Chapter 89 She Hates Him, and She Loves Him
Yan Xuerui’s thick, long eyelashes were tightly shut, trembling like butterfly wings. Her delicate lips had lost their color, resembling cherry blossoms blown down by a sudden rain—fragile and pitiful.
Gu Yan checked her pulse several times; it was steady and calm, showing no internal injuries. The moment the horse startled, he had immediately shielded Yan Xuerui, willing to take a blow himself rather than let her suffer the slightest scratch.
She had been fine just moments ago, with no signs of injury, internal or external. How had she suddenly become like this? Could someone have secretly poisoned her?
Gu Yan was deeply cunning. Such individuals were cautious and prone to overthinking, but they had one flaw: they often complicated simple matters. Gu Yan’s mind now raced with suspicions and schemes, all while he worried about the pale, delicate Yan Xuerui in his arms. Outside, the guards waiting for orders heard no response. In just a short while, the little beggar had completely vanished into the crowd, making them impossible to find.
The carriage raced through the bustling market, drawing many curious glances. No doubt someone was already planning to report them to the Capital Magistrate for the crime of galloping through the streets. Gu Yan, however, wore a gloomy expression. He lowered his head, but his voice was surprisingly soft and gentle.
"Rui’er, where are you hurt? Tell me."
"Don’t be afraid, I’m here."
He coaxed patiently. Yan Xuerui moved her lips slightly but did not respond. Her fingers repeatedly fidgeted with and wrinkled his sleeve. After a while, she buried her face in Gu Yan’s chest, not responding no matter how he called to her.
Was she angry with him?
As long as she was okay, that was what mattered. Gu Yan was somewhat relieved. He raised his hand and gently stroked her back. The rest of the journey to the palace passed in silence.
…
Naturally, Chang Le Palace was in chaos. Imperial physicians took turns checking her pulse, but even with a room full of kneeling doctors, they could not determine the cause of Her Highness’s illness. Under Gu Yan’s dark gaze, they finally prescribed two remedies to calm the nerves and soothe the spirit. By the time things settled down, it was late at night. Chang Le Palace was ablaze with light, and under the candlelight, even the carved phoenix patterns on the pillars seemed to flow with a warm, golden glow.
Yan Xuerui lay lethargically on the couch, her eyes downcast. Gu Yan shut the window tightly and walked to the bedside. His tall, slender figure completely enveloped her slight frame, casting an oppressive shadow.
"Rui’er—"
He raised his hand to caress her cheek, but Yan Xuerui turned her head away like a startled bird. The tassels on her gold hairpin trembled at her temple.
In the next instant, Gu Yan gripped her chin, his fingers firmly turning her face toward him, forcing her to meet his gaze.
"If you’re unwilling, you can tell me plainly."
Gu Yan frowned slightly. The imperial physicians had all spoken in unison, and he had checked her over himself—she was not injured. Since she was physically unharmed, then the issue must lie in her heart.
He recalled the topic they had been discussing earlier: he wanted to take this opportunity to hold a proper wedding ceremony for them, but she was too shy to wear the wedding dress for him.
Was that all it was? Was she refusing to speak to him and giving him the silent treatment for so long over this?
Gu Yan’s sharp gaze fixed intently on Yan Xuerui. With her chin held firmly, she lowered her eyelashes, their thick lashes casting a shadow under her eyes, concealing all her emotions.
Seeing her like this, even the decisive and ruthless Gu Yan found his temper melted away. He let out an exasperated laugh. "Are you really that unwilling?"
He had thought they were already of one heart and mind.
Now that Gu Yan had security, his temperament was less rigid than before. He took a deep breath, released her, and gently pulled the gold hairpin from her hair.
"I was too impatient earlier."
Her dark, waterfall-like hair cascaded down. His palm brushed through it, his calloused fingertips "accidentally" grazing her ear, causing her to shiver.
Gu Yan’s tone was tender as he said, "This matter was not well thought out on my part. I’ll think it over again."
Even if his demeanor was gentle, what he said was "I’ll think it over again," not "let’s forget about it." Yan Xuerui knew him too well. Beneath the sugary coating, Gu Yan was still himself—ruthless and violent through and through.
He had never changed.
Yan Xuerui suddenly spoke, her voice soft. "I once… also embroidered my own wedding dress."
Her childhood sweetheart, her cousin, would blush just looking at her, stammering, unable to form a complete sentence. He was so shy that she had once joked that he should learn martial arts at a training hall to build a more heroic bearing.
Youth knows no sorrow.
Her mother had hoped she would marry into a family they knew well. For a young woman, marriage was arranged by parents and matchmakers. She had been too young then to understand love. When Cousin Zhixu came to the Yan residence to propose, his face flushed red as he said, "Cousin Rui, I… I adore you."
"In the future, if you marry me, I will treat you well and protect you. Even… even if it costs me my life, I will have no regrets."
Yan Xuerui had been beautiful and clever from a young age, but she was keenly aware. She had known since childhood that her parents favored Xue Fang over her, and in front of Xue Fang, she would always come second.
She wanted total, undivided love. The fair-skinned, shy youth’s direct and passionate confession made Yan Xuerui’s heart pound. In that moment, she felt heaven had smiled on her, allowing her to find a good match.
While embroidering that wedding dress, she would often think of him proposing, a smile lifting the corners of her lips. That wedding dress was stitched by her own hands, stitch by stitch. On the eve of the wedding, she spread it out on the bed, treasuring it as she repeatedly caressed it.
And that very night, Gu Yan took her virginity on it.
…
Yan Xuerui rarely lingered on the past. She was so clever—the moment she realized the beggar she encountered was Yao’er, she understood everything!
He still hadn’t let her cousin go. Her cousin’s words back then had turned out to be a tragic prophecy.
Yan Xuerui’s mind was in turmoil. She didn’t know how to face Gu Yan, or rather, she didn’t know how to face herself.
What should she do? An eye for an eye? On a public level, both she and Young Slave relied on him. On a personal level, he was the father of her three children.
Setting aside these noble-sounding excuses, Yan Xuerui could no longer deceive herself into thinking she hated him.
She hated him, and she loved him.
But her cousin was so innocent, tormenting her heart, causing a dull, persistent ache.
Gu Yan was unaware of Yan Xuerui’s inner struggle. A flicker passed through his eyes—clearly, he hadn’t forgotten the misdeeds he had committed either.
So this was what the fuss was about. It was over that matter.
"Alright, alright, it’s all my fault. Don’t upset yourself."
He held her in his arms, soothing her with gentle words, a far cry from the cold, arrogant nobleman he had been years ago.
Gu Yan laughed. "You say I hold grudges, but you’re the one remembering things from so many years ago."
"But what’s done cannot be undone. If you want to vent your anger… how about I fetch a horsewhip, and you can take your revenge to your heart’s content?"
If a few lashes could calm her anger, Gu Yan thought it would be worth it.
Yan Xuerui stared blankly, her voice weak. "Aren’t you afraid I might lose control and take your life?"
Gu Yan chuckled lowly, his chest vibrating with laughter.
He said, "If you truly want my life, I’ll give it to you."
His tone was light and playful, almost teasing, as if joking. Yan Xuerui finally looked directly at him. He had naturally narrow phoenix eyes, deep and intense, making him seem utterly sincere.
Their eyes met, and Yan Xuerui flinched as if burned, her eyelashes fluttering as she lowered her gaze.
She muttered, "You know that’s not possible."
Gu Yan laughed and said, "How is that impossible? Rui’er, be honest with yourself and tell me—have I not been competent as the Grand Tutor?"
He didn’t want her to exhaust herself. At first, Gu Yan had only meant to amuse her, with a flirtatious air of "adding fragrance to the red sleeves" (a classical allusion to scholarly companionship), finding an illicit appeal in the study. But she was persistent and eager to learn, diligent and hardworking. Sometimes, even when she was exhausted nearly to unconsciousness on the couch, she still worried about the unfinished canal project from the Ministry of Works.
He said lightly, "You are more intelligent than the Crown Prince. I taught him for over a decade, but with you, I held nothing back. In eight years, or perhaps five, you might be able to handle matters independently."
"By then, Young Slave will still be young, and you will be the undisputed Regent Princess. How you deal with me will be entirely up to you."
He raised his hand, his long fingers undoing the buttons at Yan Xuerui’s chest one by one. Through the thin layer of silk undergarment, his fingertips pressed against the mark on her shoulder.
□*□
Gu Yan said, "The victor becomes king, the defeated a bandit. However you treat me then, I will not resent you."
When he made the mark that belonged solely to him, she said she hated him.
He replied that he knew.
And he would still do it.
Even if she hated him enough to kill him, she would carry his brand for life, for the next life, and the life after that—for all eternity, she could never escape.
Besides, she was not completely unfeeling toward him.
"But before that, Rui’er—"
Gu Yan shook his head with a light laugh. He removed her garments, and the two embraced, wrapped in brocade quilts, skin pressed against skin. His leg rested against the bend of her knee, his firm muscles rising and falling slightly with each breath.
"Those who understand the times are true heroes. For now, you’d do best to obey me."
"Close your eyes now and rest."
…
Today, Gu Yan spared her, though even if he had wanted to do something, Yan Xuerui would not have resisted. She was too tired. Involving the innocent cousin Zhixu—Gu Yan deserved death, and so did she.
But people are always lenient with themselves. She couldn’t bear it—neither to harm herself nor to strike at Gu Yan. Even if, as Gu Yan said, she had such intentions when she first began learning governance, now, there was no need to wait five or eight years.
She had already softened.
Yan Xuerui couldn’t help but smile bitterly. Gu Yan was accurate—she ought to be honest and admit her selfishness and cowardice. She couldn’t bear to part with Gu Yan, couldn’t bear to lose his singular devotion. Returning to the Marquis' Manor today, the plants she once treasured in the main courtyard were still thriving after the entire winter. Even in her absence, they had been well cared for.
Her eldest grandson was soon to be born, her daughter was to be married… She had too many attachments. She had failed her cousin Zhixu.