Chapter 102: Reunion (1)

Chapter 102: Reunion (1)

As midnight approached, the crowds on the streets thinned slightly.

But many energetic young people still lingered in their finery, the bustle unceasing, waiting for a fireworks show at the stroke of midnight.

The night had grown deep; by his calculations, the embassy's palace banquet should have long since ended.

Helian Che, however, showed no sign of heading back, only trailing silently behind him with heavy steps, walking in an unusual quiet—neither speaking nor laughing.

...Ever since Le Wuya had said that Le Wuya regarded Le Wuya as an elder brother, this had been his expression.

His demeanor was gloomy, his brows and eyes cold and fierce.

Compared to Helian Che, he looked more like a wronged male ghost.

With such an iron-tower-like night patrol god standing at his side, passersby automatically kept three feet away from Le Wuya, which put a real damper on his fun.

With the mask in the way, Le Wuya couldn't tell whether Helian Che's heart was in turmoil or as still as water—even with his sharp people-reading skills, he was completely in the dark here.

After much deliberation, Le Wuya decided to pester him until he left.

Once the fireworks show began, he still wanted to play with handheld sparklers and other small fireworks.

Beside this man, holding a sparkler would be like burning incense at a grave—how could things possibly get lively with him around?

His mind made up, Le Wuya stopped in his tracks, pointed at a costly glass lantern, and said in the most matter-of-fact, annoying tone possible: "I want this."

Helian Che's sword-like brows furrowed as he gave the flashy little lantern a once-over, thinking, utterly useless.

Then, expressionlessly, he took out his money pouch, tossed some silver onto the stall, and silently thrust the lantern at Le Wuya.

In return, Le Wuya, without skipping a beat, hung all his little trinkets all over Helian Che.

...Except for that fluffy little fox tail.

Le Wuya, feeling light and carefree, carried the lantern and strode forward, calmly waiting for Helian Che to blow his top.

But he walked until his feet ached, and still the man showed no sign of storming off in a huff.

Not only that—he'd ended up shooting himself in the foot.

This lantern was ridiculously ornate, and even its pole was heavy and substantial.

Though Le Wuya had regained some of his old skills, he hadn't built up lasting endurance; carrying something heavy in both hands for such a long walk was a real workout.

Noticing Le Wuya's eyes keep drifting over to him, Helian Che—for once—totally misread what he meant, knitted his brows, and took the lantern from him too: "You're giving me this too?"

His gaze was sharp, and his hands were scarily big.

The lantern pole Le Wuya needed two hands to hold looked like a flimsy twig in his grip.

Le Wuya, empty-handed, stared back at him for a beat, then burst out laughing.

With all that junk draped all over him, Helian Che's scary night-spirit vibe was completely gone.

Helian Che: ?

Le Wuya: "I'm not walking anymore—I'm tired. How about I buy Brother Da a drink?"

Helian Che: "Wine?"

Le Wuya: "Better than wine!"

...

Fifteen minutes later, the two sat down at a small stall.

On the little table in front of them sat two bowls of sour plum soup, a few plump bayberries and some clear ice shards soaking in it, finished with a sprinkle of golden osmanthus—pretty as a picture.

This stall had been in the capital for more than ten years, always with four tables and eight chairs, with a steady stream of customers.

Ever since he'd wrecked his stomach, Le Wuya had been forced to avoid cold things, and had been wistfully craving this sour plum soup for years.

Now, bringing the man who'd wrecked his body to this very spot, Le Wuya felt a strange sense of ease and relief, like old grudges had just melted away.

However, Helian Che was completely missing the vibe.

Staring at this stuff that looked like a bowl of bitter medicine, he didn't see what made it better than wine, and picked up the bowl and downed it in one gulp.

Le Wuya, holding a small spoon with delicate, refined airs, his fox mask sitting on top of his head, stared at him, utterly dumbfounded.

Helian Che set the empty bowl down, put the mask back on, and chewed the ice and bayberries patiently, watching Le Wuya across from him.

He suddenly felt the noisy racket was interesting, the plum soup was interesting, and the guy across from him was pretty interesting too.

After Yaya left, Helian Che had lived a cold, lonely life for years, until today, when the clouds suddenly parted and he saw the world's beauty fresh again.

Le Wuya, with total nerve, criticized him: "Pearls before swine."

Helian Che didn't smile, didn't get mad, just watched Le Wuya with patience and care: "Go on, drink yours."

The way Le Wuya drank was exactly what Helian Che hated most—fussy and pretentious, scooping it up one spoonful at a time with a little white porcelain spoon, the cold making his sharp, thin lips even redder.

He thought, if he were Yaya, putting on such pretentious airs, he'd give him a good thrashing.

Helian Che grumbled silently to himself, watching him drink the plum soup down to the last drop, then saw his eyes darting around as if he hadn't had enough. With a sigh in his heart, he raised a hand to call the waiter: "Another bowl."

Le Wuya cradled his bowl, beaming at him.

This smile wasn't to Helian Che's liking either—pretty enough, but with a hint of smugness, utterly different from the obedient, well-behaved Yaya of childhood.

Yet seeing him like this, Helian Che felt an indescribable warmth and comfort.

The chill of the iced plum soup slowly seeped through his blood, gradually suppressing the restless violence and agitation stirring within his burly frame.

At this moment, nothing else remained—only peace.

But the next instant, a flash of red flipped over, and a hideous-faced drought fiend leisurely took a seat at the other end of the bench.

"What's this fine drink?" Xiang Zhi's voice was all smiles, but laced with a hint of gnashing resentment. "Buy me a bowl?"

Le Wuya clapped his hands and laughed: "Good, the one to foot the bill has arrived."

Xiang Zhi gave a cold, insincere smile: "A few days apart, and how has Brother Wenren's skin grown thicker with the wind?"

Le Wuya accepted the jab with relish, retorting: "A few days apart, and how has Seventh Master's throat grown hoarse?"

Xiang Zhi: "..."

He had thought Le Wuya would play dumb and tactfully gloss over his embarrassing night.

He'd really given this guy too much credit.

He gritted his teeth hard. "...Thank you for your concern, Brother Wenren. The wine gave me a chill, and this is the result."

Le Wuya let out an "oh." "Then you'd better take good care of yourself, Seventh Master. You might want to skip that sour plum soup."

He waved at the waiter, his face lighting up. "Waiter!"

The waiter called back from afar, "Here!"

"Bring this gentleman a bowl of cooling tea, and go to the pharmacy next door to grab a couple of coptis roots to steep in it—to help the gentleman soothe his throat."

Xiang Zhi said, "...Wenren Yue!"

Le Wuya put on a serious face and turned around. "Here."

Xiang Zhi reached out, grabbed his collar, and yanked him closer.

The moment he touched it, he realized these were clothes he himself had bought, which only made his blood boil even more.

He hissed, "You dare mock me for this?"

Le Wuya looked completely innocent and said in a voice meant only for the two of them, "I haven't. I never said that Seventh Master rarely gets drunk and that this humble official happened to see it, nor did I say how Seventh Master grabbed me and poured his heart out, nor did I ever mention Seventh Master crying in my arms. Ming Ke swears he won't go blabbing about it outside—Seventh Master can rest easy."

Xiang Zhi said, "...Are you threatening me?"

Le Wuya grinned and wrapped his hand around the fingers Xiang Zhi had pressed against his chest. "No, not at all. As long as Seventh Master is willing to pay the bill, I won't say a word."

Xiang Zhi tightened his grip on Le Wuya's collar, breathing a little heavily.

No matter how he denied it, he was already convinced that the man before him was his teacher reborn.

Two lifetimes, and Le Wuya was still the same smooth-talking, shameless scoundrel as ever.

Fawning on his superiors, lording it over his subordinates, and with students, he had no sense of propriety at all—taking and grabbing whatever he wanted, completely unfit to be a teacher.

Every single one of these traits was exactly what Xiang Zhi despised and looked down on the most.

Why, then, why did he have to fall in love with the very thing he despised?

Xiang Zhi, his face cold as frost, turned to the man sitting across from Le Wuya.

If not for this man's striking build, he might not have so easily caught Le Wuya in the act.

He flashed his signature brilliant smile. "...And this is?"

Helian Che remained expressionless.

He had long taken offense at this man's brazen grabbing and tugging at Le Wuya.

He reached out and smoothed the wrinkles on Le Wuya's chest.

"He's too cheap to pay the bill. I'll do it," Helian Che said coldly. "What he can't afford, I can."

Xiang Zhi's expression froze on his face.

...Who did he say couldn't afford it?

...Me?