Chapter 61: Confrontation (5)

Chapter 61: Confrontation (V)

Xiang Zhi laughed so hard he started coughing, waving his hand repeatedly. "...Wait, wait."

Once he caught his breath, he couldn't maintain the stern face he'd put on for the interrogation. Instead, he revealed his true nature, propping his chin up with keen interest and asking seriously, "Wenren Yue, where do you get such nerve?"

"To answer Your Excellency, perhaps it's innate." Le Wuya said calmly. "My father once said my courage, sun-dried, is bigger than a pumpkin."

That was the verdict he'd earned after climbing a tall tree as a child, risking his life to pick persimmons.

Le Wuya countered with a question instead of answering: "May I ask when Your Excellency first caught on?"

Xiang Zhi rested his head on his hand: "Not long after I left the post station and began investigating the origins of the wandering beggars, I felt something was off."

Le Wuya: "Then why did Your Excellency continue to investigate?"

"I hate being wronged—especially by a good official. It stings my dear affection for talent."

Le Wuya: "I'm honored by Your Excellency's regard."

"And you? Come clean." Xiang Zhi refused to let it go. "What gave you the nerve to suspect me?"

Le Wuya: "Do you want the truth or a lie, Your Excellency?"

At that, Xiang Zhi narrowed his eyes slightly.

So theatrical—he's a real character.

He thought for a moment: "Give me the truth first."

Le Wuya: "I'm just a seventh-rank magistrate of Dayu. Up top, my words don't carry much weight; down below, I'm an umbrella for my district, shielding over a thousand ordinary people. It's only right that I give my all for their welfare, holding nothing back. The wandering beggars thing—at the very least, it stains my official reputation; at worst, if not stopped quickly, the poison spreads everywhere, inevitably becoming a blight upon the region. I took the bold liberty of riding on Your Excellency's coattails, grabbing the chance to get things straight, so the folks can sleep easy at night."

Xiang Zhi latched onto one exact point in his words, countering: "You think your rank's too low?"

Le Wuya answered frankly: "What counts as big, and what counts as small?"

Xiang Zhi teased him: "That's a pretty generous thing to say, like you've been a top-tier Grand Secretary, second only to the Emperor."

Le Wuya: "Ming Ke could never be so lucky."

"You almost sidetracked me with that." Xiang Zhi pressed on. "And what about the lie?"

Le Wuya: "You want to hear the lie too?"

"I do."

"The lie is pretty bold."

"I give you a free pass."

"Is that for real or not?"

"Guess?"

Le Wuya smiled: "Then this humble official will speak."

"...The lie is that I trust you."

Xiang Zhi froze, sat up straight, and locked his gaze on Le Wuya.

Even a three-year-old knows what the opposite of that means.

Xiang Zhi wanted to ask why.

To use him but not trust him?

This guy was just too...

The words came to his lips, but Xiang Zhi swallowed them back.

If he kept asking, he'd fall into the trap again, getting led around by the nose.

But if he didn't dig deeper, that would mean "case closed."

On second thought, he was stuck between a rock and a hard place either way.

Xiang Zhi was quiet for a long moment, then said reluctantly: "With all this theatrics, you want me to..."

Le Wuya completed the sentence: "...pine for you."

Caught off guard by such bluntness, Xiang Zhi was stunned once more. He lowered his head, picked up his teacup, cursing the guy's shamelessness inside, but his ears still turned red on their own.

"Yes, this humble official wants the Seventh Prince to pine for me and keep Nanting close to his heart."

Only this way could he wave this tiger-skin banner to full effect—keeping subordinates in line, holding superiors at bay—until he put down deep roots and stood his ground.

Xiang Zhi took a sip of tea, his temper cooling a bit: "You sure know your idioms. Do you also want to 'lift the tray to your brows' and 'treat each other with respect' like a married couple?"

Le Wuya: "This humble official wouldn't dare."

"Wouldn't dare?" Xiang Zhi snorted. "I haven't seen a single sign of timidity in you."

Le Wuya didn't want to keep trading barbs, so he smoothly changed the subject: "Even if this humble official is audacious beyond measure, my subordinates still hold proper reverence for the imperial envoy's authority. He has been waiting long outside the door, only awaiting summons. The documents for the Nanting coal mine are prepared. Would Your Excellency care to review them?"

Fortunately, Le Wuya remembered that Deputy Magistrate Sun had gone to fetch the documents and extended a timely rescue—otherwise, if he'd knelt outside any longer, he might have fainted from heat before the noble personage.

As Deputy Magistrate Sun approached with the documents in small, deferential steps, Xiang Zhi immediately switched to a brand-new demeanor: "Deputy Magistrate Sun Ru, Sun Hongguang, is that correct?"

Deputy Magistrate Sun hadn't expected the noble envoy to remember his name. Joy surged through him, his breath caught, and he nearly fainted from sheer bliss.

But he steadied himself and said solemnly: "For Hongguang to have his name remembered by the imperial envoy—this is fortune across three lifetimes!"

"Respectful and courteous, diligent and reliable—in this regard alone, you surpass Magistrate Wenren."

Hearing this, Deputy Magistrate Sun felt as if he were floating, about to soar into the heavens.

Xiang Zhi shifted his tone: "But when it comes to suiting my fancy, Magistrate Wenren takes first place."

He glanced at the thick stack of documents and grew picky again.

"I won't review them here." He turned to Le Wuya. "Where is your study? I want to go there."

He leaned in closer, speaking in a voice only the two of them could hear, with a mischievous grin: "...And while I'm at it, I'll see what letters Sixth Brother has written you, that he pines for you so, thinking of you day and night."

Before others, Xiang Zhi presented the image of an elegant, refined young nobleman—which Le Wuya found rather puzzling.

Could it be that he only dropped all pretense of decency when facing him?

But since he'd specifically requested the study, he couldn't blame Le Wuya for what followed.

Le Wuya stood up, courteously saying, "After you, sir."

...

Xiang Zhishi's good mood for the day ended when he arrived at Le Wuya's study.

Seeing his own portrait hanging openly in the hall, with a bouquet of fresh flowers placed beneath it, Xiang Zhishi's steps faltered abruptly. He turned his head in disbelief to look at Le Wuya.

He gritted his teeth. "...What is this?"

Le Wuya, with a show of candor, said flat-out, "Relatives from the capital sent a portrait to ease the ache of missing someone."

"...Oh." Xiang Zhishi smiled. "So it's from—'relatives.'"

And "longing"! Ha! What a lovely word—"longing"!

For some reason, Deputy Magistrate Sun felt the envoy's words were delivered through gritted teeth, with a chilling edge that made your skin crawl.

He didn't dare think too much about it, quickly handing over the documents while buttering him up: "Sir, it's just that the magistrate doesn't have your portrait. If he did, he'd surely hang it high and gaze upon it daily."

If he'd kept his mouth shut, it might have blown over, but at these words, Xiang Zhishi's face went dark as thunder, and he could've ripped Deputy Magistrate Sun to shreds.

He'd pulled this switcheroo to take over the nest, plain and simple.

Yet seeing Le Wuya so brazenly hang up what he thought was the "Sixth Prince's" portrait for all to see, welcoming it with flowers, he felt a strange, suffocating tightness in his chest.

When he saw Xiao Qi's dark look, still clinging to his gentlemanly facade and forcing back his rage, Le Wuya found it hilarious, thinking he could polish off an extra half bowl of rice just by staring at that face.

However, maybe genuinely rattled by the anger, Xiang Zhishi cracked far fewer jokes afterward.

When inspecting the raw coal harvested at the mine, he just nodded quietly and stiffly in approval.

Funny thing—the sulking, silent Xiao Qi actually looked a lot like the calm, steady Xiao Liu.

Le Wuya trailed behind, watching and chuckling, until his amusement slowly wore off.

Xiao Qi puffing his chest out all arrogant—he didn't like seeing that.

Xiao Qi down in the dumps—he didn't like seeing that either.

No matter how they butted heads or went at each other, the kid was still his student.

Xiao Liu was the student who least took after him.

And Xiao Qi was the one who took after him the most.

Just like back when he'd watched those two brothers get pushed around by the Old Emperor, Le Wuya's anger was split right down the middle—half for each of the sixth and seventh princes.

He didn't want to see either of them get hurt.

As they left the Nanting Coal Mine, a light drizzle started to fall.

Kong Yangping, ever prepared, quickly handed over an umbrella.

Deputy Magistrate Sun, sharp as a tack, lunged forward in one step: "Envoy, let Hongguang take care of that for you—"

Kong Yangping cut him off with a shoulder, blocking Deputy Magistrate Sun from getting past the Seventh Prince.

Having served the Seventh Prince for years, he knew his quirks—one being that he liked to hold his own umbrella.

The Seventh Prince opened the umbrella, held it overhead, and said with a calm smile, "No need to bother, Deputy Magistrate Sun. I prefer to handle this myself."

Deputy Magistrate Sun pulled his hand back awkwardly, flashing apologetic smiles.

The rain had come out of nowhere, and they hadn't brought extra umbrellas.

Fortunately, the rain wasn't heavy, and Xiang Zhishi, who couldn't care less, was heading back to the post station anyway, so getting a little wet didn't matter.

As Le Wuya took Xiang Zhishi's hand to help him into the carriage, he said in a low, respectful voice, "I lied to you, sir."

Xiang Zhishi froze, turning around with his umbrella. "...What did you say?"

"Your portrait—it's fine in every way, except it doesn't really look like you." Le Wuya lowered his voice further. "I can tell the difference. I was just messing with you."

The Seventh Prince stared at him for a long time, a strange ache slowly spreading through his chest.

Four years ago, dressed in rough hemp, pretending to be a traveler, he'd climbed alone to that mass grave, ignoring the filthy, slushy ground, trudging for ages, searching everywhere.

What he wanted most was to hear someone pop out from behind a tree, with a sly grin just like his, and say, "Gotcha."

In the end, he never got what he wanted.

He crouched down, pressing his hand to that broken body, his cold palm sliding up until it touched that peaceful face.

...The teacher looked like death had been the best release for him.

Xiang Zhishi pressed down hard on his eyelids.

If Le Wuya wanted to shut his eyes, he'd be damned if he let him.

After all, ever since they'd seen each other for who they really were, they'd always gone out of their way to screw each other over.

But that man was dead set on sleeping in peace, eyelids sealed shut, as if refusing to give him even one last look.

He grabbed Le Wuya's arms and hoisted the corpse onto his back.

Stumbling under the weight, he cursed, half annoyed, half amused: "Teacher, you're dead as a doornail and heavy as hell."

Even as he grumbled, he pushed on through the wind and snow, heading down the mountain.

Twice along the way, he fell into snowdrifts.

He fought his way back up and kept carrying Le Wuya's body, step by step, toward a clean place, a clear world.

He thought to himself that he really wished he could walk this peacefully with his teacher.

But that was never going to happen.

They were too alike in temperament; walking the same road meant endless bickering, squabbling, and clashing, never stopping until they'd driven each other up the wall.

With the teacher this quiet, it felt weird.

He walked this rare, gentle teacher-student road alone for a long time.

Until he spotted the plain carriage waiting at the foot of the mountain, with Kong Yangping standing next to it.

"I know you're the one my father assigned to me. Burn him to ashes and take them to my father. Tell him he can rest easy now."

Xiang Zhi was standing right in front of Kong Yangping, his breath forming thick clouds of white in the cold air.

After finishing his previous sentence, he added calmly, "You're eating the prince's food now. Would you spare me just a tiny bit of his ashes?"

His words drew a clear line between business and personal feelings.

Kong Yangping, a quiet man by nature, gave only a slight nod in response, saying nothing more as he took Le Wuya's body from him.

A gust of wind cut through, biting to the bone.

Only then did Xiang Zhi realize that hot sweat mixed with cold snow had soaked his back through, and the damp, biting wind cut straight to his heart.

As the Seventh Prince was lost in thought, Kong Yangping's reminder sounded in his ear: "Seventh Prince, your back..."

In a daze, he pulled himself out of the frozen wilderness, back to the drizzly spring of Nanting County.

He then noticed that his umbrella had, without his realizing it, tilted toward Le Wuya's side.

His back was slightly damp from Nanting's rain, soft and silky as butter.

Wen Ren Yue before him broke into a smile.

That smile was anything but proper—lazy and easygoing, like a pipe or a piece of malt candy he'd casually stuck between his lips, so careless, so flippant, so maddening:

"Your Excellency, I suggest you find another painter, one who can capture a better likeness. If you'd be willing to gift it to me, I'd be endlessly grateful."