The Scandal of the Heartless Heir

The tale of how Gu Yi, heir of the Eastern Empire, forced the largest casino in Yingzhong to close spread across the city like wildfire.

Everyone said the same thing:
He had the face of an angel and the morals of a scoundrel—just another spoiled aristocrat who knew nothing but wine, women, and waste.

And indeed, what kind of good-for-nothing playboy doesn’t toy with women?

Within just ten days of his stay in Yingzhong, three young ladies swore they would marry no one but him.
One even claimed that Gu Yi had scaled her garden wall and shared a night of passion with her.

The truth?
They’d brushed sleeves in the street once. The girl fell in love at first sight and then dreamt of him that same night.

Still, she caused a tremendous scene—wailing, fainting, demanding Gu Yi take her as his wife.

When Gu Yi heard of it, he merely laughed.

“Since I’m already branded a libertine,” he said, “why stop at women?”

Everyone knew Gu Yi was blessed with unfairly delicate looks. His temper was mercurial, his moods as unpredictable as spring rain—but his brows were as fine as distant peaks, and his eyes shimmered with quiet autumn light. Even when he frowned, there was a softness to him that drew pity and desire alike.

One day, a penniless scholar who made his living painting erotic scrolls happened to cross paths with Gu Yi.
He was so struck by the man’s beauty that he painted his portrait on the spot.

The painting was later bought by a passerby—who happened to be headed to Yingzhong’s most famous male brothel.

And there, the trouble began.

Among those who favored the company of men, Gu Yi’s portrait spread like wildfire.
Soon, everyone wanted a copy.

The impoverished scholar suddenly found himself rich.
Lines of admirers stretched around the block, waiting to buy portraits of the stunning Eastern prince.

Just as he began sketching a new series of erotic paintings—with Gu Yi as the centerpiece—General Lan burst into his shop, overturned his tables, and beat him black and blue.

But by then, dozens of those portraits had already been sold and scattered across the city.

One such portrait fell into the hands of a wealthy merchant named Chen Rui.

Chen Rui was one of Yingzhong’s most powerful magnates—a grain trader who had built an empire from famine and fortune.

He was twenty-eight, married, and the father of a son.
He also had several concubines and a few male lovers on the side.

A man of… versatile appetites.

And somehow, he fell hopelessly in love with Gu Yi.

The first day he saw the portrait, he was smitten.
The second day, he showed up at Gu Yi’s lodging to confess his feelings—only to be beaten out the door by General Lan’s stick.

In recent days, too many had come to “profess love.”
Men, women, nobles, commoners—it didn’t matter.

General Lan, weary of the chaos, took it upon himself to use the same stick on everyone, without discrimination.

But of all those who were beaten away, only one kept coming back.

Chen Rui.

In the Western Kingdom of Xihan, love was open and free—men and women alike could court whom they pleased.

But the Eastern Empire, where Gu Yi came from, was the exact opposite: conservative, rule-bound, rigid.

Chen Rui realized he might have frightened the young heir with his blunt approach.
So, he decided to follow proper custom.

In Xihan tradition, when a person admired another, they would stand outside their door for seven days, offering a respectful “Seven-Day Courtship.”

If the other party didn’t turn them away, the union was considered sealed.

And so, Chen Rui donned his finest silk robe, carried a fan, and every day stood by the gates of Gu Yi’s inn—bowing, smiling, waiting.

Thanks to General Lan’s careful gatekeeping, Gu Yi had no idea this “persistent admirer” was the same man who’d once been beaten off his doorstep.

He only knew that Chen Rui was a powerful merchant, controlling much of Xihan’s economy.

And since Gu Yi fancied himself a reformer—dreaming of introducing Xihan’s business model back home—he decided it was time to make a connection.

“Better to strike while the iron’s hot,” he said. “If I’m to fight, let’s fight now.”

Thus began the strangest “brotherhood” in the city.

Wherever Gu Yi went, Chen Rui followed.
The two called each other “brother,” laughing arm in arm.

At the casino, Chen Rui stood beside him, fanning him gently.
At the pleasure houses, he followed behind to settle the bills.

Every day, he brought gifts to amuse him—glowing pearls, ever-burning lamps, jade figurines worth a fortune.

Gu Yi always protested once or twice, then accepted everything with a clear conscience.

Seven days passed in this fashion. Their “brotherly bond” had grown so close they were nearly sharing trousers.

Then, one breezy evening, Gu Yi received a letter.

“Dear brother, I’ve found a new game—one you’ll surely enjoy. Come to my villa tonight.”

Intrigued, Gu Yi went.

At the gate, two red lanterns glowed like twin drops of blood.

He stepped inside. Silk drapes hung from the trees, and the air was heavy with perfume.

By the time he reached the side chamber, he could already hear Chen Rui’s voice from within:

“Ah, my dear brother, how slow you are! I’ve been waiting so long for you—ah…”

The last syllable stretched far too long. Gu Yi’s scalp prickled.

He pushed the door open—and froze.

The small room was filled with nude statues of men, their marble faces twisted in passion.
The walls were lined with paintings—men embracing, kissing, doing unspeakable things.

And at the center hung a large portrait—his own face staring back at him.

Through layers of red gauze, Chen Rui reclined lazily on a couch, drunk on wine.
When he saw Gu Yi, he smiled languidly and extended a hand.

“Come closer, dear brother.”

Gu Yi’s half-drunken mind snapped sober in an instant.

Chen Rui, seeing him hesitate, thought the prince was merely shy.
He rose gracefully, revealing that beneath the red gauze he was wearing a woman’s dress—his pale skin gleaming like snow.

He approached slowly, his breath sweet as orchids.

“Brother… I’ve loved you for so long. Seven days have passed, and by our custom, we are now one. So why don’t we—”

He never finished that sentence.

Gu Yi grabbed an apple from the table and shoved it into his mouth.
Then, with the sheet from the bed, he threw it over Chen Rui’s head and unleashed a full set of elegant, perfectly executed punches.

When he was done, he stood panting, tempted to set the room on fire—but decided against it. After all, he might still need to deal with Chen Rui for business later.

Outside, the servants heard the commotion—crashes, thuds, and Chen Rui’s muffled screams.

“No, no! Not the vase—that’s an antique!”

“Ah—don’t tear it! That’s my favorite painting!”

The servants merely sighed, assuming their master was trying out new… games with his lovers, and decided to take a nap instead.

The next morning, word spread that Merchant Chen had “fallen into a pond” while walking at night.

He was bruised all over, especially below the waist.

No one could quite explain how a simple fall could injure that particular part of him—but from then on, Chen Rui walked bow-legged and winced with every step.

By the time the rumor reached my ears—
the one claiming “the heartless heir seduced and abandoned a virtuous man”—
I had already reached the edge of Yingzhong.

The borderlands were quiet, dotted with small villages.

I was sitting beneath a bamboo awning, sipping porridge, when two women nearby began to gossip.

“I heard Merchant Chen was heartbroken,” one whispered. “After being rejected by the prince, he stayed in bed for three days, refusing food, vowing to die for love.”

“That’s not all,” the other said. “He dismissed every concubine and lover he had, swearing to devote himself to one man forever.”

A third voice chimed in.

“They say he truly loved the prince. He even performed the seven-day courtship properly. The prince accepted every gift—and now he turns his back? How heartless!”

“Perhaps customs differ between East and West,” another said knowingly.

They all nodded, faces grave with sympathy.

I listened intently, slurping my porridge.

Just then, a young girl passing by, fresh from market, joined the conversation.

“B-but… I heard the prince… um… slept with Merchant Chen and ran away after!”

The three women stared at one another, stunned.

The girl hesitated, lowering her voice.

“And… and I heard Merchant Chen is now searching for famous physicians. Someone in his house… seems to be expecting.”

All four froze. Then, as one, they slammed down their bowls and exclaimed:

“Beast!”