Little Pink Starfish

The Art of Control, a Fate with No Solution

Master Chengguan had chosen to conceal the truth last night, so now in the light of morning, he was left with no choice but to continue lying. But how should he phrase this lie?

“You still can’t tell me?” His hesitant demeanor made Gu Xinglang anxious.

Yu Xiaoxiao asked, “Master, are you worried it’ll scare Xiao Gu?”

“How could I be scared?” Gu Xinglang didn’t shout only because he was doting on his wife.

Master Chengguan looked at the princess, then at Gu Xinglang, unsure how to face the prince consort. He didn’t blame him for the injuries, but he was deeply worried—if Gu Xinglang really had a problem, what would happen to the princess in the future?

“Is there something wrong with me?” Gu Xinglang asked. His recurring memory lapses were definitely not normal.

Chengguan shook his head and said, “I’ve told the prince consort before, Mo Wen knows a technique to control people.”

“Control people?” Yu Xiaoxiao cried. “What does that mean?”

“Bewitch the mind, manipulate others to serve his will,” Chengguan explained simply.

Yu Xiaoxiao could hardly accept this. So Mo Wen could not only create monsters, but also control people? How could someone this brutal exist in the world?

“You mean I’m easy to control?” Gu Xinglang asked.

“You’re injured and weak,” Chengguan replied. “The ill and frail are the easiest for Mo Wen to control.”

Yu Xiaoxiao and Gu Xinglang looked at each other. The explanation made some sense, but something about it still felt off.

Chengguan closed his eyes, tired of weaving lies. Since he couldn’t lie convincingly anymore, he decided to play dead instead.

Once the couple left the room, they spotted Tian Xingzi crouched by the flowerbed in the courtyard, busy with something.

Yu Xiaoxiao had nothing to say to the old Taoist and didn’t bother with him. Gu Xinglang, however, greeted him politely. “Daozhang.”

Tian Xingzi looked up, stared at Gu Xinglang for a few seconds, then his legs gave way and he collapsed on the ground.

“What’s wrong with you? Didn’t eat and got weak in the knees?” Yu Xiaoxiao asked.

The old Taoist nodded, still staring at Gu Xinglang.

Gu Xinglang looked down at his outfit and asked, “Daozhang, is there something off about me?”

“Your throat—what happened there?” the old Taoist pointed to his neck.

“Mo Wen tried to strangle him,” Yu Xiaoxiao said.

Tian Xingzi made a couple of vague noises, scrambled to his feet, and bolted out of the courtyard, calling back, “I’m going to get food!”

Yu Xiaoxiao watched him flee. “I think he’s afraid of me.”

Gu Xinglang added, “Don’t you think he looked like he’d seen a ghost when he looked at me?”

“Mm,” Yu Xiaoxiao looked him up and down. “I thought he looked like that when he saw me.”

This conversation clearly had no need to continue further.

Tian Xingzi practically flew out of the yard and found a secluded corner to squat in. When he had looked at Gu Xinglang just now, he’d seen a growing blood aura behind him, vast enough to blot out the sky. Shaken, he’d immediately done a divination—and the result was an unsolvable fate.

Oh, merciful heavens!

The old Taoist nearly swore aloud. How could someone have a fate that even Heaven couldn’t resolve? Wasn’t destiny supposed to be written in the stars?

Yu Xiaoxiao and Gu Xinglang stood at a distance watching him claw his face and thump his head in madness.

“This is the so-called greatest mystic in the land?” Yu Xiaoxiao asked.

Gu Xinglang muttered, “I don’t really believe in fate and fortune.”

“Me neither,” Yu Xiaoxiao replied, pulling out two candies from her pocket. She handed one to Gu Xinglang and popped the other in her mouth.

A southern wind blew, kicking up dust. As Gu Xinglang raised his hand to shield his face, he heard the tinkling sound of wind chimes. He immediately turned toward the noise—it came from the small chimes tied to Yu Xiaoxiao’s waist.

“You gave them to me,” she said when she caught his gaze.

Of course Gu Xinglang remembered. He reached out and touched the chimes, but his smile stiffened—he vaguely recalled hearing chimes like this at Huguo Temple as well…

“When Big Brother comes back, let’s go out for a meal,” Yu Xiaoxiao said after chewing her candy. Mo Wen had escaped with Wen Fenglin, Xiao Liu was taken by Jing Mo—there didn’t seem to be anything urgent left. If there was nothing to do, then there was only one answer: eat, drink, and have fun.

“Alright,” Gu Xinglang withdrew his hand and nodded.

At that moment, Gu Xingnuo was standing in the imperial study. Emperor Xianzong had stayed up all night and was nodding off at his desk. Gu Xingnuo noticed a young eunuch standing where Jingzhong used to be—someone he had never seen before.

When the young eunuch saw him looking, he gave Gu Xingnuo a polite, respectful smile—not overly submissive, but not arrogant either. A pleasant demeanor.

“Your Majesty,” Gu Xingnuo called softly.

Xianzong roused himself. “Your grandfather and brother have left?”

“Yes,” Gu Xingnuo replied. “Grandfather asked me to thank Your Majesty for your great kindness.”

Xianzong waved a hand. What kindness? They were all about to risk their lives for the country. “I called you here to have you interrogate Jingzhong and the others.”

Gu Xingnuo bowed and asked, “Your Majesty, what about Prime Minister Zhao?”

“Start with Jingzhong,” Xianzong said. “Zhao Qiuming’s injured. I’ve let him recover in his residence. We’ll deal with him later.”

Gu Xingnuo tensed. After letting Mo Wen escape, how could they let Zhao Qiuming off the hook? “Your Majesty, the connection between the prime minister and Yongsheng Temple—”

“Enough,” Xianzong cut him off. “Yanyu, as a young man, you need to learn to look at the bigger picture. Right now, what matters most is preparation for war. Set aside anything unrelated.”

Gu Xingnuo almost wanted to ask if Jingzhong’s crimes were related to war preparations. Then he remembered: Jingzhong’s matter concerned the emperor’s personal safety, so it did count.

“If Xinglang’s recovered, take him along,” Xianzong said. “He should learn more from you. Court politics and warfare are not the same. Teach him well.” His daughter was hopeless—this was his last shot. If his son-in-law turned out capable, then at least the girl’s future would be secure.