd met once during a formal audience, the emperor remained an enigma to him.
"The Princess Consort has no interest in court affairs, so it's natural you wouldn't be familiar."
Wen Qingxiao wasn't surprised by Gu Yanshu's admission. Setting down his teacup, he retrieved a book from his desk and placed it before Gu Yanshu.
"Perhaps the Princess Consort would like to review this first?"
Glancing at the unmarked cover, Gu Yanshu recognized it as one of Wen Qingxiao's personal journals.
The first page revealed the man's famously elegant calligraphy—praised by scholars across the capital.
But it was the content that caught Gu Yanshu's attention.
These appeared to be records of imperial edicts and policy changes.
Wen Qingxiao's quiet explanation accompanied his reading:
"Since His Majesty ascended the throne twenty-three years ago, he has issued three hundred eighty-two decrees—averaging over sixteen per year..."
This journal documented every single one.
The deeper Gu Yanshu read, the clearer a pattern emerged:
Qin Yuan was far more ambitious than anyone realized.
Not in the conventional sense—he harbored no dreams of unifying the continent.
His ambition was simpler, purer:
To leave an indelible mark on history.
Nearly four hundred edicts, almost all aimed at improving commoners' livelihoods.
Yet history labeled him "mediocre" for good reason.
These policies might have flourished in peaceful times.
But Tianqi was anything but stable—barely two years had passed since the last war ended.
Thus, ninety percent of these decrees achieved nothing.
The remaining ten percent produced negligible results.
Recent edicts, however, revealed a shift.
Compared to his first twenty-one years, Qin Yuan had grown bolder—almost impatient.
Seeing comprehension dawn on Gu Yanshu's face, Wen Qingxiao added softly:
"Having reviewed these, what does the Princess Consort think would happen if someone presented His Majesty with a legacy-securing proposal now?"
The answer required no thought.
It would earn unprecedented imperial favor.
Satisfied, Wen Qingxiao concluded:
"Presenting the newspaper to His Majesty eliminates future risks for Prince Li's estate. A mutually beneficial solution, no?"
Gu Yanshu's decision crystallized.
He disliked handing advantages to others—unless the returns outweighed the sacrifice.
"My thanks for Qingshu's counsel."
Without this warning, he might have realized the danger too late.
"The Princess Consort flatters me." Wen Qingxiao dismissed the gratitude—this was hardly significant.
With the newspaper's fate decided, Gu Yanshu returned to his original purpose:
"Having shared so much today, I presume Qingxiao feels some inclination toward this endeavor. Might you consider assisting once the newspaper is established?"
After such incisive analysis, Gu Yanshu refused to believe Wen Qingxiao lacked interest.
"Oh?" Wen Qingxiao paused, teacup in hand. "How can the Princess Consort be certain His Majesty would entrust this project to Prince Li's estate?"
If the emperor controlled the newspaper, he'd appoint its overseer.
Gu Yanshu smirked.
"Who else could handle it? Rather than risk mediocrity, wouldn't His Majesty prefer flawless execution?"
He wasn't foolish enough to submit detailed plans prematurely.
A compelling outline highlighting the newspaper's significance would suffice.
An emperor craving historical immortality wouldn't tolerate half-measures.
And who better to helm this than the estate with a complete blueprint?
Watching Gu Yanshu's confident expression, Wen Qingxiao set down his cup.
"Then perhaps the Princess Consort might revisit this discussion after securing imperial approval."
Though phrased conditionally, the implication was clear—acceptance.
Delighted, Gu Yanshu made his pledge:
"When that day comes, I'll personally escort you from seclusion."