Chapter 37: Peeking (II)

Chapter 37: Peeking (II)

Trouble found Le Wuya even before his summer and autumn clothes had arrived at the yamen.

On the Jing tribe's land stood Ranqiu Mountain, rich in fine stone, located at the border between Dayu and the Jing tribe.

Transporting such stones was inconvenient, with freight costs alone being a huge expense, so the closer the source, the better.

Dayu and the Jing tribe had not engaged in formal warfare for years; the last border skirmish was four years ago, and trade had long been common.

After reporting to Prefect Lyu and filing the paperwork, Le Wuya placed the order and paid the initial installment, waiting only for the stones to be delivered.

But when the shipment reached the Ranqiu checkpoint, the Jing border officials seized it.

They weren't intending to rob him outright; they treated the ten constables Le Wuya had sent to transport the stones to a fine meal and drink before sending them back.

He Qingsong was one of those constables.

He said, looking unhappy, "Your Honor, the official over there is called Meng Zha. He says this batch of stone is too large to let through lightly, fearing it might be against regulations. He'll only release it if he confirms it's a purchase by the Dayu government."

Le Wuya: "He didn't accept the official documents?"

He Qingsong: "He said he can't read."

Le Wuya smiled: "What do they want, then?"

He Qingsong: "They said... they'd like the person in charge to go there in person and verify their identity to clear up the misunderstanding."

Le Wuya rested his chin in his hand and joked, "What if they detain the person in charge instead?"

He Qingsong also thought this was pretty damn risky.

That Meng Zha had treated them politely enough, but the man had a terrifying appearance—broad-shouldered and stocky—and even someone like He Qingsong found him intimidating, let alone a refined young man like the magistrate.

Dayu and the Jing tribe had enjoyed peace at the border for many years, but He Qingsong was older and had seen as a child how both sides had fought with bloody violence, heads were rolling.

He gritted his teeth and took a deep breath: "Then let's forget about the stones! Have them ship it back, we'll demand a refund and find another supplier!"

Le Wuya shook his head a little.

He had thoroughly scouted out the surrounding areas that produced stone.

Yizhou did have a few places that yielded stone, but for one thing, they were too far away—much farther than Ranqiu Mountain—and for another, the quality of the stone there was inferior.

Paying more for something less worthwhile was a losing proposition Le Wuya would never make.

There weren't many people in the yamen who could be considered "in charge."

Deputy Magistrate Sun was not in Nanting, and the secretary was a timid man who wasn't up to the task. He overheard the conversation and guessed there might be a business trip involved. His legs started trembling and his eyes darting around as he pondered what serious illness he could come down with to escape this duty.

Le Wuya put him out of his misery quickly: "I'll go."

The secretary let out a huge sigh of relief, but still felt he had to say something for appearances: "Sir, this job is dangerous. You shouldn't go."

Le Wuya shot him a sideways glance: "How about you go instead, then?"

The man shut up immediately, too fond of his own hide to actually slap himself, so he just lowered his head, stroking his neatly trimmed long beard, looking aggrieved.

Le Wuya had already figured out most of it.

Only "that guy" knew his true birth date and time.

Little Phoenix must've made some under-the-table deal with him.

Little Phoenix's purple sandalwood incense burner had broken, and with a temper like that, that guy definitely got an earful, and afterward definitely started getting suspicious.

And so a flower seller had come to the yamen gate, wanting to see him on his birthday, and made sure to cause him some trouble.

...Still so contrary and hardheaded in his ways.

Le Wuya let out a resigned sigh.

Even setting aside all the past-life baggage, he had to make this trip for the sake of his precious stones.

...

When Wenren Yue heard about it, he said, "I'm going with you."

Le Wuya was pretty touched.

This kid was so reliable—whether he actually came or not, just hearing that made him feel better.

Then he turned Wenren Yue down: "No way."

Wenren Yue had never been refused by Le Wuya before, so he blinked in confusion: "How come?"

"It's no big deal. Even if the Jing tribe wanted to start a war again, it wouldn't be over this batch of stone." Le Wuya said. "I'm taking He Qingsong and the others to help with the transport. At most, I'll be back in three days. You stay here and study hard—both your books and your martial arts. I'll leave you an essay question, like a provincial exam question. Write it up and submit it; I'll grade it when I get back."

But the real reason, Le Wuya didn't share with Wenren Yue.

Wenren Yue had once been duped by him into meeting that flower seller in person.

If this whole trip was really that guy's setup, and those two bumped into each other, the misunderstanding would be massive.

Le Wuya got on a tall horse, all properly dressed, and rode through Qingyuan, Sanhe, and Jing'an, reaching the border inn within a day.

Le Wuya gave the horse to He Qingsong to tend to, and had just settled into his room when someone knocked on the door.

Three knocks, then a pause, over and over—very polite.

Le Wuya rose with difficulty, walked to the door, and was startled: "You?"

Wenren Yue stood cloaked in night, holding a scroll case in his hands. He bowed and said, "Sir, I've finished the essay you assigned and came to turn it in."

Le Wuya: "..."

He should have seen this coming!

This man might look soft, but he was very determined inside!

Le Wuya took the case from him: "Where did you get a horse?"

Wenren Yue answered honestly: "You've been kind to me, so it wasn't hard to requisition a horse from the yamen."

Le Wuya never knew that honesty could be so infuriating.

He turned away angrily, limping toward the bed.

Wenren Yue was stunned for a moment, then quickly stepped forward to support him: "Brother Gu, what's wrong?"

Le Wuya said grumpily, "It's all your fault!"

Wen Renyue: "?"

Wen Renyue's current body was a scholar's build; when he'd galloped through the city before, he hadn't noticed it, but after a long journey, he felt the strain—everything below his waist was sore and aching, as if it didn't belong to him.

Le Wuya was in a bad mood and shot him a sour look. He flopped onto the bed, pulled out Wen Renyue's exam paper, and began reading it by the lamplight.

He wasn't about to take his frustration out on Wen Renyue's paper, though.

After closing the door, Wen Renyue approached slowly.

The lamp was dim, the shadows deep. Le Wuya leaned against the headboard, looking pale and languid, his curly hair scattered. The lamplight couldn't reach his eyes, as if kept at bay.

Wen Renyue silently stepped forward and trimmed the lamp wick to make it brighter.

Just then, Le Wuya looked up at him. "You wrote this overnight, didn't you?"

Wen Renyue: "Hmm?"

"I can smell the lamp oil." Le Wuya held up the thin paper. "What did you mix into your lamp oil? It smells surprisingly nice."

Wen Renyue leaned in and took a gentle sniff.

Le Wuya added, "It smells like osmanthus."

Wen Renyue wanted to explain—at the Ming family home, they were too poor to afford incense to stay alert like in his former study, so Ming's mother had placed her osmanthus hair oil nearby for him to sniff when he got tired.

This osmanthus oil was homemade by Ming's mother, light and pure, with a hint of mint. Warmed by the lamp's heat, it had seeped into the paper.

He wanted to speak, but on the other side of the thin, translucent paper was the shadowy outline of Le Wuya's face.

In his nostrils, besides the scent of osmanthus oil, there was also Le Wuya's scent.

Since he had a guest to meet the next day, Le Wuya had just bathed, his body carrying only the faint scent of soap from the hot water, making him look especially clean and appealing.

Wen Renyue's voice tightened slightly. "Yes. It's osmanthus."

Le Wuya held his paper and turned over with difficulty. "No good, my back is killing me from that bumpy ride."

He wanted to shift into a more comfortable position, but the next moment, a pair of hands pressed down on his waist.

Le Wuya froze, and so did Wen Renyue.

Wen Renyue's new body had broad palms, and when pressed together, they completely covered Le Wuya's lower back.

And that waist was incredibly soft, sinking in with a light press.

Wen Renyue was certain it wasn't his own waist.

He said, "Let me massage it for you."

Le Wuya didn't object and lay back down on the bed.

After all, it was only right for him to take care of Wen Renyue's body.

He said, "But if I lie on my stomach, the lamp is too dim."

Wen Renyue lifted the oil lamp with one hand. "I'll massage you and hold the light for you."

For a moment, the room was silent, the soft crackling of the lamp wick and the rustle of paper complementing each other.

"I know I should listen," Wen Renyue said softly. "When you leave me, I feel lost."

Le Wuya, with his back to him, asked, "Seeing me gives you peace of mind?"

"Mm."

"That won't do," Le Wuya said. "In the future, when you go elsewhere to take exams, will you bring me with you to your official post?"

Wen Renyue fell silent.

Facing his back, he gave a self-deprecating smile and replied, "You're right."

Le Wuya didn't reply, his shoulders trembling slightly as he buried his face and messy hair in his arms.

Wen Renyue massaged for a while longer before noticing his awkward posture. "Are you sleepy?"

"Mm..." Le Wuya arched his back in exasperation. "Stop rubbing!"

Wen Renyue: ?

He asked worriedly, "Was I too heavy-handed?"

"You're tormenting me!" Le Wuya kicked at Wen Renyue but missed in his frustration. "Go back to your own room!"

He hastily pulled the blanket over himself, covering his lower body.

Though Le Wuya was quick, Wen Renyue still caught a glimpse.

His face suddenly burned. He stood up swiftly, turned, and fled with the oil lamp.

With his long legs, he ran nimbly. By the time Le Wuya came to his senses, Wen Renyue had already swiped the only lamp in the room.

Le Wuya turned over, lifted the blanket, peeked, and sized it up.

Not bad.

Even though he'd embarrassed himself, the size was nothing to be ashamed of.

He took a deep breath, his mind chaotic, and thought of the deceitful claim he'd made in his previous life.

Now he couldn't quite recall how much was sincere and how much was fake.

In his youth, just as he'd started to enjoy the feeling of liking someone, his hopes were dashed.

After that, he was scared to love anyone.

The claim of being a homosexual was his last bit of spite, and also his way of wrapping up his youthful impulses.

He never expected that in this life, his body would follow his heart, seemed to be getting restless again.

Le Wuya, stirred by Wen Renyue's unintentional actions, was consumed by a flood of thoughts. The more he thought, the angrier he got, and he was tempted to give Wen Renyue's paper a failing grade.

But after calming his inner turmoil, he still walked to the corridor, and by the light of the lantern, finished grading the half-written essay.

The writing was passable, the handwriting neat, with occasional clever phrases—good enough for the eight-legged essay format.

After more than half a year of official experience, Wen Renyue's policy essays were far superior to those of his peers.

But his writing was still immature and lacking in substance; his policy essays quoted many classics but offered few original ideas.

Le Wuya drew two circles, crossed out four sections, and ruthlessly caused him to fail the exam.

...

Back in his own room, Wenren Yue waited until the flush on his face had faded before realizing he had taken the oil lamp from Le Wuya's room.

He pursed his lips in frustration and walked toward the door, intending to return the lamp.

But what if he walked in on that scene—seeing the man with his head down, relieving himself...

Wenren Yue spun around abruptly, carried the lamp back to his bedside, and sat down properly.

The single candle flame danced restlessly, making his cheeks burn.

He stared at the lamp for a long while, waited until he thought enough time had passed, and then headed for the door.

As he stepped out and looked down the corridor, he saw Le Wuya standing by the lantern in a coat, using its light to grade exam papers.

The spring chill was biting, and being on the border, Le Wuya paused to breathe warmth into his hands as he reviewed.

The thin white mist he exhaled was as slight and endearing as his frame.

Wenren Yue froze, pulled his foot back inside, and quickly walked to the lamp, blowing out both lamps at once.

This time, it was his turn to be unable to leave the room.

Every sound became distinct.

The chirping of insects, the wind, and his own breathing all sounded like thunder, as if they might give him away at any moment.

Fortunately, the torment didn't last long.

Before long, a faint creak sounded from the other door.

Le Wuya had gone back to his room.

Wenren Yue turned over.

Only then did he realize, too late, that his cheeks were burning—not from the heat of the lamp.

...

The next day, Le Wuya, accompanied by He Qingsong and his blustering group, along with a distracted Wenren Yue, visited Meng Zha at Ranqiu Pass.

As He Qingsong had said, Meng Zha was indeed a fierce, rough-looking man, in his forties, with a completely shaved head.

A vivid red scar ran across the crown of his head, making him look like a demon crawling out of hell.

But this man was not what he appeared to be. His temperament was not only fierce but also somewhat refined.

However, that only added to the terror—one moment he'd be chatting cordially, and the next he'd grab a saber and fight to the death.

Le Wuya's guess was correct.

The matter wasn't hard to resolve.

After learning the purpose of the stone, Meng Zha apologized to Le Wuya and insisted he stay for a meal.

Le Wuya wasn't surprised.

Since the second and third batches of stone would still have to pass through here, there was no need to make excuses and sour the relationship.

He gladly accepted.

The meal took place at the official residence in Ranqiu Pass.

"Official residence" was just a modest little courtyard house.

Hearing that Le Wuya wasn't much of a drinker, Meng Zha didn't insist and ordered snow pear honey water instead.

After several rounds, He Qingsong and his group grew flushed with wine, and seeing that Meng Zha still showed no fierce side and remained mild-tempered as warm water, they relaxed.

He Qingsong was most curious about the vertical scar on Meng Zha's forehead, stealing glances until even Meng Zha found it a bit ridiculous.

He shrugged and said, "Go ahead and ask if you want."

He Qingsong grinned, gestured to his head, and asked, "This... how'd it happen?"

Meng Zha: "During the Bronze Horse Battle, a young general slashed me. My brains almost spilled out. It's a miracle I made it."

He Qingsong thought for a moment: "Bronze Horse Battle... more than ten years ago... Ah, was it the Young General Pei?"

"No," Meng Zha said. "It was another young general who went on campaign alongside him, surnamed Le. Do you know of him?"

He Qingsong downed a cup of wine: "Le Wuya! Who doesn't know him?"

Le Wuya picked up a piece of vegetable and chewed in silence, eyeing the terrifying scar on Meng Zha's head.

Had he been the one to cut this man?

He'd killed too many; he couldn't remember.

Meng Zha turned to Le Wuya: "Do you know him?"

Le Wuya shook his head earnestly: "I was just a child during the Bronze Horse Battle."

"Yes, Magistrate Wenren is accomplished at a young age; there's much you wouldn't know."

Meng Zha was also slightly drunk: "For example, your stone comes from Mount Ranqiu, but ten years ago, Mount Ranqiu was occupied by a band of mountain bandits. Even the finest stone couldn't be transported out. Did you know that?"

Le Wuya looked at him calmly.

He did know.

And he also knew that the man was pretending to be drunk to trick him into revealing something.

Then, that person must be here.

...

At that moment, in the very next room, there was a small table and a flask of strong liquor.

By the table and the liquor sat Helian Che, his face cold and stern.

Le Wuya's hearty, laughing voice came from the other room: "I don't know. Why don't you tell me?"