Long time no see. 03

“A thousand-year-old clan truly lives up to its name.”

Standing before the residence gates and gazing at the two characters “Cui Residence” on the plaque, Gu Chengyin sighed once more.

It was admiration without the slightest trace of emotion.

How many dynasties had fallen? How many cultivators had perished? How many once-arrogant powers had been reduced to the dust of history?

Yet the great clans still remained, standing proudly upon this land and continuing to wield an unshakable position and influence.

Even though Gu Chengyin had single-handedly brought down the Xiao Clan, he had never looked down on these thousand-year-old clans because of it.

For one thing, Chenglu Academy had met his needs with uncanny precision.

This was no coincidence, like a blind cat stumbling upon a dead mouse. Nor was it a stroke of luck born from a lucky mistake.

It was the move of an old chess player who had been planning the game for years, after careful and deliberate consideration.

Someone knew what he needed. Someone knew where his weaknesses lay.

Someone knew exactly what would make him incapable of refusing.

And so, he had no choice but to take the initiative and meet Cui Zilu in person.

Before this, Gu Chengyin had never treated Cui Zilu with genuine sincerity.

Never.

Whenever Gu Chengyin was with Cui Zilu, he would consciously or unconsciously keep his distance.

He controlled his expressions and tone, making certain that he would never give her any misleading signals.

After all, he only wanted a protective talisman. He had no interest in the talisman itself.

Moreover, once the matter was settled, the Cui Clan and the Crown Prince’s Palace would inevitably sever their ties. There was no point in wasting the effort.

If Cui Zilu had done nothing, he would not have minded.

At most, she would have been an amusing memory—and a lovely young girl.

But Chenglu Academy’s move had landed too precisely, and struck too hard.

It was so accurate that it seemed as if someone had measured his needs with a ruler, down to the last millimeter.

Then, at exactly the right spot, they had drawn a circle and said: This is it.

But how could a sheltered young lady like Cui Zilu, who knew nothing of the world, possibly know what he needed?

How could she know where his weaknesses lay? How could she know that he was trapped beneath Luo Zhao’s banner of legitimacy?

How could she know that Chenglu Academy was precisely what he needed most?

Therefore, there was no doubt that someone was helping Cui Zilu from behind the scenes.

That person was not Cui Shifan, because Cui Shifan was in the Divine Capital.

He was stretched too thin to spare either the time or the energy to do all this for Cui Zilu.

In the end, Gu Chengyin settled on the matriarch of the Cui Clan, whom he had never met.

The eldest daughter of the Xiao Clan: Xiao Ruxu.

Only this woman, who stood behind Cui Shifan, could see straight through to the heart of the matter so accurately.

Xiao Ruxu had grown up in the whirlpool of power, witnessing the open struggles and hidden schemes of the imperial court.

She had listened to ministers deceive and scheme against one another, and had personally experienced the Xiao Clan’s entire journey from glory to collapse.

Xiao Ruxu understood the rules of the game of power too well. She also knew too well what was required to establish oneself upon this land.

She knew that Gu Chengyin needed people who belonged to him.

She knew that he needed a force beyond Luo Zhao’s influence.

She knew that Chenglu Academy would be something he could not refuse.

Xiao Ruxu had taught all of this to Cui Zilu, little by little.

She helped her make plans and arrange everything, quietly building Chenglu Academy while no one else was paying attention.

But whatever the Cui matriarch’s purpose might be—whether she was doing it for Cui Zilu or harboring some deeper scheme—Gu Chengyin did not care.

Because he had already come. He was already standing before the gates of the Cui Residence.

No matter how many motives were concealed within, no matter what schemes awaited him, he could handle them.

He would give what he could, and refuse what he could not.

He would agree to what should be agreed to, and reject what should not.

Gu Chengyin would never allow anyone to lead him around by the nose, nor would he change his principles or bottom line for anyone.

The gatekeeper of the Cui Residence was intimately familiar with Gu Chengyin.

This esteemed gentleman came and went from the Cui Residence as if it were his own home.

As for the nature of his relationship with the family, that went without saying. Everyone in the residence knew that their young lady was in love with the Junior Tutor to the Crown Prince.

So when the gatekeeper saw Gu Chengyin appear, he did not even bother to announce him. He simply stepped aside with a smile plastered across his face and respectfully said, “Junior Preceptor Gu has arrived. I’ll go announce you at once.”

Gu Chengyin stopped him with a wave of his hand.

The gatekeeper did not insist. He smiled, nodded, and stepped aside.

The moment Gu Chengyin crossed the threshold of the Cui Residence, he saw a petite, charming figure hurrying toward him.

Then she came to an abrupt stop right in front of him.

It was Cui Zilu.

She had changed completely from before.

If the Cui Zilu of the past had been an innocent, carefree little girl—round and soft, sweet and tender, like a freshly cooked glutinous rice dumpling that made one want to cradle her in one’s hands and take a bite, yet could not bear to do so—

then the Cui Zilu of today was a radiant, dazzling young woman.

Her features had matured. The childish roundness in her brows and eyes had faded, replaced by a brightness that seemed washed clean by morning dew.

She had grown taller as well. She was no longer the tiny little thing one could lift with a single hand.

Instead, she had become a graceful young woman, her figure just beginning to reveal its curves.

Even her air had changed. She was no longer the shy, innocent girl who looked like a little rabbit startled at the slightest sound.

Now she was more confident and composed, certain of what she wanted and convinced that she was doing the right thing.

The instant she saw Gu Chengyin enter, a rosy flush spread across Cui Zilu’s face.

It was as if someone had splashed a stroke of vermilion across her cheeks, and the color had slowly spread until her entire face became a crimson-painted canvas.

Upon it were drawn all the emotions she felt at that moment: excitement, nervousness, joy, shyness, and just the slightest trace of flustered helplessness.

Cui Zilu’s gaze lingered on Gu Chengyin’s face for a moment before darting away.

It fell on his shoulder, then shifted away again. It landed on the door behind him, then moved once more, finally dropping to his shoes.

Again and again, she looked away. She did not dare meet his eyes.

It was not that she did not want to.

She simply did not dare.

Cui Zilu was afraid of seeing unfamiliarity in Gu Chengyin’s eyes. Afraid of seeing distance in his expression.

Afraid of the polite curve at the corner of his mouth—the smile he reserved for strangers.

It had been a very long time since she had seen Gu Chengyin. So long that she could barely remember what he looked like when he smiled.

So long that she could only recall his voice, his expressions, and every tiny movement he made by replaying them over and over in her dreams.

That was why Cui Zilu was afraid.

Afraid that the Gu Chengyin standing before her would be different from the one in her dreams.

Afraid that after waiting so long, longing for so long, and working so hard for so long, all she would receive in return was a polite and distant Gu Chengyin.

A thousand words surged through Cui Zilu’s heart like a pot of boiling porridge.

Bloop, bloop—the bubbles rose one after another, each one concealing a piece of her longing.

Yet the bubbles burst one by one, and each word was swallowed back down.

Cui Zilu could not bring herself to say them. She did not know whether she had the right.

In the end, all those thousand words became a single sentence:

“Brother Chengyin, it’s been a long time.”