Chapter 10

Chapter 10

As Lou Xian rolled up the trouser legs to reveal the knees—

The next moment, Lou Xian sucked in a sharp breath.

The Young Marquis’s knees were severely swollen and bruised in several places, a stark and shocking contrast against the snow-white skin beneath his robe hem.

He blew up instantly: "Did your father really hit you that hard this time? How could he bear to!"

Luo Qianyu covered his mouth: "Keep shouting like that and the whole capital will hear you."

Lou Xian blinked, holding his wrist, a hint of remorse and hurt flickering in his expression. "My father brought a jar of secret wound ointment from the Western Regions. It’s usually kept in the carriage. Let me apply it for you..."

"No need. It just looks worse than it is; I can still walk fine." Remembering the main issue, Luo Qianyu asked, "So where are you taking me, anyway?"

Lou Xian fetched the ointment, dabbed some on his fingertip, and applied it to Luo Qianyu’s knees, uttering only two words: "The training ground."

The training ground?

The Young Marquis was momentarily stunned but felt a cool sensation on his knees; the sore, aching pain seemed to fade considerably. *Now that's a miracle cure*, he thought.

After an unknown length of time, the carriage slowly came to a halt.

The training ground was located in the western suburbs of the capital, not far from the hunting grounds. As they alighted, the air was slightly cool, moonlight filtering through the clouds like fine silk. At this hour, soldiers were drilling formations, the spectacle grand and majestic.

The two headed straight for the training field. Servants had already prepared fine steeds, one for each, and they stood ready.

"Have you neglected archery because of the imperial exams?" Lou Xian chuckled softly. "Get all the practice you want today."

"How did you think of this place?" The Young Marquis took an arrow, took a deep breath, drew the bow, and shot, the arrow slicing through the sky.

Lou Xian held back, a teasing glint in his eye: "...Wanted to give you a surprise."

Luo Qianyu tried several times. He was no archer—neither now nor in his past life—but though he didn’t hit the bullseye every time, he felt an indescribable thrill.

Usually in the city, it was nothing but buildings and more buildings, mansions as far as the eye could see. It had been a long time since he breathed such vast, crisp air. He never expected Lou Xian to mysteriously drag him to a place like this, not some den of vice.

This time, Lou Xian actually knew what he wanted.

After shooting enough arrows, Luo Qianyu galloped freely on horseback. His injuries felt almost healed. The thunder of hooves filled his ears, dust flying beneath his riding attire, the wind whistling past his ears—absolutely liberating.

"Exhilarating!" Luo Qianyu couldn’t help but exclaim.

Seeing the Young Marquis happy, Lou Xian felt equally delighted, knowing he had chosen the right place. He dismounted and caught a servant's eye, giving a subtle nod.

He'd been fuming ever since he lost the hawk and the bird. Striking while the iron was hot, he would finally present the gift. The Young Marquis would surely be overjoyed!

Just as Luo Qianyu reined in his horse, he suddenly heard a piercing horse's neigh.

He froze in his tracks.

The sound was so startling that even the steed beneath him grew restless.

Squinting into the distance, he saw Lou Xian had changed mounts and was galloping toward him.

His eyes focused—

The horse was a solid, gleaming red, its muscular lines smooth and rippling with power, its mane shining like satin. As its hooves flew, they kicked up clouds of dust. It threw back its head and let out a neigh that echoed like war drums—wild and untamed.

Even without understanding horses, Luo Qianyu knew this steed was extraordinary.

Officers and soldiers nearby craned their necks. They were captivated, unable to look away.

...Too beautiful!

Luo Qianyu marveled to himself. *Such a fine steed in reality would be like a limited-edition supercar.* But this fiery horse was so striking, a one-in-a-hundred-years sight, it inexplicably reminded him of the mount belonging to Wen Yu in the original book—that warhorse named "Cloak."

The book hadn't spent many words on Cloak, but those few were vivid.

They said Cloak was fiercely temperamental, a blood-red beast difficult to tame. It would recognize only one master in its lifetime, and only later did it truly become Wen Yu's.

And its first appearance in the story? It was the horse *the Young Marquis* rode when he first charged through the night market.

"..."

A muscle in Luo Qianyu’s jaw twitched, and he involuntarily took a step back.

A sudden, inexplicable sense of foreboding washed over him.

"This horse is named 'Cloak,'" Lou Xian tightened the reins, steadying himself, and laughed heartily. "It’s a gift for you. Take it out for a ride at the East Lang Bridge night market, let all the wealthy young masters of the capital see it. They’ll be green with envy... Young Marquis?...... Young Marquis?!... Why are you running!"

Lou Xian looked up to find the youth had already turned and fled, now a hundred paces away from him!

His speed was so fast, the horse’s legs seemed to blur into afterimages.

No matter how much Lou Xian shouted after him, the Young Marquis galloped straight past Lou Xian's carriage and didn't stop until he reached his own mansion.

The servant who had been waiting was stunned to see his master return alone on horseback. He hurriedly brought out the prepared hand warmer and asked, "Young Master, you're back alone? Weren’t you just with Young Master Lou?"

Luo Qianyu dismounted and casually handed the reins to the servant: "Don’t mention him. We're through."

The servant: "??"

Noticing this servant looked somewhat unfamiliar, probably newly arrived at the mansion, the Young Marquis asked offhandedly, "Are you new here?"

The servant immediately bowed: "Yes, Your servant is named Chun Sheng."

After chatting for a bit, he discovered this servant knew some martial arts but was still young. Because his mother was seriously ill and needed money, he was bought to work here. This situation inexplicably reminded Luo Qianyu of Wen Yu, stirring pity in his heart, so he ordered the mansion to reward him with several dozen taels of silver.

On the way back to his courtyard, the Young Marquis’s steps suddenly halted as he remembered something.

He took out the golden folding fan from his bosom, twirled it between his fingers, and casually tossed it to Chun Sheng, who was following beside him. "This folding fan is for you."

Chun Sheng was shocked. Seeing the fan was entirely gold and extraordinary at a glance, it was likely a rare object from the palace. He said in alarm, "Young Master, this won’t do! An imperial gift—how could Your servant possibly deserve it? I fear it would shorten my humble life."

"It’s not exactly an imperial gift." Luo Qianyu’s lips moved slightly. "It’s from the Crown Prince... my brother." He stopped mid-sentence, sighed softly, "It's of no use to me anymore. Why shouldn't you have it? Your family is in difficulty. Take it to the pawnshop first to exchange for some silver, just to ease the urgent need."

Dumbfounded, Chun Sheng watched the Young Marquis walk away. Only then did he snap out of his daze, his eyes growing hot. He hurriedly prostrated and kowtowed three times, until his forehead turned red. "...Thank you, Young Marquis."

He had already received the reward silver, enough for his mother’s treatment. This grace was immense, beyond repayment. How could he bear to pawn this fan?

He would keep it safe for the Young Marquis, treasuring it more than an imperial gift, carrying it with him every day, not allowing a speck of dust to settle on it!

—

For the next two days, the Young Marquis stayed behind closed doors, refusing all visitors.

And so, he endured until the night of the East Lang Bridge night market.

Night fell over the city as lanterns began to glow.

The carriage awaited outside the mansion. The Marquis and his wife got in first, while the Second Young Master and Third Younger Sister both insisted on coming. Luo Shifu was on duty with the Imperial Guards and was unable to go.

Lady Sun held her handkerchief, still worried about her eldest son, and asked, “Is Qianyu really not going?”

The young servant nodded. “The Young Master said he is not feeling well and does not wish to go.”

Luo Zhenchuan sighed, comforting Lady Sun, “It’s just a slight chill. He’s grown now and knows his own limits. Don’t fret too much.”

…

In less than an hour, Luo Qianyu suddenly heard a maid deliver a message: “Young Master, the Marquis and Madam have returned.”

Luo Qianyu was puzzled. “That was quick?”

The maid seemed happy on his behalf and said, “I heard a sudden downpour interrupted the night market halfway through. The lantern festival has been postponed until tomorrow. How convenient for the Young Marquis—since he wasn’t feeling well today, he can just go tomorrow.”

To his own surprise, Luo Qianyu looked disappointed. He pulled his head back under the covers and said listlessly, “We’ll see.”

The next day.

A young servant came to report: “Young Master, the Fourth Young Master is going to the night market and would like to invite you to join him…”

Luo Shifu?

Hearing it was his fourth brother from the Imperial Guards, Luo Qianyu couldn’t even be bothered to think of an excuse this time and flatly refused: “Not going!”

About two hours later, Luo Shifu also returned home midway. Word was the night market had been postponed again until the following day.

Inside the mansion, maids bustled about in a flurry, rushing to the backyard to collect the quilts that had been hung out to dry. An old serving woman grumbled under her breath, “This wind is truly wicked—we never get gusts this fierce normally! Look, even the bamboo poles snapped! It took so much effort to hang these out… What on earth brought this evil wind?”

An evil wind?

Luo Qianyu felt ready to spit blood.

First rain, now a gale—what’s next, a fire tomorrow?

This wasn’t some evil wind; it was clearly the damn script at work!

Luo Qianyu casually threw on a cloak and sought out the coachman who had driven the carriage these past two days. Seizing the man, he demanded, “Skip the formalities. Tell me, when you drove to the night market these last two days, did you happen to see a man as beautiful as a celestial being?”

The coachman scratched his head, thought for a moment, and said, “Young Master, the night market was packed with people coming and going. Your servant really didn’t pay much attention. What does ‘as beautiful as a celestial being’ look like, exactly?”

The Young Marquis frowned, momentarily at a loss for words. “He’d be… fair-skinned, with features like a painting, tall and straight in posture, an exceptional presence—standing there, he’d make everyone else fade by comparison… Are you sure you have no impression at all?”

Old Wang looked troubled, carefully recalling once more before apologetically replying, “Young Marquis, there was no such person. If someone were that handsome, your servant would surely remember.”

Sure enough, if he didn’t appear at the lantern festival night market, Wen Yu wouldn’t show up either.

The Young Marquis thought to himself, then returned to Jinlin Courtyard.

Just then, Zhaonian braved the wind to deliver a hurried report, looking flustered. “Young Master, Young Master Lou sent a servant with a letter and also brought a red steed, saying it’s an apology.”

The Young Marquis sat bolt upright. “…What?”

Zhaonian seemed equally puzzled. He took the letter from his robe and handed it to the Young Marquis.

Luo Qianyu’s mind was tied up with that fierce horse, anxiety gnawing at him, so he suspiciously opened it—only to find it was a personal letter from Lou Xian:

“To the Esteemed One,

Last night’s sudden gale battered the crabapple blossoms, much like my own heart—scattered and beyond gathering.

When you turned and left, the bronze bells on the training ground rang like shattering ice, their echoes still shaking my very core.

Though Windcloak is fierce, his crimson eyes gleam like molten gold, his snow-white hooves tread cloud patterns—truly one in ten thousand, a match worthy of you.

If his unruly nature has offended the Young Marquis, it mirrors my own foolishness. I have ordered a golden silk whip to be placed in the west wing. Should your anger remain unappeased, you may take it to lash my back. Even if blood soaks through my robes, it would be preferable to this bone-deep regret choking me now.

I recall riding side by side with you on Southern Hill, our sleeves billowing like cranes crying across the nine heavens.

Since that day, every fine steed in this world has seemed unworthy of your noble bearing.

Having now provoked your wrath, I shall confine myself in reflection for thirty days, fearing only that the Young Marquis might doubt the purity of my regard. Should you grant me but a glance, even if the sun scorched my flesh, I would feel no burn; even if bound in icy depths, I would embrace it gladly.

Tears fall as I write, words failing me. I can only hope that clouds obscuring the moon will one day part, and this heart of jade and ice may yet be seen.”

The gist was: though he didn’t know what he had done wrong, since the Young Marquis was angry, it must all be his fault. Windcloak was offered as an apology. If the Young Marquis still hadn’t vented his anger, he could whip his back later—just please don’t ignore him.

This letter of reconciliation was elegantly penned, sincere in wording, every line coming from the heart. Yet it was so cloying it made the Young Marquis’ back teeth itch and inexplicably raised goosebumps all over.

This Lou Xian—apologizing was one thing, giving gifts another…

But why did a perfectly normal letter read so much like a love confession?