Chapter 104: Rebirth

Chapter 104: Rebirth

Six round-bellied bowls were filled with freshly chilled sour plum juice.

The six of them sat together around a table, raising their bowls to drink in unison.

The sour plum juice cost eight coppers a bowl—nothing like the refined elegance of "jade cups holding amber light"—but the drink was adorned with floating shards of ice and shimmering light, with a charm all its own, perfect for a summer day.

Le Wuya glanced around, his heart light, filled with nothing but joy.

Family, students, friends.

There were new faces and old acquaintances.

To him, this was lively and blissful.

After letting himself bask in the happiness for a bit, Le Wuya turned his mind to more serious matters.

He asked Wen Renyue, "Didn't I tell you to stay in Nanting?"

Wen Renyue offered a shy, gentle smile. "I can stay in Nanting alone. But without you, 'staying' doesn't mean a thing."

Le Wuya gave him a light smack on the head. "You're getting slicker with your words, aren't you? The moment you leave, my Nanting will be back under Deputy Magistrate Sun's control!"

"You're going back eventually," Wen Renyue reasoned calmly. "When I'm there, he wouldn't dare make a move; when I'm not, it's the perfect chance to see if he's been on his best behavior."

While Le Wuya was interrogating Wen Renyue, Pei Mingqi kept stealing glances at him, the smile at the corner of his mouth was about to spill over, itching to make a scene again.

But he had already been reckless enough earlier.

Afraid of further damaging his image in Le Wuya's eyes, he sat up ramrod straight, his posture rigid, putting on a quiet, well-behaved act.

Le Wuya couldn't ignore Pei Mingqi—his burning gaze was practically setting him on fire.

He asked, "And you? What are you doing in the capital?"

Pei Mingqi declared in a booming voice, "I'm here on business!"

His voice was so loud and booming that it startled the patrons at the neighboring table.

Not wanting to draw attention, Le Wuya reached out to cover his mouth right away.

But he was a beat too slow—his hand landed right on top of someone else's.

Zhi Jie leaned in from the other side, his eyes meeting Le Wuya's in mid-air.

Le Wuya withdrew his hand.

Zhi Jie said to Pei Mingqi, "We're not out on the Yizhou frontier anymore. Keep your voice down."

Pei Mingqi let out an "oh" and stared back at Zhi Jie for a long moment.

Pei Mingqi wasn't completely reckless.

Recalling the events of recent days—especially their drinking contest at the Four Seas Tavern—Pei Mingqi was certain that Zhi Jie had known long before him that the soul inside Wen Renyue was none other than his little crow, plain as day.

Pei Mingqi wanted to call Zhi Jie out: they had worked side by side to raise that soul together, so why had Zhi Jie gotten the confirmation and refused to tell him?

But the words died in his throat.

Putting himself in Zhi Jie's shoes, if Pei Mingqi had known that Le Wuya was truly alive again, whether for public duty or personal reasons, he wouldn't have gone around shouting it from the rooftops either.

At that thought, Pei Mingqi got antsy again.

He yanked his hand away from Zhi Jie's and turned to Le Wuya. "Why'd you come to the capital?"

If the old emperor found out—

His question came out of nowhere, totally unrelated to what he'd just said, making him look dumb again.

But Le Wuya got him perfectly.

Growing up together had forged a natural bond between them.

He said, "Same as you—here for business."

Pei Mingqi fell silent.

Half an hour ago, after learning the truth from Taoist Master Lu, Pei Mingqi had been fired up, plotting to snatch Le Wuya like a bandit and haul him back to camp, keeping him close and taking good care of him.

But now, seated here, he realized: the Le Wuya of today was a registered magistrate of Nanting, on the Ministry of Personnel's books—no longer a nobody.

If the emperor called, he had to answer.

Pei Mingqi's mind was in a whirl. He stopped speaking and raised his bowl, taking a big gulp of sour plum juice.

The cold slid down his throat and settled in his stomach, calming the restless blood in his veins a little.

He knew he'd better behave himself for now, but his fingers itched anyway. His left hand slipped under the table, quietly grabbing the sash hanging off Le Wuya's bench and clutching it in his palm.

Le Wuya didn't notice.

He was too busy staring at his own palm.

Just now, when he and Zhi Jie had both reached out to cover Pei Mingqi's mouth, his hand had been scraped by Zhi Jie's thumb ring.

In Le Wuya's memory, Zhi Jie had always been frugal, even as a kid. Aside from the court beads and belt ornaments he had to wear for formal occasions, he was plain from head to toe.

Le Wuya had never liked seeing Zhi Jie go without, especially when Xiao Qi, all glittering and decked out in jewels, stood right next to him.

With such a stark contrast, Le Wuya's heart leaned even more toward Zhi Jie.

On Xiao Liu's twelfth birthday, Le Wuya bought him a jade thumb ring.

But Le Wuya only cared about how it looked, completely forgetting about the size.

When he gave the gift and found the ring was a full size too big, Le Wuya wasn't embarrassed at all. He took Zhi Jie's thin, leaf-like hand in his, gave it a thoughtful heft, and announced, "Wait until your bones get stronger, then you can wear it!"

Later, Le Wuya completely forgot about the matter.

In Nanting, at the courier station outside the capital—Le Wuya had seen Zhi Jie wearing that ring both times.

It was an old-fashioned, outdated style.

As for where it came from, he'd long forgotten, so it never caught his eye.

If he hadn't touched it today and found the pattern oddly familiar, Le Wuya would've completely forgotten the whole thing.

He curled his thumb, rubbing the spot where the ring had grazed him, feeling a faint warmth there.

Xiang Zhi, on the other hand, had his own fish to fry.

He summoned Kong Yangping, who was masked like himself, and murmured a few words in his ear.

After Kong Yangping left to carry out the order, Xiang Zhi beamed at Le Wuya and said, "Speaking of which, I wonder what kind of spell Brother Wenren has cast on my man here?"

Le Wuya snapped back to his senses and bantered with him with practiced ease: "What, isn't he a lot more useful than before?"

Xiang Zhi said, "Indeed, he's been so doting on me that I'm almost overwhelmed by the attention."

Le Wuya said, "Quit beating around the bush and rambling."

He shrugged lightly: "Just say if you like it or not, that's it."

Xiang Zhi's mouth opened, but no words came out... "..."

He couldn't say he hated the change in Kong Yangping.

If he had to say "like," it wouldn't be a lie either.

But Le Wuya was staring at him so intently, as if that "like" was meant to be said to him.

A blush slowly crept up from his neck.

Xiang Zhi muttered under his breath, "Shameless."

Le Wuya, getting scolded out of nowhere, didn't get mad at all, and contentedly went back to sipping his sour plum drink.

Beside them, Helian Che's expression was tense, his face set like stone.

Good thing the mask hid it, or else his terrifying, ready-to-fight-anyone expression would've been enough to scare the crying out of any kid.

The two young dudes who'd come earlier, he didn't know them, but their whole native-Shangjing vibe rubbed him the wrong way.

The two new arrivals, he knew both, but couldn't stand either one.

The scholar looked like he couldn't do a damn thing.

And Pei Mingqi, his old rival, hadn't paid him any mind at all, just staring at Le Wuya like an idiot—downright embarrassing and infuriating.

On the other side, Le Wuya looked up at the pale, wispy full moon high above, and after checking the moon's position, shot to his feet: "Let's go, go, go—time for the fireworks!"

Xiang Zhi snatched his sleeve: "Where you going?"

Le Wuya: "To save us a spot."

Xiang Zhi smiled: "Why would we need to save a spot?"

He gestured into the distance with his fan: "Right there—Xieyan Tower."

The "Xieyan Tower" was a teahouse in Shangjing, in a prime spot, with its building towering a head above the rest, with a wide, open view. Every year for the Lantern Festival fireworks, the viewing rooms sold out in a flash, and at one point, you had to book three years ahead just to get a viewing tea party for that night.

Le Wuya asked, "Did you book it?"

Xiang Zhi tapped his palm with his fan: "Nope."

He wasn't psychic—he hadn't known he'd actually run into Le Wuya here.

"Well then..."

Xiang Zhi pressed the fan's rib to his lips and dropped a bombshell: "Can't book it? Then just buy the damn place."

Sure enough, no sooner had he spoken than Kong Yangping came running back, clutching a stack of papers—Shangjing property deeds.

Xiang Zhi took them without a second glance, folded the fortune-in-paper into little squares and stuffed them into his pouch, then flashed Le Wuya a brilliant smile: "I've been meaning to buy a nice teahouse for a while. When my mother's family comes to Shangjing, we'll need a proper place to host them in style. The most important thing in this world is family sitting together, sharing tea and good talk..."

With that, he turned toward Helian Che: "Big brother, am I right or what?"

What Helian Che thought, nobody could say.

A thousand thoughts condensed into a single, unreadable "Hmph."

Le Wuya couldn't help but gulp, thinking, what a money-burner.

But the view from Xieyan Tower really was something else.

They landed the best room in the place.

The original occupant was a wealthy merchant, who was evicted on the spot and had initially shown some grumbling, but when Kong Yangping promised him the viewing tea party for next year's Lantern Festival, his anger vanished completely, and he retreated obediently with his family.

No sooner had they settled in than the fireworks show began.

With a burst of snow-white fireworks like stars and rain, like waterfalls and streams, the night sky lit up as bright as day.

It was a blaze of fire trees and silver flowers, a bridge of stars with iron locks opened wide—as if celestial immortals were scattering radiance upon the mortal world.

By the light of those successive flashes, Le Wuya looked at each person around him one by one, feeling that everyone was vivid, everyone was endearing.

He was reminded, unbidden, of the tunnel he had dug with his own hands.

That day, he had inadvertently overheard the truth of his origins from his father and Deputy General Yu.

Filled with bewilderment, he had crawled into that unfinished dead-end tunnel, hugged his knees, curled up inside, and, imitating the silkworm spinning its silk, wrapped himself in a cocoon, layering his heart over and over again.

From then on, he saw the world as dim and bleak, flowers and grass as dull and lifeless, and people as seen but never truly let in.

Until today, that invisible cocoon of silk shrouding his heart seemed to be melting away bit by bit under the glow of the fireworks.

All things in the world gradually revealed their true beauty before Le Wuya.

Le Wuya thought, isn't this what it truly means to be reborn, to be remade?

Funny to say—he'd been reborn for over half a year, but only today did he truly realize that he seemed to have the right, the courage, to live a magnificent life all over again.

He reached out, tugged at Wenren Yue's arm, and whispered in his ear, "This body—I'm not giving it back, alright?"

Wenren Yue was taken aback by the sudden remark.

But he quickly understood what Le Wuya meant.

In the cool night breeze that carried the mingled scents of late summer and early autumn, Wenren Yue smiled and said, "Fine. Don't give it back."

Le Wuya's brows relaxed, and he raised his hand, gripping the chess-piece-shaped jade pendant on his chest firmly in his palm.

In this life, he could choose for himself whether to be a pawn.

That was enough.

The emperor had not drunk wine in a long time, and in his drunken haze, he fell into a deep sleep.

In the middle of the night, he woke with a start, with no warning at all.

He lay awake beneath his ornate quilt for a long while, then slowly sat up.

Noticing a figure stirring behind the bed curtain, Xue Jie, who had been keeping vigil all night, stepped forward at just the right moment and drew back the curtain: "Your Majesty."

As he'd aged, Xiang Zheng's skin had loosened somewhat, and fine lines had appeared at the corners of his eyes, but his features remained handsome—phoenix eyes and long brows, the faint lines lengthening the corners of his eyes and adding an air of refined nobility.

None of his youthful charm had been lost; it was all concentrated in those eyes, settling into a deep, bottomless pool.

He said, "Bring me some warm tea."

Warm tea arrived quickly.

Xue Jie had served him since childhood and naturally knew all his particular habits.

He took a soft pillow and placed it behind Xiang Zheng's lower back, so he could lean back comfortably.

Xiang Zheng held the teacup, staring morosely ahead, sipping the tea slowly, one sip at a time: "I'm old."

Xue Jie: "Your Majesty, you are in the prime of your years—why speak such words?"

"'Prime of my years.'" Xiang Zheng let out a faint smile. "Always the same phrase. I've heard it so often my ears are callused."

"Come to think of it, You Que had a funnier way of putting things. Do you remember what he said?"

Xue Jie had an excellent memory.

He quickly recalled that five or six years ago, when the emperor had been reviewing memorials through the night and was utterly exhausted, he had also sighed that he was "old."

Unexpectedly, Le Wuya beside him seemed not to hear, as if he hadn't heard a word.

Xiang Zheng glanced at him: "Why don't you offer me some consolation?"

Le Wuya actually closed his eyes and gave a light shake of his head: "Your subject is doing math."

Xiang Zheng asked curiously, "What are you calculating?"

Le Wuya replied with utter seriousness: "Your subject is calculating the True Dragon's age. Perched on the clouds, living ten thousand years—at what age would it count as old?"

The remark made the emperor burst out laughing, his fatigue vanishing entirely.

Xue Jie lowered his head and said, "This servant can't match Lord Yue's clever wit, and Lord Yue can't match this servant's unwavering loyalty."

"You old fox." Xiang Zheng stretched his body and set down the teacup. "How's the Jing tribe delegation doing?"

Xue Jie took away the empty cup, fetched a hot towel, and applied it to Xiang Zheng's face: "Rest assured, Your Majesty. The Fifth Prince has handled it well and has already escorted the delegation and the gifts back to the embassy. After finishing the task, the Fifth Prince wished to report to you, but afraid he might disturb your sleep, he asked this servant to pass the word along first. Tomorrow morning, the Fifth Prince will come to report to you in full."

Xiang Zheng: "After Xiao Wu left, he went to pay his respects at Zuo Ruyi's memorial tablet, didn't he?"

Xue Jie replied expressionlessly, "Yes."

Xiang Zheng sighed softly: "My son always feels things too deeply."

Xue Jie remained silent.

He knew the Fifth Prince did have feelings for Zuo Ruyi.

But those feelings were not at all what His Majesty imagined.

Previously, the Fifth Prince and Zuo Ruyi had grown up together, their bond closer than brothers.

Now, Zuo Ruyi had taken his own life at the estate to shield the Fifth Prince.

From then on, the Fifth Prince would carry guilt toward him for the rest of his life.

That, too, was a hard bond to break.

But knowing it and saying it were two different things—Xue Jie couldn't change His Majesty's mind, so he simply kept his mouth shut.

After commenting on the Fifth Prince, Xiang Zheng asked again, "What about Xiaoliu?"

Xue Jie: "The city's lively tonight, and the Sixth Prince has gone out to see the lanterns."

"And Xiao Qi?"

"The Seventh Prince has gone as well."

Xiang Zheng sighed: "Those two young brothers always do their own thing, never thinking to keep each other company. Speaking of which, have they gone to see that little magistrate lately?"

Xue Jie: "Since Ming Ke arrived in the capital, they've both sent gifts..."

"That can't be it." Xiang Zheng lifted his well-kept pale face from the steaming towel, his brows relaxing, making his eyes look even deeper. "Xiao Qi is well-behaved. But didn't Xiao Liu spend the whole night at the post station outside the capital, keeping that Wen Ren company all night without coming home?"

Xue Jie's face was like a slab of iron, unmoved and utterly expressionless: "Did you hear from Ru Feng?"

"No." Xiang Zheng set down the slightly cooled towel and studied Xue Jie. "I have other people."

Those deep-pool eyes locked onto Xue Jie: "A prince not coming home for a whole night—such a big deal, why didn't Ru Feng report it?"

Xue Jie half-raised his eyes and said in a flat tone, "Come to think of it, Ru Feng did send a letter to the palace yesterday. You've been busy lately, so I didn't show it to you."

Xiang Zheng: "What did it say?"

Xue Jie: "Exactly that. It said the Sixth Prince accompanied Magistrate Wenren through the night, but didn't summon him inside to serve, so he didn't know what they discussed. Afraid he'd failed in his duty and incurred Your Majesty's displeasure, he asked me to speak well of him."

Xiang Zheng's eyes lit up: "Where's the letter? Bring it to me."

Xue Jie produced a letter from a hidden seam in his long sleeve and handed it to Xiang Zheng.

After skimming it quickly, Xiang Zheng looked up, the deep pool in his eyes turning into a spring lake: "He's your adopted son. I knew he'd never hide anything from his master."

Xue Jie lowered his eyes and said flatly, "He is a good child."

Though his words said that, cold sweat slowly seeped down Xue Jie's back.

He finally realized, a beat too late, what His Majesty meant by sighing that he was "old."

He suspected Ru Feng had known but failed to report, and by extension, suspected Xue Jie had joined hands with Ru Feng to deceive him!

His Majesty was warning him—don't take him for a decrepit old fool!

Xiang Zheng smiled at him: "Bring tea. I drank too much wine; my mouth's bitter."

Xue Jie's cold sweat came quick and left just as fast. He bowed respectfully and answered, "Yes, Your Majesty."

Xue Jie backed out with small steps, leaving Xiang Zheng alone in the hall for now.

His dark silhouette fell against the wall, slightly hunched, finally betraying a hint of old age.

Without warning, Xiang Zheng raised his hand and struck the bed heavily.

He did not tell Xue Jie that the reason he had woken with a start was because he had dreamed of Le Wuya.

In the dream, Le Wuya leisurely circled the dragon throne, then leaned close to Xiang Zheng, who sat upon it, and whispered, "...Your Majesty, your subject prefers men."

Throughout his life, Xiang Zheng never spoke of it, but in his heart, he held the deepest contempt for his father.

His father had cultivated the Tao and ingested elixirs, eating himself to death.

He had kept refined male favorites, plunging the harem into chaos.

He had delegated power, living without any dignity in the end, toyed with at others' whim.

Thus, Xiang Zheng did everything in opposition to him—banishing Taoism and exalting Confucianism, governing diligently for twenty years, and regarding himself as a man of perfect integrity.

He had methodically excised every one of those flaws, cleanly and with full justification.

Who would have thought that Le Wuya, at death's door, would scheme against him one final time, using his dying words to publicly slander his name!

With just that one sentence, all of Xiang Zheng's past kindness to him, true or false, now seemed tainted with hidden motives.

His clean, unblemished reputation of a lifetime was about to be destroyed by those words!