You Are Mine

Gu Chengyin stepped out of the heated chamber and stood for a moment beyond the threshold.

Sunlight poured down from above, falling onto his shoulders, illuminating his entire face.

He squinted slightly and drew a deep breath of fresh air.

The air outside the chamber was utterly different from within—lacking the heavy scent of imperial incense and the stifling weight of gold-bricked floors.

It was only crisp and dry, like a blade yet to be sharpened.

It scraped all the way from his nostrils into his lungs, jolting his spirit awake.

The door behind him had already closed, the curtain falling to block everything inside the chamber from view.

Lyu Fang did not see him off, not even a single polite word.

Just as when he had entered, it was quiet and still.

But Gu Chengyin paid it no mind. He strode toward the palace path.

At the same time, he replayed every word, every glance, every breath from the heated chamber in his mind.

As if dismantling a precision mechanism, he took each piece apart.

Examining every gear’s meshing, every trigger condition of every trap.

Emperor Luo was deliberately showing weakness.

This judgment became clearer and clearer in Gu Chengyin’s mind.

That intense gaze, that razor-sharp focus, that posture of dropping all defenses—

It was all deliberate.

That wasn’t a vulnerability. It was a trap.

A trap set specifically for him, precise down to every last glance.

Emperor Luo knew he had the power to control people.

He might even know that eye contact was needed to establish the connection.

So Emperor Luo gave him an opportunity.

An opportunity that seemed flawless, once in a lifetime, enough to tempt any ambitious man.

If Gu Chengyin had used his hypnotic power in that instant, Emperor Luo would have countered in that same instant.

With something Gu Chengyin didn’t even know about—had never even heard of.

After all, Emperor Luo was the ruler of the Great Luo Empire. He could obtain anything effortlessly.

So by that point, the one hypnotized would not be Emperor Luo, but Gu Chengyin himself.

Even if the hypnosis didn’t backfire, even if he managed to escape the countermeasure unscathed—

As long as he made a move, Emperor Luo would gain the upper hand.

This would become evidence, a crime, a handle.

Once held in Emperor Luo’s grasp, all of Gu Chengyin’s current status, position, and titles would become mere pieces on Emperor Luo’s chessboard.

To be removed at will, at any time.

Even Lin Qingyan, in the face of such a grave matter, could at most save Gu Chengyin’s life.

As for everything else, it would all have to be surrendered eventually.

One misstep, and the whole game would be lost.

Gu Chengyin’s step faltered for a moment, then resumed its normal pace.

A thin layer of sweat broke out on his back—not from fear, but from the clarity that came after confirmation.

In hindsight, this was actually a good thing.

Because it confirmed something else very important to Gu Chengyin:

As long as he didn’t rebel or commit treason, as long as all his actions stayed within the bounds of the rules—

Even Emperor Luo couldn’t move against him by force right now.

For Gu Chengyin, that was a good thing. Within the rules, he could outplay anyone.

What he feared was someone using absolute power to kill him without reason.

That was why he had to win Lin Qingyan—whether through hypnosis or by genuinely winning her over.

And on top of that, Emperor Luo had approved Cui Zhenji’s resignation and ordered the cabinet to draft a list of candidates.

This was like telling everyone that the position of Minister of Rites was up for grabs.

Fight for it with your own abilities, as long as you don’t break the rules.

The carriage stopped outside the palace gates. Gu Chengyin bent down to board and settled into the carriage.

“To the Celestial Master’s Residence,” he said.

The driver acknowledged with a “yes,” and the whip cracked crisply in the air.

The carriage turned and headed toward the Celestial Master’s Residence.

Upon arrival, Gu Chengyin got off the carriage. He didn’t enter through the main gate but slipped in through a side entrance.

The people at the Celestial Master’s Residence were already so familiar with him that the gatekeeper didn’t even bother announcing his arrival.

He simply bowed respectfully and let him through.

The Still Heart Tower.

Gu Chengyin pushed the door open but didn’t see Lin Qingyan, so he climbed the stairs.

At the top was an octagonal room with windows on all four sides.

There were no walls, only eight vermillion pillars supporting a domed ceiling.

Wind rushed in from all directions, making every silk curtain snap and crackle.

Standing there, one could see the entire Celestial Master’s Residence.

Lin Qingyan stood with her back to him by a window.

Her silhouette looked somewhat fragile, her moon-white robe pressed against her body by the wind.

It outlined the shape of her shoulder blades, her long hair blown up to reveal a slender nape.

She stood motionless—beautiful, yes, but she also seemed about to sway and fall.

Gu Chengyin walked up and stood half a step behind her.

“Aunt, what did His Majesty say to you?”

Lin Qingyan did not answer immediately. After a moment of silence, she finally spoke:

“He told me to keep an eye on you.”

Gu Chengyin was taken aback for a moment.

“Keep an eye on me?”

“Mm,” Lin Qingyan’s voice grew even softer. “He said you’re too clever, so clever it makes people uneasy. He told me to watch you and not let you stray from the right path. And he also said…”

She paused, her shoulders tensing slightly.

“He said that if one day you do stray, I should kill you with my own hands.”

Gu Chengyin caught the unspoken meaning beneath her words.

Lin Qingyan was sulking.

Not because Emperor Luo told her to kill Gu Chengyin—she hadn’t taken that seriously at all.

The reason she was sulking was the tone he used.

It wasn’t a solemn entrustment between ruler and subject, nor a heartfelt plea between family.

No, it was like telling a steward to watch the storeroom, or telling a nanny to keep an eye on a little princess—that casual, matter-of-fact tone.

As if Gu Chengyin were just an object.

Something that needed guarding, but nothing particularly important.

Lin Qingyan’s chest tightened with a surge of frustration again at the thought.

Was her Chengcheng an object?

Her Chengcheng was the best person in the world.

And yet Emperor Luo reduced him to a dismissive “keep an eye on him.”

As if Gu Chengyin wasn’t her Chengcheng, but just some wild horse that needed to be tethered.

Gu Chengyin watched her tense shoulders and clenched fists and found it somehow amusing.

Not mocking, but a fond sort of amusement that rose slowly from deep within his heart, tinged with tenderness.

Lin Qingyan was feeling wronged on his behalf.

Not for herself, but for him.

She thought Emperor Luo hadn’t taken him seriously, so she was angry.

Gu Chengyin reached out and wrapped his arms around Lin Qingyan’s waist from behind.

Her body stiffened for a moment.

“Aunt,” he murmured.

“…Mm.”

“If His Majesty says to keep an eye on me, just keep an eye on me. What’s there to be upset about?”

Lin Qingyan’s lips tightened even more.

“He’s wrong,” she said sulkily.

“Wrong about what?”

“You’re not something that needs guarding. You are—”

She paused, searching for the right word.

After a long moment, she finally uttered just four words:

“You are mine.”