Chapter 25: Geng Tie (Part 2)

Chapter 25: Geng Tie (Part 2)

The Dayu dynasty indeed had a strong culture of male same-sex relationships.

Even the late emperor, who was obsessed with Daoist arts and elixirs and appeared ascetic and pure-minded, had several strikingly handsome "refined gentlemen" in his harem. Historians were not ashamed and honestly recorded every one of them.

These beauties were favored while alive, and after death, they were taken by the late emperor to be buried with him, like precious jewels.

Those who were formally married were indeed very few.

Le Wuya refused: "I won't exchange it."

Pei Mingqi: "I already know your eight characters. If you won't exchange, I'll do it myself. I'll send the betrothal gifts tomorrow."

Le Wuya frowned: "General Pei, I truly don't understand why you keep harassing me like this."

To exchange the geng tie, Pei Mingqi finally stopped beating around the bush.

He told a story.

He once had an old friend who died young. After death, his body was hanged posthumously and abandoned on a high mound, could never be found again.

Everyone said his old friend died an unnatural death, but Pei Mingqi was determined to let his old friend not be a wandering, unattended soul, and to receive proper offerings.

Minister Chang Yuxing of the Ministry of Rites in the court was a veteran who served under two emperors. In his old age, he had a young son, but that child did not take the official path. Instead, he turned to Daoism and withdrew from the mortal world, with little news of him. It was only known that he was exceptionally talented and had considerable achievements.

In any case, he was way more impressive than the late emperor.

Pei Mingqi wanted to seek this Master Chang's help.

Although Minister Chang was known for his good temper, Pei Mingqi was a military officer and couldn't get a word in with those civil officers.

With the help of Prince Xiang Zhijie, the sixth prince, he was able to get what he wanted. He found a young Daoist surnamed Lu, and using spiritual arts, he successfully gathered his old friend's soul.

But a few days ago, the little rosewood incense burner containing his old friend's soul broke.

Le Wuya had known since childhood that this guy never liked studying, but he never expected that after so many years, he still told stories just as terribly as before.

Not only were there no details, but he also skipped over what price he paid, unwilling to say more.

But he roughly understood some of it.

Little Phoenix had secretly kept his soul alive for four years.

Four years of waiting, and finally, a coincidence came.

—A man named Wen Ren Yue, whose eight characters were exactly the same as his, hanged himself from a beam.

Some unseen force brought Le Wuya to the dying Wen Ren Yue, using his body to be reborn into the world.

Le Wuya concluded that the Daoist named Lu, who had kept his soul, really had some talent.

Moreover, he must have lied about something important, hiding something from Pei Mingqi.

As the one who had his soul swapped, Le Wuya actually had more information than Pei Mingqi.

He speculated that the Daoist who summoned his soul was a good-hearted person.

He saw right through Pei Mingqi's obsession.

If Pei Mingqi knew that someone with the exact same eight characters as Le Wuya could serve as a vessel for Le Wuya's soul, and that at the moment of his death, Le Wuya's soul could possibly take his place...

Then what would Pei Mingqi do?

Regardless, now Pei Mingqi had come after him, grabbed him, and wanted to collect this vague old debt.

The so-called "marriage" idea was nothing more than his desperate attempt to keep him by his side, said in a desperate, rambling way.

Le Wuya could either take the opportunity to reveal his identity or pretend to be ignorant. Either way, he could use Pei Mingqi to achieve many goals.

He had the ability to talk people into doing anything for him.

As long as he wanted.

But this was not just anyone. This was Pei Mingqi.

In Le Wuya's previous life, the time spent with Little Phoenix was the most innocent and carefree.

He couldn't bear to deceive him. And he was foolish and devoted, couldn't keep a single thought to himself, with all his joys and sorrows written on his face.

Now that he was reborn, the past had turned to dust. He shouldn't get entangled any further.

You don't talk about dreams to a fool.

Le Wuya sat cross-legged and spoke earnestly to him, explaining the ins and outs: "General Pei Fengyou, Confucius didn't talk about weird things, feats of strength, or the supernatural. I have read all the sage books and shouldn't be saying these things to you. But seeing that you are heartbroken and confused, I still need to speak."

Pei Mingqi didn't like being called "confused." If it were anyone else, he'd have already lashed out with his whip.

He held back the storm of emotions in his chest, his lips pressed into a thin line: "Speak."

Le Wuya: "What proof do you have that your old friend's soul still exists? Perhaps the Daoist, seeing how grieved you were, comforted you kindly. That little censer was just a comfort, nothing more."

"As for the matter of exchanging geng ties that I mentioned earlier, it was just a joke. That I made you take it seriously is on me."

"Your old friend and your wife passed away one after another. You can't help being sad is only human. But I am neither your old friend nor your wife. I can't take their place."

"I've said all I have to say. Everything is in the past. The dead are gone. Please find peace."

Seeing him frozen in a daze, staring at him, Le Wuya got up and walked out of the bedroom.

The thin winter sun shone on him, bringing no warmth.

Le Wuya let out a soft sigh. Just as he was about to walk forward, hurried footsteps sounded behind him.

"It's not over!"

Pei Mingqi chased after him, all his spirited energy gone, his eyes brimming with raw sorrow and pain: "I can't get over it! Not even in death!"

Le Wuya concealed the faint sadness on his face, turned his head, and pretended to be curious: "What did he do to you that you can't let go of him?"

Pei Mingqi stared straight at him: "He was... good to me."

"But I was not good to him. I thought everything he did was from his heart. It wasn't until he died that I realized he was miserable the whole time."

Le Wuya's eyes grew a little hot. He turned his face away.

Little Phoenix, oh Little Phoenix.

As Le Wuya turned his back to him, Pei Mingqi's hand trembled a little as it rested on the hilt of his blade.

He was unwilling to marry him, and the path of taking it slow and convincing him was no longer viable.

So if he killed him, could he also get the little crow out of there?

The Deputy General, hearing the report from his soldiers that Pei Mingqi had once again publicly carried off the Magistrate, felt a headache coming on and hurried over to find them.

But damn, the Chen mansion was way too big, and he ran around forever, making countless wrong turns, until he heard the shouts of Young General Pei and finally found the right direction.

He ran over just in time to see Magistrate Wenren standing in the courtyard, looking completely unharmed.

He'd just breathed a sigh of relief when he saw his Young General gripping the hilt of his sword, his expression icy.

Good heavens!

Just a couple days ago, he casually mentioned it, and now the Young General really intended to kill the Magistrate!

Without thinking twice, the Deputy General lunged forward and grabbed Le Wuya's hand. "Magistrate Wenren, there you are! I've been looking all over for you!"

Le Wuya knew he had probably overheard something, but there was no need to call him out on it. "What is it?"

"We've pretty much finished the search in the front courtyard. We'll move to the back courtyard shortly. Would you like to come take a look at the front, Your Honor?"

Le Wuya: "Let's go."

As he walked away, Pei Mingqi still stared blankly at his retreating figure.

Only when the Deputy General rushed over as if possessed and grabbed his wrist did Pei Mingqi realize he was still gripping the sword hilt, his arm aching from the excessive force.

Pei Mingqi glared at the Deputy General. "What are you doing?"

"Me? What are you doing!" The Deputy General had a naturally loud voice; keeping it down was torture for him, making it sound as if someone had choked him. "He may be a low-ranking official, but he was appointed by the Imperial Court. If you really use your sword to kill an Imperial Official, do you want to lose your nine entire clans?"

"I wasn't actually going to kill him."

The Deputy General: ...Don't lie to me!

"I thought about it," Pei Mingqi said, avoiding his gaze as he let his sore hand hang by his side. "He's inside his body. If he gets hurt, he will feel the pain too."

...

The Chen family's estate was indeed vast. It took thirty soldiers a full twenty hours to finish confiscating all the gold, silver, and valuables.

After the Deputy General exchanged greetings with Le Wuya, he ordered the soldiers to load the last cart of treasures onto the wagon and seal them for storage.

Le Wuya handed over a small pouch. "Deputy General An, thank you and your men for your hard work."

The Deputy General initially wanted to refuse, but when he pinched the pouch, he couldn't help but be surprised.

The silver inside was just the right amount—neither too much nor too little—enough to buy a meal and drinks for thirty-one men, allowing them to feast heartily.

It was all small silver pieces, clearly from the Magistrate's own pocket, not from public funds.

They could accept it without any burden; refusing would have seemed fake and awkward.

Giving gifts so perfectly was a real skill.

The Deputy General grinned. "Alright then. Thank you for your kindness, Magistrate Wenren."

Le Wuya: "Keep the seals. Supervise the transport of this cart, and leave the follow-up to the constables."

The Nanting constables watched the carts of treasures being hauled away, unable to do anything, stuck guarding the perimeter.

They stood around all day without getting any perks and could only sigh in despair.

As the soldiers left, Le Wuya, holding a hand warmer, turned to face his own men.

"You've all worked hard standing here all day. There's still a little work to do," Le Wuya said unhurriedly. "The soldiers are bound to be careless. There might be spots they missed. Go through again. When we return to the yamen, I'll treat everyone to a late-night meal."

He Qingsong and the others lit up and replied, "Yes, sir!"

They filed into the unsealed Chen mansion and indeed found plenty of odds and ends in the nooks and crannies.

Le Wuya had left them some easily pocketable and convertible items—boxes of small silver pieces, small bolts of silk, and agate hairpins suitable for wives and daughters.

Seeing these small treasures left by the Magistrate, He Qingsong and the others were practically touched.

Even if paintings and furniture were valuable, they didn't know the market prices and didn't have the guts to sell stolen goods in public. They could only sell them off cheap and get little money.

Large rosewood furniture was too heavy and awkward to carry.

But these small items—they could see their value right away, easy to pocket and sell.

Even if they couldn't sell them, they could use them to please their wives at home.

While the constables eagerly scavenged, Le Wuya stood by the door, hands in his sleeves, staring up at the moon in a daze.

Pei Mingqi's soldiers belonged to Pei Mingqi after all.

If Le Wuya wanted to build a lasting position in Nanting County, he needed to win these constables over from Deputy Magistrate Sun, making them understand who really ran Nanting County.

He knew well that you can't earn people's loyalty without feeding them.

Instead of letting them extort and exploit on their own, it was better to teach them the principle: follow him and there'd be meat to eat.

And he had to feed them the meat willingly. If he didn't give it, they must not take it.

Le Wuya knew how to manipulate people; in that regard, he had few equals in his life.

But he simply didn't know how to repay genuine affection.

He sighed sorrowfully at the moon.

Ah, a person can't be too perfect—handsome, capable, and genuinely lovable.

If he had all the good qualities, what would other people do?

Anyway, the red walls of the Chen mansion still stood, but everything inside had crumbled overnight.

The main residence, the Xiaofu Coal Mine, and over a dozen shops were all seized and taken over by the government.

But this earth-shattering news for the people of Nanting County didn't even spread beyond the prefecture.

...

Yangshan Palace was the main hall of the Jing tribe in the city of Shuonan.

Two spies disguised as travelers knelt on both knees and presented a piece of white cotton paper with a portrait of Le Wuya.

Everything around was deathly still. Palace attendants moved about on tiptoe, holding their breath as if afraid to disturb the one above.

The two men remained silent, their hearts in suspense, awaiting the evaluation of the one above them.

No one knew how much time had passed before a faint, dismissive compliment finally came: "Your painting's not bad."

One of the spies relaxed slightly and quickly said, "We were merely showing off in front of a master."

This was not flattery.

Everyone knew that Helian Che, the leader of the Jing tribe, had risen to power on horseback, but few were aware that he was an accomplished painter and calligrapher.

"How is he?"

The second spy kept his words as brief as possible, not daring to say a single unnecessary word: "Magistrate of Nanting. His father is a branch of the Wenren clan of the Jing tribe. Forty-five years ago, they moved to the Jiang-Zhe area for business."

Helian Che's fingers brushed over the small mole on the painted figure's lip, and his reply was utterly indifferent: "Noted."

The two men kowtowed and took their leave, retreating with rigid postures.

Only when they stepped out of the palace did they let out a huge sigh of relief, as if they had been holding their breath underwater and finally surfaced.

Helian Che stood up and strode toward his own chambers.

A servant attempted to drape a cloak over him, but he raised a hand, and the servant, understanding his meaning, bowed fearfully and dared not approach half a step further.

Helian Che's palace was solemn and silent, with few gold or jade ornaments, exuding a bleak, cold authority. It did not resemble the residence of a tribal king but rather a general's mansion.

Holding the painting paper, he entered the chamber alone. With one hand, he pressed down on an eagle-shaped knob made of Hetian jade, applying a little pressure.

A hidden door soundlessly swung open.

Helian Che lit an animal oil lamp and stepped into the pitch-black secret chamber.

The cold flame flickered.

Wherever the light reached, there were images of Le Wuya.

Deep in thought, admiring flowers, sitting on a boat, riding a horse.

Helian Che, tall and imposing, concealed his face in the shadows. He walked to a stone table and opened a square box.

Inside the box were sheets of white cotton paper—his rejected sketches.

Without exception, every one of them depicted a person with a small mole on the lip.

But the figures in the box were younger than those on the walls.

The edges of some papers were already yellowed, as if they had been stored in the box for a long time.

He made a cold judgment on the new white cotton paper: "A fake."

With that, he carelessly stuffed the paper into the box and closed the lid.

After taking a few steps with the lamp, he stopped.

He paused for a moment, then turned back and reopened the box.

Though the two spies' painting skills were rough, they unexpectedly captured the subject's essence very well.

The expression of Le Wuya looking back at that moment was precisely captured by them.

Somehow, such a crude sketch made Helian Che unable to bear discarding it.

...

After receiving profuse thanks from the yamen runners and sealing up items that were hard to get rid of, Le Wuya returned to the magistrate's office.

Before Le Wuya even stepped through the door, the tea attendant eagerly stuck his head out: "Your Honor, there are letters for you!"

As the duck knows the warmth of the river first, the tea attendants were always the first to sense the shifting attitudes in the yamen.

He beamed like a flower: "Two letters! And a parcel too!"

Le Wuya thought they were family letters, so he exchanged some banter with the tea attendant and took them.

Looking at them by the lamp, his smile froze.

Could it be Xiao Zhishi's handwriting?

He quickly switched to the next one, and his heart, which had been in suspense, instantly sank.

Very well, it was Xiang Zhijie's.

Le Wuya asked, "Who delivered them? When did they arrive?"

"One came in the morning. The parcel and the letter arrived in the afternoon. Both were delivered by express messenger..."

Le Wuya was speechless.

Why mobilize so many messengers?

You two live across from each other—couldn't you have coordinated and sent them together?