Chapter 105: Family Matters

Chapter 105: Family Matters

The most exalted person in all the realm, shaken awake by a nightmare, tossed and turned for the rest of the night, unable to fall back asleep.

Too drained to hold court, he had no choice but to cancel court for the day.

Meanwhile, the source of his nightmares pushed open the window of the courier station on the capital's outskirts, feeling refreshed and invigorated in the crisp morning air.

The fresh air carrying morning dew flooded his lungs, as if the fragrance of grass and leaves had seeped into his very blood.

Le Wuya had just finished his morning stretch when he turned around and discovered a little snow-white fox tail neatly placed on the small table in the courier station.

He'd had a thoroughly good time last night and had completely forgotten he still had that dainty little trinket tucked up his sleeve—and never ended up giving it to anyone.

He hefted the little fox tail in his palm and gave it a flick, but not knowing what to do with it, he shelved the thought for now.

After getting all dressed up, Le Wuya took the stairs two at a time down to the ground floor.

The courier on duty today was the same one who'd been there when Le Wuya first arrived.

He was young and lively, and his nose crinkled when he smiled.

He and Le Wuya had already gotten pretty chummy, and he lit up the moment he saw him: "What a wild night! Firecrackers were still popping off past midnight—just like New Year's. Lord Wenren went to check out the fun last night too, didn't he?"

Le Wuya smiled back: "Sure did. You were off yesterday—out with the wife and kids, I bet?"

The courier mumbled a sheepish "yeah," then eyed Le Wuya's outfit: "Headed out, my lord?"

Le Wuya grinned and shot back: "What's with the third degree? Planning to tattle to someone?"

The courier didn't bat an eye, still all smiles as he said: "Of course! I've got to keep tabs on where you're off to, so tonight I can put in a good word with the three elders—Fortune, Prosperity, and Longevity—and get them to bless you with quick promotions and a smooth ride up the official ladder."

Le Wuya shot the breeze with him, but inside, he saw it all crystal clear.

Planting spies in official courier stations to eavesdrop on what traveling officials said behind closed doors—that had been Le Wuya's own brainchild in his past life.

The Old Emperor had lapped up his leftovers with gusto.

Back then, using the same tricks he'd used to win over the Tianlang Camp, he'd quietly put together a small spy network, planted them at courier stations all over the country, with intel flowing up the chain, layer by layer.

In the end, every scrap of info, big or small, funneled through Le Wuya's hub, got sorted and packaged, then went up to Zhaoming Hall.

This kid had clearly shown up after Le Wuya kicked the bucket and didn't know him from Adam.

But that whole approach—ears wide open, smiling at everyone—was all Le Wuya's own playbook.

From the big shots to the lowly clerks in the capital, everyone had a smug, stuck-up attitude toward out-of-town officials.

Out-of-towners, green as grass and faced with one snooty look after another, couldn't help but feel cowed. Then out of nowhere, this young guy would show up, all warm and helpful, granting their every wish—so of course they'd drop their guard and take him in like a sweet little brother.

And of course, nobody's on guard against their dear little bro.

On top of that, Le Wuya had one more piece of proof to back up his hunch.

He remembered clearly: when He Lianche, that odd foreigner, had "walked into the wrong room," this guy had been too busy sorting mail to even glance up.

When the Le brothers came by, he hadn't paid much attention either—he'd eavesdropped on the whole thing and figured it was only natural they'd come to say thanks.

It wasn't until the Sixth Prince showed up that he really started paying attention to Le Wuya.

When Le Wuya was sipping that cold wine, he'd picked up on the guy's weirdly eager vibe.

But the courier station on the capital's edge was only supposed to host out-of-town officials.

This courier was just a clerk, not an official—normally he wouldn't even rub shoulders with officials from the capital.

For a lowly clerk like him to recognize the Sixth Prince was already way outside his job description.

Le Wuya knew exactly who the guy was, but he didn't hold it against him. These past few days, he'd kept on chatting and joking with him like nothing was wrong.

If Le Wuya hadn't died, this kid would've been working under him.

And the kid had a real knack for spy work. Le Wuya loved a good talent, and the look he gave the courier was almost fatherly.

Le Wuya kept the conversation rolling, chatting away with gusto.

The courier, though, got more and more rattled with every back-and-forth, until he was soaked in sweat.

By the time Le Wuya left, looking pleased as punch, the courier mopped his brow and groaned:

"Holy crap—that guy just squeezed six generations of my family dirt out of me."

He'd barely dried off his cold sweat when he smacked his forehead in annoyance:

"Damn! I still didn't get where he's headed today!"

……

Le Wuya rode along with loose reins, chewing on a stalk of foxtail grass he'd grabbed from the roadside.

A golden bee droned lazily in circles around him.

Le Wuya didn't bother shooing it off, just rolled the grass stalk between his teeth, stared at the sun, and mulled things over.

His business in the capital was just about wrapped up, with only one big thing left to take care of.

Le Wuya browsed the Scholar's Pavilion at Taoran Pavilion for a while, finally picking out a solid inkstone, then swung by Huichun Pavilion, a well-known bone-doctor's clinic in the capital, and bought a big bottle of medicinal oil.

The inkstone was for his big brother, the oil for his second brother—both cheap but thoughtful.

Le Wuya ran through his gifts, and with the Nanting local goodies he'd brought along, he figured he'd have all the usual courtesies covered.

But then he remembered passing that wild persimmon tree on the capital's edge that morning—the one that looked like it was just about to turn into a spirit.

He'd caught a whiff of that sweet persimmon smell, gotten inspired, and shelled out for a big basket of cheap, fresh persimmons.

……

Today, Le Hang only had classes in the morning and no office hours to sit through. After class, he grabbed his book box and headed out.

He'd just reached the gates of the Imperial Academy when a soft voice drifted over from nearby: "Erudite Yue?"

Le Hang froze, turned, and there was Le Wuya, perched primly on a raised stone platform with a basket of persimmons, smile bright as spring, eyes clear as autumn stars.

For a moment, Le Hang was dazed.

Back in the day, he and Le Jue had studied at the Imperial Academy, while Ali, without any official rank, was still studying at a lesser school.

The academy let out earlier than the Imperial College.

After school, Ali would often run over to the Imperial College and sit in this very spot, clutching his book box and resting his head on it, waiting for them to go home together.

As soon as Le Hang and Le Jue appeared, he'd rush up to them all fired up.

He was dressed up like a proper little scholar, but he acted more like a mischievous imp straight out of a fox-spirit story, skipping over to them and cupping his hands in a bow: "Big Bro, Second Bro."

Le Hang wanted to ruffle his hair, but he had to keep up the big-brother authority, so he held back from hugging him.

Le Jue didn't have those hang-ups. He scooped up little Le Wuya, plopped him on his head, grabbed his hands, and teased: "C'mon, who do you like more—Big Bro or Second Bro?"

"I like Big Bro," Le Wuya said slyly, "but Second Bro likes me!"

Le Jue, simple as could be, was thrilled and broke into a big grin, wrapping the kid's hands around his own neck: "Good boy, Second Bro loves you best. What do you wanna eat? I'll buy it for you!"

Le Wuya turned to Le Hang, not about to leave him out: "What does Big Bro want to eat?"

Le Hang had long since forgotten what he'd said he wanted.

It was probably just whatever Ali liked, anyway.

Snapping out of it, Le Hang hurried over to him, heart thumping: "Magistrate Wenren, what brings you by today...?"

Le Wuya hopped up easily: "I've finished my business."

He extended a hand toward him, quite candidly: "I've come to collect my thank-you dinner from Erudite Le."

The words were totally shameless, whiny, with a natural hint of acting cute, but to Le Hang's ears, they sounded absolutely wonderful.

"Today?" he said, a little dazed. "We haven't got any fancy wine or dishes ready at home."

"A simple home-cooked meal's fine."

Le Wuya handed him the persimmons and took the heavy book box off his hands: "Is Second Bro Le home today?"

"Yeah. He took two days off, so he's been home yesterday and today."

Le Wuya: "Then let's head out."

Le Hang's eyes stung with emotion: "...Let's go."

...

The whole Yue family had been knocked into the dirt by that blow four years ago, and nobody thought they'd ever get back up.

For two years after Le Wuya died, the emperor still kept a few eyes on them.

But after Le Wuya died, new officials like Jie Jitong sprouted up like weeds. The emperor's spies, if they kept wasting time hanging around the mansion of such has-beens, would be a total waste.

Later, to cut costs, the Yue family let go a bunch of servants, and many spies took the chance to pull out.

So the mansion got cold and lonely, but ironically, it became the cleanest official residence in all of Shangjing.

Le Jue, stuck alone in the empty house, went absolutely nuts when he saw Le Wuya. He tied on an apron, barged into the kitchen, and announced he'd cook a whole table of dishes to properly host the guest.

Le Wuya remembered his second brother had always been just as much of a foodie as himself, always waiting around for someone else to cook, so he got suspicious and asked Le Hang: "Second Bro Le's got cooking skills like that?"

"He's got nothing else to do," Le Hang said casually. "All that strength with nowhere to put it, so he took up flipping a spatula."

Le Hang had done his best to put it gently.

But the bitterness behind it was something only they knew.

Le Jue was a hearty guy who used to have tons of friends in the capital, a real people-person who loved to have fun.

Ali's downfall had swept the whole family to the fringes of Shangjing's political scene.

Le Jue's friends, reading the room, kept their distance.

Le Jue had endless energy but nowhere to burn it off. Aside from checking in at the musket camp, he just hung around the kitchen stove. He said it was nothing, but maybe only Le Jue himself really knew how bitter he felt inside.

Over time, the whole Yue family had gone numb.

After what happened on the long street, Le Hang was sure that Magistrate Wenren, given who he was, wouldn't look down on them.

He just worried about seeing pity or sympathy in his eyes.

—Their family was already stuck in the mud; other people's sympathy would only sting more, not help at all.

Unexpectedly, Le Wuya's reaction was refreshingly offbeat.

He joked lightly: "Nice, use people where they're best. Someday when you inherit General Yue's post and hit the battlefield, you can cook the enemy all in one pot."

Le Hang opened his mouth, then shut it.

...The General's military post probably wasn't something they'd ever inherit.

Still, Le Hang didn't blame him.

Magistrate Wenren, not serving in the capital, was unaware of the affairs here. His wish came entirely from the heart.

He lifted the corners of his lips slightly: "I'll take that as a good omen from Magistrate Wenren."

Le Wuya held his teacup, looking around: "Where is Lady Ye?"

Le Hang: "Magistrate Wenren has come at an inconvenient time. My mother has taken my son and daughter to stay at my wife's family home."

Le Wuya blinked, finding the answer odd: "Your wife... doesn't live in the Le residence?"

Le Hang replied with restraint: "Living in the Le residence is not good for her."

Le Wuya sipped his tea noisily, constructing a tale of love and grievance in his mind.

His eldest brother, though always rigid and serious, a man who never spoke of romance, spoke of his wife with a soft tone and a glint in his eyes—clearly he had feelings for her, and deep ones at that.

Since the two families still kept in touch, there was still hope.

Talking about the Le family's affairs was mostly bad news with little good, so Le Wuya proactively changed the subject, speaking of the scenery of Nanting.

Le Hang was a man of few words but an excellent listener, nodding from time to time, and even offering him a few pointers on how to develop the academy, recruit teachers, and nurture students.

Le Wuya listened attentively, committing it all to memory.

Le Jue indeed had strength. In just half an hour, four cold dishes, six hot dishes, and two soups were brought to the table in succession.

He trotted off cheerfully to invite Le Qianzhang, but soon returned with his head hanging low.

He called out to Le Wuya: "Magistrate Wenren, come eat."

Le Wuya: "Where's General Yue?"

Le Jue looked awkward for a moment, then waved his hand with feigned boldness: "Dad said he's busy with something and can't make it."

In reality, Le Qianzhang had recently become obsessed with fishing. Spinning his scholar's walnuts in his hand, he'd sit by the fish pond at home, forgetting to eat and sleep, squatting there for an entire day.

However, he had neither the skill nor the luck—often sitting there all day without catching a single fish.

The General Zhaoyi who once commanded armies on the battlefield with such vigor and authority now lived no differently from those old wastrels who'd idled away their entire lives in the capital.

Even someone as easygoing as Le Jue felt his old man had been indulging in frivolous pursuits lately, which was truly unbecoming. Telling Magistrate Wenren about it would feel like airing the family's dirty laundry, so he simply glossed over it and covered for his father.

Fortunately, Magistrate Wenren didn't press the matter. He picked up his chopsticks and said with a smile: "Second Brother Le, I'll help myself then."

When Le Jue heard him say "Second Brother," a flower of joy suddenly bloomed in his heart. Forgetting everything else, he kept piling food into his bowl: "Eat! Eat more!"

The home-style meal warmed both heart and stomach—a scene of pure joy and mutual delight between host and guest.

After the meal, despite the Le brothers' repeated attempts to persuade him to stay, Le Wuya insisted on leaving.

The two brothers couldn't talk him out of it, so they reluctantly saw him off along the way.

Every sight in the courtyard was astonishingly familiar, as if it had been etched deep into Le Wuya's very bones.

This little path—he had once trotted along it as a child.

That cluster of bushes—he had hidden there playing hide-and-seek with Little Phoenix.

But he kept his eyes in check, presenting a proper and decorous demeanor, not stealing a single extra glance.

To distract himself, he began tallying up the gains and losses of this trip to the capital.

His true identity had already been discovered by Xiaoliu, Xiaoqi, and Little Phoenix—the three people who mattered most to him in his past life.

Xiaoliu was the most courteous of the three, taking the principle of mutual respect to its fullest. He had handed over a massive secret and a hold over himself, effectively climbing aboard Le Wuya's ship.

Little Phoenix was also quite sensible. Last night, though he'd been tempted several times to get close to him, he'd managed to hold back. At parting, he'd simply clasped his hands in a proper farewell, without doing anything out of line. It seemed those years hadn't been completely wasted after all.

Xiaoqi, on the other hand, had played it smart to the very end. Back when he'd sent word to arrange the meeting at Golden Terrace, he'd had Jiang He deliver the message, keeping his own tracks completely hidden.

Even if that courier did submit a formal report to the emperor, he'd be accusing the Sixth Prince—it wouldn't implicate Xiaoqi at all.

However, Zhi Jie had been well prepared.

He had reported to the emperor multiple times that his visits to Nanting were hardly for the sake of indulging in the town's famous butter cakes.

If he hadn't come to visit when Le Wuya was in the capital, that would have been strange.

Xiaoliu was completely open and aboveboard, holding nothing back.

The emperor couldn't fault Xiaoliu, but turning around to deal with Le Wuya wouldn't be easy either.

First, Le Wuya wasn't a nobody—he was a magistrate with real authority, not someone the emperor could mold and crush at will without cause. Second, he wasn't a man of high rank—just a county magistrate. For the Son of Heaven to squabble with a seventh-rank official would be beneath his dignity. Third, he wasn't in the capital, and since his rebirth he'd only done good deeds. Even if the emperor wanted to find fault with him, there was nothing to find.

In fact, the emperor had grudgingly rewarded him several times.

Today, Le Wuya had met with the Le brothers once more.

Le Wuya felt that this brief trip to the capital had started well and ended well—a perfect conclusion.

It was true that many people had seen his face, and it had brought them shock or joy, worry or anger.

But Le Wuya was certain they wouldn't spread the word, let alone report it to Xiang Zheng.

Because he knew the Old Emperor's traits all too well.

First, he was pathologically suspicious.

Second, his father had dabbled in the supernatural his entire life, which made the emperor loathe all talk of ghosts and spirits.

Third, though he never said it aloud, in his heart the emperor already hated Le Wuya to the very core.

So any official who had seen Le Wuya—men like Jie Jitong—wouldn't bring it up on their own, for fear of being accused of gossiping or dabbling in talk of ghosts and spirits.

And the eunuchs who served him closely, men like Eunuch Li, knew their master's likes and dislikes all too well—they wouldn't say a word either.

As for Le Hang and Le Jue, they would never say anything.

And so, despite making quite a spectacle of his visit to the capital, Le Wuya had passed through the flowers without a single petal clinging to him.

……

Le Wuya was still weighing the pros and cons in his mind when he suddenly spotted a figure dressed as a fisherman darting past the moon gate in the distance.

His thoughts immediately snapped to attention, and his footsteps faltered.

He asked Le Hang and Le Jue, though he already knew the answer: "Who was that fisherman just now?"

Le Jue had tried every which way to hide his father, but he hadn't managed it. With a note of frustration, he replied: "That was my father."

Le Wuya mulled it over for a long time but simply couldn't reconcile the image of a fisherman with Le Qianzhang, the man who once commanded thousands upon thousands of troops.

He stopped himself from dwelling on it, afraid it would break his heart.

He carefully took a small box from his robes and handed it over: "Here's another local specialty from Nanting—a humble gift for your parents. Please accept it."

……

After seeing Le Wuya off at the gate of the Le residence, the two brothers turned back. They found their old father standing at the same moon gate, wearing a bamboo hat and straw rain cape, staring blankly in the direction they'd come from.

Since the family had fallen on hard times, the father-son relationship had actually grown much warmer and more harmonious.

Le Jue no longer feared him as he once had. He called out cheerfully: "Hey, old man, what are you looking at?"

Le Qianzhang asked: "Who was that just now?"

Le Jue complained: "Who else could it be? Magistrate Wenren—the one you absolutely refused to go see no matter how many times we begged you."

With that, he held the box out: "Here—he was thinking of you and sent you a gift."

Le Qianzhang lifted the lid to find two pairs of scholar's walnuts inside, each carved with intricate scenes—exquisite workmanship.

One pair was carved with the scene "Old Laizi Dresses in Color to Delight His Parents," and the other with "Lu Gongji Hides Oranges for His Mother."

Le Qianzhang's breath hitched, and he nearly shed tears.

Le Jue hadn't expected such a reaction. He hurried over: "Old man, what's wrong?"

Le Qianzhang asked softly: "Wenren...?"

Le Hang replied: "Wenren Mingke."

Le Qianzhang nodded and asked no more, but he rose onto his tiptoes, gazing intently into the distance where that man had gone. "Autumn's chill is coming," he murmured to himself. "He should put on more clothes."