"Ahem!"
Noticing Qin Lu's lingering touch on the engraved characters, Gu Yanshu cleared his throat awkwardly, a faint blush creeping up his neck.
"Didn't Your Highness say earlier that tokens of affection should bear the giver's childhood name?"
He'd debated endlessly before carving those two characters—Ruǎnruǎn—into the blade.
The name clashed starkly with his current persona.
Yet each time his fingers hesitated, memories surfaced:
Qin Lu's breath warm against his ear during intimate moments, that deep voice wrapping around the nickname like silk—
"Ruǎnruǎn..."
The recollection alone made his ears burn.
Ultimately, he'd etched the characters near the hilt—subtle enough to escape immediate notice, yet discoverable upon close inspection.
He'd never expected Qin Lu to find them this quickly.
As Qin Lu's fingers traced the engraving with deliberate slowness, his gaze grew increasingly heated.
Gu Yanshu's instincts screamed danger.
Springing to his feet, he feigned nonchalance:
"Now that Your Highness has received the gift, we should commence morning drills. An early finish means an early meal—I'm quite famished."
Without waiting for a response, he strode out—
Leaving Qin Lu to chuckle at his retreating figure.
The unspoken tension wasn't lost on either man.
Yet Qin Lu, ever disciplined, quelled his impulses and followed for their routine training.
Morning drills typically involved basic stances for Gu Yanshu, which Qin Lu would mirror in solidarity.
But today—whether due to pent-up energy or other unresolved sentiments—Qin Lu unsheathed his sword instead.
Rare public displays of Prince Li's swordsmanship were legendary events.
Zhige and Xingren scrambled for prime viewing spots at a respectful distance.
Within moments, Xingren whispered incredulously:
"Since when did His Highness's swordplay become so... flamboyant?"
The term wasn't his invention.
Years ago, Qin Lu had notoriously rebuked a flashy swordsman in their ranks:
"Are you wielding a blade or waving a courtesan's handkerchief?"
The scathing remark had etched itself into Xingren's memory.
Now witnessing Qin Lu's own uncharacteristically ornate maneuvers, the comparison slipped out.
(Though he wisely omitted the courtesan analogy.)
Zhige remained stoic but edged away subtly.
Given the timing of their masters' exit from the chambers, he could guess the cause—
But voicing it would only highlight Xingren's growing idiocy.
Had the man forgotten their proximity granted Qin Lu preternatural hearing?
Calling the prince "flamboyant" within earshot—was he courting death?
Yet Zhige's concern proved unnecessary.
Qin Lu was far too preoccupied with his peacock display for Gu Yanshu's benefit—
Every sweeping arc and intricate flourish designed to captivate a single audience member.
The two guards' commentary might as well have been wind in the trees.
Prince Li's peacock display proved remarkably effective.
After all, someone of Gu Yanshu's novice level couldn't discern whether Qin Lu's swordsmanship was truly flamboyant or not.
All he knew was that Qin Lu's movements—powerful, precise, and mesmerizing—held him utterly spellbound.
By the end, Gu Yanshu was so entranced that, had Qin Lu not restrained himself (mindful of daylight and pending responsibilities),
He might've impulsively dragged Qin Lu back to their chambers to fulfill what both were silently yearning for.
After morning drills and breakfast, the two parted ways to attend to their respective tasks.
Gu Yanshu decided to inspect Taoran Teahouse and the two teahouses under renovation.
Yesterday, subordinates had reported that the renovations were nearing completion, requesting his review for any necessary adjustments.
Seizing the opportunity while he had free time, Gu Yanshu set out—
Initially, Qin Lu had wanted to accompany him, but Gu Yanshu, aware of his fascination with the new steelmaking method, gently refused.
Qin Lu, eager to discuss the technique with Yang Tietou, didn't insist but ensured Gu Yanshu was bundled up and accompanied by Zhige.
Thus, Gu Yanshu departed clad in three layers, a sable cloak, and a hand warmer forcibly thrust upon him by Xingren.
Having endured the apocalypse's harsh winters and Tianqi's relentless winds, Gu Yanshu harbored no "style over substance" pretensions.
He embraced the保暖 gear without complaint.
His first stop was Taoran Teahouse, nearest to the estate.
Whether due to reassigned manpower or Manager Tang's exceptional efficiency, progress here exceeded expectations.
The two-story building's interior layout was nearly complete, save for exterior paint and window fittings.
After a thorough inspection, Gu Yanshu nodded slightly:
"Satisfactory."
Manager Tang and the renovation foreman exhaled silently in relief.
The foreman, borrowed from another teahouse project, knew Gu Yanshu's standards well.
Outwardly gentle and generous, the Princess Consort was uncompromising in quality.
His previous teahouse assignment had undergone multiple revisions for minor flaws others would've overlooked.
"No compromises" was Gu Yanshu's mantra—workers either rectified issues or were paid off and dismissed.
With wages far above market rate, no craftsman dared cut corners.
News of another teahouse team facing identical demands had further cemented their diligence.
Gu Yanshu paid no mind to the foreman's internal monologue, focusing instead on the yet-to-be-replaced doors and windows:
"How much longer for the remaining work?"
"Reporting to the Princess Consort, approximately seven more days for full completion."
The foreman hurried forward with his reply.
Gu Yanshu gave a slight nod before turning to Manager Tang:
"What about the kiln workshop? When will the display cabinets arrive?"
These cabinets—glass shelving units designed to showcase merchandise—were another of Gu Yanshu's innovations.
"Zhou Lao San reports half are already finished. The remaining half will be delivered within seven days."
Manager Tang bowed slightly as he answered.
Seven days...
Gu Yanshu mentally calculated timelines before looking up:
"In Manager Tang's opinion, can Taoran Teahouse reopen within ten days?"
Though Taoran had offloaded most inventory to Yun Cizhai during the price war, some stock remained.
If possible, Gu Yanshu wanted to clear it before the New Year's porcelain-replacement rush.
Why the sudden urgency for sales he'd previously dismissed?
The answer was simple:
He was running low on funds.
Despite appearances, Gu Yanshu's income streams were limited—
The two major windfalls being:
The 1.2 million taels from Changle Gambling House (post-split with Qin Lu and deducting 100,000 taels for the newspaper venture).The emperor's 100,000-tael grant (earmarked for the newspaper and thus untouchable).
After subsidizing Gu Yanli with another 100,000 taels ("A Chengen Marquis heir can't go penniless!"),
And funding teahouse renovations, estate upgrades, and various inventions—
His reserves had dwindled to roughly 300,000 taels.
To most, this sum would seem ample.
But for Gu Yanshu—a man who treated money like water—it was alarmingly insufficient.
Where others might advocate austerity, Gu Yanshu's philosophy was clear:
"Cut costs? Never. If you can't tighten the purse strings, widen the income streams."
Hence this sudden interest in liquidating leftover porcelain.
Every little helps when you're going broke.
Manager Tang, unaware of these financial pressures, answered honestly:
"With accelerated efforts, it's achievable."
"Then expedite matters—but don't overstress if delays occur."
Gu Yanshu waved a hand, refusing to pressure him over his own change of plans.
After finalizing instructions, he departed for the teahouses—
Only for his carriage to halt abruptly near Yun Cizhai amidst rising commotion.
Peering through the window, Gu Yanshu frowned:
"Yun Cizhai hasn't shut down yet?"
His price-war traps should've crippled them. Yet instead of collapse, the shop showed signs of revival.
Zhige rode closer to report:
"The Zhou family seems determined to salvage it. They've injected funds from their main coffers and are preparing to sell their silk trade to raise more."
"Selling their silk trade?" Gu Yanshu's eyebrow arched.
"Yes. They're seeking a single buyer for the entire operation, but the scale is complicating negotiations."
Zhige's intel was thorough—with Yun Cizhai tied to the First Prince, Prince Li's estate monitored it closely.
The Zhou family's gamble was clear:
Abandon thriving silk to save failing porcelain, betting everything on securing imperial supplier status through the First Prince's influence.
High risk, astronomical reward.
Gu Yanshu almost admired their audacity.
Almost.
Because Yun Cizhai had chosen the wrong enemy—
And the First Prince was Qin Lu's mortal rival.
Imperial supplier? Over my dead body.
He almost pitied the Zhou patriarch. When this scheme collapsed, the man might join Changle Gambling House's Zhao Er in the "vomiting blood from sheer rage" club.
But such musings were interrupted as the carriage halted again.
Zhige's voice came through:
"Princess Consort, we've arrived."