Chapter 87: Beauty and the Mask

Walking to the pond behind the courtyard, Jiang Lan set down the sack slung over her shoulder and untied the mouth of the bag.

Inside was a strikingly handsome young man, his features as fine as carved jade, though unfortunately his face was marred by a large, dark bruise that somewhat spoiled his appearance.

“The fierce ghost at the door isn’t just there to frighten visitors, is it, Prime Minister Gu?” she remarked.

The man stood up out of the sack. Though his circumstances should have made him look pitiful, his handsome face gave an entirely different impression.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Gu Chengwu shot her a glare, noticing Jiang Lan standing idly by with her hands folded.

“I’m simply curious—did you truly rise to the post of Prime Minister by merit and cunning alone? Wasn’t your beauty part of it?” she asked.

At first, Jiang Lan thought Gu Chengwu would be angered by the question, and she shifted her body slightly, preparing to dodge any blow.

Instead, Gu Chengwu began to arrange his disheveled robes, though the more he straightened them, the more they slipped, exposing a pale, elegant shoulder.

Jiang Lan turned her face away, covering her nose, silently cursing his audacity. She had already asked Chifeng to use an illusion spell, so in the eyes of ordinary cultivators and common demons, she appeared as a man. Yet here he was, openly trying to seduce her.

How shameless.

“Isn’t beauty itself a kind of power and means?” he replied, his voice worming through the illusion, seeping into her very bones, making her senses tingle. Had she been an ordinary person, she’d have been utterly disarmed by now.

“You’re unaffected?” Gu Chengwu looked at her in astonishment, just as he was about to kill Jiang Lan and escape while she was distracted. “You’re something else.”

He glanced around at his surroundings—pavilions, towers, flowers, and artificial hills—then at the black-robed man before him. “You captured me and it hasn’t even been a quarter of an hour. We must still be in the imperial capital. Judging by your residence, you’re either a noble or a scion of a great family. But—”

Jiang Lan looked at him.

“With such a background, you could either accomplish great things or simply indulge in luxury and pleasure. Why become a lowly Daoist priest?”

He made no effort to hide his disdain.

Considering the chaotic times Gu Chengwu had lived through and the persecution faced by cultivators, Jiang Lan didn’t take offense at his contempt for Daoists. In truth, she disliked the Sanqing herself, but she would not go so far as to scorn all practitioners.

“Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m no Daoist. Ahem, why don’t you put your clothes on first?” Jiang Lan grumbled, eyes shifting away from the man who seemed intent on wrapping himself around her.

With a smirk, Gu Chengwu straightened himself and fastened his white robe and jade belt.

Jiang Lan turned to look at him standing in the moonlight. It was no wonder the rumors had once spread that even the old emperor had been obsessed with Prime Minister Gu, so much so that after his death, he entrusted the entire royal line to him.

This was the greatest stain on his reputation in the histories written after his death.

Yet he remained so composed—such thick skin, even Jiang Lan could not match it.

“I’ve never been able to figure it out: are you a man or a woman?” Gu Chengwu asked as he dressed, causing Jiang Lan to frown.

“What’s your game, Prime Minister Gu? Do you intend to verify it yourself? I’m not the late Emperor; I don’t care for men.”

He’d only been alive a thousand years and yet his eyes were that sharp.

With a graceful glance, Gu Chengwu stepped closer. “Beauty lies in the bones, not the skin. In my view, there’s a true beauty beneath your exterior.”

Jiang Lan shot him a glare, but his words struck at the heart of her own doubts. In over twenty million years, though dragons bore many children, they generally inherited something of their parents’ bloodline and looks.

But Jiang Lan’s appearance was a puzzle. Her father, at least, was nothing to speak of, but just look at the Empress Dowager and Third Uncle Jiang Yu—once the Heir of the Duke of Wei, he was renowned for his extraordinary handsomeness. And Xue’s family, it was said, bore a strong resemblance to the Duke of England, and Xue Er looked almost exactly like his father, with the same refined and elegant manner. Clearly, Xue’s mother had been a beauty as well.

So what went wrong with Jiang Lan, that she turned out so plain?

Were the tales of love between her parents nothing but a facade? Had they long been estranged? If so, why was Jiang Lan made the heir? Had no one noticed? Or was there another reason?

No matter whether Jiang Lan was truly the Jiang family’s child, a far greater mystery remained: why, when she was clearly a girl, did she have to present herself as a boy?

Jiang Lan’s true identity was a riddle, and the Duke’s attitude toward her only deepened the enigma.

Through her recent investigations, she had discovered that the person from her dreams who was so harsh and disdainful toward her was none other than Duke Wei, Jiang Bocheng.

The high hopes Xue Mingrui’s eyes seemed to hold for her were nothing but shackles; the world believed Jiang Lan to be the pampered heir of the Jiang clan, but what was she in Jiang Bocheng’s eyes? A child of uncertain origin?

Unfortunately, the original Jiang Lan bore no hatred for this stern elder, or Jiang Lan would have dealt with him already.

Since the original had no resentment, Jiang Lan, who now occupied this body, felt much the same.

Still, if she could uncover the truth of Jiang Lan’s birth, perhaps the original’s deepest wish would come to light and be resolved.

“You’d better behave. Those vengeful ghosts aren’t just there to keep out the likes of me, are they?” Jiang Lan said.

A flicker of malice flashed in Gu Chengwu’s eyes before he once again became the fragile, sickly young lord in need of protection.

“How could you think that, my lord? I only wish to spare the innocent,” he said with a gentle smile.

Jiang Lan regarded the man with a faint smile. “Prime Minister Gu, you are a remarkable man, able to bend and yield as the situation demands. No wonder you were able to lead the weak Qin kingdom to dominance in a war-torn world. Few are so ruthless with themselves.”

Gu Chengwu’s expression remained unchanged, though he took a half-step back.

“You’re plagued by resentful spirits and evil influences. To them, you’re a treasure trove. Hiding in the dungeon of the capital was merely a last resort. With your madness, I can only imagine how many of those ghosts you’ve slain.”

His clenched fists were nearly white at the knuckles. “What do you want?”

“Weren’t those evil spirits drawn to you by your own resentment? Or perhaps they’ve come for vengeance? All that talk about protecting others is just an excuse. You’re running on fumes. Why not work with me? At the very least, I can guarantee your safety—you won’t have to feign weakness to survive when facing the likes of me.”

“You can guarantee my safety?” His formerly gentle demeanor vanished, his gaze suddenly sharp as a blade as he stared Jiang Lan down.

“I can, but there are conditions.”

He let out a cold laugh. “If you asked for nothing, I might doubt your sincerity even more. Everything is done for profit. If you pretended to be a saint, I’d only suspect you had greater ambitions.”

“Talking with smart people is always so effortless.”