Chapter 60

Chapter 60

Luo Qianyu: "What?"

He passed the provincial exam? He's a tribute scholar now?

Luo Zhenchuan sprang to his feet, pressing urgently, "The list is out? Truly? This is a serious matter—no room for nonsense!"

The servant nodded vigorously like pounding garlic, "Absolutely true! I've been taking turns guarding the examination hall these past few days. I saw it the moment it came out—no mistake about it! The young master passed the exam!"

The old Marquis's eyes widened in astonishment. He hastily waved a hand, "Quick! Go tell my wife at once."

"Yes!" The servant dashed out.

Luo Qianyu's mind hadn't fully processed the news yet, but his mouth had already blurted out ahead of his brain, reminding, "Father, you just said that if I passed, you would make me the master of this house..."

The old Marquis flicked his sleeve, his voice booming as he cut him off, "Once the provincial exam is over, next comes the palace examination, personally presided over by His Majesty. If you earn a ranking, you'll be the first scholar in three generations of the Luo family..."

Young Marquis: "Father, you just said that if I passed, you'd acknowledge me as the head of the family..."

Luo Zhenchuan turned his back, hands clasped behind him, not looking at him, and continued on his own, "Actually, looking at it now, this handwriting isn't all that bad... At first glance, this calligraphy appears chaotic, but upon closer inspection, the brushstrokes conceal elegance, with order emerging from the disorder. It subtly aligns with the principles of wild cursive script. My son may one day develop his own style and perhaps even make a name for himself in the calligraphy world."

Luo Qianyu: "..."

Is he deliberately changing the subject??

The young man sighed helplessly, tossed down the brush, wiped the ink from his fingertips, and raised his gaze—only to meet the eyes of Prince Yanhuai.

Still that icy stare. It seemed that even though the original host had passed the provincial exam, a wastrel remained a wastrel, and a good-for-nothing stayed a good-for-nothing. Que Xilan wouldn't spare him an extra glance because of this.

In this world, the only person who could truly earn the admiration of this Seventeenth Imperial Uncle was Wen Yu.

Only Wen Yu.

Just as the Marquis's estate was at its liveliest, Que Xilan rose to take his leave. Meanwhile, the Young Marquis took advantage of the commotion to gather those pages into his arms and, light-footed as the wind, slipped out unnoticed.

Before leaving the estate, Que Xilan glanced sideways and saw the young man running toward the courtyard. At the far end of the corridor stood a young man clad in a guard's black uniform.

-

Ten days earlier, at the examination hall.

Two officials in crimson robes stood beside a desk, arguing heatedly over an examination paper.

Chen Qinian, the Vice Minister of Rites, scowled darkly. He spread the paper open and slapped his palm down forcefully, "What did you say? Put it forward for recommendation!?"

"How can such an arrogant essay be worthy of the imperial court? Just look at this paper—the handwriting is like ghostly scribbles, and the opening and development completely disregard the eight-legged essay structure. It actually begins with 'Ancient methods are insufficient to uphold; we should emulate Western barbarian mathematics to audit finances'? What kind of talk is this? Utterly unique in the world, it's simply preposterous...!"

Lu Mingyuan, a compiler from the Hanlin Academy, stroked his beard. Known for his blunt honesty, he retorted, "Minister Chen, you are mistaken! What does it matter if the calligraphy is poor? From the very introduction, it follows the eight-legged structure, proving he knows how to write it! He's just too lazy to do so properly!"

"Look at his ingenious strategy: 'Use commercial taxes to supplement grain transport, establish border markets to fill military provisions,' trading tea and salt profits for warhorses, borrowing funds from the Maritime Trade Office to repair canals. This not only solves the congestion in grain transport but also saves millions in military grain transportation costs. Such brilliant thinking—how could ordinary pedantic scholars match it?"

Chen Qinian sneered, "Hmph, mere flashy tricks from crooked paths. How could they be implemented?" The old man lifted his sleeve, tucking his hands inside, and said disdainfully, "This provincial candidate is clearly arrogant, relying on his talent! He even dares to use vulgar slang like 'Money and grain don't fall from the sky like pies' in the opening argument. How can such words be written in an examination paper? How can they befit a refined hall? I think this person is nothing but a presumptuous and frivolous rogue!"

"If we set this precedent, what will become of the imperial examination regulations if future scholars imitate his deviant ways?"

"Minister Chen, you fail to understand. How many true talents follow the rules? Though the essay is unconventional, every word hits the crux of the grain transport and border troubles. The proposed strategies are novel and feasible. Moreover, our dynasty thirsts for talent—precisely the kind of bold, innovative thinkers we need. True brilliance emerges when we break free from convention!" Compiler Lu was not convinced in the slightest, his spittle flying as he argued, "If we reject him over calligraphy or format, burying an ambitious talent, discarding a pearl in the dust—that would be the court's true loss!"

"You call him a pearl? A rare talent? That's bullshit!"

"You're vulgar!"

The two argued fiercely, nearly rolling up their sleeves to come to blows. They argued until their faces were flushed red, both old men collapsing exhausted to rest. After drinking tea, they couldn't resist flipping through the examination paper three more times. In the end, they unanimously decided—

Advance him!

Compiler Lu stroked his beard, secretly pleased, thinking that if this candidate could meet the Emperor, his astonishing talent would surely earn him important appointments.

Meanwhile, Minister Chen sneered inwardly, calculating that during the palace examination, this presumptuous examinee would have to answer questions before the Emperor.

As everyone knew, the Emperor was unpredictable. Let's see how this dissolute fellow with his ugly handwriting would offend the imperial dignity in the Golden Luan Hall! When that time came, he would reap what he sowed, and he himself could seize the opportunity to purge the corrupt practices in the examination system.

Each harboring their own thoughts, yet in tacit agreement, they sent this controversial examination paper through the next palace gate.

Five days later, after comparing the red and black copies, everyone finally confirmed the identity of this candidate—

"Marquis Heir of the Zhenbei Marquis Estate, Luo Qianyu."

*

The Young Marquis sneezed.

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze catching the low-hanging dark clouds on the horizon. He then asked Chun Sheng, "Has Wen Yu not returned yet?"

Chun Sheng leaned in to answer, "Didn't Guardian Wen go to visit his mother? Young Master need not worry. Perhaps Guardian Wen is also anxious, his heart set on returning."

"Heart set on returning?" Luo Qianyu was momentarily taken aback upon hearing this, then suddenly laughed, "Wen Yu? How could he? Being by my side probably feels like an eternity to him."

The young man sat with one leg crossed over the other, a brush tucked behind his ear, idly reviewing his books in preparation for the next stage of the palace examination—his personal execution ground. "He'd finally gotten half a day of leisure. He's definitely dragging it out as long as possible—the later he returns, the better."

Chun Sheng thought for a moment, unsure how to respond, because Guardian Wen was indeed aloof and certainly didn't dote on their young master like they did. So, to cheer up the young heir, he said, "Young Master mentioned earlier that you wanted to eat chestnut pancakes. This servant will go to the street to buy some, to curb your craving?"

The Young Marquis, however, shook his head, "No need. I just mentioned it casually. The shop on East Street is so far—no point in making a fuss over nothing."

-

East Street shop.

Wen Yu packed two portions of chestnut pancakes, tucking the oil-paper packages into his robe. Just as he left the bustling market, crossing the crowded long street, at a corner, he suddenly saw a carriage quietly parked by the alley.

As he passed the carriage, a voice from behind the curtain spoke:

"Please, stay a moment."

Wen Yu halted, his gaze falling on the half-lowered curtain.

In the span of a mere moment, he identified the person inside the carriage. The young man straightened his robes and bowed slightly, his voice low, "Your Highness, Prince Yanhuai."

"Hmm." Que Xilan responded lightly, not wasting words, "How is your mother's health now?"

Wen Yu: "Thanks to the Young Marquis's care, my mother's illness has improved."

Mentioning this person, the person in the carriage fell silent for a rare moment.

"Wen Yu." When he spoke again, Que Xilan's voice was heavy, clearly displeased, "With your abilities, someone like you—how could you be willing to lower yourself beneath another? To serve as that person's guard?"

The voice carried a chill, tinged with a sense of frustration.

"Were you forced to return to the capital this time?"

Wen Yu's skills far surpassed those of the wayward heir. Yet now he had stooped to willingly become his personal guard. The oddity spoke for itself—that dissolute scion must hold some leverage or weakness over Wen Yu. Not only could Wen Yu not break free, but he was also completely trapped in the capital. Even under the Emperor's very feet, he had bowed to power.

And the conditions that could make Wen Yu compromise were few. The only vital point was his mother.

Despite being in such a situation, the young man's expression remained unchanged. He didn't even offer much explanation, simply saying, "It is not as Your Highness imagines."

With that, he turned to leave.

Que Xilan lowered his gaze and said in a low, concise voice, "Young Master Luo has two aphrodisiac pills hidden in his sleeve."

"He keeps them in a box, carrying them close to his body, afraid of being discovered. It must have been premeditated, waiting for the right moment when that person lets their guard down." Que Xilan's voice, coming from behind the curtain, revealed no emotion, yet each word was clear. "The person he intends to use them on is most likely someone close to him, someone difficult to target."

...

Wen Yu finally fell silent, slightly stunned, and remained so for a long while. When he raised his eyes and spoke, his tone was indifferent. "What does Your Highness mean by telling me this?"

The person inside the carriage seemed startled, falling silent for a moment, clearly not expecting Wen Yu to react this way after being warned of such a sordid affair.

The man frowned slightly, and his voice came after a pause. "Nothing, just a casual reminder."

"Since your mind is clear, I need not say more."

*

The chestnut pancake from the oiled paper packet was half-eaten and set aside on the edge of the table. Luo Qianyu, under cover of the late-night quiet, opened Lou Xian's letter.

He hadn't forgotten—there was still half left unread... no, half left unread by Wen Yu.

The shameful memory from the day was still fresh. Even though he knew that Wen Yu was already accustomed to such things in places he couldn't see, the Young Marquis, as a secretly retired 'stock gong', had been forced to witness a grand display of affection from his romantic rival.

So much so that when the young man opened this flirtatious letter, his ears couldn't help but burn.

Like a peacock spreading its tail, starting from where Wen Yu had read, Lou Xian had written much more, all trivial matters, as if he simply wanted to talk with him a little longer.

By the end of the page, the handwriting grew smaller and smaller, as if the overflowing longing could no longer be contained. Letters in this era were difficult to transport, let alone during the fierce fighting.

So-called "short letters, deep feelings"—it was exactly like this.

Lou Xian had likely truly fallen in love.

The Young Marquis sighed softly.

To make such a libertine settle down, even to the point of rushing into the smoke of battle, donning armor, and achieving merit... in contrast, Wen Yu truly possessed a charismatic personality.

At the end of the letter, Luo Qianyu noticed a line.

"While passing through the northern border, I happened to obtain a bottle of secret jade ointment, lustrous and cooling, with effects for dispersing blood stasis and relieving pain surpassing those of what I gifted you before.

You are prone to injury, so be sure to carry it with you always, so I won't worry.

If this ointment runs out, with the beacon fires lasting three months and a letter from home worth ten thousand pieces of gold, I will surely find something better to send.

The cold is severe and the frost thick; I hope you take good care of yourself."

The Young Marquis's gaze fell on the miniature porcelain jar beside the letter. Was this the one mentioned?

The letter said this jade ointment was smooth and cool, relieving pain and dispersing blood stasis... its effects were probably better than those Lou Xian had sent him before. A sweetheart really is different.

But...

"What did he send this for?" Luo Qianyu picked up the jade ointment, propping his chin on his hand, muttering in puzzlement.

Was Wen Yu prone to injury? Or afraid of pain?

Was that person so delicate? He hadn't noticed.

...

Or did this jade ointment have another use?

Luo Qianyu paused slightly, suddenly sitting up straight. He lifted the porcelain lid, pinched a bit onto his palm, and as the ointment melted, it felt ambiguous, slippery, and oddly textured.

Good grief, was it really the use he was thinking of?

This Lou Xian, before even having tasted the pleasures of the flesh, was already coveting the other's body.

Luo Qianyu was momentarily speechless.

Lou Xian was devotedly in love, but unfortunately, he was thousands of miles away, with no telling when he would return to the capital. He might just be preparing the bridal chamber for another.

...

The Young Marquis suddenly grew alert.

How many more such letters would he have to receive for Wen Yu?

Letters, gifts—if he accidentally got entangled, he would be the one to suffer.

Speaking of which, this wasn't the first time he had taken the fall for Wen Yu. From being kidnapped from Hanshan Temple to the painted boat on Xiyue Lake, being mistaken for the courtesan lady by Lou Xian, even boarding the Prime Minister's ship... if these were just the tip of the iceberg, there was also Liu Cixue. Liu Cixue had kissed his hand, bitten his ear, and nearly forced himself on him in the Crown Prince's hot spring pool.

No.

Having learned so many lessons, since the jade ointment wasn't for him, keeping it in his possession might invite trouble.

Deal with things as they come. What can be resolved tonight must not be delayed until tomorrow night, to avoid complications.

-

The night was deep, moonlight spilling over the eaves.

Wen Yu had just lain down when a knock suddenly came at the door.

Very light, two knocks.

After a brief hesitation, one more.

In the dead of night, a visit at this hour. Wen Yu, still awake, got up and opened the door. The visitor turned out to be the Young Marquis.

The young man had hastily thrown on an outer robe, but underneath, he wore only a thin, gauzy inner garment. His dark hair fell over his shoulders. It seemed he hadn't had time to put on his boots, wearing only a pair of soft satin sleeping shoes, a glimpse of his snow-white ankle faintly visible.

Luo Qianyu peeked in, and before even entering the personal guard's room, an extra cloak was draped over him, warmly enveloping him.

His exposed ankle was also grasped, warmth spreading from the palm. Soon, his feet were slipped into a pair of boots that weren't his.

The young master showed no awareness of being a visiting guest. He glanced inside and whispered, "You live in a place like this?"

This was his first time visiting Wen Yu's residence.

A guard's room naturally couldn't compare to a young master's bedchamber. A table, a bed, a burning candle—no calligraphy, paintings, or screens. The furnishings were much simpler, but it was clean and tidy, spotless. Although the Young Marquis knew this, he still subconsciously felt that someone like Wen Yu should live in a place like his.

A mansion with vermilion towers and ornate doors, not confined to this small, narrow space.

Wen Yu looked at him and asked softly, "What's wrong?"

The next second, something was pressed into Wen Yu's hand.

"This ointment is cool, smooth, and relieves pain while dispersing blood stasis." Since he didn't plan to stay long, he got straight to the point. The young master unexpectedly moved closer, whispering by his ear, "I often apply it to my palms when practicing swordplay. It works very well."

Wen Yu stiffened, slightly taken aback.

"Wen Yu, remember to keep this with you daily. It works as a lubricant, so it's not just for your palms. If there's a sudden turn of events and you're anxious and burning inside, with no time to prepare..." The young man averted his gaze, trying to speak as euphemistically as possible, though his ears were also growing warm. His tone toward the other man carried a hint of affection even he hadn't noticed, clearing his throat before saying, "It can also be applied... elsewhere."

"What kind of turn of events?" Wen Yu's voice paused briefly before he asked softly, "Why apply it?"

His voice was slightly hoarse.

...

Why apply it? How should he answer that? This truly flustered the Young Marquis.

"Why ask so many questions? In any case, it won't do any harm. *I* brought this over late at night, so just keep it." After saying this, Luo Qianyu turned his face away, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly as he muttered quietly, "Lest one day... you can't get out of bed."

The Young Marquis's breath brushed against Wen Yu's ear—warm and lightly scented, gone in an instant but leaving a faint itch.

...

Wen Yu looked at the jade ointment in his hand, his gaze resting on the Young Marquis's profile illuminated by the candlelight, and said nothing.

After a long while, he tightened his grip on the ointment jar and tucked it into his pouch.