Chapter 94: Heart’s Weariness (Part 2)

Chapter 94: Heart's Weariness (Part 2)

Upon hearing this, Le Wuya squinted his eyes, pinched the Sixth Prince's left cheek, then patted his right cheek, and sighed sincerely, "You two really are gorgeous."

Xiang Zhijie: "..."

Xiang Zhijie: "Teacher, do you really like my face that much?"

Le Wuya nodded with absolute certainty: "I do. Look, you're such a scoundrel, but as long as I look at your face, all my anger just melts away."

As he spoke, he turned his head slightly to the side and went "Huh?" in confusion: "Why isn't Xiaoliu saying anything?"

He thought for a moment, then answered his own question: "Oh, Xiaoliu's just not much of a talker."

Xiang Zhijie was at a loss for words for a moment, then shifted a step closer, trying to catch Le Wuya's unfocused gaze: "Xiaoliu is here too."

Le Wuya smiled and tried to step into the room, but he stumbled, and once again tumbled into his arms.

He pressed his forehead lightly against Xiang Zhijie's chest, murmuring softly, "Brother, cover for me... I seriously can't drink anymore this time. Dad can't outdrink me—he's a cheater... I don't know where he got such low-proof sorghum liquor, and he can drink like a fish—a total water buffalo. I'm really done for..."

Xiang Zhijie slipped right into the role, becoming his caring, proper older brother: "Alright, we won't drink anymore."

Le Wuya was plotting with mischief: "I'm gonna tattle to Mom and get her to scold him."

Xiang Zhijie couldn't help smiling, amusement flickering in his eyes, making him look even more striking.

"You should scold him too, Brother," Le Wuya looked up from his embrace, blatantly trying to gang up. "Dad's scared of you."

Xiang Zhijie nailed Le Hang's quiet, protective vibe: "Alright."

As he coaxed him, he tried to guide Le Wuya to bed.

Le Wuya sat on the edge of the bed, squinting those fox-like purple eyes of his, watching the Sixth Prince pull off his boots, then suddenly stood up, barefoot, and started to walk out.

Xiang Zhijie was quick to react and grabbed his arm: "Teacher, where are you going?"

Le Wuya announced with total conviction: "I'm gonna go soak in the hot spring."

The post station just outside the capital was adjacent to Tangquan Mountain, and the backyard had a hot spring, divided into public and private pools, set aside for officials staying there.

If he hadn't had so many surprise visitors today, Le Wuya had originally planned to take a dip in the hot spring after dinner to unwind.

Xiang Zhijie tried to dissuade him: "You shouldn't get in a hot spring after drinking; it's bad for your health."

Le Wuya erupted in anger: "Who said you could boss me around?!"

After a couple of angry outbursts, his eyes went blurry again.

Too blurry to see who was going against him, he had to lean in close to Xiang Zhijie's face and demanded aggressively, "...Who are you?"

Xiang Zhijie quickly replied, "I'm Wen Renyue."

Soon, "Wen Renyue" got a light smack on the arm: "Punishment: copy lines! Punishment: hold a horse stance!"

Xiang Zhijie: "What if I'm Zhishi?"

Le Wuya never expected the person defying him to suddenly change identity, scrunched up his brows, and pondered for a while: "Xiao Qi? Make him wash the horses. He hates manual work."

"What if I were Xiang Zhijie?"

The moment he said that, Xiang Zhijie got another thump on the head.

But because Le Wuya's limbs were weak, the hit was feather-light, more like a soft pat on the head.

"Who said you could pretend to be Xiaoliu?" Le Wuya said indignantly. "Our Xiaoliu's the best kid in the whole world!"

Xiang Zhijie lowered his head, fighting to hold back the smile tugging at his lips.

Then, he bent down, untied one corner of the red gauze bed curtain, and draped it over Le Wuya's head.

Le Wuya's voice came out muffled from under the gauze: "What are you doing?"

Xiang Zhijie scooped him up bridal-style: "Taking Teacher to go soak in the hot spring."

The post station had just sent off a big group of guests that day.

Prefect Lyu, who was supposed to stay here, was running around networking and had simply lodged in the capital city instead.

Counting Le Wuya, only three or four people were staying at the station, and now that it was past midnight, there was no one else around, with only the occasional sound of sleep-talking and faint snoring drifting through the walls.

As for the courier, he had seen more people in his life than he had eaten salt, nearly becoming half a shrewd old fox.

When Xiang Zhijie carried Le Wuya—who looked like he was being taken to a bridal chamber—past the lobby, the courier didn't even glance at them, huddled behind the counter, fingers flying as he clacked the abacus loudly.

The hot spring in the backyard, Yaochuan, flowed with emerald waters, steam rising, exuding a drowsy warmth.

Xiang Zhijie walked with graceful, steady steps, the gentle motion lulling Le Wuya into a half-sleep.

When the warm, humid scent of sulfur reached his nose and he found himself amidst the hazy mist, Le Wuya felt utterly content, his muscles and mind relaxing completely.

Thus, he completely failed to notice that Xiang Zhijie only dipped his toes into the water, a brief touch like a dragonfly skimming the surface, before immediately turning and leaving.

Le Wuya, coaxed into a daze, didn't fuss at all and obediently was carried back the same way.

With his wish fulfilled, Le Wuya became remarkably easy to manage, sitting cross-legged on the bed, staring intently at the canopy above.

Seeing that there was no longer any need for one person to play multiple roles, Xiang Zhijie reverted to himself, soaking a towel in hot water and carefully wiping Le Wuya's face, hands, and feet.

Le Wuya sat in a daze for a while, then turned his head to look at Xiang Zhijie and called him quite clearly: "Xiaoliu."

Xiang Zhijie paused, then answered seriously: "Mm. I'm here."

Le Wuya: "Did you just lie to me?"

Xiang Zhijie looked up, met his misty eyes for a moment, suppressed the smile at the corner of his mouth, and replied obediently: "Yes."

Le Wuya was instantly heartbroken.

He hadn't expected that after dying once, the world would change so drastically—Xiao Qi came to say she liked him, and Xiaoliu had learned to lie too.

He turned his face away, pondering how to punish this usually obedient student.

"...I won't write to you anymore."

Xiang Zhijie: "Mm."

"Send back your doctor and the silver notes. I'm perfectly healthy, and I can earn my own money."

"Mm."

"I'm taking back all the letters I wrote. Who knows, maybe one day your father will read them all."

"Mm."

"And the flute scores too."

Le Wuya swept away every trace of his interactions with Xiang Zhijie in a verbal whirlwind.

Xiang Zhijie took it all in stride.

Finally, he only said gently, "Whatever you want, I'll give it to you, in exchange for me not leaving tonight, alright?"

Le Wuya, his head still in a fog, calculated that swapping one for many meant Xiang Zhijie got the short end of the stick, so he nodded affirmatively: "Fine."

Xiang Zhijie smiled again, lifted Le Wuya's palm, which had been wiped soft and warm, and gently pressed it against his own forehead: "Teacher, sleep."

Le Wuya had been through the wringer today, worn out in both body and spirit, and now, having been pampered so thoroughly, his breaths soon grew deep and steady.

However, his peaceful sleep did not last long.

In the middle of the night, Le Wuya felt a wildfire raging in his gut, making it impossible for him to lie still, cold sweat beading and rolling down in big drops.

—That cold wine had, without him realizing, turned into a blazing fireball.

He hadn't felt this in over six months, and it was almost unfamiliar.

But because he had plenty of experience with this sudden stomach trouble, he stayed quiet, curling up and bearing it through clenched teeth.

Through a haze, someone propped him up.

With the change in position, salty sweat stung his eyes and trickled down his lashes, like tears.

Still, he didn't make a sound, just breathing slow and labored, struggling to stay completely silent.

Xiang Zhijie felt his stomach, found it hollow and sunken, and his face darkened.

But he could never bring himself to frown at Le Wuya.

Without a word of complaint, he gently sat him up, called for hot water and fed it to him sip by sip, hoping to calm the stomach cramps fast.

He didn't dare force food into his mouth, afraid it'd make things worse.

Get him through this first, then deal with the rest.

The warm water going down did soothe Le Wuya's dry throat a lot.

He drank a little too eagerly, and unexpectedly, a sip went down the wrong way, and water got into his windpipe.

He bent over the bed's edge, coughing hard, nearly gagging, but since his stomach was empty, only clear water dribbled from his mouth.

Xiang Zhijie's heart hurt, patting his back to calm him and murmuring soft words, finally getting his coughing to stop.

But Le Wuya didn't straighten up; his shoulders still shook uncontrollably, like he was crying.

Xiang Zhijie had never seen Le Wuya cry. Seeing him this upset, his heart nearly flipped in his chest. He gently rubbed his shoulders, handling him like he was made of glass: "Teacher, what's wrong?"

When Le Wuya spoke, his voice really did tremble with tears: "I'm screwed, my brain's full of water, and it's leaking out..."

Xiang Zhijie: "..."

Le Wuya was in agony, on the verge of tears: "I've only got my brains. Without them, who'd still like me?"

Xiang Zhijie barely held back a laugh, but a soft smile still slipped into his voice: "I like you, Teacher."

Le Wuya, too busy mourning his waterlogged brain, looked at him blearily, eyes all watery: "...You? I've taken away all your stuff, how can you still like me?"

"I can't not like you."

"What'll you do if I don't write to you?"

"What can I do? Just wait, I guess."

"What if no letter ever comes?"

"Then I'll keep waiting forever."

Le Wuya pictured that and thought it was really sad.

He grabbed Xiang Zhijie's hand with his sweaty one and mumbled drowsily: "Once I'm better, I'll write to you again. Don't just wait around."

Xiang Zhijie's voice had a smile creeping into it: "Mm."

"Cheer up. I can't tell you're happy, you know?"

Xiang Zhijie finally laughed out loud, answering through his laughter: "...Yes."

After finally getting the upset Le Wuya back to bed, Xiang Zhijie gave up on sleeping altogether.

He had the courier bring a pot of strong tea, and while keeping his palm pressed over Le Wuya's stomach through the clothes, he downed cup after cup of tea.

Half an hour later, seeing his furrowed brow ease a little and his stomach had gone soft and warm again, Xiang Zhijie called Ru Feng over and quietly told him a few things.

...

Le Wuya spent the night tossing through wild dreams.

He shot the breeze with Little Phoenix about everything under the sun, checked the quiver he'd brought for the attack on the Bronze Horse, and mulled over how to die in battle—to bring glory to the Le family and hand a military achievement to the brother he'd never met, the one he'd wronged so badly.

He'd just wrapped up a joke and turned to see several arrows, smelling of sulfur, stuck in his body.

He looked up through the smoke and blood and saw He Lianche, face fierce, a single tear rolling down his eye.

Le Wuya tumbled off his horse, blinking as the smell of grass rushed past.

He figured, if Deputy General Yu hadn't carried him off, if he'd been born into the Jing tribe and raised in Changfeng, he'd probably have been doted on too.

By that logic, he was still pretty lucky.

In the dream, he didn't feel any physical pain.

But when he heard Little Phoenix cry out "Le Wuya," shrill and gut-wrenching, his heart, untouched by any arrow, still split apart, aching so bad he could barely breathe.

Le Wuya shifted, wanting to comfort him.

But as he rolled over, the world shifted completely.

The battlefield was gone, replaced by a vast grassland, grass thick and birds soaring.

A little rabbit and a little fox sat in front of him, staring at him curiously.

In his dream, Le Wuya naturally picked them up, tucked them into his arms, and sat down cross-legged right there.

Before long, footsteps sounded behind him.

Wen Ren took a seat beside him, gave a faint smile, and the two quietly watched the scenery ahead.

The dream began in chaos and pain, but ended in peace and joy.

Le Wuya smacked his lips and blinked his eyes open. Outside the window, the sky was tinged with pale blue, and the cool morning breeze drifted in, carrying the fragrance of grass.

For a moment, the dream seemed to overlap with reality.

But when he turned his stiff, sore neck to the side, he was startled.

Zhi Jie lay in the same bed as him, fully dressed, knitting with serious concentration.

Sensing Le Wuya's intense gaze, he set down his needlework and said with a warm smile, "Teacher, you're awake?"

Le Wuya opened his mouth.

Countless memories rushed into his mind all at once, making him break out in a cold sweat.

He immediately vowed that, unless something unexpected came up, he would never touch a drop of alcohol again.

Yet faced with the awkward situation, he decided to play dumb to save face: "...Xiaoliu?"

He struggled to prop up his limp body: "...Why are you here?"

Seeing that he seemed genuinely confused, Zhi Jie wasn't disappointed.

Last night, he had already gotten a lot out of it; he truly could not push his teacher too far.

He set down the knitting needles he had been using to calm himself, and said calmly, "Teacher, I came last night intending to discuss something serious with you. It's a good thing I came by, or who would have taken care of you while you were drunk last night?"

Le Wuya guiltily slid off the bed, straightened himself up to look somewhat presentable, at least to recover a bit of the dignity he had lost in his drunken antics the night before: "What is it?"

"It is nothing too major."

He looked up at Le Wuya, his gaze clear and bright as stars: "If I want to take the throne and become emperor, would you be willing to help me, Teacher?"