Chapter 42 Like?

Chapter 42: Liking?

Jiang Yanzhou didn't know how he walked back to Yan Gui Xuan (Swallow's Return Pavilion).

He had said something to Feng Lan, who nodded and stayed outside the room without entering.

But as for what he said, Jiang Yanzhou had no recollection, because at this moment, he was in a daze, unable to think about anything else.

He closed the door and leaned back against it, looking down at the mask in his hand.

Xiao Yunlang had entrusted the mask to him.

Just moments ago, Xiao Yunlang had taken off the mask and placed it in his hand.

"I'll leave the mask with you. If you encounter another thunderstorm night in the coming days, light a lamp and place my mask by your pillow. I'll keep those sounds at bay for you."

Xiao Yunlang had also instructed Feng Lan that if such weather occurred again, the servants should provide some distraction.

Whether it was playing the qin or flute, or simply reading aloud, the goal was to ensure Jiang Yanzhou didn't feel trapped alone in the thunder and rain.

"I'm lending it to you. I'll come back for it later, and when I do, I'll inspect it."

Even though a cold iron mask still separated their palms, Jiang Yanzhou felt Xiao Yunlang's warmth pass through it, rooting him to the spot, unable to move.

Xiao Yunlang said, "You promised to look after the household, and the household naturally includes yourself. When the time comes, I'll check whether you've taken good care of the Young Teacher of the Eastern Palace."

Young Teacher...

Jiang Yanzhou's fingers slowly traced the mask.

Before these words, it was this very mask, guided by Xiao Yunlang's gentle hand, that had landed on his forehead.

Even someone as slow as Jiang Yanzhou knew this was unusual, because despite the mask and the veil, it was undoubtedly an act of kissing.

A kiss.

Since Jiang Yanzhou had been looking up at the time, he could feel an indescribable gravity in Xiao Yunlang's slow touch and the fingertips cradling the back of his head.

It was as if he had become a luminous pearl or a flickering flame, carefully sheltered from the cold wind.

He seemed to have become a treasure worthy of being held in Xiao Yunlang's palm.

Only now, from the moment they parted until this moment, did Jiang Yanzhou's ears finally flush bright red all at once!

A faint blush tinged his cheeks, his gaze distant, like ruby wine in a jade cup, giving off a faint, intoxicating glow.

Xiao Yunlang's gentle touch had made Young Master Jiang intoxicated without any wine.

But... but this wasn't right...

After a brief moment of light-headedness, Jiang Yanzhou began pacing restlessly around the room.

A kiss was intimacy, tenderness, the most tender ritual of affection.

Could it be that Xiao Yunlang liked him?

How could Xiao Yunlang... like him?

Jiang Yanzhou clenched the mask tightly in his hand, his expression gradually turning bewildered, as if he had wandered into a strange, dense fog.

How could Xiao Yunlang like me?

He was a gentleman of impeccable character, an emperor revered by all, a glorious chapter in the annals of history;

While he, Jiang Yanzhou, was merely a helpless, insignificant figure drifting with the tide.

This thought pierced him like a needle—sudden and sharp. Jiang Yanzhou abruptly stopped pacing, feeling a pang in his chest.

He couldn't help but raise the mask in his hand, holding it up high, looking up at it quietly for a while before gently bringing it back down.

He slowly hugged the mask to his chest, filling his empty arms.

Jiang Yanzhou felt he was beginning to calm down, but for some reason, his eyes began to sting.

Because... there was nothing about him worth liking.

Xiao Yunlang shouldn't indulge his feelings for someone like him.

The night hung thick and heavy. Jiang Yanzhou's door remained tightly shut, and on the other side, there was only a solitary figure.

The starlight flickered, dimming in the gradually changing sky. Jiang Yanzhou took his medicine and lay down on the bed, lying awake the entire night.

But he remained lying quietly, biding his time until his usual hour to rise.

Having slept poorly, he felt somewhat tired when he got up. Leaning against the bedpost, he sat there. When Feng Lan entered and saw his expression, he paused, "Young Master, did you not rest well last night?"

Jiang Yanzhou instinctively wanted to deny it, but perhaps his throat was a bit dry, and the words caught. In that pause, he faltered and changed his response, "Mm... It happens now and then, doesn't it? It's not strange."

It was indeed normal to have an occasional sleepless night. Feng Lan went to open the window, letting in a soothing breeze. The scenery outside was lovely, with butterflies flitting among the flowers in the courtyard.

Jiang Yanzhou leaned against the pillar, tilting his head to look outside, his gaze unfocused, and softly asked, "Has His Highness departed?"

Feng Lan: "Yes, he left early this morning. Before leaving, he asked me to deliver a new calligraphy copybook to your study."

"It was written by His Highness himself."

Jiang Yanzhou's eyes lit up involuntarily, but his eyelashes trembled, and he quelled the light in them.

Servants entered to tidy up. Feng Lan noticed Xiao Yunlang's mask placed by the pillow and reminded the servants to take care with it.

After his meal, Jiang Yanzhou went to the study and opened the calligraphy copybook from Xiao Yunlang.

Two days earlier, Xiao Yunlang had already given him one copy, which contained a short *fu* describing scenery composed by Xiao Yunlang himself.

Emperor Wu also had some literary accomplishments. Although his works weren't included in textbooks, a few decent poems and prose pieces had been passed down.

The calligraphy copybook he wrote for Jiang Yanzhou differed from his usual handwriting.

After all, Xiao Yunlang's calligraphy had a powerful and distinctive style, with bold and flowing strokes. But a copybook was meant for practice, and Jiang Yanzhou couldn't yet handle such complex brushwork.

So, with rare patience, Xiao Yunlang wrote a piece with characters as neat and uniform as if printed.

Jiang Yanzhou had thought today's piece might also be one of Xiao Yunlang's compositions, but upon opening it, his gaze froze.

...It was an ancient work, from the *Book of Songs*, specifically the "Tang Feng: Chou Mou" section.

Chou mou shu xin, san xing zai tian.

Jin xi he xi, jian ci liang ren?

O you, O you, what am I to do with such a fine man?

Although Jiang Yanzhou’s handwriting was poor, having read so many historical records and classical poems, how could he fail to understand the meaning of such a famous verse?

What manner of day is this? That I have met such a splendid person. You—ah, you—you are so good; what am I to do?

Who was the original poet addressing? And whom did a certain crown prince—who later copied it down to present to someone else—wish to address?

Jiang Yanzhou slammed a paperweight onto the page. Unfortunately, the paperweight was too small and the calligraphy practice book too large—it couldn’t cover it all. Lines spilled haphazardly into view, each one asking, “O you, O you—what am I to do?”

Why give him such a practice book?

Don’t let your thoughts run wild—don’t let your thoughts run wild, Jiang Yanzhou thought, fingers trembling. I…

“Young Master!”

Jiang Yanzhou abruptly let go, instinctively flustered as he flipped the practice book face-down. Only after covering it did he pause, thinking: It’s not as if others aren’t allowed to see it—what am I doing…?

“Young Master.” Feng Lan hurried forward, voice low. “Someone from the palace has arrived—summoning you to enter the palace.”

Jiang Yanzhou froze momentarily. The inner turmoil and unsettled expression stirred by the practice book slowly receded. In an instant, he had regained his composure.

He raised a hand to touch his cheek, thinking: Just as well. With my complexion like this today, I can appear before His Majesty without even applying powder.

The Crown Prince had departed the capital that very morning; by afternoon, Emperor Yonghe had summoned the Crown Prince’s Consort to the palace.

The guards who had witnessed Xiao Yunlang forcibly dragging Jiang Yanzhou into the carriage at the palace gate the previous night had not expected to see Jiang Yanzhou again so soon—having only just resumed duty that afternoon.

Hmm—the Crown Prince’s Consort still looked utterly haggard. Who knew what torment he’d endured after returning last night?

The Jiang family were already criminals, yet the young eunuch wore nothing but smiles and courtesy. Such demeanor naturally signaled the imperial family’s intentions.

“Your Highness, His Majesty is concerned for your health and has specially ordered a sedan chair prepared to convey you to Minghui Hall. Allow this humble servant to assist you.”

Jiang Yanzhou: “Thank you, Gonggong.”

He was just about to reach out when someone approaching from the opposite direction—leaving the palace—came face to face with them.

It was none other than the Prince of Jin, Xiao Fengjin.

The Prince of Jin had recently been visiting the palace more frequently to pay respects to his mother. Seeing Jiang Yanzhou, he still lifted his chin, a careless smile playing on his lips: “Well, what a coincidence. Greetings, Crown Prince’s Consort…”

He lazily drew out the title. The palace attendants surrounding them, hearing such disrespect, dared not utter a sound.

One Crown Prince famed for his sharp tongue, one Prince of Jin notorious for his provoking words—when these two were in full form outside court, most people dared not speak a word.

Jiang Yanzhou frowned slightly, with no intention of replying.

He had never liked the Prince of Jin to begin with. With the earlier incident where he’d been dragged into the water at the palace—and now being the “disgraced remnant of the Jiang family”—any expression he showed toward the Prince of Jin was justified.

But the Prince of Jin was precisely that kind of person: encountering someone who ignored him only spurred him on. “Congratulations, Crown Prince’s Consort. The Jiang clan elders in Ningzhou produced the Iron Certificate, sparing the Jiang family from the Nine Familial Exterminations. With Vice Minister Jiang’s downfall, and Her Majesty the Empress under house arrest—oh no, I mean, recuperating from illness through Buddhist practice within the palace—the highest-ranking surviving member of the Jiang family isn’t it just you?”

He gestured toward the sedan chair with his chin: “See? His Majesty is even elevating you.”

To offer congratulations to someone whose father had just been beheaded was truly inhuman speech. The palace attendants could hardly bear to listen. The young eunuch beside the emperor pondered smoothing things over, fearing Jiang Yanzhou might become overwhelmed with grief and anger and provoke a confrontation with the Prince of Jin.

But Jiang Yanzhou had already turned away, entered the sedan chair, and let the curtain fall—without uttering a single word.

The young eunuch was delighted, wishing for nothing more than to avoid trouble, and promptly raised his voice in a singsong tone: “Lift the sedan—!”

The eunuchs hoisted the sedan chair and hurried off under the young eunuch’s gestures. The Prince of Jin, hands tucked into his sleeves, sighed leisurely with the air of a victor—finding it rather dull.

See—the madness Jiang Yanzhou once displayed, dragging him into the water, had been worn away by power struggles. What skill lies in a momentary fit of madness? He who laughs last, laughs best.

Hmm… Next would be the contest between him and his sixth brother. As for the Crown Prince’s position—he was quite interested in occupying it himself.

Jiang Yanzhou exhaled a sigh inside the sedan chair. He had almost wanted to offer the Prince of Jin a slight, calm nod and say thank you just now.

But that wouldn’t do. Because he was a grieving man—and he still needed to plead for his brother’s life. So he absolutely could not say thank you when the Prince of Jin congratulated him on his father’s death.

Wouldn’t that have shocked everyone on the spot—and instantly reached the emperor’s ears?

How then could he proceed with sending Jiang Yinhan away?

Jiang Yanzhou leaned back in the sedan chair and closed his eyes.

Staying up all night had indeed left his mind sluggish.

From the palace gate to Minghui Hall, the swaying of the sedan chair lulled him into drowsiness. Upon alighting, he appeared even more listless—further convincing Emperor Yonghe, who kindly granted him a seat with a benevolent expression.

Jiang Yanzhou raised his sleeve in salute, lowered his gaze, and began pleading for Jiang Yinhan.

He didn’t actually expend much mental effort—but his low, hoarse, feeble voice proved highly effective. To Emperor Yonghe’s ears, it sounded like genuine, heartfelt sorrow and grief.

Emperor Yonghe sighed: “Your father and elder brother are both guilty beyond pardon. If I spare them, how shall I answer to the realm? It would only incite public outrage—and the Censors would remonstrate unto death!”

Jiang Yanzhou: The emperor has already decided to execute Jiang Yinhan? It seems yesterday’s performance worked well.

Jiang Yanzhou deliberately avoided touching the tea, his dry throat rasping as he whispered softly: “But—”

“You are a rare one with sentiment and righteousness among the Jiang family.” Emperor Yonghe cut him off, brooking no contradiction. “Rather than focusing on your brother, why not look back at the remaining Jiang family members in Ningzhou? They are still waiting for you.”

These words carried a veiled threat. Emperor Yonghe watched Jiang Yanzhou tremble and fall silent.

Emperor Yonghe nodded approvingly, sized him up, and tentatively asked: “Have you ever considered entering official service?”

Jiang Yanzhou looked up, bewildered.

Emperor Yonghe: “Before you, this dynasty had no male Crown Prince’s Consort—and thus no regulations stating that a man marrying the Crown Prince could not enter official service. What do you say, Second Son of Jiang? Would you like to become an official?”

Jiang Yanzhou shook his head, flustered: “Your Majesty, since childhood I have been frequently ill and unable to receive proper instruction from tutors. I have relied solely on my father and elder brother. How could I become an official? I am utterly incapable.”

Incapable—was exactly right. What was needed was precisely someone who knew nothing—yet brimmed with sorrow and hatred, ready to be utilized.

Emperor Yonghe was determined to extract the Jiang family’s final usefulness from Jiang Yanzhou. Magnanimously, he said: “It’s of no consequence. If you don’t know, you can learn. I grant you special permission to come and go freely from the Ministry of War—to observe closely alongside the Minister of War. In the future, you may also share the burdens of our great Daqi and atone for your father’s and brother’s crimes.”

Seemingly generous—but granting no actual official post or real authority. Emperor Yonghe had calculated it perfectly—calculated it… precisely to Jiang Yanzhou’s advantage.

Either the Ministry of Revenue or the Ministry of War would suffice for Jiang Yanzhou. Only by reaching these places could he proceed with the next steps.

Yet Jiang Yanzhou still needed to feign hesitation and politely decline, flustered and at a loss.

…Thirsty—I want to go home and drink tea.

Jiang Yanzhou listened as Emperor Yonghe urged him again—his weary mind drifting, quietly wandering.

…I wonder where Xiao Yunlang has reached by now.

*

Xiao Yunlang spurred his horse onward, traveling day and night. Three days later, he rested at a certain campsite.

Pei Jingchen had been dragged along by him. The pampered young master, who was neither accomplished in literary pursuits nor martial arts, experienced for the first time that riding at a gallop could be a thrill one moment and pure agony the next.

He had been worked like a dog these past few days, utterly worn out, but even when they stopped, he still had to work. He had become a soldier in Xiao Yunlang’s ranks—a lowly one at that, but somewhat considered a personal guard, learning everything from scratch.

Fighting wasn't his lot yet, so he started by learning how to wait on people.

Fortunately, he was tough enough to take it.

Pei Jingchen surreptitiously tried to sneak a yawn, but the soldier beside him nudged him with an elbow, startling him so much he nearly jumped. He immediately swallowed it.

Xiao Yunlang was taking quite a while to write these two letters.

He wrote two letters: one to Yi Zhou, inquiring about the latest situation, and the other to the capital, addressed to Steward Wang.

The first letter was straightforward and quickly written. It was the second one… he paused so long over every word that Pei Jingchen grew drowsy waiting.

Fortunately, before he actually nodded off on his feet, the second letter was finally sealed.

Delivering the letters would normally require only one person, but since Pei Jingchen was here for training, he had to learn the ropes by shadowing others. So, he mounted his horse alongside the soldier and rode off to the nearest post station.

Pei Jingchen finally gave in to a long, loud yawn: the one to Yi Zhou was straightforward enough, but what was there to write to the steward just three days after leaving the capital… Oh!

A letter home to family, seemingly addressed to the steward, but in reality, it was meant for the Crown Princess!

Right, even though the Pei family knew the Crown Prince and the Crown Princess were on the same side, the two were still pretending to be at odds in public.

Pei Jingchen felt he had guessed correctly.

But they hadn’t even reached Yi Zhou yet, and they were already writing letters so soon after parting—their relationship must be really good, right?

Fresh from his own romantic disappointment, Pei Jingchen gradually regained his spirits: he knew it—true love still existed in the world. Just look at the Crown Prince and the Crown Princess, wasn’t this proof?