Chapter 27: Chapter 27

Chapter 27

Fang Zhihe sat on the steps of the small courtyard gate, his loose, disheveled hair falling in several strands over his chest.

When Lu Wuyou opened the door in the middle of the night, it startled him so much that the half-eaten chestnut cake in his hand dropped to the ground. He looked up blankly at Lu Wuyou, who kicked him over, sending him tumbling down the steps.

"Don't push it," Lu Wuyou said coldly.

Fang Zhihe choked on the chestnut cake still lodged in his throat, coughing so hard he thought his heart and lungs might leap out. His right hand braced against the ground as he spat out a bit of bloody phlegm, his left hand trembling as he fumbled for his medicine bottle.

Lu Wuyou stood inside the door, giving him a cold look. "If you're sick, either die already or get the hell back to the capital."

Fang Zhihe swallowed the medicine with difficulty, his eyes red-rimmed as he looked at Lu Wuyou. The pain in his chest from the kick was fierce. He paused to catch his breath, then shook his head gently. "I came back late... was afraid I'd disturb you... sorry."

Lu Wuyou glanced at him. "Who gives a damn where you are?"

Fang Zhihe twitched the corner of his mouth and gave a faint smile. "...Then why did you open the door in the middle of the night?"

Fang Zhihe thought to himself, *With your martial arts skill, you must have heard me coughing just now, so you came to open the door.*

Lu Wuyou couldn't find a retort and simply snorted coldly. Only then did Fang Zhihe happily get up, brush the dust off himself, dart into the yard, and close the door.

Knowing he was in the wrong, he softly stroked Lu Wuyou's hand and said softly, "It was my fault. Getting angry with you this afternoon was truly wrong of me... I deserve punishment, and I should apologize. Yuntai, will you forgive me?"

The moonlight was like water, and Fang Zhihe's lips were a vivid red. Meeting Lu Wuyou's gaze, he suddenly appeared strikingly beautiful.

An oil lamp glowed beside the stone table, its shade painted with a scattering of falling petals and inscribed with a short poem: *"Only the spring moon, full of feeling, still shines on fallen petals for the lonely one."*

Lu Wuyou glanced at it, his eyes cold. Fang Zhihe looked at the lamp, his expression unchanged, and said softly, "You often say I'm jealous. I thought about it carefully today, and indeed you're right. But then I think, if I love you this much, how could I ever bear to share even a little of you with anyone else? You should understand that."

Lu Wuyou couldn't help but snort in derision. "So not only are you jealous, but you've got a face as thick as a city wall!"

Fang Zhihe took that as a compliment, smiled, leaned in to sneak a kiss, and then scurried off to his room like a greased eel.

Pissed off, Lu Wuyou hurled the oil lamp with its syrupy poem to the ground, cursed Fang Zhihe a thousand times in his mind, and with a flick of his sleeve, stormed off to his room.

Hearing him return to his room, Fang Zhihe couldn't help coughing twice as he spat blood. He hurriedly wiped his mouth clean with a handkerchief, forced down the blood rising in his throat, and murmured in a low, pained voice, "...It hurts so much."

Lu Wuyou's kick hadn't been hard, but Fang Zhihe's chest had been heavy and aching all day, making him uncomfortable to begin with. At least after spitting up the blood, he felt a bit better.

He let out a light sigh. Finding he couldn't sleep, he took out paper and brush to write down the water control methods Lu Wuyou had once mentioned to him. Remembering that he still had to meet Yunzheng tomorrow, Fang Zhihe rubbed his temples and let out a frustrated sigh.

Whatever, whatever.

Blame it on that damn younger brother of his for dumping this mess on him. He'd just have to just accept it. Accept it.

*

The next morning, when Lu Wuyou returned from buying groceries on the street, Fang Zhihe had just finished handling the official documents on his desk. He stretched lazily, his hair loose, and carried a wooden comb to sit in the wicker chair in the courtyard.

A glance caught sight of the overturned oil lamp. Fang Zhihe pursed his lips, silently picked it up, and put it back in its place. Lu Wuyou saw this and clicked his tongue in annoyance.

Fang Zhihe smiled at him. "Today... will you tie my hair up? It was too loose yesterday." With that, he handed the comb to Lu Wuyou.

Lu Wuyou took it reflexively. After a moment's hesitation, he still agreed, though his tone was irritated. "Once I find Changlin in the future, I won't bother with you anymore. You'd better learn to do these little things yourself."

He gently combed through Fang Zhihe's jet-black hair, feeling inexplicably down, so he combed it a few extra times.

Fang Zhihe didn't reply for a long time. Only after the white jade hair crown was secured did Fang Zhihe say with a light laugh, "I know. Don't worry, Minister Lu. I have plenty of people to serve me."

Lu Wuyou frowned at that, but seeing Fang Zhihe's complexion—pale as paper—he suppressed his anger and tossed the comb back to him.

Fang Zhihe caught it nonchalantly and said flatly, "Changlin is my younger brother. He also has plenty of attendants. You might not be needed."

"Are you deliberately starting something?" Lu Wuyou laughed in spite of his anger. He half-leaned down, pinched Fang Zhihe's chin, and smiled. "I'm in a good mood today and don't want to ask for trouble. If you insist, Your Majesty, I don't mind making you hurt a little."

Fang Zhihe sniffled, pushed his hand away, and turned sideways, muttering sullenly, "Then don't talk about my brother."

Lu Wuyou said nothing.

Fang Zhihe rubbed his nose and added, "Don't talk about him, don't you dare talk about him, you hear me! If you do, I'll get jealous!"

Lu Wuyou furrowed his brow. "You think—"

Fang Zhihe grabbed his hair tightly, almost pleadingly. "I never thought I was anything special... Don't bring him up, Yuntai. Please, okay?"

Lu Wuyou, his hair being tugged, froze for a few seconds. Hearing his tearful plea, a voice suddenly popped into his head—*Is this Fang Zhihe? That lofty, superior Fang Zhihe?*

A wave of satisfaction washed over him. He reached out and wiped away a tear at the corner of Fang Zhihe's eye, and suddenly laughed.

It was a bit mean, as well as a touch of sympathy, as he asked, "You like me that much, Fang Zhihe?"

The man was stunned by the question. It took a while, but then his lips trembling, he carefully kissed him, his hands fidgeting nervously. He whispered, "Yes... yes. Yes."

"I like you."

Lu Wuyou half-closed his eyes, finally content, and replied casually, "But I don't like you."

Not at all.

"Author's Note"

Too sleepy (crying) still couldn't get the career stuff done (throws teacup lid in frustration)