After Marrying the Villainous Prime Minister in My Brother’s Stead - Chapter 57

57: Anger, I’m Not Angry Anymore

Gu Que felt disappointed and responded with a dull, “My younger sister doesn’t like women.”

The girl’s emotional shifts were obvious—how could Yan Luo not notice? Her mood was like that of a child accustomed to being pampered, only to suddenly lose that affection one day.

She couldn’t accept it right away.

It also resembled what people called “playing hard to get.”

Yan Luo tapped Gu Que’s nose with her fingertip: “You’re jealous. You’re jealous of your sister.”

Gu Que was startled and vehemently denied it: “No, I’m not.”

Yan Luo repeated: “You’re jealous of your sister. Young Master, you like me.”

“Like, like—of course I like you!” Gu Que’s face flushed red. She found Yan Luo somewhat annoying and stood up to leave, but not without adding, “I won’t divorce you. Dream on.”

The young master was no longer a soft persimmon—she had hardened.

Yan Luo burst into laughter, finding it utterly amusing. She had thrown a tantrum out of embarrassment.

So adorable. In novel terms, she was adorably silly.

After the Mid-Autumn Festival passed, the rice in the paddies was ready for harvest. Gu Que dragged Yan Luo along to watch the reaping.

Yan Luo, having lived a life of luxury, had never witnessed the sight of crops being harvested. Gu Que, however, was different. She was an ordinary person at heart and had even participated in rice harvesting before, using threshing machines.

But there were no threshing machines here, let alone harvesters. Seeing the golden fields, she excitedly told Yan Luo about harvesters.

Yan Luo asked, “Why don’t you use them?”

“People would think I’m a monster if I did. Besides, they require fuel, which is too expensive.” Gu Que waved her hand. Here, it was best to stick to convention. Moreover, using harvesters would leave many farmers unemployed.

It just didn’t seem worth it.

Yan Luo chuckled. “What will you plant next season? Rice again?”

“No, wheat.” Gu Que replied. Perhaps influenced by her hometown, where they alternated between rice and wheat, she thought wheat could be harvested quickly, leaving time for late-season watermelons.

Speaking of watermelons, she added, “I’d like to plant strawberries and watermelons next year. What do you think?”

“That works. You could also try planting some new varieties.” Yan Luo nodded in enthusiastic approval. “Plant more strawberries.”

Hearing this, Gu Que glanced at her. “Do you also want to plant ice cream?”

“Oh, how did you know? Can it be planted?” Yan Luo laughed.

Gu Que fell silent and led her to the estate. The stewards were directing work there and beamed at the sight of the young master.

Gu Que asked about the harvest, and the answer delighted everyone—it far exceeded expectations.

The two had lunch at the estate before returning home.

Shortly after arriving, visitors came inquiring about the rice seeds. Many households had paddies and knew Young Master Gu had achieved a bumper harvest with new varieties this year.

Unfortunately, all were turned away. Gu Que had learned her lesson and refused to disclose anything.

Yan Luo teased her: “Learning from mistakes is good.”

Gu Que grinned sheepishly. Seizing the moment, she casually brought up court affairs.

Yan Luo sat on the couch. Tinglan brought tea and pastries before ushering the maids out.

Yan Luo began: “Prince Kangle has taken command of the Imperial Guard. Now, he should be called Prince Xiang. He’s a concubine’s son, but his elder brothers are all dead. He exploits his status to pressure the Emperor. The Empress Dowager and the Emperor are at odds, almost like fire and water.”

Gu Que asked, “Why don’t mother and daughter get along?”

“In ordinary families, if the patriarch dies without a son, the eldest daughter inherits. But the matriarch has ambitions—she wants to control her daughter. How could the daughter obey? She’s grown and has her own ideas. Their views clash. The mother thinks, ‘I raised you, so you should listen to me.’ The daughter believes, ‘Father passed the family leadership to me, so I should make my own decisions.’”

Yan Luo explained it in the simplest terms, and Gu Que understood immediately. The Empress Dowager had ill intentions, wanting all subjects to submit to her.

Yan Luo continued: “The young head of the family refuses to obey, but she has many younger sisters and even cousins—sons of her uncles from the same lineage.”

This was why the young Empress killed her elder sister. Not only her elder sister—the twelfth princess also died, reportedly from fever, untreated until she succumbed.

Seemingly destined for wealth and nobility, these golden branches and jade leaves lacked even the freedom of ordinary people.

Gu Que sighed. “It’s a very troublesome matter.” She thought of Empress Wei of Tang Zhongzong, who also aspired to be emperor.

“The Empress Dowager has the support of Duke Wei and Prince Xiang. The Emperor is young and prone to mistakes, giving them opportunities. The court appears balanced, but everyone harbors ulterior motives. Take the Empress Dowager—she even wants to depose her own daughter. Do you still wish to enter the court?” Yan Luo asked.

Gu Que swallowed, her face pale. Yan Luo sighed softly: “After over a century of the Great Wei dynasty, royal familial bonds have weakened. It’s not a good omen.”

Gu Que fell silent, thinking of the Ming Dynasty. The first few emperors who founded the dynasty still had some familial affection, but later, emperors truly became heartless.

Both were lost in thought and didn’t speak further.

Over the next few days, Gu Que continued visiting the estate daily. The sun was fierce, and after days of exposure, she tanned noticeably.

Only when she realized she had darkened did she buy sunscreen spray, dousing herself liberally.

By the time all the rice was harvested, it was nearly October. The yield had nearly tripled compared to previous years. Gu Que began planning for next year’s strawberries. The best planting time for strawberries was September, but now, a month late, she had to act quickly.

Gu Que was soon busy again, scarcely seen at home. Even the Prime Minister had more free time—she at least had days off, while Gu Que had none.

Yan Luo, left alone for many nights, finally caught her during a break in November.

Gu Que had lost weight, her cheeks no longer plump. Yan Luo felt a pang of pity but didn’t show it, saying bluntly: “If I’m left alone tonight, you’ll kneel on an abacus tomorrow.”

Gu Que: “…”

“I’m busy!” Gu Que protested.

Yan Luo mocked her: “How much silver can you earn from your busywork? You toiled over those rice paddies—did you even make three thousand taels? A single painting of mine sells for that much.”

“You—” Gu Que’s pride took a severe blow. She glared, her face pale with anger.

Yan Luo continued taunting: “Not convinced?”

Gu Que slumped. “No. It’s just that I only have two hundred acres. I plan to buy more.”

Yan Luo sat on the couch, leaning against a pillow. Her orange silk robe draped over the footrest, concealing her lightly swinging feet. Her cold aura overshadowed any gentleness.

“Shall I buy you tens of thousands of acres of prime farmland in the capital? Work yourself to death, and I’ll remarry with a fresh start.”

“You—” Gu Que was too angry to speak. Her tongue felt tied, leaving her standing there seething. “Then wait till I’m dead and find a few young ladies to enjoy yourself. Why bother with me?”

Yan Luo hadn’t been angry—she’d been in high spirits. But hearing such self-deprecating words, her expression darkened. “Dying is easy. Zhi Zhi, give her a knife.”

Zhi Zhi peeked in from outside but was quickly pulled back by Tinglan: “The Prime Minister is just venting.”

Gu Que realized her mistake, but her pride held her back. She sat silently, stewing.

Both were angry.

Seeing her pitiful state—her sharp chin and lost youthful innocence, replaced by a mature air—Yan Luo’s anger faded.

“I’m not angry anymore.”

Gu Que looked up abruptly: “Not angry?”

Yan Luo nodded: “Are you?”

Gu Que grinned foolishly: “I’m not angry either.”

Yan Luo asked: “Where’s my mythical beast?”

“At the warm residence. Shall we go see it?” Gu Que lifted her head, eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Let me change first.” Yan Luo rose and called her maids to help her dress, her entire demeanor radiating gentleness.

Gu Que sighed inwardly—her moods shifted so quickly. She had once wondered how to coax Yan Luo if she ever got truly angry.

She laughed at herself. The Prime Minister was truly amusing.

It was already November, and the weather had turned cold. Yan Luo wore heavy robes when going out, clutching a hand warmer, her face paler than usual.

Gu Que knew winter was hard for her and suggested: “How about I install an air conditioner in your office?”

“No. Why give those scoundrels free benefits?” Yan Luo refused outright. “Think about it—the Emperor would want one too. My body is just like this—I’m afraid of the cold, that’s all.”

Gu Que stifled a laugh. The Prime Minister was so petty.

At the warm residence, Xi Yu had grown taller, dressed in new clothes. She beamed upon seeing the two arrive together: “Masters, you’re here!”

Gu Que nodded: “Are you cold?”

“Not at all. It’s very warm here.” Xi Yu ushered them inside cheerfully.

In winter, the warm residence was filled with vegetables usually seen in spring. Xi Yu tended them well, sending fresh picks to the Gu residence daily.

Inside, the room was cozy. Yan Luo spotted something resembling a miniature sun and approached it, feeling its heat.

Gu Que explained: “That’s a heater. More convenient than an air conditioner. I’ll install one in your study later.”

Yan Luo’s anger dissipated completely. She crouched before the heater, warmth enveloping her like summer’s embrace.

“Don’t get too close—your clothes might catch fire.” Gu Que pulled the heater back and squatted beside her, pointing at the buttons. “There are two settings—low and high heat. Using this too long dries out your skin, so remember to hydrate.”

Yan Luo didn’t respond. Gu Que wasn’t sure if she’d heard.

Suddenly, Yan Luo turned and began pressing the buttons—click, click—the light flickering between bright and dim.

Gu Que’s eyes ached. She grabbed Yan Luo’s hand: “What’s wrong?”

“Can this fire kill people?” Yan Luo’s eyes reflected the harsh light, yet she didn’t flinch, staring directly into it.

Gu Que sensed something amiss and turned it off. Yan Luo’s face darkened. Gu Que held her breath, pretending nothing happened, and pulled her up: “Let’s see the mythical beast.”

The beast was in the next room, fully charged but unused.

Gu Que held Yan Luo’s hand tightly: “We can take this home. The estate is large—it takes a quarter-hour to walk from the gate to the courtyard. This will make it easier.”

Yan Luo followed silently, her demeanor icy, eyes vacant.

Under the eaves, they saw the “mythical beast.”

Gu Que said: “How does it compare to ancient mythical beasts? Put on a veil, and I’ll take you for a ride, alright?”

Yan Luo didn’t refuse. She touched the handle, then the seat, and finally asked: “How does this work?”

Xi Yu obediently fetched a veil for Yan Luo before stepping aside. The vehicle started.

Gu Que was a “man”—society imposed fewer restrictions on her. Yan Luo, however, wore a veil for propriety’s sake.

The warm residence was surrounded by homes, with a long alley leading to the street—perfect for their test ride.

Gu Que parked the vehicle and took Yan Luo’s hand: “Don’t be afraid. Horses can move and kick—this is just an inanimate object.”

With the veil, Yan Luo’s expression was hidden, but Gu Que felt her stiffness.

“Prime Minister, inanimate objects have no flesh or bl00d. They don’t feel pain or react.”

“You ride first. Let me see.” Yan Luo withdrew her hand, pointing down the alley. “Ride to the end and back.”

The sight of someone riding such a contraption was bizarre. Neighbors peeked out to watch the “mythical beast.”

Gu Que rode a loop with ease. Yan Luo was intrigued, watching her confident posture with a smile: “Come here. Let me try.”

Gu Que rode back, propped the bike, and guided her hand to the throttle. The wheel moved: “This controls it, but balance is key.”

They say if you can ride a bicycle, an electric bike is easy. Still, Gu Que was uneasy: “Let me take you for a ride first. I’m worried you’ll lose balance.”

Yan Luo insisted: “Let me try.”

Her curiosity and stubbornness were evident.

Neighbors watched from their doorways. Gu Que suggested: “How about changing clothes first? Then we can go have some fun?”

The winter sun was warm, bathing the alley in golden light. Gu Que’s skin glowed under the rays, her radiance captivating.

Yan Luo didn’t understand what “having fun” entailed, but it sounded intriguing.

Abandoning rational thought, she changed into a red robe, loosened her hair, and tied it up. Her slender waist accentuated her transformed demeanor.

“So beautiful.” Gu Que didn’t hold back her praise. “The clothes are new—I haven’t even worn them yet.”

Yan Luo smirked, pointing at her cheek in the mirror: “I prefer more tangible compliments.”

Gu Que scoffed but turned and kissed her anyway.

Satisfied, Yan Luo declared: “Let’s go have fun.”

Her raised brows were picturesque. Gu Que stared, mesmerized—a girl’s beauty was truly immeasurable.

Standing frozen, Gu Que didn’t move. Sensing her daze, Yan Luo leaned in and kissed her slightly parted lips without warning.

The “mythical beast” was parked in the alley for the neighbors to admire. When the two stepped out, the onlookers had already gathered.

Gu Que mounted the vehicle. “Hold onto me.”

Yan Luo didn’t move. “Where’s your sense of propriety?”

Gu Que pressed her lips together. “You kissed it all away.”

Yan Luo found this amusing. She stared at Gu Que’s profile for a moment, lost in thought. Young Master Gu is going to betray the Gu family.

How interesting. Would Marquis Yongle die of rage?

Once they left the alley, they drew even more attention. The commoners’ district was densely populated, unlike the spacious estates of the wealthy. Thus, the same area housed several times more people here.

“What’s that?”

“A carriage?”

“A mythical beast from ancient times?”

“Mythical beast…”

“Is it a monster?”

Whispers followed them all the way, making Gu Que chuckle. Yan Luo wrapped her arms around Gu Que’s slender waist, remarking, “How is her waist so tiny?”

“Prime Minister, don’t talk nonsense. If we crash, you’ll ruin your face.”

The wind whistled past their ears as the scenery blurred on either side. Gu Que closed her eyes, savoring the breeze, her palms gripping the handlebars. For a fleeting moment, she felt as if she’d returned to the modern era.

But she soon opened her eyes, back to reality—the quaint houses and streets steeped in antiquity.

After a leisurely ride, they returned. Yan Luo’s cheeks were flushed, a healthy pink Gu Que had never seen before.

Gu Que smiled, then leaned away. They rested under the eaves, the “mythical beast” parked in the courtyard.

Yan Luo asked, “Do you have a treasure chest?”

Gu Que replied, “I do. Want me to conjure something for you?”

Yan Luo was skeptical. “I want ice cream. Can you manage that?”

Gu Que: “…” Of course it had to be this.

“No ice cream, but I have other treats. Like sweet milk or potato chips.” Gu Que went inside.

Moments later, she returned with a large bag of chips and two bottles of Wangzai milk.

Yan Luo was stunned. Gu Que added, “The books you wanted will take a few more days. The seller said they’re still searching.”

Basking in the warm sunlight, Yan Luo had many questions but chose not to ask.

Everyone had their secrets—why ruin this moment?

At dusk, Zhi Zhi came looking for the Prime Minister.

Yan Luo left on the vehicle. Zhi Zhi eyed the “mythical beast” and asked, “Can I try it?”

Gu Que deadpanned, “It’ll open its bloody maw and devour you.”

Zhi Zhi recoiled in fear and scampered away. “Prime Minister! Wait for me!”

Gu Que doubled over laughing, but her mirth vanished when the Great Scholar appeared.

Great Scholar: Found some stuff. Take a look—it’s uploaded.

Gu Que: Thanks. What do you want in return?

Great Scholar: That ancient jade looks nice.

Gu Que: Have some shame.

Great Scholar: Fine. Next time, then. How about a begging bowl as a reward?

Gu Que: Wait till I get back. I’ll give you eight or ten.

Great Scholar: Sweet. Thanks, boss.

Gu Que nearly died laughing but didn’t dawdle. She grabbed the items and headed home.

Yan Luo went to the Ministry of Justice prison to see Zhao Quan.

The best place to detain someone was the Ministry of Justice’s dungeon.

Zhao Quan sat on the floor, his hair matted, his face caked with grime. Had it not been for recognition, no one would guess he’d once been Emperor Wen’s most trusted eunuch.

As Yan Luo entered, dust swirled. Zhi Zhi brought a stool. “Prime Minister, please sit.”

“Thoughtful.” Yan Luo nodded in approval.

Zhi Zhi grinned. “Prime Minister, does that thing bite?”

“No. Ask the young master to let you play with it later.” Yan Luo waved her off. “Close the door on your way out.”

Zhi Zhi obeyed, skipping away cheerfully.

Zhao Quan’s face was ashen, his pant legs empty. Yan Luo smiled. “When Prince Huaizhang died, I toasted him on your behalf—with your legs.”

Zhao Quan was blind but otherwise healthy—he could eat and sleep well. He lifted his head, his hollow eye sockets gaping.

“I know who you are, Your Highness. What you wish to know, I can tell you.”

Yan Luo remained silent.

The cell was damp and dark. Yan Luo’s aura turned icy as she stared at Zhao Quan. “Who sent that palace maid into the palace?”

“Emperor Wen,” Zhao Quan answered.

“I assumed he gifted her to Father. Who ordered you to set the fire?” Yan Luo’s tone was casual, as if discussing trivial matters.

Zhao Quan, blind, turned toward her voice. “I didn’t set the fire.”

Yan Luo raised a brow. “Who did?”

“Who was closest to Her Majesty?” Zhao Quan countered.

“Is that so?” She recalled an item and glanced at her sachet, slowly retrieving her treasure.

She powered it on, opened the camera, and started recording, aiming at Zhao Quan’s face. The image was unclear, so she called a guard. “Light the lamps.”

Soon, the cell was bright as day.

Yan Luo handed the treasure to Zhi Zhi. “Hold it steady.”

Zhi Zhi gaped at the device, then at Zhao Quan. They look identical—how magical!

Yan Luo resumed her seat. “What about the maid’s family?”

“She was a Yangzhou thin horse—no parents. But before entering the palace, she was trained by the Empress Dowager.”

Yan Luo pressed, “Trained in what?”

Zhao Quan, disheveled and sunken-eyed, chuckled. “How to mimic Her Majesty. Your Highness never met her, but that girl resembled the Empress by eighty percent.”

Yan Luo’s gaze sharpened. “Go on.”

Gu Que returned home to an empty house.

Granny Sun had come to check Qiong Ju’s pulse—all was well—then insisted on examining Gu Que.

Gu Que declined. “Granny, you’ve worked hard. Please rest.”

Granny Sun saw right through her. “The Prime Minister’s health has improved. Are you keeping watch over her every day?”

“You’re right. I understand—I really do.” Gu Que winked at Tinglan.

Tinglan immediately stepped forward, supporting Granny Sun. “Granny, I’ve been feeling unwell lately—my cycle’s delayed. Could you check?”

Granny Sun’s attention shifted. She pulled Tinglan away. “This is serious. Let me see.”

Gu Que sighed in relief, having narrowly escaped. She gulped down cold water to calm herself.

In winter, night fell early. During summer, Yan Luo would return before dusk. Now, darkness had long settled, and she was still absent.

Gu Que waited endlessly. The food was reheated repeatedly, and she nearly dozed off, but Yan Luo never appeared.

Servants were sent to search—she wasn’t at the palace or her office.

By Hai hour (9–11 PM), messengers returned empty-handed.

Gu Que grew anxious. It’s a day off—where could she be?

The night deepened, lamps lighting up every room. Gu Que flipped through her novel until the pages frayed, her irritation mounting as she kept glancing outside.

Tinglan trimmed the lamp wick. “Are you worried about the Prime Minister?”

The question caught Gu Que off guard. “Shouldn’t I be?”

Tinglan studied the flame. “You treat her exceptionally well.” Beyond even filial piety. In all her years serving the young master, she’d never seen her care for someone so deeply.

As the wick shortened, the light grew brighter, forcing Tinglan to squint.

Your devotion to the Prime Minister has crossed all bounds.

Gu Que sensed the implication and straightened. Her heart leaped to her throat. “How well do I treat her?”

Tinglan didn’t dare look up. Many words went unspoken—fear of Yan Luo, fear of hurting Gu Que. “This servant thinks… you can’t go back.”

Even if the real young master returned, would Yan Luo not notice?

To Yan Luo, passing off the fake as real might be the simplest solution.

“What do you mean, can’t go back?” Gu Que’s mind blanked. She knew the truth would surface eventually. The worst outcome was her leaving the capital forever—out of sight, out of mind.

Tinglan ventured, “This servant thinks… the Prime Minister might truly care for you.”