Gu Yanshu understood better than anyone the art of strategic retreat.
After accepting the ceremonial silk, he committed no further transgressions—though the wedding rituals that followed practically ensured he wouldn't need to.
Faced with Qin Lu's infamous presence, Marquis Gu barely dared breathe, let alone impose traditional obstacles like the "gate-blocking" games. A few perfunctory blessings later, the procession departed.
It was at the gates that Qin Lu posed an unexpected question:
"Can you ride?"
Gu Yanshu's initial nod morphed mid-motion into vigorous head-shaking. "Wait—no! Absolutely not!"
In truth, both he and the original young master were competent horsemen—aristocratic education demanded it. But regulations for male brides offered two options: ride separately or share the groom's mount.
Why settle for separate horses when I can claim amnesia?
Qin Lu's eyebrow arched. "Reports claim you raced through the western suburbs just months ago."
"That was before my illness!" Gu Yanshu declared without shame. "Fevers steal memories—including equestrian skills!"
The audacity should have infuriated him. Yet watching those shamelessly batting lashes, Qin Lu found himself...
Amused.
With the auspicious hour looming, he hauled Gu Yanshu onto his warhorse in one fluid motion.
Qin Hao gaped. "Brother?"
"The bride is convalescing," Qin Lu said blandly, ignoring his brother's incredulity.
No one dared challenge a prince's decree.
Pressed flush against Qin Lu's chest, Gu Yanshu reveled in the hard planes of muscle no ceremonial robes could disguise. His hands wandered under cover of billowing sleeves—
A brush against corded forearms here.
A "stumble" against those sword-calloused fingers there.
When he "adjusted his seat" for the fifth time—grinding back with calculated precision—Qin Lu's growl vibrated through his spine:
"Young Master Gu."
The warning dripped frost.
Gu Yanshu stilled instantly, all innocence. "Your Highness summoned me?"
Qin Lu nearly laughed at the brazen act. "Behave."
"But I am behaving!" The young master's eyes widened with theatrical purity.
Veteran merchants knew two truths: Patience breeds fortune, and wolves must first don sheep's clothing.
For now, Gu Yanshu would play docile.
There would be other opportunities to... explore.
Gu Yanshu's obedient stillness satisfied Qin Lu—for now.
As they reentered the spectator-lined avenue, the prince noted with grim approval how the teahouses fell silent at their approach. Perhaps his fearsome reputation would finally curb this audacious bride's provocations.
For Gu Yanshu, the crowd's reaction painted a startling portrait:
This was the terror Qin Lu inspired.
The hushed streets, averted gazes, trembling hands clutching teacups—it mirrored scenes from his apocalyptic past, when the Zombie Emperor's approach emptied entire districts.
After a weighted silence, Gu Yanshu spoke softly:
"Does it disappoint you?"
Qin Lu's grip tightened on the reins.
"These people you bled to protect," Gu Yanshu clarified, "who now recoil like frightened mice. Do you regret your sacrifices?"
The apocalypse had taught him humanity's fickleness. How quickly praise turned to condemnation, gratitude to entitlement. Those who'd once lauded his business acumen later damned him for "luxuriating while others starved."
Yet these civilians surpassed even that hypocrisy.
Had they forgotten their terror when enemy forces massed at the borders? The relief when victory bulletins arrived?
Qin Lu had never been asked this question. Certainly not by someone who'd just spent the morning ogling him like a delicacy.
Memories surfaced unbidden———
Two years prior, returning from the frontier, he'd passed a ravaged village.
Amidst the rebuilding, a child tumbled from an oxcart. Qin Lu caught her instinctively.
The parents' reaction haunted him still:
The mother wrenching her daughter away, forehead striking stone in frantic kowtows until blood streaked her brow.
As if salvation itself demanded penance.
That moment in the village had been Qin Lu's first true glimpse of how his people saw him—not as their protector, but as something to fear.
By all rights, it should have been an insignificant memory, long forgotten amidst years of campaigns. Yet Gu Yanshu's question had dredged it up with startling clarity.
Though the prince gave no verbal answer, Gu Yanshu felt the minute tension ripple through the muscles pressed against his back—there and gone in a heartbeat.
With a quiet sigh, he reached forward, covering Qin Lu's hand where it gripped the reins.
Just as he opened his mouth to speak, that deep voice rumbled behind him:
"No. I don't regret it."
The certainty in those words needed no visual confirmation. Qin Lu had never doubted his choices.
But the unspoken question lingered—Were you disappointed?
Of course he had been. Even if that bitterness had since faded, the sting must have once been sharp.
Gu Yanshu said nothing, only tightening his grip briefly. Surprisingly, Qin Lu allowed the contact this time—no warnings, no reproach.
As the procession rounded the street corner, the frozen spectators thawed into hushed chatter:
"They're sharing a horse?"
"Since when does he disregard protocol like this?"
"Perhaps showing face for the Marquisate?"
"What face? That house hasn't mattered for decades!"
"Maybe it's the dowry? Did you see those rosewood furnishings? The antique scrolls?"
"A full procession from the Mu merchant clan—no wonder they're tolerating the young master's audacity!"
"Marrying into money indeed..."
At the Third Prince's Manor
Qin Hao trailed behind the couple, muttering: "Strange."
Gu Yanli caught the remark. "What is?"
"Doesn't the air between them feel... different now?" Qin Hao frowned.
Gu Yanli scrutinized the pair—his brother's careful posture, the prince's uncharacteristic tolerance—and saw nothing amiss.
Impossible to forge bonds so quickly, he decided.
Yet the fifth prince's instincts rarely erred.
Qin Hao finally nodded in reluctant agreement.
"Perhaps I imagined it."
Meanwhile, the wedding ceremony commenced under the master of ceremonies' guidance.
Though this was an imperial-sanctioned union, the Emperor himself was conspicuously absent—as was Marquis Gu, who wouldn't dare presume to sit as Qin Lu's elder. Thus, the customary bows to parents were performed before empty chairs.
While Qin Lu remained impassive, Qin Hao's expression darkened further when whispered commentary began:
"His Majesty didn't even preside over his own decree's fulfillment?"
"Why bother for a male bride?"
"Fool! This isn't just any marriage—it carries the imperial seal!"
"Precisely why the Emperor's absence speaks volumes. Someone's arrogance has finally overreached..."
"Savior? War God? More like an overambitious upstart!"
The voices belonged unmistakably to Second Prince Qin Rui and Fourth Prince Qin Han, with First Prince Qin Sheng observing silently.
Qin Hao had resolved to tolerate their pettiness for his brother's sake—until their barbs grew intolerable.
"Enough!" His hiss cut through the hall.
Qin Rui feigned shock. "Fifth Brother! Must you startle us so?"
"We're merely chatting," Qin Han added with practiced innocence—a skill honed by his deceptively cherubic features.
Qin Hao's fox-like eyes gleamed dangerously.
"How coincidental. I recently had a servant's tongue removed for similar... chatter."
"You dare threaten us?!" Qin Rui spluttered.
"I merely shared an anecdote." Qin Hao smiled. "Though if the shoe fits..."
As Qin Rui purple with rage, Qin Sheng finally intervened:
"Hardly appropriate wedding talk, Fifth Brother."
"Neither was theirs." Qin Hao's grin didn't reach his eyes. "Shall we all mind our tongues?"
"If idle chatter is permitted, why shouldn't I speak of my household affairs?"
Of all his brothers, Qin Sheng ranked highest on Qin Hao's list of loathing—the man's hypocrisy knew no bounds.
Take this very moment: While Qin Rui and Qin Han spewed venom about Qin Lu, the first prince had sat silently approving. Now he dared posture as the voice of reason?
Qin Sheng's benevolent mask faltered momentarily at the rebuke, but he swiftly rearranged his features into that infuriatingly paternal expression—
A shrill announcement shattered the tension:
"Imperial Decree arrives—!"
A silver-haired eunuch in crimson court robes processed inward, holding aloft a scroll of imperial yellow silk.
"Third Prince Qin Lu, receive your edict!"
The assembled officials—all high-ranking enough to recognize the Emperor's personal attendant, Eunuch Wang—scrambled to kneel. Even the quarreling princes froze mid-gesture.
Qin Lu and Gu Yanshu, having just completed their ceremonial bows, moved smoothly to the forefront.
Unfurling the scroll with deliberate slowness, Eunuch Wang's reedy voice carried through the hall:
"By Heaven's Mandate, the Emperor proclaims: Our benevolent grace encompasses all under sky and earth... Third Prince Qin Lu, whose merits shield the realm across generations, is hereby enfeoffed as Prince Li of the First Rank. So decreed."
Though rumors had swirled about this very possibility, none dared believe it—especially after the Emperor's conspicuous absence today.
Yet here was the reality: Qin Lu, first among all princes to receive a princedom—and a premier one at that.
As Qin Lu accepted the scroll, Qin Sheng's face darkened.
This changed everything. Now even he, the eldest son, must lower his head before a mere third prince.
Watching the calculating glances exchanged between courtiers, Qin Sheng's earlier glee over Qin Lu's humiliating marriage curdled into something far more corrosive.