Chapter 174: Confession (4)

Chapter 174: Confession (4)

Le Wuya slept to his heart's content, not lazily opening his eyes until the sun was high in the sky.

He gazed up at the bed curtains, briefly mulling over the wild, eventful night before.

Then, looking perfectly calm, he rose from bed.

What else could be done at this point?

Might as well get up and wash up first.

He stood, but before he'd even finished stretching, he spotted a short letter sitting neatly on the desk.

Le Wuya picked it up and saw it was a handwritten note from Wen Ren.

He wrote that as dawn was breaking, he had taken the two noble guests out of the government office, dressed in plain clothes to check on the people's living conditions in Tongzhou.

Le Wuya nodded at the paper.

The officials in Tongzhou had ears everywhere, unlike the isolated Nanting.

In Nanting, Le Wuya's word was law—when he, as the county magistrate, barked an order, everyone below jumped to obey.

But in Tongzhou, just by refusing to marry, take concubines, or visit courtesans, he'd already become the target of nasty rumors spreading all over.

Mu Jiazhi had always kept his mouth shut, so no worries there.

But if any official who'd been to the capital and recognized the two princes saw them lounging around his backyard in broad daylight, Le Wuya would likely be branded a treasonous minister who seduced princes and slept his way to the top.

As Le Wuya was marveling at how much more thoughtful Wen Ren had become, he happened to glance sideways and got a shock from his own reflection in the bronze mirror:

His curly hair was a total disaster, like a hurricane had blown through, with every strand going its own way—clearly the work of someone who'd given it a vicious tousling.

Le Wuya tried to comb it with his fingers, wincing in pain, and immediately concluded that this had to be the work of some seventh-ranked little brat.

Compared to his wreck of a hairdo, his body was clean and fresh, like someone had taken good care of him.

...That seemed like something Wen Ren would do.

Le Wuya figured that after Wen Ren had shooed the troublemaking Seventh Prince away, he'd personally given him a wash.

But taming this head of hair was a major project—one wrong move and he'd wake up.

Le Wuya pictured Wen Ren holding a comb, staring helplessly at his dog-chewed-looking head, and couldn't help but grin.

Still chuckling to himself, he dipped his toothbrush in green salt and squatted in the courtyard among the fallen petals, brushing his teeth with his hair an absolute mess.

As he brushed, Le Wuya's eyes drifted down to his chest.

He noticed a small folded paper charm hanging from his jade chess piece pendant.

Curious, he held it up to the light, then unfolded it.

The handwriting was clearly Xiaoliu's:

Just four characters, dripping with regret and grievance: "Sleeping early ruins everything."

Le Wuya laughed out loud.

Last night, Xiaoliu had been the first one to pass out.

Who'd have thought that by sleeping through it, he'd miss a whole night of spooky fun?

Le Wuya could even picture Xiaoliu waking up in the morning, finding out Xiaoqi had shown up too, and standing by the bed, shaking his head at him in defeat.

Le Wuya went back to his room, tucked the paper charm into a corner of the drawer, and got down to the serious business of taming his hair.

Within half an hour, he threw in the towel.

The reason was simple: his arms ached.

Le Wuya consoled himself that in this second life, everything was going smoothly—the only real annoyance being this thick, unruly mop of hair—so that was already pretty darn good.

Le Wuya sat on the newly built swing, gently swaying in the courtyard filled with osmanthus fragrance, lost in thought.

A vendor's cry with a soft Wu-dialect lilt drifted over from beyond the green wall: "Hot hand warmers—roasted ginkgo nuts! Want some ginkgo—come on and count! Fragrant and chewy, three for a copper coin!"

Le Wuya looked over the courtyard wall and swallowed hard.

He was always game to try snacks he'd never had before.

As Le Wuya was still debating whether to brave the outdoors with this disaster of a hairdo to try something new, a runner hurried in.

Folks who worked in the government office rarely lacked common sense.

He didn't bat an eye at Le Wuya's disheveled look, bowed, and announced: "Your Excellency, there's a flower seller outside saying the flowers you ordered are here."

Le Wuya let his head loll against the swing rope and yawned: "...Flowers...?"

He suddenly sat bolt upright, as if a thought had just hit him, and a grin quickly spread across his face: "Right, I did order some flowers."

Le Wuya's reaction was so quick that the runner didn't suspect a thing: "Want me to have him bring the flowers in for you?"

Le Wuya sat on the swing, rocking back and forth with glee: "Sure."

...

He Lianche had long heard that Tongzhou was no land of milk and honey.

Three prefects in a row had met their end there, which said a lot about how dangerous it was.

So he'd kept people on the ground in Tongzhou, keeping tabs on the government office.

Not long ago, when he learned that the Tongzhou government office had been sealed off by order of the local judicial commissioner Zheng Miao, with officials allowed in but not out, He Lianche couldn't sit still anymore.

He was afraid Le Wuya had gotten himself into some huge trouble.

Under his iron fist, the entire Jing tribe had become a tightly knit, unified bloc.

Last year, risking life and limb, he'd personally gone to the capital for the conference, scoring huge gains for the Jing tribe and hitting the peak of his prestige.

So even if he was away for a while, the people under him wouldn't dare stir up trouble.

Besides, only one person in the entire Jing tribe knew Le Wuya's true identity: He Lianche himself.

He Lianche worried that if he sent someone else, they wouldn't put their heart into it.

So he slipped into Dayu territory alone, riding hard toward the only family he had left in this world.

If he were truly headed for disaster, Helian Che would snatch him back to the Jing tribe if he had to, hide him away, and never let anyone see him again.

As it turned out, the second he set foot in Tongzhou, he learned that the one who had fallen wasn't Le Wuya, but Assistant Prefect Wei Yixian.

Le Wuya, this west wind from a small southwestern county, had flat-out steamrolled the local big shots.

Once he knew Le Wuya had landed on his feet, Helian Che should have turned his horse around and left, rather than carrying these two loads of flowers and showing up at the yamen in broad daylight.

But somehow, against all logic, he still showed up.

Helian Che wore a straw hat that covered most of his face, wearing plain, clean short robes, showing off a set of lean, solid muscles.

At first glance, he truly looked like a flower seller.

Even more convincing than his disguise back in Nanting.

Le Wuya tilted his head, sizing him up.

The yamen runner led the "flower seller" into the back office, and seeing that Le Wuya had no further instructions, bowed and hurried out.

Helian Che set down the flower loads, removed his straw hat, and looked at Le Wuya on the swing. His pale green eyes narrowed in the sunlight, his gaze turning stern and imposing.

But Le Wuya wasn't intimidated.

He spread his arms wide, grinning, silently opening them to Helian Che.

Helian Che glanced around, confirmed no one was watching, then strode forward quickly, his face hard as an iron plate, and stepped right into his arms.

Seeing Le Wuya in just a thin robe, he asked, frowning, "Cold?"

"Cold." Le Wuya wrapped his arms around his waist, his palms pressed against his warm, flexible waist, feeling completely at ease. "You're warm."

Helian Che didn't say a word, just handed him a steaming paper bag, a faint aroma wafting from it.

Le Wuya tore it open and let out a cheer: "Roasted ginkgo nuts!"

"Dunno." Helian Che said flatly. "Never seen the stuff before."

Le Wuya picked one up, popped it in his mouth, then picked another and held it up to Helian Che's lips, mumbling, "You bought it without even knowing what it was?"

Helian Che kept his face stiff, turning away, refusing to eat something so sketchy, and based on what he'd seen in the capital, commented coldly, "You always go for this kinda random crap."

Le Wuya didn't care, just kept smiling at him, eyes crinkled.

That smile threw Helian Che completely off balance.

He'd been stern and cold for so many years that he didn't know how to show he was happy.

Seeing that Le Wuya's complexion was a healthy blend of red and white, his cheeks a bit fuller than when they'd met on that hillside, he felt like pinching his cheeks.

However, when he raised his palm and found it smeared with flower mud, Helian Che flipped his hand over and gently ran his knuckles along his cheek: "You okay?"

Feeling that rough hand brush across his face, Le Wuya was utterly content, dragging out his words: "Goo—"

Before he could finish his whiny drawl, he got a light smack on the head: "Good where? Good in this rat's nest of hair?"

Helian Che's expression was not good.

In his mind, if Le Wuya wasn't being kept sleek and well-fed by someone, then he must've been done a great wrong.

He scowled and barked, "No maid to comb your hair for you?"

He was already planning to buy him three maids the moment he left the yamen.

Looking this pathetic—who's he trying to impress?

Le Wuya grabbed his short sleeve and gave it a gentle tug: "I don't want some stranger. I want you. Brother, comb my hair."

His eyes were bright: "Please, help me."

...

Helian Che abandoned the load of flowers, carefully washed his hands with soap nuts, sat him down in front of the mirror, and ran his big, warm hands through his tangled curls.

In that instant, his cold, hard heart softened into a mess.

Yaya's hair felt the same as when he was a child.

His hair had always grown fast, and the Jing tribe had no custom of shaving infants' hair. By the time he was six months old, he had grown a head of shoulder-length hair, curly, like a little lamb.

Helian Che stroked his hair, lost in thought, holding the comb and working through the tangles strand by strand.

Le Wuya lay on the table, playing with his fingers, suddenly feeling the urge to open his heart to this not-so-familiar blood relative: "Brother, if someone likes me, what should I do?"

Helian Che paused mid-motion, answering without hesitation: "Simple. See if he's willing to die for you."

Le Wuya: "..."

Le Wuya: "...Isn't that a bit too harsh?"

Helian Che declared firmly: "If he won't even die, how dare he speak of love?"

Le Wuya: "..." Fine.

His big brother was obsessively stubborn; he wouldn't get any good advice from him.

The two brothers fell silent for a long while, with only the warm autumn sunlight quietly streaming through the window, casting two silhouettes—one tall, one short.

Helian Che spoke abruptly: "What do you think?"

"Me..." Le Wuya said listlessly, "I'm afraid of dragging someone down."

Helian Che let out a scoff, as if dismissing his words.

Le Wuya recalled something and asked, "Brother, I heard you've never taken a wife?"

Helian Che: "Correct."

"Aren't you afraid of dying without heirs, alone?"

"I don't care about that. I have no biological sons, but I have eighteen adopted sons—I'm not alone," Helian Che said. "The Jing tribe's leader has always been the one most capable. In the future, when I can no longer ride or fight, I'll naturally step aside. Whether they usurp me, betray me, or honor me then is entirely up to them. Even if I married and had sons, with descendants filling the halls, each one accomplished, would that spare me from power struggles in the end?"

Le Wuya thought his big brother truly had a unique kind of carefree detachment.

He could never learn that.

So he let out another long sigh.

Helian Che turned his head, quietly working on a particularly stubborn knot in his hair, and asked, "Why is it you who's afraid?"

Le Wuya let out a confused "Ah?"

"Only fools borrow trouble. Are you a fool? Anyone who likes you knows better than anyone how much trouble you are." Helian Che's words were icy. "If someone likes you, they're willingly taking on that trouble. Why should you be the one worrying? All you have to do is enjoy it."

He successfully combed through the tangled snarl in his hair: "If they treat you well, repay them tenfold; if they dare to regret it, make them pay a hundredfold."

Helian Che stared at the face in the mirror: "With your abilities, you can manage that, right?"

Le Wuya hadn't expected his big brother to be so insightful, and his eyes lit up.

Right.

His mind instantly raced, one thought chasing another, whirling like a merry-go-round, so he completely failed to notice Helian Che's hands trembling slightly.

If he weren't afraid of hurting him by pulling his hair, Helian Che would have grabbed him by it, pressed him against the mirror, and demanded harshly.

Who?

Who is it?

If it were that Pei Mingqi, he'd pluck every damn feather off that bird!