Regent (10): 

Gu Juntian kept working until almost dawn before stopping.

Although it was no longer the depths of winter, early spring mornings were still very cold, and holding a bamboo slip in his hand felt icy to the bone.

After writing for a long time on the bamboo slips, Gu Juntian’s hands had gone stiff from the cold.

When it was nearly time for the morning meal, he returned to his sleeping quarters.

Zhou Qinghao was still asleep. Gu Juntian wanted to slip under the covers and hold him, but quickly realized that his own body was full of cold air and would chill Zhou Qinghao.

So, he hugged Zhou Qinghao through the blanket. “Qinghao, get up, it’s time to eat.”

Zhou Qinghao opened his eyes, looked at Gu Juntian, and felt the chill radiating from him. “Would you like to warm up under the covers, My Lord?”

“No need, I’ll just freeze you,” Gu Juntian replied.

Zhou Qinghao was not afraid of a little cold.

He reached out from under the covers, pulled Gu Juntian in with a strong tug, and brought him under the blanket.

Gu Juntian’s body was very cold, and there was a faint smell of ink on him.

He must have gone out in the middle of the night to study with someone.

Zhou Qinghao tried to ignore the smell, holding him close and placing Gu Juntian’s hands on his own stomach to warm them.

Feeling Zhou Qinghao’s warm abdomen, Gu Juntian instinctively tried to pull away, but Zhou Qinghao’s strength was too great; he couldn’t break free.

He resolved to start training harder—he had to become stronger than Zhou Qinghao.

Thinking this, he looked helplessly at Zhou Qinghao. “You’re really not afraid of getting cold?”

“This little chill is nothing,” Zhou Qinghao said.

When he was on campaign, he had sometimes encountered the dead of winter or pouring rain, yet with limited conditions still had to sleep outdoors.

That was true cold.

Gu Juntian also thought of the hardships of campaigning and felt even more tenderness for Zhou Qinghao.

They embraced and shared warmth until Gu Juntian’s body was no longer cold, then went out together to eat the morning meal.

After the meal, Zhou Qinghao left the city, but he left guards for Gu Juntian and replaced all the palace guards with his own men.

This gave Gu Juntian a great sense of security.

Indeed, older men knew how to care for others—Zhou Qinghao was truly the perfect lover.

After Zhou Qinghao left, Gu Juntian returned to the study to continue creating his simplified characters.

Before he transmigrated, he was already familiar with simplified characters, so this task wasn’t difficult for him.

He had already compiled a thousand characters, and with some writing during the day, he should be able to complete two thousand.

By evening, he could show them to Zhou Qinghao.

Not long into his work, the Queen Dowager came to see him, her face full of worry. She looked at him with concern. “My son, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Gu Juntian said.

The Queen Dowager’s eyes turned red. “My son has suffered. I never thought that man would be so bold as to stay in your bedchamber.”

Gu Juntian said, “Mother, I invited him to live with me.”

But the Queen Dowager clearly didn’t believe it. She looked at him with tears in her eyes. “You need not try to comfort me…”

Gu Juntian felt helpless.

The original body’s mother was also a pitiful person.

She was from the Qi royal clan, but her father had many children, and she was not favored.

When she came of age, no one asked her opinion before marrying her off to the original body’s father.

The original father’s heart was only on his grand ambitions, and he deeply hated the Qi state for past humiliations, so he treated his wife coldly.

If Qi hadn’t pressured him, he likely would never have fathered the original body.

And when they returned to Jin, he never again entered her chambers.

Of course, part of this was because the Queen Dowager had always been close to Qi, which he resented.

Neglected in her youth, she was suddenly valued by Qi after becoming Queen in Jin. Overjoyed, she constantly praised Qi, speaking of its virtues—essentially driving a knife into the heart of her husband, who had suffered humiliation there as a hostage.

If not for the fact that the original father had only one child, and that child was still young when he died, hoping someone would protect him, the Queen Dowager might have been killed long ago.

Gu Juntian sighed inwardly.

The original father appeared to trust Zhou Qinghao, but not entirely.

Before dying, he spared the royal clan and kept both the Queen Dowager and her Qi attendants alive, likely to maintain a balance between three factions.

Gu Juntian, wary that the Queen Dowager might repeat anything he told her to her Qi attendants, refrained from saying much and sent her away.

Once she left, Pinghai Jun and Moshang Jun came together.

Gu Juntian didn’t want to waste time on them, so he simply had Zhou Qinghao’s men block them.

Unable to see him, the two left but bore resentment toward Zhou Qinghao.

Like the Queen Dowager, they thought Zhou Qinghao staying two nights in the Jin King’s chambers meant he was coercing him.

They also thought taking the King to the barracks to intimidate him was too much and that Zhou Qinghao’s intentions were dangerous.

With Zhou Qinghao so domineering, even the King no longer listened to them.

But they couldn’t kill Zhou Qinghao.

They decided to find a way to deal with him once they returned.

Before they could act, news came that Zhou Qinghao had led troops to seize the royal estate.

The fertile lands outside the capital belonged to the Jin King, and the estate’s produce supplied the palace and royal clan.

Many royals even had houses there for outings.

Now, Zhou Qinghao’s soldiers occupied the estate, even living in their houses.

Enraged, Pinghai Jun and Moshang Jun led many royals to confront Gu Juntian.

This time, Gu Juntian had to meet them.

“The Regent acted on my orders to settle the soldiers in the royal estate,” Gu Juntian said. “I couldn’t bear to see those who helped Jin reclaim its lands without a safe place to live.”

Pinghai Jun was stunned. “But the estate’s produce is for the palace.”

“I can reduce expenses,” Gu Juntian replied.

They could do nothing—technically, the estate belonged to the Jin King, and they had been benefiting from it unfairly.

Gu Juntian then said, “Since you’re here, why not discuss state affairs with me?”

He questioned them on governance, watching their expressions to learn more about Jin’s affairs.

Meanwhile, Zhou Qinghao told his soldiers, “Yesterday, the King saw the camp and couldn’t bear for you to endure hardship, so he gave you the royal estate. You must repay him well.”

Early that morning, he had gone to the camp to share the news, then led the soldiers to the estate.

Using the King’s token, he conveyed the order, but the stewards didn’t believe him or allow entry.

These stewards didn’t answer to the King.

So he had them tied up and sent to serve at the border.

He disliked killing, especially since these stewards were strong and healthy—it was a waste to kill them when they could be put to use.

After settling in, Zhou Qinghao followed Gu Juntian’s instructions, slaughtering cattle and sheep to reward the soldiers.

At the same time, he continued to instill goodwill toward Gu Juntian.

These were men he had personally trained.

He didn’t want them to be disliked or punished by Gu Juntian after his own death.

If they were loyal to the King, they could have a good future.

He just didn’t know if they’d live that long.

Gu Juntian’s kindness toward them was surely to secure their service.

Zhou Qinghao didn’t like it, but as King, Gu Juntian would have others even without them.

Gu Juntian had no idea what Zhou Qinghao was thinking.

He waited in the palace, but Zhou Qinghao never returned, so he sent someone to fetch him.

From what he knew, the estate had been seized without resistance, and the soldiers were already settled—there was no reason for Zhou Qinghao to be away overnight.

He wasn’t expecting nightly romance, but separate sleeping arrangements were still undesirable.

Zhou Qinghao had left himself a room at the estate, and though he had a house in the capital, he didn’t bother going there, planning to stay at the estate.

But before he could sleep, someone summoned him back.

The King wanted him to return?

Without much thought, Zhou Qinghao rode back to the palace.

Gu Juntian was working by lamplight, composing songs in his simplified characters.

Seeing Zhou Qinghao, he said with mild displeasure, “Why didn’t you come back sooner?”

“Does Your Majesty want me to live in the palace?” Zhou Qinghao asked.

“Of course! We’ve already shared our feelings—where else would you live?” Gu Juntian replied. Then he added, “Uncle, when we’re alone, you don’t have to call me ‘Your Majesty.’ Use my name.”

Zhou Qinghao paused, but he did want to call him by name. “Juntian.”

Gu Juntian smiled and took his hand. “Uncle, come look at my simplified characters! In the future, I want the people of Jin to write this way!”

He showed Zhou Qinghao his work.

Each simplified character was written alongside its original form, so though he called it two thousand characters, it was actually four thousand written.

Writing on bamboo slips was more tiring than he had expected, and his hands were a bit sore. There was already a large pile of completed slips.

Zhou Qinghao looked at them.

Gu Juntian’s calligraphy had improved, and while the simplified forms lacked the original’s elegance and imagery, they were certainly easier to learn.

This must have taken someone a long time to develop—had Gu Juntian gone out last night to discuss them with someone?

Whoever taught him clearly had skill, far beyond Zhou Qinghao’s own.

Holding the slips, Zhou Qinghao stayed silent for a long time.

“Uncle, what do you think of my simplified characters?” Gu Juntian asked.

Zhou Qinghao doubted they were really Gu Juntian’s creation, but he only wanted to praise him. “Your Majesty is exceptionally gifted, unmatched by any.”

Satisfied, Gu Juntian changed the subject. “Uncle, take me to the estate tomorrow.”

He wanted to teach Zhou Qinghao’s soldiers to read, and also meet the craftsmen there.

First things first—he needed tables and chairs.

Writing on the floor was far too tiring, and he wanted furniture at the right height.