Chapter 110

Chapter 110

After such a heartfelt confession, instead of soothing the young male concubine, it only stoked his fury further.

"What do you mean, 'liked me when you were little'?" Xie Yuan turned, gliding through a wave of heat, pressing the little kitten against the marble wall of the pool. "The way you're trying to sweet-talk your husband now is way too half-hearted."

Shen Lian wound his arms around his neck, protesting in a hoarse voice, "Everything I said is true!"

"Really? You liked me when you were little?"

Xie Yuan pulled him closer by the waist with a wicked grin, his scorching gaze locked onto the little kitten who was brushing him off.

"You'll turn twenty-two in early February next year. How little is 'little'—twelve? You liked a ten-year-old me back then? How did you even know me? Did the storytellers' tales of me and my mother eating leftover scraps in the cold palace stir Lord Shen's bleeding heart?"

Only then did Shen Lian remember the childhood he'd once fantasized about for Prince Qi, and a fresh wave of embarrassment washed over him. His eyes welled up at the corners as he pleaded in a small, pitiful voice: "Dian Xia, you can't keep teasing me about the stuff I got wrong before!"

Xie Yuan buried his face in the little kitten's creamy white neck, wrapping him in a tight embrace.

Shen Lian closed his eyes, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat, then had his chin lifted and his lips kissed.

They could be separated at any moment, and Shen Lian clung to him all the more.

Once out of the water, he tried to dry off and get dressed on his own, to handle that scheming bastard from the banquet, and also to stop Xie Yuan from punishing Han Wangchuan. But the second his feet hit the floor, his legs nearly gave out. Xie Yuan scooped him up and carried him to the chaise lounge to dry him off before finally getting him dressed.

Only when they reached the main hall did Shen Lian firmly pull away from the young male concubine's arms. He pulled himself together and rushed in to soothe Han Wangchuan, whose face was deathly pale.

This year's Heavenly Crafts Banquet was finally Han Wangchuan's turn to host, and then this had to happen.

Shen Lian had been rescued in time by the Crown Prince, but guilt and shame still broke this socially anxious young heir completely.

The lecher who'd drugged Shen Lian had also been carried into the main hall, barely conscious.

That night, the Tengri Heavenly Blade himself had taken a hand—a single elbow to the temple, then a kick that sent him crashing into the bed frame. It was a miracle he wasn't dead.

The mansion's military physician had barely managed to keep him breathing for interrogation, though he'd lost all feeling below the chest and could barely string a sentence together.

The mansion's guards interrogated him all night before getting the full story.

The man was the third son of the boss of Baijiao Pavilion in the capital, and his name was Sun Jiahe.

His family ran a merchant business dealing in crafting materials and exotic imported goods, dealing mainly with artificers.

Over time, the kids in the family got into tinkering with clever gadgets too, and Sun Jiahe was one of them. He had been attending the capital's artificer gatherings for several years.

Most of the capital's craftsmen who loved mechanics were fairly well-off, ordinary young men.

Sun Jiahe had already plied four victims with liquor and "escorted them home."

Too ashamed to speak up, they'd just swallowed their pride and stopped drinking altogether, so the matter had never come to light.

Sun Jiahe's family was well-off—it wasn't like he couldn't find willing male lovers—but he got a thrill out of sneaking someone home from a gathering of stiff, high-and-mighty craftsmen.

After each offense, seeing his victims turn red with shame and glare away in resentment sent a thrill through Sun Jiahe and made him more hooked than ever.

The moment he laid eyes on Shen Lian at the banquet, Sun Jiahe couldn't look away. He hurried over to suck up to him.

Shen Lian hadn't been wary of Han Wangchuan's guests. When asked about his identity, he'd thought about telling the truth and saying he was an imperial physician, but for one, he hadn't gotten the notice to return to the palace yet, and two, he didn't want to make small talk with a stranger—worried that saying he was a physician would spark a whole new conversation—so he just said he was currently unemployed and resting at home due to illness.

Sun Jiahe figured Shen Lian was an "unemployed" sickly beauty—the perfect target. Little did he know he'd bitten off more than he could chew.

According to the Great Wei's criminal law, drugging, raping four people, and attempting to molest a government official—with multiple charges stacked, the sentence ranged from flogging plus exile of three thousand li at the light end, to death by hanging at the heavy end.

The Crown Prince had originally wanted the man to suffer to the fullest, dying of his wounds on the road to exile.

But since the man was already paralyzed, after reviewing the interrogation records, the Crown Prince simply had the Xuanlin Guard deliver Sun Jiahe directly to the authorities for maximum punishment.

As for Han Wangchuan, no one had even questioned him yet, but he was already wishing for death.

Though Shen Lian had escaped harm, Han Wangchuan still felt he should have personally stood guard outside Shen Lian's guest room, or at least left a servant to watch over him through the night.

He shouldn't have left a friend who was dead drunk alone in the guest room.

With a face of utter despair, he begged the Crown Prince to punish him severely.

Shen Lian, in turn, kept comforting Han Wangchuan without pause.

Han Wangchuan produced a stack of "farewell letters," pulling out one specifically addressed to Shen Lian, and said in a low voice that he hoped Shen Lian would forgive his negligence and read his "final words" with care.

Before Shen Lian could accept the letter, Xie Yuan had been sitting silently at the head of the hall the entire time.

It wasn't that the Crown Prince was magnanimous—it was simply a rare opportunity to observe up close how his little kitten interacted with his "other brother."

But when he heard that Han Wangchuan's farewell letter included one specifically for Lord Shen, the Crown Prince could no longer sit still.

"What farewell letter is prepared only for Lord Shen?" Xie Yuan challenged. "Your banquet guest dared to grapple with me—how is it I see no guilt toward me from you?"

Shen Lian: "..."

"Grapple" had been redefined. Did the half-paralyzed criminal know he'd once "grappled" with a dragon among men?

Han Wangchuan was instantly overcome with shame, once again lifting his robes to kneel on one knee, begging the Crown Prince to punish him.

Shen Lian hastily pointed to the diagrams in the "farewell letter" to explain to the young male concubine.

Han Wangchuan had simply written down the new mechanisms he'd developed over the past three months, sharing them with a like-minded friend.

Xie Yuan's gaze skimmed over the mechanical principles in a single sweep, landing directly on the letter's ending.

The signature—

"Thoughts fly to you as I write. Yours, Chuan, words cannot express all I wish to say."

The Crown Prince's expression visibly shifted into battle mode.

The entire main hall turned deadly silent.

Considering the Crown Prince and Lord Shen had exchanged no fewer than several hundred letters over time.

Sometimes a single sentence would be scribbled on a note and sent by messenger.

But never.

Never had such ambiguous, fervent words been spoken.

The Crown Prince's sign-off.

Most of the time, there was no sign-off at all—just jokes and teasing or answers to Lord Shen's questions.

Occasionally, the sign-off would be "Prince Xi's Xia'er," specifically used to pressure Lord Shen into agreeing to let the Princess Consort of Xi go out and play.

What the heck is "My spirit soars as I write" supposed to mean?

Xie Yuan had always thought that only in those exaggerated storybooks would anyone say such cheesy, sentimental stuff.

Even in the letters he sent to his father and mother from the battlefield, he would write at most: "Your son is safe, don't worry."

What is "Hastily written, words cannot express all" supposed to mean?

What feelings does Han Wangchuan have that can't fit in a dozen-plus pages?

Say that to the Crown Prince's face, why don't you?

"See?" Shen Lian folded a stack of new mechanism blueprints and placed them on the tea table, reassuring the young male concubine: "It's all scholarly stuff you wouldn't get—hardly a suicide note, huh?"

Xie Yuan picked up the letter, the paper crinkling with a crackle: "He signed off pretty casually—using his given name 'Chuan' instead of his courtesy name. You two are that chummy? So how would you sign your reply? 'Lian' or 'Buqi'?"

"Lian" is the given name, typically only used directly by parents or those very close.

Given how Shen Lian and Han Wangchuan know each other, signing "Buqi" would be the bare minimum for normal.

Shen Lian could already feel the jealousy pouring off the young male concubine like a flood, and quickly clarified: "I never sign my own name in letters to Brother Han! I always sign as 'Tongwei Jushi'! That's a title Han gave me, meaning 'one who comprehends the subtle principles and perceives the mechanisms of all things'!"

The Crown Prince's main hall was about to explode from the war god's murderous aura.

Han Wangchuan would have originally gotten off with a beating, but now, thanks to Lord Shen's enthusiastic rescue, his crimes were getting close to warranting execution.

"Tongwei Jushi?" Xie Yuan narrowed his eyes: "You even use the title he gave you? How come I never knew about this secret title of yours, Lord Shen? What signatures do you use in letters to me? 'Dian Xia's Hope'? 'Saving Up a Thousand Taels'? 'Dian Xia's Second Dad'? 'Old Dad Still Worries About Dian Xia Today'?"

"Hey! Hey! Don't say those out loud!" Shen Lian's face went pale, reaching out to clamp his hand over the young male concubine's mouth, trying to stop him from reciting the contents of their past flirtatious "little notes."

He turned his head and saw Han Wangchuan's bewildered expression.

Fortunately, an outsider probably wouldn't understand most of it.

Shen Lian turned back to argue: "I rarely sign my letters to you anyway—it's not like anyone else corresponds with you, unlike..."

"Why did you stop?" Xie Yuan finished for him: "Unlike Lord Shen, who has brothers all over the world—without a signature, you'd have no idea which ox or horse sent the letter."

"No, that's not it!" Shen Lian explained: "I rarely corresponded with others before, but there were many artificers involved in improving the Water Mill. Everyone had daytime duties, so we could only communicate by letter to report progress. With that many people exchanging letters, signatures were necessary."

Xie Yuan tapped Han Wangchuan's letter on the tea table, leaned close to the young imperial physician's ear, and whispered with narrowed eyes: "So you sign every reply with the nickname they gave you? Then why isn't your signature to me 'ex-husband'?"

Shen Lian, ears reddening, explained urgently: "I told you, I don't need a signature for you to recognize me in letters. I only sign because you provoke me first! You're the one who writes things like 'Prince Xi's Xia'er,' 'Dehui the Pursuer King,' 'Bellyband Connoisseur'—all that nonsense—so I write playful signatures to one-up you! I can't exactly sign 'ex-husband' when you're the Princess Consort of Xi, can I? I was worried you'd make Prince Xi a cuckold and get yourself killed on the spot... Stop it, Dian Xia, hurry up and take Young Master Han home—he gets embarrassed easily!"