The autumn chill deepened, yet the room remained as warm as late spring. In the pre-dawn gloom, the interior was dimly lit. On the desk, a white jade-boned porcelain qilin double-headed incense burner had long extinguished its fragrant thread, leaving only a lingering, elusive subtle fragrance.
After a night of intense intimacy, Minglan, though utterly exhausted, awoke early. Curling up like a shrimp, she gradually extricated herself from the man's embrace, section by section. Clutching the quilt, she sat huddled on the bed, gazing blankly at him. His bare, light brown arm revealed smooth, robust skin, and his slender neck curved slightly. Thick, dark hair sprawled across the pillow, exuding vibrant vitality. His tall nose bridge sank deeply into the soft bedding as he breathed with a slightly heavy snore.
Seeing him sleep so soundly, Minglan felt a twinge of envy.
This man was like a wild male beast with incredible survival instincts. At times, he was extremely alert, waking at the slightest sound without needing an alarm clock. Yet, when he felt secure enough to sleep deeply, he could fall asleep instantly, losing consciousness in three seconds.
On several occasions, after a day of riding hard in the military camp, he would return home utterly exhausted. One moment, he'd be talking to Minglan, and the next, she'd turn to find him already deep in slumber, unreachable even if she pinched his nose.
Staring at his handsome profile, his stubborn and resolute jawline, Minglan lost herself in thought. Soon after their marriage, she realized that Gu Tingye sorely lacked faith in those in authority.
When escorting goods, he'd find the renowned chief escort, famous for thirty years, unreliable. When guarding merchant caravans through desolate mountains, he'd deem the caravan leader incompetent. And when he joined the Water Transport Gang, within three days, he secretly looked down on the branch leader. As soon as he built his own influence, he quietly grew dissatisfied with the gang leader.
After their marriage, as things gradually settled, Gu Tingye slowly reclaimed several businesses he had left in Jianghuai and Chuanshu. Holding the land deeds, shop titles, and silver notes, Minglan finally understood how he had thrived in the martial world, accumulating considerable wealth.
Though he took some pride in building his reputation from scratch, these ventures were still considered "unrespectable" lower-class occupations, scarcely better than mere merchants. Even with Gongsun Baishi, he rarely spoke of them.
Now, at last, he had a loyal listener. His newlywed wife was both well-educated and free from the pedantic rigidity of scholars—open-minded and broad-hearted. When he recounted his past experiences, she often listened with keen interest.
In Minglan's view, the saying "Heaven is just" was fully embodied in Gu Tingye.
Though fate had robbed him of his mother in childhood, his father provided little positive support, while his stepmother, uncles, and cousins exerted excessive negative influence, making his growth fraught with hardships. Yet, he was also endowed with exceptional talents: not only did he inherit his father's bravery and prowess in battle, but he also miraculously acquired his maternal grandfather's shrewdness and capability.
It was said that the old master of the Bai family had started from the bottom, dabbling in both legitimate and shady ventures. With unique insight and bold calculation, he built a substantial fortune bare-handed (one million taels—oh, that one million taels—Minglan still harbored a grudge about it).
Gu Tingye could tell that his wife's interest was genuine, not feigned to spare his pride. As he spoke, she would occasionally applaud with admiration, her face full of regret that she couldn't have been there herself. This made him pour out his heart even more freely.The couple found themselves increasingly in sync, sharing common aspirations and a mutual understanding. Such a marriage was a joy, something he had never imagined before; having her by his side felt like bathing in the warmth of a spring breeze. Thus, employing a minor underhanded trick to secure a good wife was indeed necessary.
Gu Tingye felt he had been remarkably astute back then.
"Position and ability cannot be equated; there's also the matter of luck and coincidence in this world," Gu Tingye said with a frown.
Minglan cautiously probed, "One might say His Majesty is a man of profound fortune, so..." The new emperor's ascension to the throne wasn't solely the result of strategic planning; about seventy to eighty percent of it was due to heaven's help, as his elder brothers had all met their ends, leaving the throne to him.
"Not so. His Majesty's capabilities are like a hidden dragon entering the sea—unassuming yet achieving remarkable feats," Gu Tingye shook his head in rebuttal. "If His Majesty hadn't been humble and benevolent since his days as a prince, the Late Emperor would not have entrusted the realm to him."
Minglan nodded. The fifth prince, Jing Wang, had been too extravagant and ostentatious, repeatedly displeasing the Late Emperor, which allowed the current emperor, the eighth prince, to seize the opportunity. (Jing Wang felt wronged: How was I to know my two elder brothers would be so irresponsible, both ending up dead? With no hope for the throne, I had to seize what benefits I could while my father was still alive.)
"...Moreover, His Majesty treats the worthy with courtesy and humility, embodying the ancient virtue of Lord Mengchang. Despite the obscurity of his princely days and limited resources, he always sought to sincerely befriend recluses and scholars," Gu Tingye recalled slowly.
Minglan continued to nod. The evidence showed that the advisors nurtured during his princely days had been quite effective; the Eighth Prince's maneuvers around the time he entered the capital to be enfeoffed as crown prince were exceptionally skillful.
"Of course, those who climb to such positions must have exceptional qualities. But blindly following them based solely on that is foolish," Gu Tingye said sternly, a hint of mockery at the corner of his lips. "Not to mention, those who were capable in the past may not necessarily remain so now..."
Minglan nodded even more vigorously. For instance, General Gan, who had once been a fierce commander forged in bloody battles, had grown increasingly muddleheaded in his old age.
"Furthermore, excelling in one duty doesn't guarantee success in others."
Minglan nodded like a pestle pounding garlic.
Poor comrade Lao Geng, who had been both brave and resourceful during the princely days and was renowned as a hero in southern Shu, now found himself frequently unlucky as his status rose. Originally, the emperor had intended for him to serve as commander at Xuan-Da, guarding the frontier, but had yet to make a final decision—if he couldn't even handle setbacks at the emperor's feet, who knew how he would fare as a local warlord in the northern borderlands?
To borrow Peng Dehuai's words (purely hearsay): He, Hu Zongnan (a group army commander), was only fit to be a regiment commander. Some people aren't incompetent; rather, their abilities have limitations, making them suitable only for certain positions.
"For one general to achieve merit, ten thousand bones must bleach; ultimately, only a very few can rise to the top," Gu Tingye concluded with a heavy sigh.
Minglan was baffled by his obscure rhetoric. From his tone, he sounded like a skeptic, completely different from what she had heard about him from outside.
It was said that Gu Erlang was bold and heroic, daring to rescue people from piles of corpses, fearless of blades and arrows amid thousands of troops, treating comrades like brothers and soldiers like sons—loyal, brave, benevolent, and righteous enough to move heaven. He was even reputed to have the nickname "Military Lu Su" (Was he just putting on an act?).After listening until her head spun and waking from a nap, Minglan concluded: One should listen to leaders, but not take everything they say as absolute truth. People are ever-changing creatures—never judge someone solely by past impressions. The Eighth Prince might be reliable now, but that doesn’t guarantee he’ll remain so after becoming emperor. Exercise caution in judgment and avoid blind obedience.
For this reason, when it came to arranging marriages for unmarried soldiers, Gu Tingye made a great show of effort—full of thunder but little rain. He appeared deeply concerned and earnest, yet in reality... despite Minglan’s efforts, offering rewards and loudly advocating for the emancipation of servants’ families, only seven or eight couples were successfully matched.
Though the number was small, the quality was high.
After careful selection by Liao Yong’s wife, they specifically picked young men who were handsome, gentle-natured, and promising. Both parties discussed compatibility, with the prospective bride and groom stealing glances at each other from behind a curtain, biting their handkerchiefs in shyness, their cheeks flushed. Minglan provided dowries for the brides, and based on mutual willingness, the marriages proceeded smoothly, bringing joy to all.
The brides Minglan sent off were robust, presentable maids—hardworking, virtuous, and fertile—who could likely thrive even in the northern frontiers. Some discerning military families quietly nodded in approval, recognizing these matches as far superior to the forced marriages arranged by other households.
In the military camp, while some couples were reluctant, quarrelsome, and wept all day, others were deeply affectionate, inseparable behind closed doors. The happiness of these thriving newlyweds made the remaining bachelors green with envy.
As a result, more and more people sought Gu Tingye’s help as a matchmaker. Eventually, even several squad leaders and team captains sheepishly approached Xie Ang, asking him to intercede on their behalf for a good marriage. Yet Gu Tingye remained unmoved, his expression unreadable.
Yao Yiyi, ever the proactive party member, couldn’t resist criticizing his behavior.
Gu Tingye merely smiled and said, “The army set to march numbers thirty thousand. Even accounting for those already married, those who can arrange their own marriages, and local women, there’s still a shortfall of five to six thousand. Even if we include every maid around you—Peach, Plum, Lychee, and all—how many would that be? How many households in the entire capital are willing to do this?” His point was clear: this approach couldn’t solve the problem.
“Then what should we do?” Minglan was also stumped.
Initially, Gu Tingye had set his sights on Huaizhong and Huainan—areas recently ravaged by war, where he assumed there would be many displaced women and children who could be relocated to the northern frontiers, benefiting both the state and the people. However, Grand Secretary Yao (not yet a grand secretary at the time) had governed the region for over half a year, swiftly stabilizing the situation. By distributing grain, allocating land, exempting rents, and reducing taxes, he encouraged refugees to return home and rebuild their lives.
In ancient times, attachment to one’s homeland was profound; as long as there was food to be had, few were willing to leave their native place.
Thus, the next major target became the capital. The vast imperial palace alone, if it could release around two thousand palace maids, would nearly suffice; the remaining bachelors would simply have to manage.
But how could Gu Tingye, an outer court official and a military general (since advising on benevolent governance was typically the role of civil officials, and overstepping boundaries was frowned upon), broach the subject of reducing the palace staff?
The ideal approach would be for Uncle Shen to prompt the Empress to propose it. Releasing older, lower-ranking palace maids could not only address the issue but also earn her a reputation for virtue.Who would have thought Shen Congxing remained unenlightened. Never mind—just five or six thousand bachelors after all. Truly speaking, it wasn't some earth-shattering matter. More pressing state affairs and military matters piled high on Gu Tingye's desk, and he couldn't be bothered to deal with this.
A few days prior, Minglan had recounted the events at Yi Ning Palace to Gu Tingye with some concern, wondering if it would incur Shengde Taihou's resentment. To her surprise, Gu Tingye shook his head and laughed, "There are plenty the Empress Dowager dislikes—from that old fox Shen who switched sides at the last moment to the Zhang, Shen, and Zheng families. We're far down the list. Besides, right now, the Empress Dowager is likely quite busy..."
Perhaps because she woke too early, Minglan felt drowsy throughout breakfast. Gu Tingye watched as her head bobbed like a chick pecking at rice; even while serving him dishes, her eyes were bleary, her cheeks flushed, and her sleepy expression utterly adorable. He raised an eyebrow slightly, a mischievous idea striking him. From a side dish of pickles, he picked out several shreds of ginger and chili pepper and placed them in her bowl.
Minglan, with her head drooping, scooped up the food with her chopsticks and took a bite with her porridge. Sss—so pungent! She froze there, neck tilted, unable to swallow or spit it out, her fingers gripping the chopsticks tightly, tears welling in her eyes.
"Spit it out, quickly!" The dashing man said with a stern expression, chiding gently, "I've told you before—pay attention when eating. How could you be so careless? You can't handle spicy food."
"Did... I pick that myself?" Minglan stared blankly, looking down at what she'd just spat out. Had she been that out of it?
"Still spicy? Here, have some water to rinse your mouth." The man handed her a teacup with utmost concern, even walking over to pat her back gently.
Minglan held his wrist with both hands, drinking from the cup he offered, then looked up with a sweet, touched smile. "Thank you, you're so kind."
Gu Tingye flashed his pearly white teeth, his deep eyes sparkling. He leaned down and gave a firm bite to her lips, reddened from the spice, then straightened up, laughing with such vigor it seemed to shake the heavens, as if he'd suddenly grown years younger.
Xiahe and Qinsang, serving by the door, exchanged glances before obediently lowering their heads.
After that war of words, a certain extra vigorously propelled the plot forward. What Uncle Shen hadn't anticipated, his sister had thought of. However, once inspiration struck, the Emperor and Empress suddenly realized—the opportunity had arrived.
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