The morning after the wedding, tradition required Ai Mu to enter the palace with her new Consort to offer thanks, and then return to the Gu household for the formal visit.
The carriage rolled slowly over the stone-paved road. Inside, silence reigned—so quiet that the rustle of fabric could be heard.
Ai Mu leaned against the cushion with her eyes closed, seemingly resting. But her mind replayed Gu Liang's gaze as he drank the wedding wine, and the way he had agreed to her "three rules" with unsettling ease. Beneath that surface compliance, she sensed resistance—and calculation. He would never settle quietly.
Gu Liang sat across from her, dressed in the crimson ceremonial robes of a Consort, posture impeccable. His eyes remained lowered, his demeanor gentle and submissive—so different from the man who had lifted his veil and insisted on sharing the wedding wine.
In the palace, the Empress sat upon her throne, her gaze sweeping over the newlyweds.
"Lady Ai, newly wed—how pleasing," she said, pausing briefly on Gu Liang. "Now that Consort Gu has entered the Ai household, he must uphold his duties and support the Lady with devotion."
"I shall obey Her Majesty's guidance," Gu Liang replied, bowing with perfect grace.
At the Gu residence, the atmosphere was even more delicate. The Minister and his husband waited at the gate, bowing deeply as the royal carriage arrived. Inside, the scent of tea lingered. The Minister spoke cautiously, repeating phrases like "grateful for Lady Ai's favor" and "my son is dull-witted."
"My son is well cared for in the Ai household. Lady Ai treats him with kindness," Gu Liang replied softly, glancing at Ai Mu with just the right amount of deference.
Ai Mu lifted her teacup, letting the steam mask the chill in her eyes. Watching Gu Liang navigate this performance so effortlessly, she recalled the way his fingers had brushed his scar the night before. How many faces does this man wear?
Back at the estate, Ai Mu went straight to her study. She needed something to steady her—and power was the best sedative.
She began auditing the estate's silk workshops. Managed for years by aging stewards, the accounts showed no glaring errors, but profits remained stagnant. Ai Mu ordered a quiet investigation into market prices and historical records. Soon, discrepancies emerged—purchase prices were inflated, while product prices were suspiciously low.
"Steward Zhang," she said calmly, pushing the ledger forward, "can you explain why cloud brocade from Jiangnan costs thirty percent more than market rate?"
The old steward broke into a sweat. "Transport costs have risen…"
"Oh?" Ai Mu raised an eyebrow, placing another record before him. "This shows five years of canal shipping expenses. They don't quite match your claim."
Faced with hard evidence, the steward collapsed in shame. Ai Mu didn't punish him harshly—she ordered the stolen funds returned and stripped him of his title. The move established her authority while showing restraint, earning respect from previously skeptical officials.
Meanwhile, in the Quiet Chamber, Gu Liang's days seemed peaceful.
He greeted Consort Liu daily, sometimes bringing calming incense he blended himself. At first, Liu remained distant, but over time, he found the incense effective. Gu Liang's respectful behavior and lack of interference slowly eased his guard.
"This blend comes from Herbal Addendum, with a touch of cypress seed—excellent for calming the mind," Gu Liang explained, offering a fresh sachet.
Consort Liu accepted it with a nod. "You're thoughtful."
To everyone's surprise, the new Consort also knew medicine. When a kitchen maid's grandson suffered from chronic coughing, Gu Liang diagnosed him and prescribed a simple remedy. Within days, the boy recovered.
"Consort Gu is truly kind-hearted," the maid said gratefully. Word spread quickly among the staff.
Ai Mu heard of this while reviewing documents. Qing Dai reported the Quiet Chamber's activities with a hint of admiration.
"I see," Ai Mu said coolly, setting down her brush. "Tell the steward to reassign the staff there."
Within two days, the two maids most vocal about Gu Liang's virtues were sent to a rural estate. When the news reached Gu Liang, he was practicing calligraphy. His brush didn't falter. "Understood," he said softly.
One late autumn afternoon, Ai Mu returned from court and passed through the garden. She heard music.
Following the sound, she saw Gu Liang seated alone in the waterside pavilion, dressed in white, playing a guqin.
She meant to walk away—but the melody stopped her.
It was the theme from Back to Seventy Years Ago. In this unfamiliar world, the song from their past unlocked a flood of memories. She remembered hearing it for the first time in college, Gu Liang playing the piano version in the music room; remembered sharing a pair of earphones on the dorm rooftop late at night…
The music was mournful, like weeping. Gu Liang's silhouette in the sunset looked lonely, his fingers dancing across the strings, each note striking her heart.
When the song ended, he sat quietly, eyes lowered to the strings, as if he had become part of the autumn scene.
Ai Mu turned abruptly and walked away. But the melody lingered, echoing in her mind. That night, she paced in her study, unable to shake the image of him in white.
"Lady, it's time to rest," Qing Dai whispered.
Ai Mu rubbed her brow, about to rise, when she noticed a new book on her desk. Opening it, she found a handwritten copy of Commentary on Feng Dynasty Commercial Law. The handwriting was elegant, and beside several troublesome clauses, insightful notes had been added.
"What is this?"
"Consort Gu sent it this evening. He said it might help with the silk workshop issues."
Ai Mu's fingers paused on the page. One annotation about shop leasing solved a problem she'd been struggling with. She had to admit—it was thoughtful.
But that only made her more wary. Gu Liang was like a chessboard, each move carefully placed. Weakness, kindness, competence—he knew exactly how to erode her defenses.
Under the cold moonlight, Ai Mu stood by the window, realizing for the first time with absolute clarity:
This marriage had always been a calculated game.
And she must never lose control.