Chapter 111: Seizing Power (I)

Chapter 111: Seizing Power (I)

Pei Mingqi, a straightforward man, and having learned that this person was the original owner of Le Wuya's current body, treated him with rare courtesy, saying, "Morning."

Wen Renyue replied in kind: "General Pei is early."

Pei Mingqi was blunt: "I never left."

Wen Renyue: "..."

Pei Mingqi gave a slight sniff: "What's that smell?"

Wen Renyue opened his book box: "Mom made tofu pudding with chili oil. The neighbors all say it's good. Mom asked me to bring some for the magistrate to try."

Le Wuya poked his head out from behind Pei Mingqi: "Take it to the kitchen and warm it up for me! I'll eat it after I finish training with Old Qin."

Wen Renyue held out the lunchbox: "Would General Pei like some?"

To his surprise, Pei Mingqi glanced at him with eyes that could not hide envy and regret.

Pei Mingqi was indeed seething with jealousy.

But he could not play the bandit and forcibly abduct Le Wuya, a lively and capable county magistrate, back to his camp, nor could he draw his sword and castrate everyone who liked him.

So, all his feelings were contained in that fleeting glance.

"That little bit wouldn't even be a snack for me," Pei Mingqi said with a generous wave. "Feed him. Look at that waist on him—I'm one and a half times his width, and then some."

Le Wuya chewed on that word "feed" and kicked at his lower back half-heartedly.

He kicked casually, and Pei Mingqi dodged with equal nonchalance.

Unexpectedly, that dodge stirred up some childhood memories and feelings, and a heart that had been so heavy it could barely beat thumped a few rare, cheerful beats.

Seizing the moment, he took a few quick steps, spun around, and said lightly to Le Wuya: "I'm off!"

Le Wuya replied heartily: "Get lost!"

Their eyes met for a moment, and they understood each other perfectly.

A phoenix and a crow, after all, don't hold grudges overnight.

Realizing this, Le Wuya cheered up. After watching Pei Mingqi leave, he happily slung an arm around Wen Renyue's shoulder and bounded off to the archery range to practice with Qin Xingyue.

Following his instructions, Wen Renyue first took the tofu pudding to the kitchen, set it in hot water to keep warm, then tidied up the study thoroughly. Afterward, he spread out rice paper and, imitating Ming Xiangzhao's old calligraphy style, immersed himself in copying characters to calm his mind.

As for the anecdotes of the treacherous official Le Wuya, Wen Renyue had heard travelers from north and south speak of him while in Jiangnan—hazy stories, nothing more than a tale of a powerful minister's rise and fall.

The only fresh detail was that this powerful minister was young and handsome—doubly rare.

This time, he had made a trip to the capital and dug up more of Le Wuya's past.

Praise was scarce, but there was plenty of badmouthing, and Wen Renyue found it quite surprising.

The Brother Gu he remembered and the Le Wuya of rumor were two completely different people.

So, he decided to trust his own judgment, seeing only this "Brother Gu" and ignoring the gossip of others.

But today, his heart simply could not settle, and his calligraphy turned out messy and sloppy, lacking his usual steady style.

The reason was that the rumor of "Le Wuya suspected to be gay" kept churning in his mind, refusing to rest.

...

Le Wuya and Qin Xingyue finished their training session, drenched in sweat. He wiped his face and head with a towel chilled in well water, feeling great. Now he held the warm tofu pudding and dug in with a spoon.

As a warm stream flowed comfortably down his throat, Le Wuya felt his whole body relax.

He had worked up a light sweat, and he felt at peace. He plopped himself down on his own desk, with zero manners.

Wen Renyue, recalling Pei Mingqi's parting words, glanced at his waist out of the corner of his eye, but it was as if his eyes had been burned—he quickly looked away.

Le Wuya, unaware, chattered on cheerfully: "When I came back yesterday, I was really happy. With the city gate tax lowered, Nanting has more people than ever—bustling. Without that liveliness, it wouldn't feel like a place worth living in."

"...Mm." Wen Renyue tried to focus on his calligraphy practice sheet. "More people means more bustle, but also more trouble."

Le Wuya raised an eyebrow: "Do I look like someone who's scared of trouble?"

Wen Renyue: "Obviously not."

He was silent for a long moment, then changed the subject: "General Pei arrived yesterday?"

Le Wuya: "Mm, you weren't here. You'd gone home to help Ming's mom make tofu pudding."

Wen Renyue: "When he hugged you this morning, were you discussing matters?"

Le Wuya nodded without hesitation: "Mm."

Wen Renyue: "Last night he stayed—"

Le Wuya said flippantly: "Slept on top of me."

At that, Le Wuya burst out laughing, cracking himself up.

He had made a similar joke with Little Phoenix before, making him so mad he was fuming.

Wen Renyue heard this and shook his head helplessly.

He was all jokes and nonsense—clearly not to be taken seriously.

Besides, he had eyes.

When he arrived, the door to the side room off the courtyard was open; Pei Mingqi had likely slept there last night.

Moreover, two months ago, he had seen with his own eyes the Sixth Prince and Pei Mingqi emerge from the main room together, disheveled.

But...

He pressed a hand to his chest.

In just a few dozen days and nights, how had he become so petty?

Things were spiraling out of control.

For instance, right now, Le Wuya was clearly disheveled, his curly hair tied back with a single ribbon, yet Wen Renyue saw him as decked out in gold and silk, dripping with jewels.

This was completely unreasonable.

Even more unreasonable was that he set down his brush, rose, and walked around behind Le Wuya. Before he could stop himself, he reached out and pulled him into an embrace.

This embrace finally made Wen Ren Yue admit that Pei Mingqi was right.

This body that had once been his had indeed changed.

It was leaner, yet more solid—firm, springy, and radiating warmth, with a strange new appeal.

Le Wuya lifted his head, took a deep breath, and gave a satisfied shrug of his shoulders within the embrace.

Wen Ren Yue's clothes were castoffs from Ming Xiangzhao, washed until they were soft and faded, unusually soft and form-fitting, with the warm, clean scent of soap.

Meanwhile, Wen Ren Yue caught the scent of pine and cypress on Le Wuya.

This wind, carrying the scent of pines, was about to sweep toward the capital and across the world—fierce and brimming with energy.

Wen Ren Yue, who considered himself a man of twenty-five who had always followed the rules, found himself caught up in this storm against his will. He had to admit he was a little rattled, yet he also felt a strange thrill of excitement at this world-turning change.

As Wen Ren Yue was lost in thought, Le Wuya turned back with a smile: "Thinking about your body again, huh?"

With that, he turned back and kept eating his tofu pudding like nothing was wrong: "You gave me tofu pudding, so I'll let you hug me for the time it takes to brew a cup of tea. Don't hold back—use me as you please."

Wen Ren Yue had known him long enough to tell that he really didn't care about this hug.

He seemed always to be this way, keeping his soul and body completely separate.

His soul could soar like an eagle, yet he treated his body like dirt, as if anyone could just come along and trample all over it on a whim.

How did someone so contradictory even turn out this way?

Add that to the rumors about Le Wuya liking men, and Wen Ren Yue suddenly found it all both ridiculous and funny:

He suspected Le Wuya liked men, but had never actually been with one, and had hardly ever even been hugged like this.

Otherwise, he wouldn't be this clueless.

As Wen Ren Yue let go, not sure whether to laugh or sigh, Le Wuya had also finished off every last bit of his tofu pudding.

Le Wuya's lips were tinged red from the spice: "Auntie's cooking is really something. Tomorrow I'll come to your place to have it fresh."

"Alright." Wen Ren Yue patted his shoulder. "Brother Gu, my body is yours now. You need to think about how you're going to treat it, and then... treat it right."

Le Wuya answered without missing a beat: "Sure! I just worked out. And I had breakfast too."

Wen Ren Yue gave a faint smile.

With Le Wuya's brains, even if he only half-got it now, he'd figure it out someday.

Watching him trot off to wash his lunchbox, a thought suddenly struck Wen Ren Yue:

If he could rattle someone's resolve and mess with their head even without knowing it, what would happen if someone like that really woke up and got it?

A wave of heat rose in his chest out of nowhere. He went back to his desk, steadied his breath, and went on practicing his calligraphy.

Guess we'll see what happens.

...

Though Yuan Zijin had bragged plenty about being a good-for-nothing, he did have a real knack for getting along with women, to his credit.

When he met the group of aunties, his heart was pounding, but he didn't act proud—he bowed to each one in order of seniority.

Being kicked out by his dad and sent a thousand miles away wasn't exactly something to brag about.

He couldn't exactly go around bragging about how he'd thrown his weight around back home, so he had no choice but to polish his own image, claiming he was a distant cousin of General Pei, from the capital, sent here by his dad through the general's connections to get some experience.

When they heard he was from the capital and had connections, the aunties' looks changed completely.

Immediately, Yuan Zijin got hit with a barrage of questions: "Are you married?" "My niece—want to meet her?"

By the time he was dizzy and started his first real job, he got a huge shock.

He got a case involving a couple wanting to divorce.

The husband was lazy and shiftless, always taking the family's last coins to invest in schemes. But his judgment was terrible—he put money into brewing, and the wine came out sour as vinegar; he put money into shops, and the shopkeepers skipped town.

Even so, as long as he could lie around at home and eat for free, he kept at it happily.

The wife worked by day and wove by night, yet her earnings never kept pace with his squandering.

Unable to bear it any longer, she sought a formal separation, but the husband, unwilling to lose his little money tree—even if it yielded little, it at least kept him fed—stubbornly refused.

Two aunts brought Yuan Zijin to the door, originally holding the belief of "rather destroy a temple than break a marriage," but after hearing the wife's account, they exchanged a glance and knew this marriage really couldn't continue.

They were carefully mediating when Yuan Zijin suddenly jumped in.

He knew right from wrong in his heart, but he couldn't stand the woman's ferocity, so he planted his hands on his hips and declared boldly that even if the husband was at fault, a wife seeking divorce should do so peacefully and courteously, not order her husband around with venomous words.

The woman, already bursting with pent-up bitterness, flew into a rage at his words, lunged at him, and began beating him senseless.

She needed to teach this clueless brat a lesson: the fact that she only cursed with her mouth and didn't roll up her sleeves to fight was already being generous!

Yuan Zijin had never struck a woman nor been struck by one in his life. Panicking, he could only dodge and weave backward, calling for the man to intervene.

But the husband's cowardly nature surfaced again. Thinking the young man was a new clerk from the yamen, he feared his wife's reckless violence might offend this person and jeopardize his thriving little venture, so he hurriedly pulled the aunts aside, insisting he was willing to dissolve the marriage.

The two accompanying aunts also felt Yuan Zijin had no filter on his mouth, that his words were especially deserving of a beating—a muddled fool who needed a lesson.

Seeing he wouldn't be seriously hurt, one elder aunt stepped in to gently break up the fight, while another, quick-handed, had already gotten the man to press his thumbprint on the dissolution document.

By the time Yuan Zijin was rescued, his dashing young gentleman image had crumbled completely, leaving him a frazzled mess.

The aunts looked at him, half annoyed, half amused, but at least things had worked out by accident—he wasn't at fault and could barely count it as a merit.

They treated him to a bowl of tea at a street stall and kindly advised him that mediating family disputes was like untangling a knot—one must never rush. This time it had worked out by sheer luck, but if he ever encountered a hot-tempered one who came out swinging a cleaver, he might well get chopped.

Yuan Zijin, tears welling in his eyes, fastidiously wiped the table and bench again and again, muttering, "It's not like I refused to let her divorce—but why is she so fierce?"

The two aunts exchanged a look, certain this was a clueless fool.

...

While Yuan Zijin was being scratched and hopping about, Le Wuya was crunching on a slice of heart-red radish.

Wen Ren Yue asked him: "Why not put Master Yuan in the yamen, doing light work like copying documents? Wouldn't that be better?"

"No." He said indistinctly, "It's inconvenient for my power grab."

Wen Ren Yue set down his brush and looked at him in surprise.

Le Wuya handed him a slice of radish: "Tasty, huh? Try it."

Seeing him take the radish, Le Wuya asked again: "You get it now?"

Wen Ren pondered for a moment, worked through the intricacies, finished the radish, and then nodded: "Yeah, I get it."

For ease of governance, many Magistrates delegate some authority to local gentry, also known as Village Elders.

Village Elders are responsible for resolving "minor matters," and only "major matters" fall under the jurisdiction of the yamen.

However, "minor matters" in daily life are countless, while "major matters" are rare.

These gentry never show up themselves; they send their underlings to make a round at the households involved, ostensibly to "do a favor," but in reality, they play favorites instead of doing what's right. As long as they crush one side's demands without mercy, it counts as a "successful mediation."

What the common folk seek is nothing more than "fairness."

Once the fairness of "minor matters" relies entirely on the whims of the Village Elders, the people naturally scramble to curry favor with the gentry to secure a sliver of advantage for themselves.

As a result, the yamen ends up gutted.

In normal times, everyone gets along, minding their own business, but when push comes to shove—when the gentry's interests clash with the yamen's—the gentry can unite and, with full justification, grab the yamen by the throat.

The people, governed by the gentry, have no choice but to back them.

Le Wuya's move, seemingly a throwaway gesture, actually struck precisely and ruthlessly at the "authority" of the Village Elders, cutting deep.

Moreover, this blow was subtle. To outsiders, it looked like the Master had made a trip to the capital, come back with a swagger, and wanted to take on more work to score some political points—no one would think of "power-grabbing."

After all, a bunch of old women leading a pale-faced young man and a clueless chicken, clomping around the city, didn't exactly look like a threat.

The Village Elders didn't even feel the sting; they gathered together, whispering among themselves, wondering if Master Wenren, who never married, had a preference for older women, which was why he'd recruited such a motley crew to make a spectacle.

After gossiping to their hearts' content, they dispersed in high spirits, never thinking deeper—they couldn't think deeper. It was only natural for gentry to work for the Magistrate and skim off the top; why would the yamen cut off its own hands and feet?

It wasn't until autumn turned to winter, when the first snow fell in flurries, and tax season arrived, that the gentry began to sense that things were different from previous years.