Chapter 85: Heartfelt Intentions (IV)

Chapter 85: Heartfelt Intentions (IV)

Le Wuya sealed the letter properly, composed himself, and then went to visit Zhi Jie.

As he stepped out, he noticed Ru Feng dusting the windows.

When he'd rushed Zhi Jie back this morning, he'd been anxious and hadn't noticed the small changes in the courtyard.

Now, as he looked around, Ru Feng had tidied up the whole yard.

The paths were spotless.

The flower bushes were neatly trimmed.

Even the willow leaves, wilted by the scorching summer sun, looked like they'd been washed clean, perking up to look fresher and prettier than before.

Ru Feng caught Le Wuya's eye, looked up, and gave a polite nod: "Magistrate Wenren."

After the greeting, he wiped off the last bit of dust, grabbed his broom, and hurried off into the willow grove.

Le Wuya watched him go and thought, damn.

...He wished he had such an on-the-ball eldest son too.

Sadly, he was fated to live out his days alone.

He wandered over to Zhi Jie's room.

After Le Wuya's court session, Xiaoliu had changed into a whole new outfit, his wounds had been re-bandaged, and even his hair had been done up in a simple, elegant style, half pinned, half loose over his shoulders—very fetching.

Le Wuya pointed toward where Ru Feng had gone and said, envious, "Where'd you find a gem like that?"

"It was him. He gave Kong Yangping to Xiao Qi, and Ru Feng to me," Zhi Jie said gently. "Now Ru Feng's mine."

Le Wuya whistled.

He knew the Old Emperor was always extremely picky when choosing people.

Anyone assigned to two adult princes with their own households had to be sharp, capable, and hand-picked as top-tier spies.

Zhi Jie wasn't the type to be blindly overconfident.

If he could say that, then he'd really tamed the guy and brought him into the fold.

Le Wuya said admiringly, "Impressive."

Zhi Jie ducked his head shyly, just like he did when he was praised as a kid.

Le Wuya found it amusing and wanted to reach out and tease his reddened ears, but remembering the sins he might have committed somewhere in his past, he didn't dare make a move. He obediently straightened up, put his hands on his knees, and played the good boy.

Zhi Jie watched his reaction, lashes lowered, and made up his mind.

He set aside matters of the heart for now and got down to business: "I wonder how General Pei's doing."

Le Wuya had a lot of faith in Little Phoenix: "He always handles big matters carefully. But..."

He stared out at the blazing daylight and let out a heavy sigh.

Even though it had only happened last night, Le Wuya could already see everything that would happen over the next month.

First, there's Pei Mingqi.

As General Dingyuan, he'd lead troops to quickly surround all of Xingtai, knock on the city gates, declare a rebellion, and sweep through like a whirlwind, arresting all the local soldiers and officials.

Once he'd taken control of Xingtai, he'd send a memorial to the throne detailing everything—the opium fields in Yin Family Village, and how the Sixth Prince had been trapped and nearly killed.

When word reached the capital, the emperor would surely fly into a rage.

The emperor's fury wasn't unfounded.

Shao Hongzhen had been County Magistrate for two years, and Prefect Lyu had rated him "outstanding" every time.

If you didn't look too closely at the poisonous undercurrents, Shao Hongzhen's record was indeed impressive.

Plus, he was good at managing people.

Shao Hongzhen wasn't hot-tempered and rigid like Qi Wuhu, nor cunning and adaptable like Le Wuya.

He knew that to get more benefits for the people under him as county magistrate, he had to keep his superiors well-fed.

Prefect Lyu, having taken his bribes, naturally sang his praises.

The fact that the prefect was still so friendly to Shao Hongzhen after the shocking massacre in Xingtai was also thanks to Shao Hongzhen's usual efforts.

The Provincial Governor had also come to Xingtai on an inspection tour.

On the surface, Shao Hongzhen, like Le Wuya, had planted all kinds of medicinal herbs—figwort, Solomon's seal, white peony—and boosted the local economy impressively.

As for the source of the disaster, Yin Family Village, it was a remote mountain hamlet so obscure you couldn't even tell from a map if it was in Yizhou. If it hadn't been for the massacre and the clues people from other counties had caught, no one would've paid it any mind.

The inspection results were obvious: the Provincial Governor hadn't even noticed such a tiny mountain village and left happy.

That a border county had produced a magistrate who'd earned "outstanding" ratings consecutively, and who was also a proper imperial exam graduate, pleased the emperor greatly.

Through the Provincial Governor's office, he asked Shao Hongzhen if he'd be interested in transferring to the fertile Jiangnan region to serve as Prefect.

Shao Hongzhen replied: "I don't long for Jiangnan's beauty; I only wish to grow old in Xingtai. If in my lifetime I can see Xingtai live up to its name—'prosperous and thriving, like ascending a spring terrace'—I can die with my eyes closed."

Hearing this, the emperor shed a few imperial tears, wrote the four characters "Model of All Counties," had them framed into a plaque, and planned to bestow it on Shao Hongzhen as a commendation.

Before the plaque could even be framed, the massacre happened in Xingtai County.

The capital was probably still debating whether to wait a year or two for the dust to settle before granting the award, when Shao Hongzhen got arrested.

His "illustrious achievements" in growing opium in Xingtai would be sent to the emperor's desk by express courier.

This was like a resounding slap across the emperor's face from a thousand miles away.

Luckily, the plaque hadn't been sent out yet, but the news had already traveled thousands of miles to Yizhou, and many capital officials probably knew about it by now.

Of course, everyone in officialdom cherished their posts and would keep their mouths shut, while indignantly submitting memorials demanding that Shao Hongzhen—a traitor who sought fame and deceived the emperor—be escorted to the capital for trial and execution, by beheading, or even dismemberment or lingchi, to serve as a warning to all officials.

Zhi Jie asked, "What do you think will happen, teacher?"

Le Wuya lowered his eyes and said firmly, "Shao Hongzhen won't walk out of Xingtai prison alive."

Zhi Jie murmured softly, "Mm."

This was exactly what he had been thinking.

In Yin Family Village, he had heard with his own ears how Shao Hongzhen threatened Le Wuya.

He heard it, but it left him unmoved.

And Le Wuya was the same—completely unbothered, even feeling a trace of pity for Shao Hongzhen, who was flailing desperately.

They both knew that although Shao Hongzhen had schemed with every trick in the book, played every card he had, and even tried to drag Le Wuya down with him, he had lost from the very beginning.

His loss came down to a fundamental misunderstanding of the Emperor:

The Emperor would not send this "good official" to the capital, giving him a chance to win fame far and wide.

Most common folks could barely read or write; they had no clue what "ah-fu-rong" (opium) was, and would just assume it was some harmless plant or flower.

Even if someone did know what ah-fu-rong was, Shao Hongzhen's cockamamie theory that "the people of Dayu don't harm the people of Dayu" could actually fool quite a few people.

Moreover, he had genuinely wiped out the bandit threat, giving the long-suffering people of Xingtai hope and something to strive for.

What's more, he had long been known for his virtue and incorruptibility—the kind of man the people of Xingtai would gladly build a living shrine to.

Sending him to the capital would be like singing his praises.

If public opinion got whipped into a frenzy, word getting around, he could easily be turned into a tragic martyr who sought peace for the people but was crushed by the Emperor's power.

The Emperor would never let that happen.

Le Wuya fiddled with his fingers and said, "If I'm not mistaken, soon Shao Hongzhen's house will be raided and found to have stacks of banknotes, jewelry, and opium paste; prostitutes and male escorts will come forward to accuse him of misconduct; someone will pop up to claim he colluded with other officials, ruled unfairly, and under the guise of serving the people, ignored the facts, sided with the weak, and deliberately bent the law..."

In short, first destroy his reputation while he's alive, then send him to his death, so he'd never get a chance to defend himself.

Given Shao Hongzhen's crimes, if tried by the letter of the law, he'd fully deserve to have his entire clan wiped out.

But he would not die for colluding with bandits or trafficking opium; rather, he'd "die suddenly" in Xingtai, weighed down by a pile of sordid little offenses.

Le Wuya couldn't help thinking how great it would've been if Wen Fu hadn't been in such a hurry.

If he'd been willing to play the long game, governing step by step, he might've become real friends with Shao Hongzhen and Qi Wuhu.

Too bad there's no "if."

Seeing Le Wuya looking so down, Zhi Jie pursed his lips and called out, "Master, I'm parched."

Le Wuya picked up a bowl of warm water from the table and held it to his lips.

Zhi Jie took a tiny sip from the edge of the bowl and immediately erupted into a violent coughing fit.

Le Wuya quickly pressed a hand on his arm to keep him from jostling the wound.

A thin sheen of tears welled up in Zhi Jie's eyes at just the right moment, as he gazed at Le Wuya—like the moon veiled in mist, tinged with sorrow and reproach.

Le Wuya's heart ached at the sight. He flung open the door and yelled, "Ru Feng!!"

The courtyard was dead silent.

Ru Feng, who'd been bustling around the yard just moments before, was now quiet as a corpse.

Le Wuya had no choice but to head back to the bedside, pick up a small spoon, scoop up some water, and bring it to the Sixth Prince's lips, muttering under his breath: "Twenty-three years old, for crying out loud."

Zhi Jie smiled, sipped the water from the spoon, and didn't show the slightest bit of shame:

"Yes, twenty-three years old."

"...Master, I want more."

While Le Wuya grudgingly tended to the Sixth Prince, Ru Feng—just half a courtyard away—was crouched among the flowers, head down, trimming branches, with Qin Xingyue, who'd been drawn over by Le Wuya's shout, standing nearby.

Qin Xingyue crossed his arms and studied Ru Feng: "The master's calling you."

Ru Feng said calmly, "If my master needs me, he'll call me himself; since it wasn't him who called, I don't need to go back."

Qin Xingyue furrowed his brow, mulling over those words, and the more he pondered them, the more cryptic they seemed.

And indeed, everything that followed played out almost exactly as Le Wuya had predicted.

Twenty days later, without ever facing a single hearing, Shao Hongzhen was hit with three major charges: accepting massive bribes, consorting with prostitutes and neglecting his duties, and inciting a crowd to resist arrest.

Rumor had it that Magistrate Shao, when all this filth was dumped on his head, stayed remarkably calm, just waiting for higher-ups to come question him.

Thanks to his close ties with Prefect Lyu, he knew a lot of Yizhou's dirty secrets.

Le Wuya guessed that he was probably waiting for the imperial envoy to arrive, so he could make accusations in open court and take down a few corrupt Yizhou officials who bled the people dry.

This fit his personal code.

That belief kept him going, even as the cleaver wound on his palm festered and got infected, giving him a fever and clouding his mind—he still fought to hold on.

Then, a man from Xingtai County, locked up for a brawl, walked past his cell, recognized the county magistrate, and hocked a thick loogie at him: "Pah, you dog of a corrupt official!"

That spit snapped Shao Hongzhen out of his daze—but it also woke him up.

He sat in his cell, his foggy mind slowly churning through the pain, piecing together what had really happened.

Shao Hongzhen was a clever man by nature.

If he hadn't been feverish and muddle-headed, he'd have figured it out ages ago.

He turned to the wall, cried for a bit, then laughed for a bit.

To be spat on by the very people he'd protected—that hurt him a hundred times worse than being drawn and quartered.

A stab to the heart, truly—a stab to the heart!

He laughed, he cried, then wiped his face clean, and while he still had his wits about him, he slammed his head into the wall.

Blood sprayed high, a full three feet into the air.

...

When he heard Shao Hongzhen was dead, Le Wuya showed no emotion, sending the messenger off with just three words: "I know."

He'd seen it coming all along and wasn't the least bit surprised.

But that crack of Shao Hongzhen's head against the wall seemed to slam hard against the door of Le Wuya's own heart, even from a hundred li away.

Even though he'd called every twist and turn of events correctly, there was still one thing Le Wuya hadn't seen coming.

—In the dead of night, Nanting County got another uninvited guest in a thin hood.

When that man strode in bold as you please, pushing open the door and stepping in with the moonlight at his back, Xiang Zhi Jie froze for just a beat, then managed a wan smile: "Little Seventh."

"Sixth Brother, you're such a buzzkill."

Beneath the hood, Xiang Zhi Shi wore that cocky, self-satisfied grin of his.

"What are you doing here?"

"The old man heard you got hurt and made me come play the loving brother." Xiang Zhi Shi spread his hands. "What choice did I have? A man's gotta do what he's gotta do."

Xiang Zhi Jie gave a faint smile, not buying it for a second: "And what else?"

"To haul you back to the capital. To haul Lü Deyao up there too. And..." Xiang Zhi Shi pointed at the empty moonlight outside, "to bring him along for the ride."

No need to spell out who "him" was.

Xiang Zhi Jie knitted his brows, mulling it over in silence.

Xiang Zhi Shi read his mind: "I don't want to bring him to see the old man either. But what can you do when the guy loves drama so much? He's got his nose in everything."

Xiang Zhi Jie asked, "When do we leave?"

Xiang Zhi Shi glanced down, then reached out and gave his wound a pat.

As Xiang Zhi Jie flinched hard, he pulled his hand back and crossed his arms, all smug: "We'll head out once I can pat you there without you yelping."

Le Wuya walked in right then, big peach in hand, and saw two identical faces swivel toward him like sunflowers.

Le Wuya blinked, traded a quick look with Little Seventh, and instantly pieced together why he was here.

He'd gone down there on his own to investigate and stumbled onto Xingtai County's dirty little secret. The old emperor was bound to drag him in for a good scolding and tell him to keep his trap shut.

Of course, the emperor's face wasn't so easy to see—he wouldn't bother meeting some nobody official like Le Wuya in person.

A chief minister would be more than enough to handle him.

Once Le Wuya had it all figured out, he wasn't nervous in the slightest.

Not only that—his eyes darted around and lit up: talk about a pillow showing up just when you're about to doze off!

Little Seventh had come all the way to Nanting—asking him face-to-face beat sending letters any day!

After a bit of small talk and stating his business, Xiang Zhi Shi couldn't take Le Wuya's burning stare anymore, made some excuse, and hightailed it out to find himself a decent place to crash.

Le Wuya hesitated a beat, shoved the big peach into Xiang Zhi Jie's hand, and went chasing after Xiang Zhi Shi out the door.

Xiang Zhi Jie called after him: "Wen Ren..."

But his voice was so soft that Le Wuya just picked up his pace, practically gliding out of the room after Xiang Zhi Shi.

Xiang Zhi Jie pressed his lips together, looking like a kid who'd just been left behind.

After a moment, he reminded himself: the teacher wasn't here.

He was hurt and low on energy; he couldn't afford to waste it.

So he wiped that look clean off his face, lay back on the bed, and quietly mulled things over.

...

It was that time of year when peaches and plums were coming into season. In the little kitchen, a white enamel basin with a chipped edge sat full of cool water, with three or four big, firm peaches soaking in it.

This time, Xiang Zhi Shi hadn't brought Kong Yangping—just two eunuchs to get his rooms in order.

After picking out a good room, he followed the smell like he owned the place and started helping himself to the peaches.

Le Wuya perked up, poked his head out the little kitchen window, and said with a grin, "Seventh Prince, lovely evening, isn't it?"

Xiang Zhi Shi didn't even look at him.

Le Wuya knew his little quirks, peeked around to make sure no one was watching, then lowered his voice: "...Xiu Guan?"

Only then did Xiang Zhi Shi act like he'd just noticed Le Wuya, flashing that signature grin of his, all sweet and sunny: "Oh, Magistrate Wenren, when'd you get here?"

He held out a peach: "Want one?"

"Nah." Le Wuya chose his words carefully. "So I heard..."

Little Seventh took a bite of his peach: "Heard from who? Sixth Brother?"

Le Wuya squinted.

If he was too nice, the little brat would get above himself.

So he cut to the chase: "So the Seventh Prince still isn't married?"

Little Seventh shot him a look, then handed over the half-eaten peach: "Not sweet. Finish it for me."

Le Wuya said, "Much obliged, Seventh Prince."

He took it, took a bite, and found it was actually pretty sweet.

Le Wuya was a little taken aback.

Little Seventh picked through the rest of the peaches: "What? You got someone in mind and want to set me up?"

Le Wuya took a loud, crunchy bite: "Nope. Dayu's always been partial to men loving men. So I was wondering—would the Seventh Prince be interested in finding himself a refined companion to ease the loneliness?"

Xiang Zhi Shi flinched like he'd been pricked by a needle, his wrist snapping up.

His fingertips broke the water's surface, droplets trailing down his fingers and making a tiny ripple in the moonlight.

But the ripples spreading through Xiang Zhi Shi's heart were only getting bigger.

He looked up at Le Wuya.

He saw him casual, clean, and handsome, half his body turned toward him, the other half under the starlight and moonlight, his eyes looking at him bright—so bright they were almost aggressive.

A man absolutely steeped in mischief—and absolutely steeped in want.

Xiang Zhi Shi had a feeling he'd seen eyes like those before.

The last time he'd seen eyes like that, the umbrella in his hand had tilted toward the other person without him even realizing it.

After a weird, heavy silence, he suddenly let out a flustered, indignant "Ha!" like a cat that just got its tail stomped on:

"Magistrate Wenren, didn't know you were such a joker. But sorry, you've got the wrong idea. In this life, I only love yours truly—can't love anyone else. That's just how the stars have it, and frankly, I'm thankful. So don't worry—I'll never fall for you."

Le Wuya was speechless: "..."

Was it his imagination?

The words were fine, but somehow he felt something was off.

Seeing Le Wuya remain silent, Xiang Zhi grew even more restless.

Why did he not respond to his words?

Why was there no reaction at all?

His usual smiling-fox demeanor was gone, and he got more and more riled up, bracing his hands on the counter, closing in on Le Wuya until his nose was nearly pressed against Le Wuya's face: "Why aren't you talking? What happened to that sharp tongue of yours? Does it really matter that much if I like you or not?"

Le Wuya: "..."

Yeah.

He hadn't been wrong—this really was off.