Chapter 223: A Sudden Wind (Part 2)

Chapter 223: A Sudden Wind (Part 2)

On the day Zheng Miao left the capital, the streets were alive with laughter and bustling crowds.

He suddenly realized that today was the day the metropolitan examination results were posted.

He looked up at the hazy, yellowed sky, his mind wandering uncontrollably back to the past.

It was the spring of the fourteenth year of Tianding. Zheng Miao stood beneath the red list posted outside the examination hall, pointing with his finger and standing on his toes to find his spot on the list.

Naturally, every examinee cared most about their own ranking.

But there was also one name destined to be etched into everyone's heart—the top scholar.

He would be the golden boy, the existence that made all examinees envied and admired, respected and revered.

Candidates would always find themselves wondering:

What kind of person is he?

Where does he come from?

People say scholars have no clear first, warriors no clear second—so what makes him better than me?

After counting, Zheng Miao confirmed that he ranked twentieth on the list.

Unconsciously, he turned his gaze toward the top of the list.

And the little brat who had not yet crossed paths with him was perched atop everyone's heads, silently flexing and showing off, destined to be famous across the land.

He was someone who had to take first place wherever he went.

In his previous life, so it was... and perhaps in this life, too, he still hasn't kicked the habit.

...

Zheng Miao led his horse, braving the dusty spring wind, and hurried forward.

Wang Cheng quickened his pace to catch up, lowering his voice to remind him: "My lord, the wind is strong today. It's not suitable for travel. Perhaps we should stay in the capital for another two days."

Zheng Miao turned back, his piercing gaze easily seeing right through him: "You just want to spend another two days in the company of that Jiang He."

Wang Cheng lowered his head, his tone carrying a hint of apology and helplessness: "You don't miss a thing, my lord."

Recently, the most heated and exciting topic in the capital's official circles had been the dramatic fall from power of Zhang Yue, the Chief Minister of the Court of Sacrificial Worship.

Wang Cheng had played a significant role in it, yet he could not speak of it to anyone.

He was naturally steady by temperament, but he was still young, and a restless, nameless energy churned in his chest—like a fire burning deep inside him.

Fortunately, Jiang He, his fellow conspirator, had met with him twice afterward and exchanged a few words, which somewhat vented the fiery passion of youth that stirred within Wang Cheng.

Hearing that Jiang He was a soldier by trade, Wang Cheng was somewhat surprised.

Having traveled far and wide with Lord Zheng, he had met many men of military origin, and they all carried the rough-and-tumble air of a soldier about them.

He said honestly: "You don't look the type."

Jiang He said: "Many people have told me that. It's the Young General who's always had my back."

"...Young General?"

Jiang He said openly: "Young General Yue—Le Wuya, also known as Le Youque. Have you heard of him?"

Wang Cheng frowned slightly, a flood of bad rumors about him running through his mind.

Those rumors hung over his name like a dark cloud.

But his manners wouldn't let him comment on other people's relationships.

Seeing Wang Cheng's silence, Jiang He continued: "After I came to the capital, I heard that the Young General and Lord Zheng were once very close. I wonder if Lord Zheng has ever spoken of him to you?"

Wang Cheng stayed quiet.

Of course he had.

This was also a question that had long puzzled him.

The man so trashed in rumors was described as an entirely different person by Lord Zheng and Jiang He.

So what kind of person was Le Wuya, really?

They said he had a brilliant, sharp mind, that he was the greatest man in the world—but Wang Cheng had never seen it with his own eyes, so he remained half-believing, half-skeptical.

—Come to think of it, how would he compare to that Prefect Wenren who single-handedly reopened a cold case from years ago?

At that thought, Wang Cheng snapped out of his rare moment of distraction: "My lord, let the horse run once we're out of the city."

Zheng Miao nodded, weighed down by his thoughts.

Once through the city gates and onto the main road, he could ride hard all the way back to Tongzhou, to get an answer from that man.

Though in his heart, he was already ninety-nine percent sure what the answer was.

As he passed a breakfast stall, his mind turned to something:

Come to think of it, among this year's test-takers, there seemed to be one he knew fairly well, having run into him a few times at the Tongzhou government office...

But with a thousand thoughts churning in his head, this simple notion flashed by like a shooting star and was gone.

He picked up his pace and headed southward.

...

Meanwhile, Wen Renyue, sitting at the breakfast stall eating tofu pudding, watched Zheng Miao hurry past until he vanished from sight.

To be polite, he had thought of calling out a few words to Zheng Miao, but seeing the man's hurried manner, and himself without a hat, his hair tied back with a simple ribbon, having only washed his face before stepping out—he didn't look presentable at all—he decided not to speak. He downed the sweetened tofu pudding in one go, then raised his hand politely: "Boss."

The waiter bustled over, rattling off a smooth string of good-luck sayings: "A bowl of tofu pudding, ten years of hard study; eat it down today, and the path of the top scholar awaits!—Sir, what can I do for you?"

"Thanks for the good luck." Wen Renyue smiled gently. "Give me ten lamb buns to go."

These past few days, he had gotten along well with the two examinees who had deliberately approached him.—His temperament was mild, and he had the ability to get along well with anyone.

Bringing back a meal for someone was merely a matter of convenience.

Carrying the lotus leaf bundle of ten buns, he returned to the inn—only to find its entrance packed with a crowd so thick you couldn't get through.

Wen Renyue, worried that the buns might get cold, wedged his way through the gaps: "Pardon me, coming through."

A waiter craning his neck to watch the commotion was jostled by him and turned around, about to cuss him out, but when he saw his face clearly, his glare softened at once, and he hollered: "He's back! He's back! The man of the hour is right here!"

Before Wen Renyue could react, the crowd parted like a tide to both sides, and a minor official from the Ministry of Rites, decked out in red and silk and damp with sweat, hurried over beaming with joy, holding a red card. The moment he laid eyes on Wen Renyue, he bowed three times in deference: "Are you Ming Xiangzhao, Master Ming from Nanting County, Yizhou?"

Wen Renyue looked at the official's eyes crinkled with joy, and before he could even say why he'd come, he already had a premonition that it was a done deal.

He said calmly, "That's me."

Although he was in plain clothes with his hair down, the official didn't dare show the slightest disrespect—his whole face lit up with joy: "Master Ming, the Yizhou provincial graduate, whose given name is Xiang and courtesy name Zhao, congratulations on winning the laurels—you've placed first in the metropolitan exam!"

Amidst the sudden roar around him, Wen Renyue simply closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Le Wuya had taught him everything—his essays, his manners—hand by hand.

Even the congratulatory announcement the official had just recited, Brother Gu had reenacted word for word.

Back then, Le Wuya had knelt on one knee in front of him, grinning as he congratulated him, then reached out to the stunned Wen Renyue: "What are you waiting for? Fork it over, fork it over. You don't need to tip too much—six to eight silver pieces will do. It's good luck, they won't be afraid to take it, and they'll remember you fondly."

Before his departure, Le Wuya had specially given him two pouches.

One was for tipping when he placed first in the provincial exam, and the other for when he placed first in the palace exam.

Having been shown the ropes, Wen Renyue deftly unhooked the pouch from his belt and said warmly to the congratulating official, "Thanks for your trouble—go grab some tea."

The official put up a token refusal, then reached out to take it, hefted it, and his smile grew even wider: "Master Ming, by the emperor's command, the palace exam is set for half a month from now. Prepare early, and may you come out on top and win the triple crown!"

Wen Renyue responded gently, but his heart stayed calm.

The innkeeper had received the good news early and bought a few strings of firecrackers, setting them off with a bang so everyone on the street would know that a top scholar was staying at his inn, and that becoming the number one scholar was within reach!

And amidst all the lively congratulations and praise, Wen Renyue, clutching the buns, found himself wondering:

What is Brother Gu doing right now?

...

In the official residence at Tongzhou.

Outside, the water clock dripped on, and a few stars gleamed.

Le Wuya, rarely one to do serious work, sat facing a bright lamp, hunched over his desk, writing furiously.

A striped kitten lay on his neck—a cat that Yuan Zijin, Hua Rong, and Qin Xingyue had schemed to bring for him. It was at that adorable, clingy stage, loving nothing more than riding on Le Wuya's shoulder to take in the world's sights.

This peaceful scene was shattered by hurried footsteps and voices.

Hua Rong's urgent words, accompanied by footsteps like a drumroll, came rushing inward: "Lord Zheng, the master is busy with official matters. Please wait for me to announce you—hold on—"

Le Wuya paused his writing, listened intently for a moment, seemed to sense something, calmly dipped his brush into the brush washer, and looked up toward the door.

The kitten sleeping on his neck sensed a hint of ominousness, quickly leaped down and hid under the bed.

The door was violently pushed open from outside.

Zheng Miao's face, travel-worn yet carrying a trace of confusion and pain, crashed directly into Le Wuya's line of sight.

Hua Rong, following behind Zheng Miao, was uncharacteristically flustered: "...Master!"

Le Wuya ordered, "Hua Rong, leave."

He looked at Zheng Miao, whose chest was heaving: "...I have some old feelings to revisit with Lord Zheng."

The words "old feelings" pierced like steel needles, causing Zheng Miao's body to tremble like a sieve.

Hua Rong acknowledged the order and left with a heavy heart, closing the door behind him, while also signaling to the garrison soldiers who had appeared silently at the entrance to stand guard and not let even a fly through.

Once Hua Rong was gone, Zheng Miao strode forward, grabbed Le Wuya by the collar, and lifted him bodily off the ground.

A slight warmth traveled through his fingers.

The Le Wuya before him had a warm chest and a steady heartbeat—he was alive.

To ease the inexplicable sting in his eyes, Zheng Miao shifted his gaze and glanced sideways at the desk.

On the desk lay a memorial written in pine-soot ink, beginning with: "Your servant Wen Renyue humbly inquires after Your Majesty's health..."

He's submitting a memorial to the emperor?

Zheng Miao clenched his aching teeth and demanded in a low voice, "...Why did you come back? Are you insane?"

Le Wuya tilted his head, as if utterly baffled by his words.

This provoked Zheng Miao again.

His voice trembled with hatred: "Don't play dumb with me! If not you, who knew the key to overturning the case lay in those few paintings Zhang Yue had privately hidden? If not you, who left that garment at Sansi Temple, specifically to bait the trap?"

He had heard that some ghosts would be startled and flee if their true names were called out.

Therefore, even though he had silently called that name countless times along the way, even though his emotions were this agitated, Zheng Miao still dared not speak that name aloud:

"If not you, then who..."

Le Wuya was prepared for this.

Since he had asked Wang Cheng for help, he had accepted the possibility of being exposed by Zheng Miao.

He paused for a long moment, his tone gentle yet laced with a hint of teasing: "Miaomiao, you know me best."

The familiar nickname sent another tremor through Zheng Miao's body.

"You're insane..." Zheng Miao's lips trembled, "Why did you come back? You know, with how outstanding you are, sooner or later you'd have to go to the capital. When you face the emperor, how will you explain yourself?!"

Le Wuya replied in that same tone that never failed to infuriate: "I'm already here—what else can I do?"

Zheng Miao took a long breath, trying to calm himself: "Didn't Jie Jitong see you? Why didn't he say anything?"

Le Wuya countered, "You saw me too. Why didn't you say anything?"

"Don't start! What's your relationship with him, and what's mine with you—"

At that point, Zheng Miao couldn't continue.

Le Wuya narrowed his eyes, a hint of provocation in them: "What about 'mine with you'?"

Zheng Miao's face and ears turned red.

He had already laid bare his feelings for Le Wuya in front of this man, so there was no room for stubborn denial. Any further pretense now would be futile.

He ground his teeth and spat out, "I am your friend!"

"We're done. We're not buddies anymore," Le Wuya said. "You're the one who abandoned me first."

Zheng Miao was so mad he almost toppled over, wanting to drag this guy out and die together with him.

Seeing Zheng Miao's eyes reddened with anger, Le Wuya, instead of backing off, stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder, in a teasing tone: "Regretting it now, huh? Want to take back this unwanted guy?"

"You? Unwanted?" Zheng Miao was so mad he nearly laughed. "So many people think of you, miss you—even Zhang Yuanye can recognize your robes... How dare you say nobody wants you?"

"I just can't let it go, okay?"

Le Wuya leaned closer, his voice a little coaxing: "Usually, I'm the one who walks away from people, but my good friend Zheng Sanshui is the first to walk away from me. What am I supposed to think about that?"

He lowered his voice, speaking sincerely: "Getting a second life and seeing you again—I'm really happy."

Zheng Miao: "You..."

He was still angry, but his heart was being tossed around by this guy, filled with regret, pain, and bitterness.

All the words that had brewed in his chest from the capital to Tongzhou and now came down to just two:

So good.

Moved by emotion, he was about to embrace this guy who just wouldn't die, when he heard him whisper in his ear: "Lord Zheng has returned just in time. I've got something big going on, and I really need your full support, Lord Zheng."

Zheng Miao: "..."

Zheng Miao: "...Le Wuya, you—are you doing this on purpose?! You blew your cover just to con me into helping you again?!"

Le Wuya blinked, pretending to be innocent, but a few sly hints slipped out: "...So, Lord Zheng, will you help me, or not?"