Wen Qingxiao meticulously transcribed the phrase "When Heaven is about to confer a great responsibility upon a person..." into his personal journal.
The more he read it, the more profound it seemed—each repetition revealing new layers of insight.
Gu Yanshu observed this absorption without taking offense. He understood Wen Qingxiao's state of mind well.
It reminded him of scientists in his former world, who would become similarly engrossed upon discovering a new element or achieving a research breakthrough, often forgetting to eat or sleep.
For Gu Yanshu—who harbored plans to eventually promote Confucian and Mencian teachings through Wen Qingxiao—this intense focus was actually advantageous.
Not wishing to disturb him further, Gu Yanshu prepared to take his leave.
Only then did Wen Qingxiao realize how discourteous it was to neglect a guest this way. Fortunately, Gu Yanshu waved off the concern.
He even mentioned that Elder Meng had left behind numerous writings, albeit mostly fragmented notes. If Wen Qingxiao was interested, Gu Yanshu could compile and deliver them later.
A single petal reveals the flower's beauty.
From just this one passage, Wen Qingxiao could already discern the extraordinary literary and philosophical depth of Elder Meng's work.
While he deeply regretted never having the chance to converse with the late sage, the prospect of studying his surviving texts offered a form of spiritual communion.
Overjoyed, Wen Qingxiao eagerly accepted the offer.
Gu Yanshu wasn't surprised by this reaction:
"Elder Meng's notes are somewhat disorganized, and time has obscured many details. Compiling them will require considerable effort."
Though Gu Yanshu had been educated in Confucian and Mencian classics from childhood, decades had passed since he last engaged with them. Recalling and transcribing the texts would take time.
Moreover, certain adjustments were necessary.
The passage shared today—"When Heaven is about to confer..."—originated from Mencius: Gaozi I, specifically the chapter "Life in Adversity, Death in Ease."
Its preceding lines referenced figures like Shun, Fu Yue , and Guan Zhong—historical personalities from Huaxia's past who had no counterparts in Tianqi's records.
Including them verbatim would only confuse Tianqi's readers and invite unnecessary speculation.
Thus, Gu Yanshu needed to edit or omit such references carefully.
All this meant the project would demand significant time.
Wen Qingxiao, being socially astute, suppressed his eagerness. Though he yearned to read more of Elder Meng's works immediately, he acknowledged the practical constraints.
"There's no urgency," he assured Gu Yanshu. "Deliver them at your convenience."
When Gu Yanshu finally departed, Wen Qingxiao insisted on escorting him personally—only relenting at the courtyard gate due to his limited mobility.
Back in his study, Wen Qingxiao set aside his anticipation for The Legend of the Renowned Prime Minister and returned to contemplating Mencius's words.
Meanwhile, Gu Yanshu initially planned to begin by transcribing simpler educational texts like the Three Character Classic and Standards for Being a Good Student .
Coincidentally, the Daily's special feature—the inaugural installment of its illustrated series—had yet to finalize its content.
Publishing these primers would both engage the public and serve as foundational learning materials for children.
But upon returning to the Prince's residence, Xing Ren intercepted him with news:
"The Ministry of Rites has delivered the ceremonial robes. They request Your Highness to verify the fit."
With a sigh, Gu Yanshu shelved his plans and instructed Xing Ren to bring the robes to his chambers.
These were the formal Princess Consort's robes—garments that, by convention, should have been presented within a month of his marriage to Qin Lu.
Yet here they were, arriving on the eve of the Spring Festival palace banquet.
The delay wasn't due to intentional neglect by the Ministry of Rites.
After all, the Minister of Rites had recently benefited from the Prince of Li's household—receiving presbyopia glasses among other items. Antagonizing the Prince's residence was the last thing he'd do.
The real issue lay in Tianqi's history: no high-ranking nobleman had ever taken a male spouse before.
With no precedents for a Princess Consort's robes for a man, the Ministry had to innovate entirely—a perilous task.
Success meant merely fulfilling expectations; failure risked everything from demotion to execution.
No official dared propose a definitive design.
Compounding this, Qin Lu's fearsome reputation and whispers from the Imperial Medical Bureau about marital discord between the Prince and his Consort made the Ministry hesitant to consult them directly.
Without guidance from the Ministry, and with the Prince's household staffed by military men indifferent to sartorial nuances, the matter had slipped through the cracks.
It wasn't until the housewarming banquet, when the Minister of Rites discreetly raised the issue, that the oversight came to light.
Ultimately, Qin Lu resolved it by decreeing the robes follow the Prince's ceremonial standards.
How long had it been since the housewarming banquet?
For the Ministry of Rites to complete the ceremonial robes in such a short time already demonstrated exceptional diligence.
Yet when Gu Yanshu saw the delivered garments, he froze momentarily:
"Why vermilion?"
In his memory, Qin Lu's princely robes were black.
"Your Highness," Xing Ren replied smoothly, as if anticipating the question, "the Ministry stated that vermilion is regulation for a Princess Consort's ceremonial attire in Tianqi. But rest assured, the cut and embroidery adhere strictly to princely standards."
As he spoke, he signaled Bai Zhu to unfold the robes before Gu Yanshu.
Upon full display, Gu Yanshu confirmed Xing Ren's claim—aside from the color, every detail mirrored Qin Lu's regalia.
Tianqi's centuries of imperial rule had refined its sumptuary laws to perfection.
A prince's formalwear wasn't just about luxurious fabrics but also the hidden patterns woven beneath.
Qin Lu, enfeoffed for military prowess, had qilin motifs subtly embedded—invisible at first glance yet shimmering in angled light.
Moreover, the shoulders of Tianqi's princely robes bore a four-clawed python embroidered in gold thread.
The distinction between this and the five-clawed imperial dragon was minute—a privilege not even granted to imperial princes.
And now, by Qin Lu's decree, this very emblem adorned Gu Yanshu's attire.
Perhaps Gu Yanshu's gaze lingered too long on the python, for Xing Ren misinterpreted his silence:
"Your Highness need not worry. The Ministry sought His Majesty's approval beforehand."
The Ministry's thoroughness was legendary; they'd never risk oversight here.
Gu Yanshu nodded, reassured. "Mm."
Xing Ren ventured softly, "Would Your Highness care to try it on?"
At Gu Yanshu's assent, he set the robes down and withdrew—both masters of the household disdained assistance with dressing, a habit the staff had long adapted to.
No sooner had Xing Ren exited than the residence's other master—Prince Li Qin Lu—returned.
Spotting Xing Ren outside the bedchamber, Qin Lu diverted from his path to the study:
"Is the Princess Consort inside? Is something amiss?"
His hand hovered near the door.
Before he could touch it, Xing Ren explained:
"The Ministry delivered tomorrow's banquet robes. His Highness is trying them on."
"I see."
Qin Lu withdrew his hand instantly, inwardly relieved he'd moved slowly.
What kind of husband would barge in while his spouse changed?
Even if the household was male-dominated and Gu Yanshu himself a man, Qin Lu refused to let others glimpse his wife in such moments.
As this thought crossed his mind, the door creaked open.
"It fits well," came Gu Yanshu's clear voice.
Qin Lu looked up—and was struck breathless.
He'd always known Gu Yanshu was beautiful. Even as a male notorious for frivolity, his looks had once eclipsed the capital's finest.
But never had Qin Lu been so viscerally aware of it until now.
Previously, Gu Yanshu dressed like most Tianqi men—in muted or dark tones. When tinkering with inventions, he prioritized comfort, even borrowing plain training garb from the residence's tailors.
Rarely did he appear this formal.
Winter's scant sunlight had further paled Gu Yanshu's already fair complexion, now luminous against the vermilion robes.
His maternal lineage traced to Southern City, whose people were naturally slender. Gu Yanshu had inherited this delicacy—his frame almost fragile, his bones fine.
Still not fully matured, with the inner robe's sash cinched snug, his waist seemed impossibly narrow.
Qin Lu had known its slenderness—had felt it beneath his hands—but seeing it so defined was another matter.
Moreover, this was only the second time since their wedding he'd seen Gu Yanshu in such vivid hues.
And to Qin Lu's eyes, even the bridal red of their marriage day paled beside this.
Perhaps it was because Gu Yanshu had still been convalescing then—his vitality not yet restored.
Or perhaps it was simply love's alchemy: to the beholder's eye, the beloved outshines all.
As Qin Lu traced the familiar gold python on Gu Yanshu's robes, a realization crystallized with startling clarity:
This was his Princess Consort.
Perhaps Qin Lu's gaze was too blatant—even Gu Yanshu felt a flicker of self-consciousness under its weight. He glanced down at himself:
"Is something wrong? Or... does it not suit me?"
"No. It's perfect."
The words left Qin Lu's lips before he could think, his throat bobbing slightly.
The moment he spoke, even Xing Ren—standing discreetly nearby—felt his ears burn at the raw undertone in his master's voice.
A glance at the Princess Consort confirmed he'd caught the implication.
Xing Ren knew he should withdraw immediately, the faster and farther the better.
But his eyes snagged on the ceremonial robes. Steeling himself, he interjected:
"Since the fit is satisfactory, this subordinate will inform the Ministry of Rites that Your Highness may wear this attire to tomorrow's banquet."
The subtext couldn't be clearer:
I'm aware of your affection, but please— be gentle with the robes. They're needed tomorrow.
Without waiting for a response, Xing Ren fled the courtyard at record speed—dragging the oblivious Bai Zhu along with him.