Chapter 241: Open Heart (Part 3)

Chapter 241: Open Heart (Part 3)

Le Wuya finished the last of the ghee cake, then found a clean white cloth, dipped his brush in ink, and wrote a few lines. He folded it carefully and tucked it into his robe.

Then he rose and walked to the window, moving to close it.

A chill wind blew in, but he didn't flinch, leaning halfway out the window into the night breeze.

A sliver of a crescent moon hung in the sky, and the white silk in his hand fluttered in the moonlight like flowing clouds.

A few feet away, Qiu Sinian sat cross-legged on the rooftop.

Beside him was a tidy pile of mung bean cakes.

Having been ordered by the emperor to shadow Le Wuya all day, he, just like the man he was watching, had gone without food or water for a full day.

Only now did he get a chance to eat.

Qiu Sinian had a very particular way of eating.

It could hardly be called "eating"—it was more like force-feeding himself, like stuffing a duck.

He crushed the mung bean cakes into a fine paste with his hands, shoved them into his mouth, and gulped them down without chewing.

In less time than it takes to brew a cup of tea, he had wolfed down seven palm-sized mung bean cakes.

Even with a face as handsome as his, such a manner of eating was bound to turn heads.

Fortunately, the only one watching him now was the moon overhead.

No one else dropped out of the sky to remark, "Our little A'Si is gulping down his meal again."

...

When Qiu Sinian was five, a drought had struck, withering the grass and trees.

His uncle, known in the village as a righteous man, saw no way to survive and rallied the villagers to rise up.

But they were rounded up by government troops before they even left the province.

For the young Qiu Sinian, the only benefit of his uncle's rebellion was a few days of plain rice to eat.

His appetite was small, and over several meals, the total rice he consumed wouldn't have filled a single large bowl.

After that brief period of fullness followed six grueling months of marching to the capital.

—All eight young boys of the Qiu family were to be escorted to the capital.

At first, his oldest brother carried him.

After the oldest brother died of illness, the second brother picked him up next.

But Qiu Sinian wouldn't have it.

He had seen his grandmother starve to death at home.

He knew what death was.

His brothers were already exhausted from walking; he couldn't add to their load.

So, on his thin, stick-like legs, he stumbled along, trailing at the back of the procession.

He was hungry, so hungry that he saw stars, but he kept stumbling and scrambling to keep up.

The escorting soldiers couldn't be bothered to keep an eye on him.

They all had parents too; their hearts weren't made of stone.

A five-year-old, not even as tall as a knife—what could he possibly understand?

They privately agreed that if the boy got lost along the way, they'd report him as died of illness, buy their superiors a few drinks back in the capital, and the matter would be settled.

But Qiu Sinian managed to keep up.

He didn't dare fall behind.

If he did, he would be completely alone.

Along the way, five of the Qiu brothers died, one after another.

After entering the palace and being castrated to become eunuchs, two more didn't survive.

Qiu Sinian's will to live was indeed stronger than his brothers'.

He packed the wound with ashes to stop the bleeding, curled up like a neutered puppy on a tattered mat, licked his wounds clean, gulped down some tepid rice porridge, and hauled himself to his feet.

But when he stood up and looked around, he found himself utterly alone within the crimson walls and green tiles.

He was too young, and the other eunuchs bullied him, calling him a criminal's slave and piling the heaviest, most menial tasks on him. He bore it without anger or resentment.

After all, he was a criminal's slave.

He was born guilty, and so was his whole family—sent into this world to suffer.

The other hardships were nothing compared to this.

The worst was the fire that burned inside him—a hunger that blazed fiercest at mealtimes, overwhelming his senses until he could think of nothing else.

Some eunuchs teased him, saying this little brat could eat the rations of eight men.

But Qiu Sinian never became a real pig.

On the contrary, he was quick-witted, clear-headed, and had a beast's sharp instincts.

As long as he was fed, he could work day and night, doing the work of eight men.

The head eunuch noticed this drive in him and gradually put a stop to the others bullying him, even letting him secretly study reading and writing.

Qiu Sinian started from the lowest rung—a scullery boy—sweeping floors, opening doors, scrubbing chamber pots. By the age of twelve, he had risen to become a cleaning eunuch at Shouren Hall.

When he finally came face to face with the emperor who had ordered his family's extermination, Qiu Sinian felt only fear and unease, no hatred.

His family existed only in a corner of his memory—shrouded in dust and buried deep, cut off by death, out of reach.

But the emperor was a master who was right there in front of him, one who would even reward him with leftover pastries.

The emperor quite enjoyed watching him wolf down food, laughing and saying he had a "blessed look."

One day, the emperor rewarded him with half a lotus cake and, on a whim, casually asked what his surname was.

Qiu Sinian was eyeing the pastries and swallowing hard: "Reporting to Your Majesty, this servant's surname is Qiu."

The Emperor's brow furrowed slightly: "Which Qiu character?"

Qiu Sinian: "..."

He sensed danger, but refusing to answer wasn't an option: "Reporting to Your Majesty, it's the character with 'qiu' on top and 'yi' underneath, the fourth in my family."

The Emperor let out a meaningful "Oh" but said nothing, merely summoning Xue Jie to whisper in his ear.

Xue Jie soon returned with a plate of fresh pastries, setting them in front of Qiu Sinian.

The Emperor's eyes were exceedingly kind: "A reward for you. Eat up."

Qiu Sinian went pale, cold sweat pouring down his face.

But he didn't hesitate. He thanked the Emperor, picked up a piece, put it in his mouth, and chewed.

He chewed with exaggerated effort, cheeks puffing out like a squirrel's.

The Emperor was quite pleased with his attitude, and seeing him finish the plate of pastries, promptly ordered Xue Jie to pack another box for him to take back and savor slowly.

Qiu Sinian kowtowed properly in gratitude, and once back in the eunuch quarters, after confirming no one was around, he vomited up everything in his stomach.

...He'd eaten too fast, too frantically.

In all his life, he'd never eaten pastries that made his heart race like that.

After throwing up, he gasped for air, opened the box, and ate the Emperor's gift down to the last crumb.

His animal instinct told him he had to do this, or he'd die without a place to rest.

This was the Emperor's gift, after all.

Sure enough, after he wolfed down the whole box in a single day, the Emperor's regard for him grew even stronger.

Before long, the Emperor kindly asked if he'd accompany his soon-to-be-married adopted daughter, Princess Xiaoshu, out of the palace to look after her daily needs.

Qiu Sinian blinked, panic flashing across his face, and immediately threw himself to his knees: "What did this servant do wrong? Does Your Majesty not want me anymore?"

Seeing his reaction, the Emperor was overjoyed: "Princess Xiaoshu is my beloved daughter. Sending you to accompany her in marriage shows my trust in you. At your young age, you handle things well, keep a clear head, and know who your master is—these are your strengths and your blessing."

He smiled. "...Do you remember what I just said?"

Qiu Sinian banged his head on the ground with a loud thud: "Thank you for Your Majesty's boundless grace!"

And so, he followed the reportedly favored folk princess Qi Hongzhuang, and that's how he met Le Wuya.

He'd seen Le Wuya more than once in the Shouren Hall.

But back then, he was just a floor scrubber, able to see only the hem of his robes and the tips of his shoes.

Seeing the way he ate for the first time, Le Wuya was taken aback: "What's the Emperor thinking, sending you here? Trying to eat me out of house and home?"

Hearing this, Qiu Sinian puffed out his cheeks and gave him a naive, foolish grin.

...Though innocence was something he'd lost a long time ago.

Le Wuya asked, "Where are you from?"

He answered in a soft, honest voice: "Yuzhou."

Le Wuya lowered his eyes, doing the math silently for a moment: "At your age... you must have lived through the Yuzhou famine nine years ago."

Qiu Sinian answered quickly, "Yeah, I did."

A five-year-old should only know joy, not suffering. If he seemed too sorrowful, it would come off as fake.

Le Wuya reached out and patted his head: "Eat."

Qiu Sinian quipped, "I wouldn't dare, I wouldn't dare. If this servant ate you out of house and home, how could I ever repay you?"

"Just eat your own share," Le Wuya said, surprising him. "Your family's up in heaven, not living on your back. Carrying them around with you is too exhausting."

With that, he patted his head and walked off.

Qiu Sinian froze for a beat, then obediently lowered his head and kept eating.

His throat kept contracting as food went down, but it no longer felt like it was falling into a bottomless pit.

It was as if the raging hunger that had plagued him for years had vanished into thin air.

...

On the rooftop, Qiu Sinian picked up the last piece of mung bean cake, stared at it a moment, then set it back.

The lord was right—just eat your own share.

He was staring at that last piece of mung bean cake, lost in thought, when he suddenly heard a ruckus below.

Looking down, he saw two clerks in martial arts garb standing at the entrance of the inn.

One of them paced back and forth with a limp, but he limped with a proud, lively swagger.

The other, a bit younger, was far more composed: "Excuse me, is Lord Wenren, the new Left Assistant Censor-in-Chief, staying here?"

...

That night, at the Sixth Prince's estate.

Xiang Zhijie sat in the courtyard, setting up a small pot to boil willow-branch water, carefully polishing and tending to his treasured flutes one by one.

Ru Feng crouched beside him fanning the fire, unable to hold back a soft sigh.

Xiang Zhijie: "That's the fifth sigh you've let out tonight. What's troubling you?"

"Worrying about you!" Ru Feng said bluntly. "The Emperor has already met that lord, and you ask me what's troubling me?"

Xiang Zhijie examined his flute in the moonlight: "Will Father do anything?"

"You're on good terms with a minister who looks exactly like... that lord—that alone is suspicious enough!"

"What's suspicious about it? I respect my teacher and honor my principles; he's always known that." Xiang Zhijie said. "Back in front of Zhaoming Hall, I knelt in the snow all night—doesn't Father know our bond is as strong as gold?"

Ru Feng: "...Sixth Prince, Ru Feng doesn't think that's the right way to use that phrase."

Xiang Zhijie said seriously: "Just understand the meaning."

Ru Feng: "But times have changed! Back then, that lord was at death's door—don't look at me like that, it was true—to put it bluntly, no matter how deep your feelings for him, that lord was already at the end of his rope, unable to stir up any trouble, so the Emperor wouldn't be overly concerned. But this one... this one..."

Xiang Zhijie's eyes were full of admiring approval: "Make waves and ride the tide."

Ru Feng: "..." At a time like this, you're still praising him?

"Since Father has already begun investigating but hasn't summoned me for questioning, he's waiting for the dust to settle before he makes his move. Why should I jump the gun?"

"Besides..." Xiang Zhijie raised his eyes slightly, "On the civil side, there's Xie Jitong and Zong Yao; on the military side, Yuan Weiyan and Pei Mingqi—all of these people have met the teacher face to face, yet none of them has mentioned how much he looks like the teacher. Father still has to figure them out; how could he put all his focus on just me?"

With that, Xiang Zhijie looked at Ru Feng: "Oh, and I almost forgot—you. Instead of trying to persuade me, you might want to figure out how you're going to explain yourself to Chief Steward Xue Jie."

Ru Feng: "..." What a crappy gig, I'm done with this.

Is there seriously no one who can rein him in?!

Maybe someone up there heard his silent plea, for before long, Jiang He came running in, dripping with sweat.

...

While Le Wuya was holed up at the courier station waiting for the emperor's summons, Qin Xingyue, Wang Cheng, and a host of attendants followed in his footsteps to the capital, scouring the city for a place to stay.

Land in the capital was worth its weight in gold, and no official housing would be handed out to a fourth-rank official—they had to find their own place.

Having spent many years in the capital, Jiang He knew the city like the back of his hand. He enthusiastically volunteered as a guide, taking time off work to accompany them on their hectic house-hunting, putting in considerable effort.

That night, Qin Xingyue delivered floor plans of a few possible houses to Le Wuya, then openly dropped by to see his old comrade-in-arms, bringing along a jug of wine brewed in Nanning County as a thank-you.

Jiang He was overjoyed and was about to pop open the jar for a good night of drinking when he discovered a white silk cloth wrapped around the wine jug's seal, addressed to the Sixth Prince.

He made a hurried trip to deliver it, then planned to return and savor that familiar taste of home.

Xiang Zhijie took the white silk.

On it was handwriting he knew all too well:

"Wen Ren said, 'I think of you like the full moon, waning nightly in its brightness.' Today I see the moon has a flaw, which shows how much you've been thought of."

"Master Wen Ren specially went to fetch a sliver of moonlight for you, to ease a little of your longing."

"I hope you will accept it with a smile."

At the corner of the silk was drawn a crescent moon.

Xiang Zhijie read the letter once, then again.

On the twelfth reading, he grabbed his flute and strode into Shuangsuì Hall without looking back.

Ru Feng: "..."

He plays when unhappy, and he plays when happy.

When will this ever come to an end?