Invincible Person

Neither Gu Chengyin nor Cui Shifan paid any attention to what Luo Zhao might be thinking.

Their hands were still tightly clasped together, like two long-lost bosom friends reunited.

They gripped each other with such force it seemed they wanted to crush the other’s hand to express the depth of their longing.

But if anyone could see beneath those smiling faces at this moment,

they would find no warmth—only two pairs of eyes steeped in years of court politics,

where emotion and calculation had long since become indistinguishable.

They were silently sizing each other up.

A brilliant smile bloomed on Gu Chengyin’s face, like a flower in full glory.

It was as if every petal had been bathed in spring sunlight, even the stamen warm and radiant.

He placed his other hand over Cui Shifan’s, covering the older man’s vein-knotted grip.

His voice carried an unrefusable warmth, as though coaxing a long-absent elder back home.

“Pavilion Elder Cui, your esteemed presence truly graces my humble abode. Make yourself at home—sit anywhere you like.”

As Gu Chengyin said this, he sat down first.

And he did not let go of Cui Shifan’s hand; instead, he guided him to sit beside him.

The handshake shifted from a two-handed clasp to a single-handed hold.

The force changed from a near-crushing grip to something steady and unyielding.

When Cui Shifan was pulled down to sit, his body paused ever so slightly.

He hesitated. He hesitated whether to pull his hand away.

He hesitated whether withdrawing would seem too deliberate.

He hesitated whether letting Gu Chengyin lead him to sit would make him appear weaker.

But Cui Shifan’s hesitation lasted less than a breath before he gave up.

Because Gu Chengyin showed no intention of releasing him.

So Cui Shifan merely paused for an instant before following Gu Chengyin’s pull and sitting down.

The smile on his face remained unchanged, even deepening slightly.

But something flickered in his eyes.

It was not anger, nor embarrassment.

It was discomfort.

Cui Shifan had not had someone hold his hand like this in years.

In the court, he was the Grand Secretary of the Cabinet, the head of the Cui clan, a powerful minister whom even Emperor Luo had to treat with respect.

No one dared to hold his hand and refuse to let go. No one dared to pull him into a seat like this.

But he had encountered Gu Chengyin—who dared to do not only this, but had even slapped his face before.

Holding his hand like this was trivial in comparison, and Gu Chengyin made it seem so natural.

So natural that it looked like the most ordinary thing in the world.

And it was precisely this naturalness that made Cui Shifan more uncomfortable than any deliberate aggression.

Because deliberate aggression could be countered, resisted.

But natural authority could not be.

After all, you can’t quarrel with someone just because they’re treating you too familiarly, can you?

Of course, Cui Shifan knew full well that Gu Chengyin was not really treating him as one of his own.

It was merely a preemptive move—an opening gambit that could also be seen as a show of strength.

So to regain the upper hand and ensure his authority wasn’t eclipsed,

Cui Shifan’s smile did not waver, nor did his tone. If anything, they became even more composed.

Once seated, he raised his other hand—the one not held by Gu Chengyin—and lightly patted his knee, as if steadying himself.

“Junior Preceptor Gu, you don’t know this,” he said.

“Ever since you moved out of the Cui estate, my heart has felt… oddly empty.”

Cui Shifan lifted his sleeve and dabbed at his eyes.

His movements were slow, deliberately slow, as if telling everyone present:

I am not putting on a show. This is genuine sorrow.

His sleeve lingered at the corner of his eye for a moment, and when he lowered it, the rims of his eyes were indeed red.

Whether it was from the rubbing or from real tears, no one could tell. On a man like Cui Shifan, the distinction was impossible to make.

“What can I say? At my age, I’m sentimental.”

“Who in the entire capital doesn’t know that the Junior Preceptor and I were nearly sworn brothers?”

“So in my heart, I have always regarded you as a younger brother.”

Cui Shifan turned to Luo Zhao, a hint of apology on his face:

“Your Highness, please forgive me.”

The corner of Luo Zhao’s mouth twitched slightly.

She did not respond to Cui Shifan’s words—or rather, she did not know how to.

She merely nodded slightly, her tone neither too familiar nor too distant:

“It is of no consequence. Pavilion Elder Cui, you must take care of your health. Do not let yourself be overly troubled or distressed.”

After saying this, Luo Zhao silently congratulated herself: That was well said—fit for a crown prince.

“Thank you for your concern, Your Highness.”

Cui Shifan slightly bowed, offering a half-salute.

The gesture was natural: a slight dip of the head, a gentle lowering of the shoulders, hands raised.

But his hands rose only halfway, then stopped.

Because they were still held by Gu Chengyin, who showed no sign of letting go.

He could not lift them higher, nor drop them. They hung awkwardly in midair,

like a bird with its neck grabbed—unable to fly away, unable to land.

A faint crack appeared in Cui Shifan’s smile.

But it vanished in an instant, covered by an even broader grin.

Like fresh paint over a crack in an old wall—smooth on the surface, but the wood underneath had warped.

Cui Shifan abandoned the idea of pulling free. He nodded, completing the half-salute,

then shifted his gaze from Luo Zhao back to Gu Chengyin.

What he saw was a face beaming with cheer, utterly unaware of the trouble it had caused.

There was no malice, no triumph, not a trace of pretense.

Only sincere ease, as if looking at a true friend.

That kind of sincerity was more overwhelming than any hostility.

A flicker of complexity crossed Cui Shifan’s eyes. He spoke in a probing tone:

“Junior Preceptor Gu, you…”

He paused, as if searching for something on Gu Chengyin’s smiling face.

“Have you just returned from the Heavenly Master’s Residence?”

Cui Shifan knew Gu Chengyin had come from the Heavenly Master’s Residence. He also knew Gu Chengyin had spent an entire night in the Meditation Pagoda.

This was exactly what had prompted him to visit the Crown Prince’s palace unannounced.

A Junior Preceptor in league with Lin Qingyan was an entirely different creature from one who was not.

The difference was so great that Cui Shifan, as the head of the Cui clan, had to come personally to the Crown Prince’s palace.

The relationship between Gu Chengyin and Lin Qingyan was an open secret in the upper circles of the capital.

Some had certainly stoked the rumors for their own ends.

But after last night’s stay, the matter was now set in stone.

It meant Gu Chengyin was Lin Qingyan’s man.

It also meant Gu Chengyin possessed a human-shaped amulet of immunity.

Add to that Gu Chengyin’s own talents and methods,

and he had become virtually invincible in court.