Chapter 35: Into a Political Intrigue Novel, Day 13

Chapter 35: Day 13 of Transmigrating into a Political Intrigue Novel

An Yi was drinking tea when he heard the comments in his ears and nearly spat out the tea!

Not bro?

You accepted it that fast?

Did it even take a minute from figuring it out to making his move?

No wonder he's the male lead—decisive and quick.

Comments:

“Called it...”

“Under Brokeback Mountain, the lilies bloom!”

“One world, one family!”

“What the hell? They're actually going gay?!”

“So the male lead just figured out he’s gay and immediately decided to jump into An Yi’s arms?”

“Yes, the male lead is gay! Haha!”

“What kind of messed-up brain does the author have to write a gay romance in a male-oriented novel?”

“Isn't it fun?”

“Never seen before, pretty interesting!”

“Watch porn at V+12345678987654321...”

“Upstairs, I have a friend who wants to know...”

“Can the spammer please get lost?”

“Look, author! Screwing up the romance plot brought in the porn spammers!”

“ctmd (traditional virtue)”

“...”

An Yi: ...

Absolutely hilarious.

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Recently, people both inside and outside the court could smell gunpowder in the air.

The delicate balance that Chief of the Imperial Secretariat An Yi and Young Marquis Ge Lian of the Jingbian Marquis Manor had maintained on the surface had completely shattered. The superficial harmony that once existed was now gone.

Whenever the two were in the same room—be it at court sessions or chance meetings in the palace corridors—they would inevitably exchange sharp words and veiled jabs.

This increasingly intense confrontation naturally reached the ears of Grand Secretary Duan Mingde.

Duan Mingde sat upright before the wooden chessboard, holding a smooth black jade chess piece, his eyes slowly scanning the grid.

After a moment’s deliberation, he set the black piece down with a crisp, faint sound: “Mm, this is the move.”

An Yi sat across from him. Today, he was not wearing his official robe but a blue garment, which, while lacking the dignity of court attire, made him look like a jade-faced scholar with an air of nobility, as if he'd stepped out of a painting.

His slender fingers picked up a translucent white piece from the white jade chess container. A contemplative expression gathered between his brows. At Duan Mingde’s words, he looked up, a warm, shallow smile curling at the corners of his lips: “Teacher’s chess skill is profound, your moves like the horns of an antelope hanging from a tree, leaving no trace. Your student cannot hope to match you.”

Duan Mingde stroked his long, greying beard and laughed heartily, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes smoothing out: “Junheng, don't be too modest, and don't deliberately lose to fool me.”

An Yi moved his fingertips slightly, and the white piece landed lightly, touching the corner of the board with neither arrogance nor subservience: “Your student would not dare yield. It is you who orchestrates the grand strategy; I'm just trying my best to keep up.”

Duan Mingde nodded with a smile, his gaze returning to the chess game. He picked up another black piece, examined it for a moment, and placed it firmly down, making his position even more aggressive.

An Yi also picked up a white piece, rubbing it gently between his fingertips. Just as he was about to make his move, Duan Mingde spoke as if casually, his tone steady: “Junheng, lately it seems you’ve had some... friction with young Marquis Ge?”

An Yi’s finger, poised to place the piece, paused almost imperceptibly in the air, so slight and brief it was like an illusion.

The next second, the white piece slid smoothly and accurately to the position he had calculated, as if the pause had never occurred.

He continued to focus on the chessboard, as if entirely absorbed in the game, and answered offhandedly: “Teacher exaggerates. Young Marquis Ge is of imperial blood, of noble status. I am but a humble court official—how would I dare to have ‘friction’ with him?”

As he spoke, a helpless and troubled expression crossed his face: “The young marquis is probably still brooding over the matters of Peng Boshi and Wang Xian, and that’s why he spares no effort to make trouble for me.”

He raised his eyes to look at Duan Mingde, a wry, troubled smile appearing on his face: “Teacher, you occupy the highest official position and command great respect. The young marquis naturally wouldn’t dare show you any disrespect. Instead, he uses every dirty trick on me.”

He sighed, as if somewhat irritated: “Teacher, you must help me out.”

Duan Mingde carefully observed him, his eyes searching An Yi’s face. An Yi’s expression was calm, his eyes clear, carrying just the right amount of grievance and appeal for help, showing no sign of deception.

Detecting nothing amiss, it seemed the two were indeed on bad terms.

Earlier, he had received reports that An Junheng and Ge Lian had exchanged harsh words at the Imperial Secretariat gate, saying things like “Just you wait.”

It seemed true.

Their rift was deepening, certainly not a false rumor.

Duan Mingde withdrew his probing thoughts. Hearing An Yi’s words, he looked as if disappointed in him for being so thin-skinned, pointing a finger at him: “That little trick of his—could it possibly hurt you! It’s just pointless noise!”

At this, An Yi simply tossed the white piece he had been playing with back into the chess container with a clack, displaying a rare, almost childish irritability: “Hurt me? No. But it’s so damn annoying.”

Seeing this, Duan Mingde couldn’t help but laugh: “You! Without that patience, how will you accomplish great things?”

After playing several games with his teacher at the Grand Secretary’s mansion and chatting a bit, An Yi took his leave.

An Ping drove the carriage through the streets. Just as the carriage was about to pass a bustling intersection with a tavern, a faint “tap” sounded, as if a tiny object had struck the carriage canopy.

An Ping immediately tensed, his hand instinctively moving to the hidden dagger at his waist, his sharp eyes scanning toward the source of the noise.

Looking up, he saw young Marquis Ge Lian leaning against the window frame on the second floor of the tavern by the street. On his face was a playful smile as he casually waved toward the carriage.

An Ping withdrew his hand from the dagger, slightly bowing toward the window in salute, then lowered his voice and reported to the person inside the carriage through the curtain: “My lord, it’s the young Marquis Ge, inviting you from his private room on the second floor.”

Inside the carriage, An Yi was resting with his eyes closed. Hearing this, he reached out a slender, knuckled finger and gently lifted a corner of the brocade curtain.

Through the gap, his eyes met Ge Lian’s, which were bright and mischievously gleaming.

An Yi: ...

Oh man, he was a little reluctant to go.

He cleared his throat lightly, then instructed An Ping: “Stop the carriage. I'm going up.”

Upon entering the tavern, he saw Ge Lian approach him, saying: "Long time no see, Lord An."

An Yi remained composed, merely nodding slightly to signal An Ping to wait outside the private room before following Ge Lian into the street-facing chamber. "We just traded barbs at court yesterday. Has the Junior Marquis forgotten so soon?"

He went to the table and took a seat. Ge Lian followed, casually picking up the warm celadon teapot on the table and smoothly pouring pale green tea into the empty cup before An Yi, fragrant steam rising. "I wish we could meet every day."

An Yi shot him a glance. "If that were true, it would be a nightmare for me."

Ge Lian: "..."

He choked for a moment, a hint of a hurt expression crossing his face. "Why must you be so heartless, Lord An?"