Chapter 44 This Is a Real Kiss

Chapter 44: A Real Kiss

Inside the room, Yan Weichu reclined on the daybed, book in hand, his mind clearly elsewhere.

Moments later, familiar footsteps echoed in the corridor, steadily approaching.

He peered out the window, then returned his gaze to the book, absently flipping a page while straining his ears for sounds from outside.

With a soft creak, the door opened.

Xie Xiao entered, his expression as impassive as ever. Without a glance at Yan Weichu, he unfastened his cloak with practiced ease, tossing it to an attendant, then gave a few quiet instructions.

Yan Weichu clutched the book, his mind adrift—not a single word had registered. His thoughts were a tumultuous mess, his heart a whirlwind.

What was his cousin thinking? They had kissed, so why was he so composed?

Why no reaction at all?

All his agonizing had been for naught.

Xie Xiao approached, stopping before Yan Weichu, his gaze fixed on the younger man’s flushed face. "Sober now?"

Three flat words, devoid of any discernible emotion.

Yan Weichu stared blankly. "When was I ever drunk?"

Xie Xiao reached out, cupping Yan Weichu’s chin, his thumb gently caressing the warm skin of his cheek, his eyes scrutinizing his face.

"..." Yan Weichu suddenly wondered if he might indeed be a little tipsy—the wine’s delayed effects from earlier that afternoon seemed to be clouding his mind, making thought difficult. His eyelashes fluttered a few times as he gazed dumbly at Xie Xiao, forgetting what he had intended to say.

Perhaps sensing his disorientation, Xie Xiao released his grip, lowered his eyes, and let out a soft chuckle. "You little rascal."

Yan Weichu opened his mouth to speak.

Why are you scolding me again for no reason?

"Cousin—"

Xie Xiao ignored him, sat down beside him, and picked up a book he hadn’t finished earlier, idly opening it.

Now Yan Weichu had even less inclination to do anything else. He slowly shifted closer, then lay down, pillowing his head on Xie Xiao’s lap.

Xie Xiao simply indulged him, assuming he was merely indulging in another bout of laziness.

Catching the familiar scent of his own preferred incense on Xie Xiao’s clothes, Yan Weichu’s thoughts began to wander.

They were husband and wife, engaging in intimate acts daily—so much so that even their robes carried the same fragrance.

Perhaps it was from their frequent intimacy, but now, whenever he was close to Xie Xiao and caught his scent, his mouth would go dry and his limbs would feel weak.

Stop, stop—he couldn't think about that anymore…

He lifted his gaze.

The angle was new. Yan Weichu’s eyes fell upon Xie Xiao’s sharply defined, firm jawline, then slowly moved upward.

Xie Xiao’s lips were set in their familiar curve, conveying a hint of sternness when unsmiling, his nose straight and prominent.

Moving higher still, he found himself caught in eyes that had suddenly lowered to meet his own, and he froze.

Long lashes veiled some of the sharpness in Xie Xiao’s gaze, and his dark pupils clearly reflected Yan Weichu’s image.

As their eyes met, Yan Weichu felt his cheeks flush again under that intense stare. He blinked lightly.

"What are you looking at?" Xie Xiao asked.

Yan Weichu stared at him for a moment, then lowered his eyes, turned, and nestled into Xie Xiao’s robes, hiding his expression as he shook his head.

Xie Xiao’s fingers threaded through his hair. He had a growing feeling that Yan Weichu was acting strangely today.

He had dismissed the earlier incident as Yan Weichu throwing a tantrum and biting him, not taking it to heart.

If Yan Weichu knew that was what he thought, he would probably be furious again, cursing him for being so clueless.

"A-Li."

Yan Weichu didn’t move, mumbling, "Hmm?"

Xie Xiao teased him, "Acting so spoiled—you’ll never make a great general like this."

Yan Weichu retorted, "I will."

For me, the Emperor, to act spoiled with you is a great favor; others don't have such fortune...

*

When Jiang Shu came to visit, Yan Weichu was alone in the Marquis’s residence, with nothing to do.

Even during the holidays, Xie Xiao had to return to the capital camp every two days. With him away, Yan Weichu had little to occupy himself.

The young master of the Marquis of Loyal’s estate arrived uninvited and asked Yan Weichu to go out for a stroll. With nothing else to do, Yan Weichu agreed.

In the carriage, Jiang Shu asked Yan Weichu what Xie Xiao did every day at the capital camp. Yan Weichu chuckled. "He handles his duties, I handle mine—how would I know what he does every day?"

Jiang Shu scratched his head. "I heard from my father that you’re the emperor’s newly appointed Qilin Guard Commander. So you must be quite capable too, right?"

Yan Weichu glanced at him, realizing the young man seemed to have more to say than he’d initially thought—not as simple-minded as he appeared. He replied, "Not particularly capable. His Majesty just thinks highly of me."

Just as Jiang Shu was about to say more, a commotion erupted outside the carriage.

The carriage stopped, and someone outside reported that the Eastern Depot was handling business ahead on West Street and there was some trouble—should they take a detour?

Yan Weichu lifted the curtain to look. They had already reached the entrance to West Street. "What happened?" he asked.

The imperial guard beside the carriage answered, "Today is the eighth—shops on West Street are opening. The Eastern Depot came to post notices about the new tax collection method and demanded their account books. The shopkeepers banded together to resist, and clashes broke out."

Yan Weichu was surprised. "These people have grown bold—daring to confront the Eastern Depot head-on?"

The imperial guard said, "They must have powerful backers."

That wasn’t surprising. The shops on West Street were all backed by powerful families in the capital. These people had been frightened by his earlier purge of the regent’s faction and didn’t dare submit memorials and remonstrate like the civil officials, but that didn’t mean they would accept their fate quietly.

If a major disturbance broke out on West Street today and the Eastern Depot couldn’t handle it, even he, the emperor, would have a hard time explaining it to the court. The edict to increase merchant taxes might even be revoked.

Their scheme was clever, but useless against him.

Yan Weichu asked, "Do you know who’s backing them?"

The imperial guard lowered his voice. "The ones leading the trouble are shouting the marquis’s name…"

Yan Weichu snorted.

With Jiang Shu still in the carriage, he couldn’t say much, so he simply exchanged a look with the Qilin Guard outside.

The Qilin Guard understood perfectly and departed discreetly after Yan Weichu lowered the curtain.

Jiang Shu asked nervously, “How is this matter connected to Cousin Xiao?”

“Someone is just stirring up trouble using his name,” Yan Weichu replied. “It’s fine. His Majesty knows better than to confuse right and wrong.”

Knowing his relationship with the emperor, Jiang Shu felt reassured and sighed, “These people are so audacious, daring to oppose His Majesty.”

Yan Weichu chuckled. “Plenty of people oppose His Majesty. What’s so strange about that?”

Jiang Shu said, “With His Majesty newly ascended, there are too many restless elements. It really isn’t easy.”

Yan Weichu smiled but didn’t respond further.

The carriage detoured through side streets and alleys, stopping after two quarters in front of the Juxia Tower (Gathering Rosy Clouds Tower) by the Kun River in the northern part of the city.

As they got off, Jiang Shu explained, “The spring imperial exams are next month, and scholars from all over have gathered in the capital. These days, they’re holding literary gatherings at Juxia Tower. A friend of mine is taking part and invited me to come take a look. Since we had nothing else to do, I brought you along, Brother Chun.”

Yan Weichu found it amusing. “You, the heir to a hereditary merit title, coming to participate in these scholars’ literary gatherings?”

Jiang Shu said proudly, “I have a wide circle of friends and I’m not hung up on formalities. It’s quite interesting just to watch from the sidelines.”

Soon, someone came to welcome them inside.

Though called a tower, Juxia Tower also had a southern Chinese-style garden in the back. As they walked deeper, passing through several arched gateways, the sounds of lively conversation, the scent of wine, and the fragrance of ink greeted them.

Before them was a spacious courtyard with the Kun River flowing nearby and spring buds freshly greening.

The garden was bustling with scholars gathered in small groups, some wielding brushes to write, others playing chess or discussing philosophy, all enjoying drinks amid the soothing melodies of the guqin.

What a scene of passionate brilliance and refined taste.

Not far ahead, a pavilion was also lively, with over a dozen people seated together, debating classical texts and holding forth with lofty discussions.

Yan Weichu and Jiang Shu paused beneath the corridor to listen for a moment. These people were quite bold, using ancient references to criticize contemporary affairs, subtly mocking the current emperor as cruel and tyrannical, his harsh policies more fierce than tigers, and fearing he would bring misfortune to the nation.

Yan Weichu listened with amusement, his expression calm and detached, as if it had nothing to do with him.

Jiang Shu said casually, “This literary gathering has been going on for three days. With these people spreading such dangerous talk, I fear it might cause trouble.”

Yan Weichu smirked.

The Juxia Tower literary gathering, held every three years, was the most anticipated event before the spring imperial exams, lasting half a month. Nearly every scholar coming to the capital for the exams participated.

Most of these scholars were impulsive and easily swayed, so it was no surprise that they could be manipulated by those with ulterior motives.

Jiang Shu shook his head. “They’re shooting their mouths off so unrestrainedly. Aren’t they afraid their treasonous words will spread and reach His Majesty’s ears?”

Yan Weichu asked him, “Do you think that with the Juxia Tower literary gathering being so famous, and these scholars all future officials, His Majesty wouldn’t have people keeping an eye on things? How many Qilin Guards or Eastern Depot spies do you think are mixed in here?”

Jiang Shu was taken aback.

Yan Weichu glanced at him sideways with a smile. “A-Shu, where’s your friend? Why hasn’t he come to greet you? Could it be that there’s no such person, and you brought me here specifically so I could hear these things and report them to His Majesty?”

Busted, Jiang Shu admitted it freely. “There really is such a friend. He came the day before yesterday, but we happened to meet for drinks yesterday, and he mentioned the atmosphere at the gathering felt off, so he didn’t dare come again. I asked him for the invitation. I’m just worried that if they keep discussing His Majesty like this, their words might spread and damage His Majesty’s reputation.”

Yan Weichu scoffed, “If it spreads, His Majesty will lose face. Not taking action would be like admitting what these people say is true, but punishing them would make His Majesty seem narrow-minded and alienate scholars across the land. Either way, it’s troublesome. The schemer behind this has quite the plan.”

Jiang Shu asked, “Then what should we do?”

“No idea,” Yan Weichu shrugged nonchalantly. “Let His Majesty worry about it. There’s no use us thinking about it.”

Jiang Shu sighed. “You’re right, Brother Chun. There really are plenty of people who oppose His Majesty and aren’t afraid to die. I almost admire them.”

Yan Weichu asked curiously, “Why are you so concerned about His Majesty? What’s your game? You’re not hoping I’ll introduce you to him, are you? You’ve got quite the ambition.”

Jiang Shu told the truth. “After the Lantern Festival, my father is taking us back to Suzhou (Gansu). I really don’t want to go back. I have four older brothers, and my father doesn’t think much of me. Returning to Suzhou won’t lead to any great prospects. I’d rather stay in the capital and find a position—ideally in the Capital Training Division, or maybe join the Qilin Guard under you, Brother Chun…”

Yan Weichu suddenly understood. No wonder the kid had earlier asked specifically what his cousin (Xie Xiao) did every day and flattered him—he’d been aiming for this all along.

“That’s no trouble at all. I’ll just put in a word with His Majesty,” Yan Weichu promised readily. Jiang Shu was clever; having him around could be useful.

Jiang Shu was overjoyed and thanked him immediately.

Yan Weichu waved it off. “No problem.”

As for the literary gathering, the Qilin Guards had already reported the situation to him the day before.

The gathering was organized by several major academies in the capital and had been held for decades as a long-standing tradition. Stopping it abruptly would inevitably draw criticism.

But if he did nothing and let the rumors spread, he’d have to crack down on these pretentious scholars, which would also be troublesome.

As Yan Weichu was considering how to cut the Gordian knot, his gaze swept across the crowd and landed on a familiar figure—Young Master Su, Su Ping.

Su Ping was with several companions, watching others compose poems and toasting with them.

Yan Weichu looked away, having zero interest in the man.

Jiang Shu asked if he wanted to go for some tea, and he agreed.

They went to a private booth inside the tower, drinking tea and listening to the occasional sounds of recitation and singing drifting in from outside. Leaning against the railing, they enjoyed the view of the Kun River near and far, quite content.

Jiang Shu told Yan Weichu about frontier life and customs, with more flair and humor than Xie Xiao’s accounts.

They killed time like this for nearly half an hour before Shun Xi came in to report that the Count of Anding (Xie Xiao) had arrived specifically to pick them up.

Yan Weichu was surprised. “How did the Count know we were here?”

Jiang Shu laughed. “When we left, I told your household steward that I was taking you here, Brother Chun. Cousin Xiao must have returned to the residence and not found you, so he came just to pick you up.”

Yan Weichu grinned. “You’re quite clever.”

The two went downstairs. Xie Xiao was waiting in the courtyard outside the tower, but the first voice they heard was Young Master Su’s.

“Mingzhao (Xie Xiao’s style name), why are you being so distant with me? We hardly ever see each other like this—don’t you have anything to say to me?”

Yan Weichu and Jiang Shu paused. Sure enough, Su Ping was there too. Jiang Shu perked up—was there some drama to enjoy?

“I never believed you could have grown so close to the Count of Anding’s heir in such a short time. When I heard His Majesty personally issued an imperial marriage decree, it finally dawned on me—did you do this just to allay His Majesty’s worries? Were you forced into it?”

Su Ping went on and on, talking to himself. The young man seemed drunk, making a scene and spouting nonsense.

Fortunately, no one else was around, or it would have been a real spectacle.

Xie Xiao said indifferently, “It’s none of your business.”

Su Ping was taken aback, seemingly hurt by his tone, choking out a laugh between sobs. "None of my business? What a perfect 'none of my business'..."

Xie Xiao knit his brows, suppressing the impatience in his expression.

Before he could say more, Yan Weichu strode forward.

Su Ping’s expression shifted abruptly upon seeing him, his face transforming from sorrow to resentment, so forced it looked twisted and almost grotesque.

Yan Weichu paid no mind to his thoughts and said casually, "I didn’t expect to run into you here today. When my cousin and I got married, why didn’t you come for a wedding toast?"

Su Ping’s melancholy was abruptly cut short, and hearing Yan Weichu’s words, which sounded like gloating, he grew even more humiliated and angry. Gnashing his teeth, he retorted, "I was busy studying and had no time. Besides, since this is a fake marriage, how can it be called a celebration?"

"Young Master Su, mind your words," Yan Weichu said with a faint smile, warning him. "The marriage was personally decreed by His Majesty—how could it be fake? If you have any objections, why not take them up with His Majesty?"

—The question is, do you dare?—

Xie Xiao had no intention of speaking further. With Yan Weichu acting as the firebrand, he simply remained silent.

Provoked by Yan Weichu’s mockery and fueled by alcohol, Su Ping threw all dignity to the wind. "I don’t believe it! The relationship between the two of you is fake—it must be fake!"

Yan Weichu wagged his finger. "Whether it’s real or fake is our own business. We don’t need to explain it to outsiders, do we? Young Master Su, what am I to do with you? Aren’t you being a bit disgraceful?"

Su Ping’s eyes reddened with rage. "You’re nothing but a pawn used by His Majesty! Xie Xiao would never truly be your spouse—"

"Then watch closely."

With that, Yan Weichu turned sideways, closing the distance to Xie Xiao. Avoiding Xie Xiao’s gaze, he focused solely on his lips and pressed his own against them.

This time, it was no longer a quick bite before retreating. He slowly savored Xie Xiao’s lips, feeling their soft, warm touch, a surge of emotion sweeping through him.

It was a real kiss.