Good-looking Tool Person

Divine Capital, Crown Princess Palace.

"It is not that this old man intends to marry Zilu off to you—Zilu herself wishes to marry you."

Cui Shifan shook his head, offering this explanation in response to Gu Chengyin’s question.

But his tone and expression seemed to say: Although I believe you are unworthy of my daughter, she happens to like you, so I must reluctantly accept this union.

He resembled an old father forced to watch a young scoundrel like Gu Chengyin spirit away his precious daughter, helpless to do otherwise.

Gu Chengyin did not reply, only quietly noting how skillfully Cui Shifan had packaged the proposal.

The moment the subject of the sentence shifted, the very nature of the matter changed.

The former was a political marriage—an exchange of interests between two factions.

The latter was a young lady’s heartfelt wish and a father’s reluctant acquiescence, unable to bear disappointing her.

The former was cold, rigid, and steeped in calculation and scheming.

The latter was warm, gentle, and tinged with human sentiment and the warmth of ordinary life.

And Cui Shifan’s goal was precisely this effect—to make everyone believe that this was not the Cui Clan leaning toward the Crown Princess’s faction.

It was merely an old father fulfilling his daughter’s wish.

And who exactly was “everyone” here? Naturally, it was the one seated upon the Dragon Throne.

“After all, Junior Preceptor Gu is accomplished at a young age, both bold and resourceful,” continued Cui Shifan’s voice.

“I may be a scholar, but I am no inflexible pedant.”

“Since Zilu has taken a liking to you, I can only set aside my old pride and approach you myself.”

As he spoke, Cui Shifan raised a hand and gently tapped his own cheek, his expression tinged with a faint bitterness and resignation, evoking sympathy from any observer.

Gu Chengyin watched this paternal performance with an amused glimmer in his eyes, fully aware of what Cui Shifan was doing.

Every word, every expression, every gesture—all were meticulously crafted.

Packaging the truth into the desired form and placing it before others, leading them to step into the trap willingly.

That Cui Zilu wished to marry him—this was true.

That Cui Shifan was no inflexible pedant—this was also true.

That he had set aside his pride to propose—this, too, was true.

But behind these truths lay what the great aristocratic families excelled at most:

Obtaining the greatest benefits with the smallest cost.

If Cui Zilu married Gu Chengyin, what could the Cui Clan gain?

Like the Shangguan Clan, they would gain half the status of the Crown Princess’s faction.

Was that an advantage?

To others, perhaps yes. But to the Cui Clan, it was not.

It might even bring more harm than good.

Cui Shifan would never speak of these things, never raise them, and never let anyone think he cared.

But in reality, he cared deeply.

Of course he did.

As the head of the Qinghe Cui Clan, every decision, every move, every word had to serve the interests of the clan.

This was his duty, his responsibility, the very meaning of his existence.

Yet this did not mean his feelings for Cui Zilu were false.

Cui Shifan was the head of the Qinghe Cui Clan, but he was also Cui Zilu’s father.

These two identities had coexisted within him for decades, long since fused into one.

It was impossible to distinguish where the clan head ended and the father began.

When Cui Shifan schemed for the Clan’s benefit, his children were always in his heart.

When he worried for his children, the Clan was always in his mind.

This was not hypocrisy—it was the way of survival.

So when Cui Shifan came to the Crown Princess Palace to propose marriage, it was the result of deep deliberation—

A final choice made after weighing all pros and cons.

Thus, no matter how beautifully Cui Shifan framed his words or how genuine his emotions seemed,

These things mattered little in Gu Chengyin’s eyes.

He cared about only one question: What exactly was Cui Shifan trying to gain from this matter?

After all, based on his understanding of Cui Shifan, without sufficient benefits,

He would never engage in something so sensitive.

Unlike the soft, gentle tones he used to speak of it, inside was steel—

Where personal sentiments were insignificant compared to the survival of the Clan.

Gu Chengyin finally released his grip on Cui Shifan’s hand.

From the moment the latter entered, Gu Chengyin had held that hand all the way until now—long enough that the palm of the elder’s hand had grown warm from contact,

And a thin layer of perspiration had formed in both palms.

But the release was slow, as if using this gesture to tell Cui Shifan:

I held your hand because I wanted to hold it.

I let it go because I wanted to let it go.

Not because of the proposal, not because of Cui Zilu, not because of anything you said.

Simply because I wished to.

Gu Chengyin’s hand returned to his own knee, tapping it lightly.

Then he raised his head to look at Luo Zhao, seated in the host’s position.

Luo Zhao had yet to recover from her shock.

Her mind was still replaying Cui Shifan’s words over and over—

And the name “Cui Zilu.”

The woman she had never imagined would ever be tied to Gu Chengyin again.

Cui Zilu was going to marry Gu Chengyin.

No longer a possibility, not a maybe, not a distant future.

It is happening now.

Cui Shifan had come forward personally, spoken in person, and proposed marriage himself at the Crown Princess Palace.

Luo Zhao’s mind was in turmoil.

Why are so many people fixated on Gu Chengyin?

Lin Qingyan had already been enough to vex her.

Without even a word of greeting—just taking Gu Chengyin for herself.

By the time Luo Zhao found out, it was too late; Lin Qingyan had already become Gu Chengyin’s woman.

Leaving Luo Zhao without even a chance to object.

Now why has this Cui Zilu suddenly appeared?

Is Gu Chengyin really that good?

Is he really that good?

Worth so many people throwing themselves at him one after another?

“Your Highness.”

Hearing Gu Chengyin’s voice, Luo Zhao snapped back to reality and instinctively responded:

“Ah?”

Though a little flustered, Gu Chengyin chose to ignore her reaction.

Instead, he asked calmly and collectedly:

“What do you think of Pavilion Elder Cui’s proposal?”

Luo Zhao blinked.

Was Gu Chengyin actually asking for her opinion?

No, Gu Chengyin knew exactly how little she was worth.

Why would he bother to ask for her opinion?

True, she was the Crown Princess, the future Empress—technically, everyone in her palace had to obey her.

But in front of Gu Chengyin, she was just a pretty empty vessel.

He had never treated her as someone whose opinion needed to be sought.

So why was he asking now?

Luo Zhao’s mind whirred rapidly, and then she understood.

Gu Chengyin wasn’t asking for her opinion.

He needed her to intervene.

To step in as the Crown Princess.

On the surface, the marriage proposal was purely between Cui Zilu and Gu Chengyin.

But behind it, the stakes weighed far more than the sum of those two names.

Cui Zilu was the legitimate daughter of the Cui clan, the only child of Cui Shifan.

Gu Chengyin was the Junior Preceptor to the Crown Princess, the core of her faction.

If the two were to marry, it would forge between the Cui clan and the Crown Princess’s faction

an invisible bond—stronger than any oath, yet unseen to the outside world.

Not a case of the Cui clan leaning toward the Crown Princess’s faction, nor the faction leaning toward the Cui family.

But like an underground river flowing silently below the surface—unseen above ground, yet moving all the same.

This kind of relationship was far more dangerous than taking a side.