Chapter 50: The Visitor (Part 1)

Chapter 50: The Visitor (Part 1)

Though Xiaoqi was also great, the matter of "sending a portrait" had only been mentioned to Xiaoliu, and he had left no letter, only a verbal message.

Le Wuya thought that Xiaoqi had likely been unable to resist his mischievous nature and interfered again.

He had been having a good chat with Xiaoliu, but Xiaoqi had barged in and interfered with their correspondence—hardly proper.

In his previous life, the thrill of going toe-to-toe with Xiang Zhi, setting traps for each other, had stirred Le Wuya's devious mind once more.

"Truly beautiful," he offered a heartfelt compliment, then promptly handed it to Wen Renyue, saying, "Mount it and hang it up."

Wen Renyue: ?

He had assumed the painting was meant to be treasured, never expecting it to be displayed.

Le Wuya picked an empty spot on the study wall and declared with certainty, "Right here."

He wanted to ensure that anyone entering the study would be greeted by Seventh Prince's face, as beautiful and striking as a peony.

Wasn't it Xiaoqi who had come to Nanting and mocked him for using a borrowed name to intimidate?

Well, now he would flaunt that very authority.

Imagining the look on that boy's face—forcing a smile while fuming inside, practically twisting his nose out of shape—filled Le Wuya with glee. He even began to consider having a brass plaque made that read "Gifted by Xiang Zhi, Seventh Prince of Dayu," and placing it clearly beneath the painting to show him up.

While rubbing his hands together in anticipation of the fun to come, Le Wuya asked Wen Renyue, "Where is the person who delivered the painting?"

However, Wen Renyue's answer caught him off guard: "The one who delivered it is a physician. He's resting in the front hall."

Le Wuya frowned slightly, sensing something was off. "A physician?"

"I asked him in detail. His name is Cui Gangying, a traveling doctor who specializes in treating lung and stomach conditions. He was brought here by someone from the capital to check Brother Gu's pulse."

Le Wuya's expression froze.

That doesn't add up.

He had assumed the painting was delivered by one of Xiaoqi's men, that Xiaoqi had learned that Xiaoliu had commissioned a portrait and sent his own portrait ahead to mess with him.

But Xiaoqi clearly didn't know that Le Wuya had been reborn. Why would he send a doctor to check his pulse?

There was a ninety percent chance that this was still Xiaoliu's doing.

Le Wuya unrolled the painting again and studied it closely.

The figure in the portrait had clearly made every effort to mimic Xiaoliu's demeanor and mannerisms, even copying his outfit down to the last detail.

Unfortunately, he had run into Old Huang, who was both meticulous and excellent at capturing expressions. Huang had captured that elusive, indescribable spark in his eyes, making it so Le Wuya recognized him instantly.

Anyone else would have found Seventh Prince's behavior strange and hard to fathom.

But Le Wuya could see right through Xiaoqi's twisted, hidden intentions.

That boy had always believed that Le Wuya favored Zhi Jie, and being inherently petty and competitive, he had never accepted it.

Le Wuya suspected that after hearing from Jiang He that Le Wuya wanted a portrait of Xiaoliu, Xiaoqi had, on one hand, urged Xiaoliu to have Old Huang paint his portrait, and on the other, splashed out a fortune and used sweet talk to force Old Huang into painting a portrait of himself instead. He then swapped the paintings, sending his own to the Sixth Prince's residence and tricking Xiaoliu into delivering it.

In the end, all of Xiaoliu's efforts would end up working for someone else's benefit.

As for Xiaoqi's motive, Le Wuya could figure it out in his sleep.

He simply wanted to see Xiaoliu upset, to see his efforts go to waste.

Le Wuya had known about the discord between these two brothers from the start.

It was all the doing of the Old Emperor, who had lovingly applied his method of taming officials to his own children.

Being a father to such an extent—he might as well have castrated himself.

Le Wuya rubbed his chin and asked Wen Renyue, "Did the physician come alone?"

No one answered.

Le Wuya turned his head and saw Wen Renyue staring at the painting, lost in thought.

Le Wuya leaned over. "Hey, Brother Gu is calling you."

Wen Renyue snapped out of his reverie. "Brother Gu, do you really want it framed?"

Le Wuya stared at him.

Wen Renyue being so distracted was unusual.

Under Le Wuya's scrutiny, Wen Renyue felt embarrassed. "Sorry, Brother Gu. What did you say just now?"

After Le Wuya repeated his question, Wen Renyue quickly replied, "Only Doctor Cui and an apprentice came visiting; the messenger is staying at the inn."

Le Wuya didn't think much of it.

Now that Deputy Magistrate Sun had returned to Nanting County, Jiang He had probably caught wind of something.

Jiang He had always been terrible at dealing with talkative officials like Sun. It was just like him to drop the doctor off at the government office gate, run away, and leave the doctor to knock on the door clutching the painting.

Le Wuya still remembered the time he went to Ranqiu Pass and felt a sudden, unexplained sharp pain in his chest.

After returning to the city, he had gone to see two doctors on the sly when Wen Renyue wasn't around.

Both said the magistrate was in great shape and would live to be ninety-nine. In the end, they prescribed some harmless tonic to cool the blood and calm the mind, and that was that.

Seeing Le Wuya hold back, the doctors urged him not to be afraid to disclose his illness, and to be straightforward if he felt unwell, before a minor ailment turns into a major one, and then it'll be too late for regrets.

Le Wuya let out a breath.

What could he say?

Was he supposed to say he was afraid the illness from his past life would come with him into this one?

Then he would immediately be diagnosed with insanity.

Besides, both of these doctors were born-and-bred Nanting locals. Their medical skills were decent, but because he was the local magistrate, they were bound to sugarcoat their diagnosis.

Out-of-town monks, as the saying goes, recite better sutras.

Le Wuya stretched. "I'll go see Doctor Cui. You work on your essay. Do you still remember the requirements for this time?"

Wen Renyue picked up a booklet and nodded obediently. "For this essay, it's not about depth of meaning, only skillful craftsmanship and parallelism."

Wen Ren Yue did not yet know that the booklet in his hand was a collection of imperial exam questions from the palace and metropolitan exams since the current emperor took the throne.

The topics for the metropolitan exams were still passed down by word of mouth among candidates.

But the palace exam topics were kept secret, known to very few.

This made it convenient for Le Wuya to copy them down from memory and give this valuable collection to Wen Ren Yue for daily practice.

Wen Ren Yue had only taken the provincial exam, not even the metropolitan one, so he knew little about these. He only knew that these questions were much more advanced than the ones he had tackled before, requiring more effort.

Now, seeing the Imperial Commissioner's portrait, he felt as if he'd been struck on the head. As if waking from a dream, he set his mind to focus entirely on his studies.

General Pei, though a rough soldier, spoke the truth.

He was a scholar, and needed to see the world, broaden his horizons, and learn how to be an official, but the most important thing was still to study and pass the exams to gain an official rank.

With a title, he could perhaps have his own portrait painted, so that Brother Gu could hang it on the wall, making him both his right-hand man and his pillar of support.

Le Wuya did not have such high expectations for Wen Ren Yue as he was now.

He only needed to write this essay well.

Acting as a devoted teacher, Le Wuya went to see Doctor Cui.

Doctor Cui was a very amiable fat man, rather introverted, with a quick-witted young apprentice who took care of his daily needs and served as his voice.

After the four diagnostic methods—inspection, auscultation, inquiry, and palpation—Cui Gangying lowered his head to write the medical record, while the young apprentice announced brightly, "Magistrate Wenren, you're perfectly healthy, no illnesses or troubles. The master will prescribe two kinds of pills to nourish your qi and stomach. Take them daily, and all will be well!"

Since they were among outsiders, Le Wuya didn't hold back: "And in the future?"

The apprentice blinked: "The future?"

Le Wuya: "I always worry that I'll get sick in the future."

The apprentice exchanged a glance with Doctor Cui.

Doctor Cui knew that some patients had hypochondria, always complaining of aches and pains, but upon careful examination, their bodies were healthy enough to plow fields alongside an ox.

But hypochondria was more common in the elderly. It was rare for a young, handsome magistrate like Wenren to have such worries.

Doctor Cui spoke in a calm, steady tone, steady enough to calm anyone's anxiety: "Magistrate Wenren, don't worry too much. Who can predict the future? You work hard for the people of this county; there's no need to add to your troubles. With me looking after you, you can be at ease."

Le Wuya sensed there was more to it: "...Hmm?"

"Someone has already paid your consultation fee," Doctor Cui said gently. "Every year until I die, no matter where you are, I'll take your pulse twice a year."

With that, he handed over a name card: "In the future, if you truly feel something is wrong with your body, send a letter to this address. Then, no matter where I am, I'll come back to treat you."

For a renowned specialist like him to travel just for a healthy patient was an extraordinary favor.

Le Wuya stood up and bowed respectfully.

Doctor Cui returned the bow and gently but firmly refused Le Wuya's consultation fee.

"Someone has already paid for Magistrate Wenren. Dr. Cui only accepts the money he's owed, nothing more," he said with a gentle smile. "But this apprentice of mine has a sweet tooth. If there are any local specialties in Nanting County, you can send some to him."

This was no trouble for Le Wuya.

Since his rebirth, he had tasted everything in Nanting County. His favorite was a flaky pastry from the north of the city, with an excellent crust, rich and delicious, crispy inside and out, and most remarkably, without any filling.

Le Wuya made a long list of local specialties, sent the government runners to purchase them, and also asked the secretary to take Doctor Cui's prescription to several medical clinics in Nanting to have them verify the prescription was safe.

When dealing with things from the capital, Le Wuya had to be extra cautious.

When Le Wuya learned that the prescription was an excellent tonic, Doctor Cui and the young apprentice had already loaded the cart with local specialties, each clutching a flaky pastry, and left the city heading back to the capital.

Doctor Cui's visit had been quiet and unannounced, but it caused a stir in Nanting's medical clinics.

The physicians at several pharmacies saw the prescription and were amazed, asking contacts to find out who wrote it. They wanted to meet this master physician and learn from him.

After receiving several gifts from the doctors, the secretary felt emboldened and decided to present the prepared pills to the magistrate and test the waters.

Unexpectedly, as soon as he entered the magistrate's study, he was greeted by a large portrait of the Imperial Commissioner hanging on the wall.

Le Wuya was writing a letter to the left of the Imperial Commissioner's portrait.

Wen Ren Yue was to the right of the portrait, concentrating on writing an essay.

Only the secretary and the portrait of the Imperial Commissioner were facing each other, the secretary at a loss.

The secretary put down the medicine and scurried away like a mouse from a cat. Only when he returned to his room did he realize his legs were trembling slightly.

The magistrate had hung up the Imperial Commissioner's portrait!

What a close and intimate relationship!

After catching his breath, the secretary hurriedly sat down at the table, spread out paper, and wrote a long letter to his uncle.

...

While the secretary was busy writing, Le Wuya was also busy with his own letter.

This reply involved two princes, making it very difficult to write.

Just as Le Wuya was hesitating, the affairs of the county government suddenly became numerous.

Deputy Magistrate Sun was eager for promotion, and developing the tea industry could be reported as a political achievement, fitting his own agenda.

Therefore, he handled this errand with unusual efficiency and briskness. No sooner had he returned than the first batch of large-leaf tea seedlings arrived in Nanting.

During this period, the cloth shop owner Zhu Changrong had also not been idle. He had thoroughly loosened the soil and fertilized the barren hills, making full preparations.

Le Wuya immediately invited Qi Wuhu's deputy to guide and learn at the same time, planting the seedlings after thorough consultation.

The Village Elders all hoped to get a piece of the pie, carefully selecting young, meticulous workers to become tea cultivators.

Le Wuya did not disappoint their expectations. He had Deputy Magistrate Sun hire two experienced tea growers from the Ancient Tea Horse Road to teach tea cultivation techniques, and assigned responsibility areas per village.

Whichever village produced outstanding tea plants would receive bonuses at the year-end, a pig for the New Year, and possibly more land allocated. The Village Elders would gain both prestige and extra income.

Everyone was busy with joyful enthusiasm.

After several days of working around the clock, Le Wuya returned to the yamen and was about to sleep when he suddenly slapped his forehead.

He had forgotten that the messenger Jiang He was still waiting at the inn!

Seeing that this letter was too difficult to write, Le Wuya decided not to write it at all. Instead, he sent another oral message, telling Jiang He to be careful of Xiao Qi.

After a simple wash, he knocked on the inn door as the moon rose above the willow trees.

The attendant yawned as he led Le Wuya to the door of the imperial envoy.

Jiang He never stood on ceremony, so Le Wuya followed suit. After knocking, he heard a vague "Come in," pushed the door open directly, and beamed, "Sorry, Lord Jiang, I'm late—"

The last word "late" hung in midair.

"Not late," said Lord Jiang.

On the table was a plate of freshly baked flaky pastries, obviously just bought.

Xiang Zhijie put down the scroll in his hand, stood in the middle of the room, and smiled lightly at the stunned Le Wuya: "The pastries are still hot."