Are you not good enough

Gu Chengyin's gaze fell upon that star, his tone flat:

"Then next, it's time to get back on track—for instance, taking over as Minister of Rites."

"But if we want this to go smoothly, the biggest obstacle isn't really Cui Shifan."

Lin Qingyan said nothing, simply waiting in silence for Gu Chengyin to continue.

Her breathing grew deep and steady, as if she had slipped into a state of unspoken understanding between the two of them.

He spoke, and she listened.

He fell silent, and she waited.

No hurry, no pressing questions—because Lin Qingyan knew Gu Chengyin would tell her everything.

Gu Chengyin withdrew his gaze from the night sky and turned his head slightly to look at Lin Qingyan, who was close enough to touch.

From this angle, her profile was bathed in a warm, soft glow from the lantern beneath the eaves.

Her lashes were thick and curly, casting a small fan-shaped shadow under her eyes. Her nose was straight and delicate, her lips a vivid red.

The line of her jaw was smooth and graceful, like a single brushstroke in a fine painting.

She was truly beautiful—like a red plum blossom in deep winter, both too cold for anyone to dare approach easily and too striking to look away from.

Gu Chengyin's gaze lingered on Lin Qingyan's face for no more than two breaths before he looked away and gave his answer:

"It's the Prince's Faction."

"If the Second Prince finds out about this, he will stop at nothing to prevent me from taking office."

Gu Chengyin resting his hands idly on the railing, his long fingers tapping lightly twice on the wooden surface.

Two crisp, light thumps sounded, as if punctuating his words with a silent period.

Then he withdrew his hand, turned around, and faced Lin Qingyan.

This turning motion forced him to pull away from her embrace.

Lin Qingyan's arms had been wrapped around his waist; when Gu Chengyd turned, her arms slid down naturally, hanging at her sides.

Her brow twitched slightly—so quickly it was barely perceptible.

Quick as a fish skimming the water's surface before sinking without trace.

But Gu Chengyin caught it.

He knew Lin Qingyan disliked it when he left her arms.

But he also knew she wouldn't say anything about it.

Because she was Lin Qingyan—possessing the sharpest instincts and the most unmatched combat prowess.

She could act spoiled, show vulnerability, or be affectionate with him, but she always maintained a sense of propriety.

Always within limits, as long as serious matters weren't involved.

Once serious matters were on the table, she understood boundaries better than anyone.

This was precisely what made Lin Qingyan so difficult for Gu Chengyin to handle.

A person who was both wild and clear-headed was ten thousand times harder to deal with than a pure madman.

"At least on the surface, that's how it is," Gu Chengyin added, lowering his voice slightly.

Lin Qingyan's eyes brightened a little.

She understood what he meant.

On the surface, yes—but what about beneath?

Naturally, there was more to it below.

"So this counts as the first direct clash between the Crown Prince's faction and the Prince's Faction, doesn't it?"

After saying this, Gu Chengyin turned back to face the courtyard, bracing his hands on the railing.

His shoulders and back were relaxed, his posture at ease, as if the talk just now had merely been casual chit-chat with his most trusted confidant.

Lin Qingyan stood half a step behind him, quietly watching his back.

His figure didn't look particularly broad—after all, Gu Chengyin was still young, tall and lean, with sharp shoulders and a narrow waist.

There was a certain youthful slenderness about him.

But beneath that slenderness lay what kind of sinew and bone, Lin Qingyan knew better than anyone.

Looking at his back, she suddenly found it somewhat amusing.

Gu Chengyin had spoken so lightly, so casually, as if the frontal confrontation between the Crown Prince's and Prince's factions were just another routine court struggle—where winning or losing meant no more than temporary glory or shame.

But Lin Qingyan knew that wasn't the case.

She knew that when Gu Chengyin spoke in that tone, it often meant he had already run through countless possible variables in his mind.

He had calculated every move, every placement, every possible response with pinpoint precision.

He sounded like he was idly chatting, but in reality, his mind might have already raced far ahead.

And what he said out loud was always just the tip of the iceberg above the water.

As for the part beneath the surface...

Lin Qingyan's lips curled slightly.

She didn't need to know exactly what lay underwater.

All she needed to know was one thing: he needed her.

For whatever reason, for whatever purpose—as long as Gu Chengyin needed Lin Qingyan, Lin Qingyan would be there.

The night wind rose again, causing the lanterns under the eaves to creak softly.

As the light and shadows swayed, their two shadows on the ground blended together.

Like a painting soaked in water—the outlines blurred, the boundaries dissolved—leaving only vast patches of thick and light ink merging into one another.

Impossible to tell where he ended and she began.

Lin Qingyan looked at those two intertwined shadows and suddenly felt in excellent spirits.

So excellent, in fact, that she decided to make the suggestion again:

"Chengcheng, it's already so late—how about coming over to my place~?"

Gu Chengyin's fingers, still resting on the railing, paused slightly.

She had made this suggestion more than once tonight.

In fact, from the very beginning, Lin Qingyan had never given up on the idea.

It was just that too many things had happened tonight, one crisis following another, forcing her to keep suppressing this thought.

But now—the night was deep, the surroundings quiet, everything that needed to be said had been said, and the plans had been laid.

So she naturally brought it up again.

As if nothing had ever changed.

As if, from the start, all she wanted was for him to come understand the immortal path.

Gu Chengyin didn't answer immediately.

Of course, he knew what "understanding the immortal path" meant.

He also knew that if he went now, something would happen.

Or rather, many more things would happen.

Gu Chengyin's silence seemed to be interpreted by Lin Qingyan as hesitation—or something else.

Before he could figure out how to respond, a hand reached out from behind him.

Lin Qingyan's hand.

That delicate, pale little hand traced along the edge of his robe, slowly sliding downward.

Extremely slowly—so slow it felt as if she were measuring something.

Her fingertips started below his collarbone, sliding down the center seam of his robe, past his chest, past his ribs, past his abdomen.

At every point she touched, a small patch of fabric was warmed by her fingertips and wrinkled slightly.

Lin Qingyan's pressure was gentle—so gentle it was barely an intangible caress, carrying no aggression at all.

Yet it was enough to stir ripples across a once-calm surface.

At the same time, Lin Qingyan's voice crept close.

Soft and slow, she seemed to warm every word on her tongue before letting it out:

"Or maybe," her lips were practically against Gu Chengyin's earlobe, her breath brushing his ear with a hint of teasing provocation, "Zhao'er was right."

"Chengcheng—are you not up to it~?"