The Young Marquis Regrets Too Late - Chapter 53

Although Gu Huaisheng had a lot of thoughts regarding this, he didn’t end up saying anything. He only gave a soft hum in acknowledgement and let the matter be settled like that.

She didn’t want him to ask about her whereabouts. There was nothing he could do about that.

After finishing her meal, Jiang Jingchun retreated to the inner chamber—their bedchamber, and left Gu Huaisheng to eat alone.

The rays of the setting sun filtered through the ornate, lattice-patterned window. The light cast a soft glow on Gu Huaisheng’s back. The scene was quiet and serene, but inexplicably also carried a faint sense of solitude and loneliness.

Once she left, Gu Huaisheng set down his chopsticks. He’d lost any desire to continue eating.

Just as he was about to rise, Shuliang entered from outside.

This time, Shuliang came to report to him on the matter from the night of his wedding. It was about his teacher’s former subordinate.

Shuliang respectfully stood to his side and said, “Young Master, we still haven’t found him. He only appeared for that brief moment and then vanished without a trace. Do you think… that person might have already left the capital?”

Gu Huaisheng’s secret guards had been quietly investigating the matter. They had already carved the governor-general’s former subordinates’ faces into their memories, including this one’s. There was no way that they could’ve mistaken someone else for him.

But if there was no mistake, how could this person have disappeared so completely, as if he’d vanished from the face of the earth? 

Had they truly left the capital?

They had combed through the northern parts of the city. After all the time and effort they’d spent, surely some clue should’ve emerged by now, unless that person had left.

Gu Huaisheng snapped out of his earlier mood and reverted to his usual composed and distant demeanour. He was used to discussing serious matters in a calm and cold tone. 

He leaned back against the chair. He rested his hands on its arms, and he lowered his gaze in deep thought. From the side, the tension in his jaw was visible.

After a moment, he said, “No, that person is definitely still in the capital.”

The capital was safer than anywhere else; he had to still be nearby.

He said, “Since those people dared to let him show his face that night, they must have been certain that he couldn’t be found. Besides, very few know the truth of what happened back then. After the battle at Hangu Pass, my teacher’s reputation was ruined, he was sentenced to death, and his remaining subordinates were stripped of their ranks and severely punished. Those who survived disappeared without a trace…”

Gu Huaisheng couldn’t understand. Why would that subordinate hide?

He seemed afraid of someone finding him, but who?

Could it be… was that subordinate afraid of him?

And did he truly have the ability to stay hidden so effectively on his own?

Was someone else helping him from behind the scenes?

Gu Huaisheng had suspected as much before, but now he was almost certain—there had to be someone aiding him.

Otherwise, Gu Huaisheng’s secret guards wouldn’t have failed to find him for so long.

That night of his wedding, they had deliberately set a trap and showed him a glimpse of the person he had been searching for. They were confident he wouldn’t be able to locate them, which was why they were willing to allow that fleeting encounter.

This arrogant tactic reminded Gu Huaisheng of Wang Shun.

Wang Shun had never taken anyone seriously. Even when faced with solid evidence of his crimes, delivered to him directly, he had remained unshaken.

Back then, Gu Huaisheng’s teacher’s reform policies had threatened the interests of the conservative faction, and Wang Shun had been the first to oppose him. It was Wang Shun who framed his teacher for treason and submitted a memorial that sealed his teacher’s fate with a death sentence.

His teacher died, and the reforms he proposed perished with him.

The one who sought to destroy his teacher was Wang Shun.

It made sense that Wang Shun would be protecting that former subordinate of his teacher now.

Gu Huaisheng’s gaze fell on the setting sun beyond the door. Its fading light slowly crept across the floorboards.

Suddenly, he spoke. “Shuliang, I think I understand something now.”

It was becoming clearer to Gu Huaisheng—if that subordinate was hiding, it might be because he had done something he couldn’t face.

Perhaps he’d now found out the one who colluded with the enemy and committed treason back then.

A gust of wind swept in from the courtyard. It carried with it the desolate chill of autumn and stirred Gu Huaisheng’s memories of the past.

He thought of his late teacher.

His late teacher, Shen Changqing, had been close friends with his father, Marquis Gu, when he was alive. The two could be considered companions of one mind and heart.

Because of this connection, Gu Huaisheng became Shen Changqing’s student when he was ten. From then until when he was fifteen, when he earned third place in the imperial examinations and worked at Hanlin Academy, their relationship had been close. But two years after Gu Huaisheng began working at Hanlin Academy, differences began to emerge between them.

Shen Changqing was a man of strict principles. He was always restrained and cautious, as well as meticulous in his conduct. Such qualities made him an ideal teacher for Gu Huaisheng. Before Gu Huaisheng entered officialdom, he admired and respected his teacher deeply, and he was even closer to Shen Changqing than his own father.

But in truth, they were two fundamentally different people who were bound to clash, eventually. Their latent differences grew increasingly apparent after Gu Huaisheng began his career at Hanlin Academy and developed thoughts of his own.

The two of them turned out to be incompatible in every way—in personality, values, and even their approaches to life.

Shen Changqing thought Gu Huaisheng moved too fast, while Gu Huaisheng thought Shen Changqing was too slow.

Shen Changqing said that Gu Huaisheng lacked great enough ambitions and was focused on short-term gains, while Gu Huaisheng saw his teacher as stubbornly rigid and bound by outdated principles.

Indeed, what Shen Changqing disliked most about Gu Huaisheng was that, despite earning third place in the imperial examinations through his own merits, he still chose to rely on the power and influence of the marquis’ household to climb even higher. He resorted to any means necessary to get what he wanted.

Yes, any means necessary…

The last time that they’d spoken, Shen Changqing had scolded Gu Huaisheng for being unscrupulous. He said that he lacked the integrity of an ideal gentleman and a sage from the olden times.

How could that be?

What young man didn’t dream of being a true, ideal gentleman?

Once, Gu Huaisheng had also aspired to be like his teacher, who was a gentleman of virtue.

But clearly, not everyone can become such a person.

On Gu Huaisheng’s first day at Hanlin Academy, Shen Changqing advised him not to rely on his family background. He said that a gentleman must always be cautious in his conduct and not leave himself open to criticism. While he was indeed the young marquis, he must not allow himself to only be that—he must be more.

Shen Changqing had always hoped Gu Huaisheng could cast aside the influence of his noble birth and become a person of integrity and purity. After all, history was rife with examples of great figures emerging from humble beginnings. 

Gu Huaisheng had earned his third place in the imperial examinations through his own talent, and Shen Changqing wanted him to take steady, solid steps to establish himself at Hanlin Academy instead of chasing quick successes through his family background.

A noble lineage could indeed open many doors and provide countless convenient pathways. Just the title of  ‘Young Marquis’ alone was enough to attract flattery from all corners. However, Shen Changqing didn’t see this as an advantage; he saw it as an obstacle.

How many people throughout history had been blinded by the allure of fame and fortune?

In his youth, when Gu Huaisheng first entered the political arena, he valued his unyielding integrity more than anything else. He too wanted to be a sage-like gentleman, untouched by worldly corruption. At that time, he even resented his noble birth and wished people respected him for himself, not just because he was the young marquis, son of Marquis Heyang. 

His identity had smoothed his path in officialdom to an extraordinary degree. Even the person who achieved first place in the imperial examinations with him didn’t have it as easy as him, the third-place achiever.

But youthful arrogance often led to a disdain for such ease. When his achievements were tied to external factors, Gu Huaisheng felt they were tainted, and even his aspirations of purity seemed sullied.

He grew to hate his own fame and fortune more and more.

During his first two years in government, he oscillated between trying to heed his teacher’s advice to be a flawless gentleman and enjoying the privileges that came with his family’s name. 

While he worked at Hanlin Academy, everyone addressed him as ‘Young Marquis Gu’ instead of his official title.

People valued him, but it felt like it wasn’t really him who they valued—but something else.

No matter what he did, it seemed impossible to break free from these constraints.

This growing sense of division within him—between who he was and how others perceived him—began to feel dangerous. 

If left unchecked, such a feeling could easily lead one astray, and indeed, Gu Huaisheng gradually began to lose his way.

Finally, in his third year working at Hanlin Academy, when he was eighteen, he went to a Buddhist temple to seek clarity.

He sat quietly under a bodhi tree. At that time, his heart was as still as calm water.

He thought for a long time before he suddenly understood. The purity of a sage was clearly beyond his reach, so why must he strive so hard to be one?

To take or to give, may it be dictated by time; to act or to withdraw, may it be determined by me.

Sometimes, enlightenment didn’t require worshipping countless deities or visiting countless temples. It could happen in an instant. At that moment, Gu Huaisheng finally realised what he wanted—and what he didn’t.

That decision would change the trajectory of his life. He decided to abandon the notion of becoming the kind of sage-like gentleman his teacher envisioned.

Because deep down, he knew that he was never that kind of person.

No, he didn’t want to move as slowly as his teacher. That wasn’t what he sought.

He wanted to follow his destiny and honour what he wanted.

That day, he finally understood the person he truly was.

Everyone would have their own moment of ‘enlightenment at Longchang,’ like Wang Yangming.

His happened on that day.

In that instant, he came to understand that he didn’t need to struggle with himself so stubbornly. If the power he already had could make things easier, then he would use it. If he used both his family background and his talents, he could reach heights that ordinary people couldn’t even dream of in their lifetimes. 

When he reached those heights, he would be able to accomplish the things he wanted to.

If climbing higher allowed him to do what he wanted, then why shouldn’t he climb? Why must he kick away the ladder he had when he could use it to ascend?

He didn’t want to do that.

He and Shen Changqing had completely different approaches to life.

After that day, Gu Huaisheng indeed started to act as unscrupulously as Shen Changqing had accused him.

In truth, Gu Huaisheng didn’t think he had done anything wrong. But in Shen Changqing’s eyes, his actions were utterly intolerable—because Shen Changqing could not abide even the slightest speck of filth in his world.

Eventually, the two of them had a fight—or rather, Gu Huaisheng got on the receiving end of Shen Changqing’s scolding.

Shen Changqing despised Gu Huaisheng’s methods, while Gu Huaisheng, though he respected Shen Changqing’s desire for him to act like a gentleman, simply couldn’t fulfil that desire.

In the end, their paths diverged, and they parted ways for good.

On that day, many people had overheard Shen Changqing berating Gu Huaisheng. After all, Shen Changqing had poured years of effort and heart into teaching him. As a teacher, how could he not be angry to see his student turning out this way?

Gu Huaisheng had always thought his teacher walked slowly and deliberately.

But in the year following their fallout, Shen Changqing proposed a series of sweeping reforms.

The conservative faction was powerful, and the path for these reforms was fraught with obstacles. The pace that Shen Changqing had set for these changes was too ambitious and too hasty. He, who had always moved at a measured pace, ultimately couldn’t adapt to this sudden leap.

Six months after the reforms were introduced, Shen Changqing was appointed governor-general of Beijiang—on the northern border and departed there.

Not long after, Shen Changqing suffered a crushing defeat in battle, which resulted in the death of an entire city’s population. He was ultimately convicted of treason by collaborating with the enemy and sentenced to death.

The autumn of the twenty-third year of Emperor Taihe’s reign had felt desolate and cold. The biting wind that swept over the realm felt so sharp that it felt as though it could shatter one’s bones.

Gu Huaisheng was present on the evening of his teacher’s execution.

The setting sun that day was bl00d-red and it cast its hue across the earth.

Though he stood at a great distance, he felt as if the bl00d had seeped into his own eyes.

The savage wind tore through the crowd and into his chest as well. His ears buzzed. Through the throng, he saw his teacher’s severed head fall to the ground. Those lifeless eyes seemed to be fixed squarely on him.

Teacher…

Teacher…

His throat was dry, and it felt as though all the bl00d in his body had frozen solid.

For the first time in his life, Gu Huaisheng was utterly lost. He fled back home as though he was running from something, then locked himself in his room.

He stayed there for a long time. It was rare for him to skip his official duties, but the day after that execution, he did.

By the afternoon, Jiang Jingchun came to visit him at the Gu family residence.

She carried her writing kit, as she intended to learn calligraphy from him.

His eyes that day were bloodshot. They looked like he had just cried. He must have been a frightening sight, as Jiang Jingchun froze in place.

Gu Huaisheng thought that she’d be scared. He thought she’d run away.

But she didn’t.

She sat beside him and asked if he was hungry. She had someone fetch osmanthus cakes and said, “Cousin, when you’re feeling down, eating something sweet helps. Auntie told me you skipped lunch, so please eat a little. Don’t let yourself go hungry.”

As she held out the osmanthus cakes to him, her eyes shined like stars.

Gu Huaisheng had no appetite.

However, Jiang Jingchun gently coaxed him. She pleaded with him, saying, “Cousin, just eat a little, okay? You’re making me worry…”

He looked at her and, in the end, relented. He ate the osmanthus cake, but the sweetness clung to his throat like bl00d. It was hard to swallow.

Jiang Jingchun noticed his gloomy mood. As Gu Huaisheng sat on the couch, she perched by the footrest and began chattering cheerfully. She tried to lift his spirits with amusing anecdotes.

That day, Gu Huaisheng was deeply irritable—so irritable that he didn’t want to see anyone or hear anyone’s voice.

Yet, oddly enough, Jiang Jingchun’s sweet voice didn’t annoy him.

In her presence, he felt a rare moment of peace.

She stayed with him all afternoon, and the heavy burden on his mind temporarily eased. When evening came and she finally had to leave, Gu Huaisheng found himself reluctant to let her go. At the time, he hadn’t realised the peculiar emotions stirring within him. He only thought that once she left, he’d be alone again, dwelling on the memory of his teacher’s death.

But still, he didn’t ask her to stay.

If he had asked, Jiang Jingchun surely would have stayed.

Yet he said nothing.

He simply watched as she walked away, though she turned back every few steps. Eventually, her figure faded from his sight.

Gu Huaisheng pulled himself out of his memories. His face felt stiff from the cold wind. He shifted his gaze away from the slanting sunlight at the doorway.

When the city on Hangu Pass was destroyed, thousands of people died. Ten thousand soldiers met their end there. Initially, the reports sent to the capital blamed the governor-general’s poor judgement and his hasty decision to engage the enemy.

A lapse in judgment wasn’t a capital offence… But later reports revealed that Shen Changqing had colluded with the Mongols and deliberately allowed them to breach the city.

This changed everything.

Military records from the Ministry of War suggested that the commanding governor-general had also underestimated the enemy.

Underestimated the enemy…

Hangu Pass was easy to defend and hard to attack. If someone hadn’t commanded the soldiers to open the gates and engage in battle, it seemed unlikely that the Mongolian cavalry could’ve broken through. Without this order, the accusation of treason against Shen Changqing wouldn’t have held water.

This incident had taken place over a year ago. The battle at Hangu Pass was a great humiliation for the empire, and hardly anyone spoke of it anymore. Even when Shen Changqing’s name was brought up, it was rarely in a positive light—after all, he bore the weight of so many lives lost on his shoulders.

The case file only recorded the general situation, but Gu Huaisheng wanted to dig deeper for more details.

Doubts lingered in his heart. What had truly happened? He needed to investigate it further.

Perhaps it was the chill of the evening wind, but he felt an icy cold seep into his body. He didn’t want to dwell on these thoughts any longer, so he stood and walked back into his bedchamber.

Jiang Jingchun was sprawled on the chaise lounge. She propped her chin with one hand while flipping through a storybook with the other. Her two legs swung back and forth behind her.

Her dress bunched up around the crook of her knees and revealed her embroidered shoes, which swayed in rhythm with her movements.

The chaise lounge was by the wall, next to a window left wide open. Faint rays of the setting sun streamed in, and Jiang Jingchun used the dwindling sunlight to read her book.

Gu Huaisheng glanced at the scene and turned to instruct a servant to bring him a flame stick.

He walked into the bedchamber holding the flame stick.

In the past, he might have told Jiang Jingchun not to read while lying down in the dim light, since it wasn’t good for her eyes. 

But now, he had learned to hold his tongue.

There was no need to say things that would upset her. 

If it was dark and she wanted to read, he could simply light the candles for her. Why bother nagging?

He walked towards the chaise lounge, and with a crisp ‘snap,’ the flame stick ignited.

Jiang Jingchun heard the noise and initially thought it was a maid. When she glanced up, though, she saw that it was Gu Huaisheng. She briefly shifted her gaze before returning to her storybook and engrossed herself in it once more.

Gu Huaisheng lit the candle near her and sat down on the edge of the chaise.

He asked her, “Are you planning to go somewhere in the next few days?”

She had been acting suspiciously and suddenly told him not to ask where she was going anymore. 

He figured she was probably planning to go somewhere she didn’t want him to know about.

Jiang Jingchun paused for a moment. Her eyes remained fixed on her book, and she remained engrossed in reading. Half-heartedly, she replied, “Why do you care so much? Besides, even if I do go out, do I need to report it to you? Can’t I go out to have some fun?”

Her dismissive tone left Gu Huaisheng momentarily speechless, but it only reinforced his suspicions.

Now, he was even more curious about where she might be going.

However, since she was unwilling to tell him, he decided not to press further and risk angering her. He kept his thoughts to himself.

He said nothing more but suddenly stretched out and lay down on the chaise next to her.

The chaise wasn’t exactly small, but Gu Huaisheng’s broad frame made it seem crowded. His movement left Jiang Jingchun squeezed into the corner.

She clicked her tongue in annoyance and was about to ask him why he was crowding her. Wasn’t he usually busy with work or other affairs? Why was he suddenly here, hovering around her?

Before she could voice her complaint, though, Gu Huaisheng spoke first.

“I’m so tired and cold. Let me lie here for a while…”

His voice was low and tinged with a weariness that sounded almost pitiable.

The sharp words Jiang Jingchun had prepared got stuck in her throat, and her raised foot, which was poised to kick him off the chaise, hovered mid-air before she slowly lowered it.

She turned to look at him.

In the candlelight, his pale complexion appeared almost sickly. His eyebrows were furrowed, his jaw tightly set, and even his lips looked drained of colour. She wasn’t sure what had happened, but within such a short time since she’d left the dining room, Gu Huaisheng had somehow become this way.

His tall, imposing figure now appeared unusually fragile.

Gu Huaisheng’s ‘pitiful act’ was truly improving, Jiang Jingchun thought.

Still, she couldn’t bring herself to kick him off after seeing him in such a state.

With a sigh of resignation, Jiang Jingchun said, “Fine, you lie there. I’ll get up.”

She was still wearing her shoes, so it was inconvenient for her to move freely. She gave Gu Huaisheng a small push in an attempt to make space for herself, so she could get off the chaise.

However, Gu Huaisheng didn’t budge. “Just stay here and read. I won’t disturb you. I’ll leave after a little while.”

The thought of that day—of the biting cold wind that cut through him—suddenly came back to him. He felt as though he were transported back to that icy autumn day. All he wanted now was to stay close to her. Her presence was warm, and he craved that warmth. He’d leave after he’d warmed himself up with it.

This warmth had once been just within reach in the past, but now, no matter how hard he tried, it seemed impossible to obtain.

His voice was tinged with a rare vulnerability and his words sounded almost like a plea. Jiang Jingchun couldn’t help but feel that something was off.

Why was he acting so strange?

What had happened just now?

Still, after hearing what he said, Jiang Jingchun decided not to move.

He really did look like he was freezing to death.

His lips were practically white.

Well, it made sense for him to be exhausted. He’d been up earlier than even the roosters today and had been busy working from dawn until dusk with his endless tasks.

Jiang Jingchun said nothing more. She simply returned to her book and quietly turned the pages as she read. Yet Gu Huaisheng was restless and constantly inched closer to her.

His body was freezing, and she could feel the cold radiating from him.

She turned her head to look at him, only to see that his eyes were closed. His long lashes cast shadows beneath his lids and made it hard to tell if he was asleep or not.

But for once, she didn’t push him away.

Even as she was pressed against the corner of the chaise, and her cheek reddened from the way she was being squished, she didn’t utter a single word of complaint.