After Marrying the Villainous Prime Minister in My Brother’s Stead - Chapter 32

32: MP3, Why Are You Blushing?

The candlelight flickered on Yan Luo’s face, and the name “Yan Luo” was etched into Gu Que’s bones.

Perhaps it could never be erased in this lifetime.

When she woke up in the morning, Gu Que was drenched in sweat. The morning was unbearably stuffy, with all the windows and doors closed, leaving no airflow.

She sat up from the bed, took a deep breath, and walked barefoot to the window. Pushing it open, she gasped for air. Xi Yu was squatting under the eaves, boiling water. Seeing her mistress awake, she looked up and smiled. “Miss, we’re having shredded chicken noodles for breakfast. The broth has been simmering all night—it smells amazing.”

“Good.” Gu Que felt suffocated, her heart inexplicably heavy. Perhaps it was because of that strange dream.

“Xi Yu, eat by yourself. I’m going back first.” Gu Que’s heart was in turmoil. She tied up her long hair, threw on her round-collared robe, and prepared to leave.

Xi Yu was puzzled. “Aren’t you staying for breakfast?”

“No, I’ll head back now.” Gu Que straightened her clothes and hurried out the door.

Last night, the Imperial Examination Hall caught fire. The exam papers were burned, and several officials grading them perished in the flames. Yan Luo had been nearby when the fire broke out.

As the flames climbed the roof, she stood frozen, watching.

The fire crackled and roared. For some reason, at that moment, she didn’t know where to go.

Could she escape?

Her mother had taught her since childhood that human nature is inherently good, that people are born with kindness in their hearts. She stared coldly at the inferno, just like the year the central palace had burned, and her mother had been trapped inside.

Her mother had pushed her out but stayed behind in the flames. Gu Que had asked why.

Only later did she understand—her mother had imprisoned herself, unable to break free.

Her parents had been deeply in love. Her father, the emperor, had abolished the imperial harem for her mother, vowing to cherish her alone. But later, he broke his promise and took in a palace maid.

Her mother couldn’t endure it. Zhao Quan said the fire had been set by her father.

She refused to believe it and fought desperately. But now, just like back then, her mother had perished in the flames.

The fire spread, the smoke choking her. Yan Luo clutched her chest, gasping for air. Suddenly, Gu Que’s face appeared before her in the void.

She froze, staring at the illusion. “Gu Que.”

“Prime Minister Yan, want a kitten popsicle?” Gu Que smiled, her charm piercing straight to the bone.

Yan Luo’s lips twitched. “Gu Que, why are you so beautiful?”

Gu Que replied, “For you. My beauty belongs to you. Is that okay?”

A tear slid down Yan Luo’s cheek. She threw her head back and laughed—a sharp, jarring sound.

With a deafening crash, a pillar collapsed at her feet. Yan Luo kept laughing, gazing at the raging fire, the smoke nearly suffocating her.

Leng Mian suddenly rushed into the flames, grabbing the deranged woman. “Yan Luo, let’s go!”

“Yan Luo… who is Yan Luo?” Yan Luo stopped laughing and looked at the blurry figure approaching. “And who are you?”

Leng Mian gripped his sword, staring at her. “You are Yan Luo, the seventh child of the Yan family. You can only be the seventh child of the Yan family.”

Yan Luo straightened up. The words of the Third Madam suddenly echoed in her ears: “Where have you taken my Xiao Qi?”

“Give me back my Xiao Qi. I’ll give you my life if I have to.”

The Third Lord had once said, “Xiao Qi is very well-behaved. Remember to wear your mask and never lose it.”

Yan Family’s Xiao Qi was betrothed to the Gu family’s heir, Gu Yan. In the future, Xiao Qi would be the wife of the Gu heir, the future Marchioness of Yongle.

“I’ve met Gu Yan. Fair-skinned and adorable, with the most charming eyes—a perfect match for Xiao Qi.”

“The Yan family has served the emperor loyally for generations. Xiao Qi will be loyal too, won’t she?”

Yan Luo looked up, tears streaming down her face. “I am Yan Family’s Xiao Qi.”

Leng Mian hoisted her onto his back and charged out of the inferno.

The bright moon hung in the sky, and the city was silent.

When Gu Que left the house, she heard about the fire at the examination hall. Her heart clenched, and she sprinted toward the Gu residence without regard for decorum.

The Prime Minister had been at the examination hall!

The streets were crowded, with teahouses and taverns abuzz about the fire—a once-in-a-century disaster. Several officials had died tragically, and the examination hall had been reduced to ashes.

The emperor was furious and ordered a thorough investigation.

Gu Que couldn’t process the news. Fueled by an inexplicable surge of energy, she ran until her vision blurred.

By the time she reached the mansion’s gates, she was gasping for air, nearly collapsing. A servant caught her just in time. “Young Master, you’re back.”

“Has the Prime Minister returned?” Gu Que grabbed the servant’s collar.

“Yes, she’s back…”

Gu Que dashed inside like a gust of wind.

The morning light spilled into the courtyard. As Gu Que entered, she saw a reclining chair on the steps, bathed in a slanting ray of sunlight.

She stepped over the threshold and saw the graceful figure lying there.

Thank goodness—she was home!

Gu Que slowly climbed the steps and looked at the woman with closed eyes—pale, delicate, and beautiful. She whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Yan Luo seemed exhausted. She opened her eyes and met Gu Que’s guilty gaze. Frowning, she asked, “Were you out drinking last night?”

“No, of course not. How could I?” Gu Que felt a pang of guilt but smiled as she met Yan Luo’s eyes—clear as frost, bright as glass.

Such beautiful eyes.

She crouched down. “I heard about what happened. I’m just glad you’re safe.”

“Of course. Have you ever heard the saying?” Yan Luo’s expression softened.

Gu Que asked, “What saying?”

Yan Luo gazed at the sky, where clouds drifted lazily. Her vision blurred slightly as she smiled faintly. “The good die young, but the wicked live a thousand years.”

“Is that so? Then let’s live a thousand years together.” Gu Que laughed, her tension melting away. She decided to treat her earlier panic as a morning jog—good for her health.

Yan Luo sat up and traced her slender, jade-white finger along her cheek. “Young Master Gu, here?”

Gu Que: “…”

A kiss on the cheek?

Gu Que turned and fled.

Yan Luo frowned and snorted. “Next time you go drinking, I’ll break your legs.”

Gu Que turned back to defend herself. “I didn’t go drinking!”

“Someone saw you out drinking last night and came to tell me.” Yan Luo closed her eyes, spinning lies effortlessly.

“Who’s spreading rumors?” Gu Que couldn’t clear her name even if she jumped into the Yellow River. Remembering last night’s dream, her cheeks flushed slightly.

Yan Luo, peeking through narrowed eyes, seized on this “evidence.” “You’re guilty. Blushing means guilt. Confess—which girl did you sleep with? I won’t be angry. It’s normal for men to sleep around.”

“You’re being unreasonable. I won’t argue with you. What do you want to eat?” Gu Que realized there was no reasoning with her. A woman who acted shamelessly wouldn’t listen to logic.

At the mention of food, Yan Luo blinked slowly. “I want something sweet. Very, very sweet—as sweet as you.”

Gu Que was stunned. Was she being flirted with again?

“I’ll give you a popsicle, but not now—at noon.” Gu Que’s heart softened. Faced with such a beautiful woman, who wouldn’t feel tender?

Yan Luo nodded. “Fine. Then sing me a song.”

“Uh… I can’t sing…” Gu Que was baffled. How had the conversation veered into singing? “What song do you want to hear?”

Yan Luo looked at her. “What can you sing?”

“Go back to bed. I’ll prepare something.” Gu Que remembered the MP3. It was perfect for this situation. Yan Luo, raised in ancient traditions, probably wouldn’t like upbeat music.

Maybe something classical or operatic would suit her better. Worth a try.

Yan Luo was exhausted. After Gu Que left, she stood up unsteadily. Ting Lan hurried to support her, but Yan Luo waved her off and walked inside alone.

Once she was lying against the pillows, Gu Que returned with a red silk ribbon. “Close your eyes.”

“Give it here. I’ll do it myself.” Yan Luo reached out calmly, took the ribbon, and tied it over her eyes without needing instructions. “Make sure it’s a good song.”

As the ribbon covered her eyes, music began playing. Yan Luo froze. “What is this?”

Gu Que told her, “It’s called Spring Feast.”

Yan Luo’s lips moved slightly, pale as she asked, “What’s a spring feast?”

“Spring Feast…” Gu Que wasn’t sure how to explain, so she recited the original poem:

“Spring feast, a cup of green wine, a song sung once.
Bow twice, state three wishes:
First, may my lord live a thousand years.
Second, may my body always be healthy.
Third, may we be like swallows on the beam, meeting year after year.”

The woman on the bed, blindfolded with red silk, murmured softly, “Like swallows on the beam, meeting year after year…”

She didn’t notice that the music continued playing even as Gu Que spoke.

Lost in the lyrics, she found them beautiful. She asked Gu Que, “Did you write this?”

Gu Que couldn’t take credit. “No, I didn’t.”

Yan Luo chuckled. “If it were me, I’d say:

Bow twice, state three wishes:
First, may the world perish.
Second, may the people suffer.
Third, may we be like the color of night, devoid of light everywhere.”

“Are you running a fever?” Gu Que felt something was off and reached out to touch Yan Luo’s forehead.

Sure enough, her palm met scorching heat. Alarmed, she scrambled to fetch fever medicine.

Yan Luo kept listening until she heard the line “A spring feast to brand upon your lips.” The corners of her lips curled up. “Young Master, the lyrics are lovely.”

Gu Que rummaged through the medicine chest for antipyretics. Since Yan Luo was awake, she could take them herself.

“Take this.” Gu Que climbed onto the bed and held the pill to Yan Luo’s lips. “Just open your mouth.”

Yan Luo parted her lips slightly, and the white pill landed on her tongue. She chewed—it was bitter.

She asked Gu Que, “How are you talking to me and singing at the same time?”

“That’s not me singing. Here, feel this.” Gu Que placed the small device in Yan Luo’s palm. “You can listen whenever you want. When the battery runs out, come find me, and I’ll recharge it. Or if you want to hear a specific song, I’ll find it for you.”

Yan Luo felt the small, hard object in her hand, utterly fascinated. She removed the blindfold and was astonished to see the tiny red box producing sound.

It fit perfectly in her palm.

It was miraculous.

The ethereal voice filled her ears. She smiled and looked up at Gu Que, her eyes shining. “You’re like a deity. How did you do this?”

“You said it yourself—I’m a deity. No need to ask how.” Gu Que met her gaze. “Prime Minister, I love light, not darkness. I don’t want to be like the color of night, devoid of light everywhere.”

She knew Yan Luo had narrowly escaped death and was speaking in extremes, which was understandable.

Yan Luo clutched the singing device, listening to “A spring feast to brand upon your lips.” Suddenly, she looked up at Gu Que. “Young Master, explain this line.”

Gu Que rolled her eyes. “Go to sleep. I’ll check on the food.”

“Young Master, your efforts might have been wasted again.” Yan Luo sighed. This year’s imperial examinations had been disrupted repeatedly. The struggle between imperial power and the throne harmed the scholars most.

She looked at Gu Que and felt compelled to explain. “That fire had nothing to do with me.”

Her words warmed Gu Que’s heart, though Gu Que had never cared about such things. Here, she couldn’t be herself—resistance was too difficult. Throughout history, countless rebels had tried and failed.

Imperial authority reigned supreme, and filial piety crushed dissent. The marquis’s estate was her home. As long as her parents lived, she could survive safely.

She looked up, meeting Yan Luo’s gaze. “Prime Minister, your heart embraces the world, your vision spans the land. I won’t hold you back. Do what you must. I won’t question or doubt you.”

Yan Luo was exhausted. The music lulled her to sleep.

As she drifted off, she thought: Is this the voice of angels?

The sounds left by the heavens must be divine.

She had promised popsicles at noon, but Yan Luo slept straight through until dusk—missing not just the popsicles but lunch too.

Dinner was light. While they ate, two messages arrived from the palace.

First, dozens had died in the examination hall fire. The papers were burned, and the examiners were trapped inside. All the officials had perished except Yan Luo.

Second, whispers in the court suggested the Prime Minister was responsible. Why had she alone survived?

Hearing this, Gu Que laughed bitterly. “What, if you’d died, they’d think you were innocent?”

Tonight’s menu included scrambled eggs with tomatoes. Gu Que was furious, but Yan Luo ate cheerfully, glancing at her. “Why so angry? We’re eating.”

Gu Que sulkily continued eating, stealing glances at Yan Luo. Well, she seemed perfectly fine—she’d nearly finished a whole plate of tomatoes.

The messenger added, “His Majesty hopes you’ll come to the palace.”

“I’m sick. My health is poor. I won’t go.” Yan Luo refused flatly, her gaze icy. “I’m taking three days off to recuperate.”

“But the palace is in chaos. Think of all those scholars—their hard work, gone. The public is furious. They’re demanding justice… and your punishment.”

Gu Que clenched her chopsticks, furious. Yan Luo had narrowly escaped death—why blame her?

She didn’t understand.

Yan Luo smiled. “The fire nearly killed me last night. I’m human—I need rest. Tell His Majesty I’ll come in three days.”

Her tone brooked no argument. The messenger had no choice but to relay her words.

The two women reacted differently. Yan Luo was perfectly at ease, asking Gu Que, “Did you add honey?”

“Huh?” Gu Que was caught off guard. “Oh… yes, I did. These were a bit sour.”

“They’re very sweet.” Yan Luo praised, enjoying the meal so much she grew talkative. After dinner, she explained the political situation to Gu Que.

The examination hall fire was a clash between the Empress Dowager and the Emperor. The chief examiners were the Emperor’s trusted aides, holding key positions. Their deaths would spark another power struggle.

The Emperor had used the exam corruption scandal to deal with the Duke of Jin. The Empress Dowager retaliated by burning the examination hall and killing the Emperor’s men.

Their feud victimized the scholars who had studied for years—people like Gu Que. Exam after exam, only to have their papers destroyed. Who could endure that?

Gu Que was easygoing and didn’t mind much, but other aspiring officials wouldn’t take it quietly.

Scholars were refined but could deliver scathing critiques without cursing. They were not to be trifled with.

Gu Que didn’t know what to say. It was like dealing with online trolls—laws and morals were useless.

She sighed. Yan Luo, meanwhile, picked at her dessert, utterly unbothered.

Though she ate slowly, her small bites and serene smile exuded an ethereal grace.

Gu Que asked, “Will there be a third attempt?”

“Not sure. But barring extraordinary circumstances, there will definitely be another exam.” Yan Luo rested her chin on her hand, watching Gu Que’s troubled expression. “I read your essay. Barring surprises, you’d have ranked in the top tier. What a shame.”

Gu Que was truly unlucky—thwarted again and again.

Her comfort warmed Gu Que’s heart. “What’s done is done. Will you intervene?”

“Tomorrow, I’m seeing the doctor. Want to come?” Yan Luo blinked slowly. “It’s boring alone. I heard the Marquis is preparing a full-moon banquet. Accompany me to the doctor, and I’ll go back to the Marquis’s estate with you. Fair deal?”

What could Gu Que say? She had to agree.

Yan Luo, having slept all afternoon, wasn’t tired. She took the “voice of angels” to the study.

After she left, Gu Que went to bed early, habitually sleeping on the outer side so she could move inward when Yan Luo returned.

Yan Luo often fell ill, but after taking medicine and resting for half a day, she’d recover. Her condition was peculiar. Gu Que wasn’t a doctor and didn’t know how to help. Perhaps her immune system was compromised.

What kind of illness could damage the immune system?

Gu Que didn’t know. With this regret, she slowly fell asleep.

In the study, Yan Luo played with the “voice of angels,” pressing buttons to change songs like a child, engrossed all night.

When she finally looked up, she realized—oh no, she hadn’t touched the documents on her desk.

This thing is a menace.

Just like Gu Que—beautiful and dangerously capable.

Yan Luo played until midnight before finally returning to bed. The moment she approached, Gu Que instinctively shifted inward, curled under the blankets, fast asleep.

Yan Luo still couldn’t sleep, her mind lingering on the lyrics. What would a spring feast on the lips look like?

She didn’t understand. How could there be such suggestive lyrics?

Eventually, she fell asleep—the bed was too warm, and warmth made her drowsy.

The next morning, both woke up refreshed. Yesterday’s events seemed forgotten.

After breakfast, they boarded the carriage together.

When they left, the morning light was faint, the dew still fresh. Soon, a palace eunuch galloped up to the gates, shouting, “His Majesty summons the Prime Minister to the palace immediately!”

The gatekeeper knelt and replied, “Our Prime Minister is gravely ill. The Young Master has taken her to see a doctor. He heard a renowned physician arrived in the suburbs and won’t return until tomorrow.”

The eunuch didn’t believe it, dismounting to search the mansion—but it was empty.

Half an hour later, the carriage passed through the city gates, impossible to chase down.

The Yan family had long sought doctors for Yan Luo, with physicians from all over visiting regularly. This was no secret.

Two nights ago, during the fire, many had seen the guards carry Yan Luo out. Today, news of Gu Que taking his wife to the countryside for treatment spread through the capital, somewhat quelling the rumors.

Public opinion was terrifying—people condemned others with a single sentence. Fortunately, neither cared much for gossip. Once outside the city, their moods lifted.

Spring scenery was beautiful, and the countryside air was fresh. The carriage headed south. Yan Luo leaned against Gu Que, drowsy but still fiddling with the “voice of angels.”

She loved it. Gu Que gazed at her slender, lovely hands and smiled.

The carriage stopped at a village entrance. Gu Que, puzzled, heard Zhi Zhi call from outside, “We’re here.”

Gu Que stepped out, followed by Yan Luo, who turned off the device and tucked it into her pouch.

Such a small, convenient thing.

At the village entrance stood a newly built bamboo hut, crowded with patients. Zhi Zhi joined the queue. The two women stood by the carriage, exchanging glances—Yan Luo’s eyes shimmering, Gu Que smiling faintly.

Their luxurious attire made them stand out. Perhaps because of this, people made way for Zhi Zhi, who rewarded them with ten coins and candied fruit, thanking them profusely.

Zhi Zhi’s generosity pleased the crowd.

She led the two into the hut. The physician was inside, while the outer room was packed with waiting patients. The bamboo hut smelled of herbs.

Inside, an elderly woman sat. Seeing them, she smiled. “Come in.”

She didn’t treat them differently because of their status, which put Gu Que at ease. She helped Yan Luo sit down.

The physician took Yan Luo’s pulse. Gu Que anxiously said, “She often gets fevers—three times this month. Please examine her carefully.”

The woman shot her a glance. “Quiet.”

So noisy. No sense of propriety.

Gu Que was scolded, but Yan Luo laughed, looking at the doctor. “They say I won’t live past twenty-five.”

“Nonsense. Your body is weak, but not fatally so.” The woman glanced at Gu Que. “Are you her brother?”

“No, I’m her…” Gu Que stammered, blushing. “I’m her husband.”

The woman chuckled. “Husband? Then why are you blushing? Like a shy girl.”

She then asked Gu Que, “Is your family line single-heir?”

Gu Que was baffled. “What do you mean?”

“Simple—do you have a son?” the woman said bluntly.

Gu Que nodded. “Yes.”

“I see. If you two want children, I can try. But I must warn you—her health is poor. Childbirth could shorten her lifespan. If you don’t want children, it’s simpler. She has emotional turmoil buried deep. As her husband, don’t pressure her. Offspring depend on fate.”

She turned to Yan Luo. “Emotional wounds have no cure. But let me tell you—your husband is the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. If you keep brooding and die young, which girl will get to enjoy him?”

Yan Luo raised an eyebrow. “True. Who would benefit?”

The physician continued, “So I can prescribe medicine for your body, but not your heart. Just remember—if you die, your gorgeous husband goes to someone else. So unburden yourself and live well.”

Gu Que was too embarrassed to lift her head. What kind of advice was this?

“Wise words. If not for anything else, then for my peerlessly handsome husband, I must live.” Yan Luo agreed gently.

The woman smiled warmly. “Be optimistic. Take some medicine first. I’ll stay here for now. Oh, and you can have marital relations during treatment—no restrictions.”

Yan Luo sighed. “Is that so…” She turned to Gu Que. “Hear that? No restrictions.”