Chapter 9
Chapter 9: Two Different Worlds
Under the warm sunlight, the snow began to soften and melt, and the crowd at the ten-li pavilion swelled until it felt like the whole capital had poured out into the open.
“B-Brother Sheng Zi… you ran too fast,” Li Er Shan panted, leading a stubborn little donkey through the press of bodies. “I… I almost couldn’t catch up.”
At last, he found Jiang Chao Sheng, who stood holding the reins of a rented horse.
Jiang Chao Sheng had hired it from the Old Wang household at the mouth of the alley. It cost a painful amount, but he looked like a man prepared to pay for destiny.
“Call me Chao Sheng,” Jiang Chao Sheng said stiffly, not even turning his head. “Or Brother Jiang.”
As he spoke, he straightened his spine without realizing it. For a moment, with the wind tugging at his sleeves and snow still clinging to his boots, he almost looked like a young scholar stepping into a future he could taste.
Li Er Shan rubbed his shiny scalp and followed Jiang Chao Sheng’s gaze.
There—through a narrow gap in a carriage curtain—he caught a glimpse of a face.
A girl’s face. Pale as milk. Pretty enough to steal breath.
Li Er Shan went rigid.
So white.
So beautiful.
Too beautiful.
With his limited vocabulary, he ran out of words almost immediately. He had always thought Jiang Jiang was the prettiest flower on Willow Spring Lane, but the official miss in that carriage made his eyes go wide.
Her skin looked like a peeled egg, delicate and soft—the kind of beauty that had never done a day of hard work in her life.
“Too pretty…” Li Er Shan murmured, nearly drooling.
“Shallow,” Jiang Chao Sheng said.
He was looking the same direction, but his eyes didn’t linger on Gu Yan Huan’s face for even a heartbeat.
Women were distractions.
Distractions slowed down reading.
Jiang Chao Sheng tried to see through the curtain, tried to catch the outline of the calm, elegant man inside the carriage.
Too far. He couldn’t see a thing.
And yet his heart still surged.
He stood even straighter, because—between him and Chancellor Gu was only a curtain.
Only a curtain.
Then the curtain fell.
Gu Yan Huan’s face vanished.
Li Er Shan sighed in regret, then immediately began scanning again, eyes darting like a hungry sparrow’s.
“Brother Sheng Zi—uh, Brother Jiang, look over there!” He pointed excitedly. “Those carriages look rich too. That one in martial clothes—could that be the Liu family’s eldest miss? And that figure…”
A young man nearby clicked his tongue, unimpressed. “Look if you want, but watch your mouth. Don’t go saying nonsense. Disaster comes from the tongue. You’ll die and never even know why.”
“Exactly,” someone else muttered. “Those officials up there—you can look, sure. But don’t think you’re in the same world.”
Li Er Shan pouted. “So what if they’re officials? Maybe one day I’ll become someone you have to look up to!”
Who didn’t dream?
What if it came true?
Not the same world…
Jiang Chao Sheng repeated the phrase in his mind, and something sharp settled in his chest.
On one side: fine horses and perfumed carriages, guards circling like walls, bright clothes and easy laughter.
On the other: coarse cloth, wind-bitten hands, snow melting into their collars.
They stood in the same place, under the same sky, and yet an invisible chasm cut the two groups apart as cleanly as a blade.
Jiang Chao Sheng couldn’t step forward.
He had no right to step forward.
His fingers tightened into a fist, and his eyes locked on the Gu Residence carriage as if he could burn a path through it.
Chancellor Gu.
One day, he would become someone like Gu Yan Qing.
Inside the carriage, Gu Yan Qing seemed to sense something. His brow furrowed. He set down his teacup and reached for the curtain—
And Gu Yan Huan grabbed his arm.
“Brother, listen!” Her voice lifted, bright with excitement. “Hoofbeats—Brother Cheng An is back!”
Before he could respond, she lifted the curtain and leaned out.
A line of riders charged through the sunlit snow. At the front rode a man in black armor, tall and steady, a red cloak snapping behind him like flame in the wind.
The hoofbeats thundered closer.
And then his face—hard, handsome, unyielding—came into sharp focus before the crowd’s eyes…