Endured

Because taking sides is visible, done out in the open, with everyone knowing which side you’re on.

But a relationship like a hidden river—it can’t be seen, leaves no trace.

You never know when it will surge up from underground and wash away everything on the surface.

So who would least want to see such a connection between the Crown Princess’s Palace and the Cui clan?

Emperor Luo.

This emperor had spent years carefully maintaining a fragile balance in the court.

When the powerful families grew too strong, he propped up the common-born scholars.

When the factions of imperial princes grew too mighty, he reined them in.

Pull and stretch, loosen and tighten—like flying a kite.

The kite must not fly too high, nor fall to the ground.

This delicate equilibrium was built bit by bit with endless effort and wisdom.

Now, if the Cui clan and the Crown Princess’s faction were to unite through marriage, that balance would shatter.

It wouldn’t mean Cui Shifan had won, nor Gu Chengyin had won.

It would mean Emperor Luo had lost.

Because on his chessboard, the two biggest pieces had joined together.

Once news of the marriage proposal spread, the first to act would inevitably be the palace.

So Gu Chengyin needed Luo Zhao’s intervention.

He needed her, in her capacity as Crown Princess, to find an excuse to stall the matter.

Wait for the palace’s reaction, wait for Emperor Luo’s stance to become clear, then decide the next move.

And for now, as long as Luo Zhao spoke up, Emperor Luo would not openly contradict her.

He would go along with Luo Zhao’s wishes first.

After figuring out Gu Chengyin’s intent,

Luo Zhao felt a bitter taste in her heart.

Not because she had been used as a tool, but because she realized she had grown accustomed to being one.

In Gu Chengyin’s eyes, she was nothing but a tool.

A tool called the Crown Princess.

A tool Gu Chengyin used to control the Crown Princess’s faction.

Now that the hypnosis had been lifted, she thought she was free, thought she no longer had to be a tool.

But she discovered she was still a tool.

Only the form had changed—from a hypnotized tool to one who needed to have her opinion sought.

Her opinion wasn’t her own; it was what Gu Chengyin needed her to say.

Her decisions weren’t her own; they were what Gu Chengyin needed her to make.

It was simply trading one cage for another.

The cage was bigger, more beautiful, less like a cage.

But still a cage.

Luo Zhao took a deep breath, suppressing all the displeasure inside her.

She endured it.

“Hmm...”

She drew out the sound slightly, as if deep in thought:

“This matter, though good, should not be rushed.”

Luo Zhao paused, her gaze landing on Cui Shifan’s face.

“Pavilion Elder Cui, isn’t Zilu not in the Divine Capital right now?”

Cui Shifan’s eyes flickered with appreciation. In just a few seconds, she had found the perfect excuse.

Gu Chengyin had trained the Crown Princess well.

As Grand Secretary of the Cabinet, Cui Shifan certainly did not want the future Empress of Great Luo to be a fool.

Now, with Gu Chengyin serving as Junior Tutor to the Crown Prince, there was no need to worry about such things.

Cui Shifan nodded, replying with great respect:

“Zilu is currently in his hometown of Qinghe, pursuing further studies, and is not in the Divine Capital.”

Luo Zhao withdrew her gaze from Cui Shifan and looked at Gu Chengyin:

“In that case, I believe it would be best to discuss this after Zilu returns to the Divine Capital.”

“After all, for such a major life event, it is only proper to ask for the person’s own opinion.”

This was reasonable.

Cui Zilu was not in the Divine Capital. How could a marriage proposal be settled without even meeting the person?

It would be disrespectful to Cui Zilu and to the Cui clan.

No one could refute this reasoning, because it was made from Cui Zilu’s perspective.

This excuse was something Luo Zhao had thought of in that moment.

Not taught by Gu Chengyin, not prompted by anyone—she had come up with it herself.

Cui Shifan did not argue. Of course he wouldn’t.

His visit to the Crown Princess’s Palace today was never meant to reach a conclusion.

Cui Shifan understood well the immense resistance behind this matter.

Emperor Luo, the princes’ faction, the gossips at court who loved to watch the world burn—

And on top of that, the Celestial Master’s office.

Everyone had their own calculations, their own positions, their own hopes for how things would unfold.

He came today only to put the matter on the table.

To let everyone know that Cui Zilu wanted to marry Gu Chengyin, and that he supported her.

As for the outcome, that was a matter for later.

“Your Highness speaks wisely.”

Cui Shifan bowed slightly, performing a half-courtesy.

“I will have Zilu come to the Divine Capital as soon as possible, and then we will discuss it further.”

The phrase “as soon as possible” was cleverly chosen. Not “immediately,” not “right away,” but “as soon as possible.”

How soon is that?

No one knows.

It could be a month, three months, half a year.

No one could say it wasn’t soon, because “as soon as possible” itself was merely an attitude, not a specific deadline.

Cui Shifan had offered Luo Zhao a step down, and also given himself some breathing room.

You’re not in a rush, and neither am I.

Neither of us is in a rush.

So let this matter proceed slowly.

Luo Zhao breathed a sigh of relief inside.

At least she had bought some time.

Stalled until Cui Zilu returned to the Divine Capital, until the palace’s reaction became clear, until Gu Chengyin had enough time to figure out how to respond.

This wasn’t cowardice, nor avoidance—it was the smartest choice.

Because time changes many things: people’s minds, the shifting dynamics.

Problems that seem prickly now might no longer be problems when viewed again later.

“Very well.”

Luo Zhao’s voice was light. She had completed Gu Chengyin’s task.

Though unwilling inside, she did not show it.

That red egg, Gu Chengyin, was becoming more and more like her master.

And at that moment, Gu Chengyin spoke, picking up the thread after Luo Zhao had finished and before Cui Shifan could respond:

“Pavilion Elder Cui, we’ve taken up quite a bit of time. I imagine there must be many affairs piling up in the Cabinet by now?”

On the surface, these words showed concern for Cui Shifan, a care for the Cabinet’s business, a minister’s sense of duty to the court.

But in truth, they were a dismissal.

Delivered with justification, and impossible to refuse.

Because the words “state affairs” outweighed any excuse.

Cui Shifan could not ignore them, Gu Chengyin could not, Luo Zhao could not—no one could.

So Cui Shifan understood. He nodded, agreeing:

“Junior Preceptor Gu is correct. The Cabinet does have a backlog of matters. I shall take my leave, then.”

Cui Shifan rose and turned to Luo Zhao, performing a standard farewell courtesy.

“Your Highness, I take my leave.”

Luo Zhao inclined her head in acknowledgment.

Gu Chengyin stood up, turned slightly to one side, and made a gesture indicating the way.