How Can One Be Petty

Cui Zhenji resigned, and the Cui clan lost a Minister of Rites.

They lost over a decade of careful cultivation and a crucial position in the imperial court.

This matter had already caused no small stir within the Cui clan.

The collateral branches of the Cui family, the former students and old retainers who depended on them, and all those who lived by the clan’s favor—

were all watching Cui Shifan, waiting to see how he would respond.

They watched to see if he would strike back, if he, as the head of the Cui clan, could still protect the clan’s interests.

If Cui Shifan backed down on the matter of Cui Zhenji and then also retreated on the marriage proposal for Cui Zilu—

if Gu Chengyin rejected it and it simply fizzled out—

then Cui Shifan’s authority would collapse.

Not might collapse—would inevitably collapse.

Because once a clan leader yields repeatedly, no one fears him anymore.

No one respects him. No one believes following him leads anywhere.

But Cui Shifan also did not truly want to break with Gu Chengyin.

So he laid all this out directly for Gu Chengyin.

Because respect is mutual: he had shown respect to Gu Chengyin, but Gu Chengyin had not shown it to him.

That left no other choice. Cui Shifan had to go propose on behalf of Cui Zilong to Shangguan Yunying.

Not because he wanted to, not because he thought it best for the Cui clan—

but because Cui Shifan needed everyone to know that he, as head of the Cui clan, had a temper.

Even if it meant making an enemy of Gu Chengyin.

Cui Shifan had reason on his side.

He had first proposed Cui Zilu—showing Gu Chengyin full respect.

He had not gone directly to the Shangguan family. He had not bypassed Gu Chengyin or caught him off guard.

Instead, he came first to the Crown Prince’s palace, tipped him off first, and put forward Cui Zilu first.

Only then did he say that if Gu Chengyin would not marry her, he would have to take another path.

The order mattered.

Coming first was respect.

Giving prior notice was sincerity.

Proposing Cui Zilu first was a courtesy.

If Gu Chengyin refused, then going to the Shangguan family would be an act of necessity.

No one could say Cui Shifan acted wrongly. No one could say the Cui clan was unreasonable. No one could say they were opposing Gu Chengyin.

Because Cui Shifan had done everything he could.

He offered the best to Gu Chengyin first—it was Gu Chengyin who refused.

Gu Chengyin understood perfectly what Cui Shifan meant to convey.

He also knew that from the moment Cui Shifan spoke those words, he would not reject this outright. But he would decide when it could happen.

Politics was about making enemies few and friends many.

Not because Gu Chengyin liked that saying, but because it was the truth.

On the imperial court, you could not defeat everyone.

Every extra enemy meant one more person to guard against with every step.

Every extra friend meant one more pair of hands to help you along the way.

Cui Shifan was not a friend, but he did not have to be an enemy either.

So when Cui Shifan voluntarily offered his good will, Gu Chengyin would not slap it away.

Not because he had deep feelings for Cui Zilu—he had not even seen her in a long time.

But because slapping it away would be idiotic.

More precisely, it would be brainless.

Yet he would not agree immediately either. Cui Shifan knew he would not.

That was the unspoken understanding between them. But even with that understanding,

Cui Shifan still had to convey what needed to be conveyed.

For Gu Chengyin, aside from not having a full grasp of the situation,

the main reason was still that person from the Celestial Master’s residence.

“Pavilion Elder Cui.”

Cui Shifan tilted his head slightly, signaling that he was listening.

“Your goodwill, this junior sincerely appreciates.”

“And I truly do admire Zilu.”

When he said this, Gu Chengyin’s tone was completely different from before.

He was not acting.

He was thinking of Cui Zilu.

Not Cui Shifan’s daughter, not the legitimate daughter of the Cui clan.

But the girl with the twin topknots who blushed whenever she saw him and could hardly string a sentence together.

Gu Chengyin recalled the look in Cui Zilu’s eyes—a gaze he had seen many times, in many people’s eyes—

but Cui Zilu’s eyes were the clearest and purest.

No scheming, no testing, no desire to take something from him.

Only something simple—like a clear spring you could not bear to muddy.

So when Gu Chengyin said he truly admired her, he was not humoring Cui Shifan or speaking empty words. He was stating a fact.

He did like Cui Zilu.

This liking had nothing to do with love, nothing to do with desire, nothing to do with any scheming in the court.

It was a pure and clean kind of fondness.

“It’s just that… there are special circumstances.”

Gu Chengyin’s tone suddenly turned peculiar, tinged with apology and resolve.

He did not continue. Instead, he glanced around.

To the left were corridor pillars, to the right a courtyard, ahead the palace gate, behind the main hall.

No one.

Only he and Cui Shifan stood under the eaves. Not even a palace attendant passed by.

So Gu Chengyin leaned in close to Cui Shifan and whispered a few words.

His voice was so low that if Cui Shifan’s ear had not been right next to his mouth, he could not have heard.

At first, Cui Shifan’s expression remained warm and pleasant.

His face bore an easy smile, the corners of his mouth curved upward, his crow’s-feet creasing.

His whole face was like a flower that had basked in the sun all day—languid, warm, content.

He leaned his body slightly forward, adopting the posture of an attentive listener,

hands clasped behind his back, fingers interlocked, thumbs idly circling each other.

But as he listened to Gu Chengyin’s whispered words, Cui Shifan’s smile froze.

His mouth still curled at the corners, but that curve had lost its warmth—like someone had glued it there.

His eyes, usually murky yet sharp, shot wide open.

His complexion changed from mild to livid, from livid to red-hot.

When he finished hearing everything, Cui Shifan glared furiously, without the slightest courtesy.

His lips trembled, his beard quivered, his whole body shook.

He pulled his hands from behind his back and clenched them into fists, knuckles whitening, veins bulging.

He seemed to be using all his strength to hold back something about to burst from those fists.

His breathing grew rapid and heavy, his chest heaving violently.

Like an enraged bull ready to charge at any moment.

Then Cui Shifan spoke. His voice was loud—so loud it exploded in the empty corridor, stirring up buzzing echoes.

It carried the unvarnished fury of a father whose bottom line had been crossed.

“What kind of joke is this!”

He raised a finger and pointed at Gu Chengyin, his knuckle still trembling, his fingertip still shaking.

He was like a volcano about to erupt, magma already churning at the crater’s mouth, ready to spew at any moment.

“How could a legitimate daughter of my Cui clan ever be a lesser wife!”