Chapter 163 Day 27 of Transmigrating into an Imperial Examination Novel

After a long moment, just as An Yi was about to turn back to his own room, a muffled sound came from behind the tightly shut door—Qin Cang's voice, strained with suppressed emotion, laced with panic and a nasal quality, muffled by the door panel:

"M-Master... you go ahead and rest... I'll come out and clean up later..." He was referring to the stuff An Yi had left after bathing.

An Yi: "...No need."

It wasn't that he was disgusted, but... based on what he just observed and some gut feeling, he felt it was better not to let Qin Cang, who was clearly in a weird state right now, touch the bathtub and the water he'd just used.

Who knew what weird things this guy, whose head was full of God knows what, might do with his used bathwater?

Besides, he had already used his ability to clean up the bathtub and the bathwater, so no need to get anyone else involved.

Qin Cang, from behind the door, fell silent.

After a long pause, his voice came again, even lower, thick with regret and a defensive tone: "Sorry... Master, I didn't mean it... I... I..."

He was rambling, clearly at a loss to explain his embarrassing reaction just now.

An Yi didn't stick around for his stammering excuses. He turned around and strolled leisurely to his bedroom.

But just as he pushed the door open and was about to step inside, he uttered a few words in a voice barely audible, just to himself:

"This... pervert."

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The next day, before the sky had fully brightened.

Qin Cang rose quietly right on cue, at the first sign of pale dawn.

He had tossed and turned all night, replaying that humiliating scene from the previous evening in his mind.

Would An Yi hate him for it now?

Worried sick, he trudged to the kitchen, sighing as he cooked breakfast.

By the time he finished, the sky had brightened. He brought breakfast to the stone table in the courtyard, set out the bowls and chopsticks, and then gently knocked on An Yi's door.

When An Yi opened the door, he saw this—Qin Cang's tall and sturdy figure was somewhat tense in the faint morning light, his eyes darting away, not daring to meet his gaze.

A trace of a suspicious red flush still lingered at the base of his ear.

When he saw An Yi come out, Qin Cang swallowed, and his voice carried a subtle note of ingratiation: "Master... breakfast is ready."

He looked so clumsy.

An Yi's gaze swept over the faint red mark on his forehead, left from crashing into the door last night.

Then it landed on his awkward expression, as if he had a thousand words stuck in his throat but didn't know where to begin, and he couldn't help but let out a small laugh.

Seeing him smile, Qin Cang finally relaxed.

Good, at least Master hadn't decided to treat him like a lecher and kick him out.

Qin Cang sat to the side, watching him eat in silence. Several times he opened his mouth, bowl in hand, wanting to explain his shameful lapse from the previous night, to confess that he meant no disrespect.

But the words always got stuck in his throat.

He couldn't say it.

He had indeed... filthy thoughts.

Often harboring dirty fantasies, no explanation would make it sound any less shameful.

After breakfast, An Yi put down his chopsticks, picked up the damp cloth prepared beside him, and wiped his hands.

He looked up and glanced at Qin Cang, who was still holding his bowl, picking at his food, finding it somewhat... irritating.

A meal should be eaten with gusto!

"Eat with gusto!" An Yi said. "Otherwise, go to work!"

Qin Cang's body stiffened almost imperceptibly, then he wolfed down his meal.

Out of sight, out of mind—An Yi didn't want to look at him anymore. After he finished eating, An Yi sent him out the door.

Once Qin Cang had left, An Yi tidied up a bit and, as usual, prepared to go open the bookshop in front.

However, when he pulled open the heavy wooden door of the bookshop, he was surprised to find several people already waiting at the entrance.

They were several young scholars dressed in Confucian robes, familiar faces—regular customers who often came to read at the bookshop and occasionally discussed classics with An Yi.

An Yi raised an eyebrow slightly, a flicker of surprise passing through his mind.

With only three days left until the Spring Imperial Examinations, this was a critical time for examinees to make their final sprint or calmly compose themselves. Why were these people, who should have been reviewing or gathering their energy, blocking his bookshop door so early in the morning?

Even Fang Huaixing would cram at the last minute for peace of mind.

His expression remained unchanged, still wearing his usual gentle smile as he stepped aside to let them in: "Good morning, everyone. Please come in."

He had planned to hand the bookshop over to the clerk who came in on time for his shift, as usual, and then go out himself.

But before he could move, the leading scholar among them—a fair-faced young man with shrewd eyes—stepped forward and casually greeted him with a cupped-hand salute:

"Mr. An, forgive the intrusion so early in the morning. Someone admires your scholarship and has sent us specifically to invite you to their residence for a chat."

An Yi's gaze flickered slightly. His smile never wavered as he asked calmly, "Oh? May I ask which distinguished personage has extended this invitation?"

The fair-faced scholar exchanged a glance with his companions and said vaguely, "Well... you'll know when you get there, sir. It certainly won't disappoint you."

An Yi understood immediately. Such a secretive invitation usually meant trouble.

Without a moment's hesitation, he declined flatly: "Sorry, I have other important business today. I'm afraid I can't make it."

The men clearly hadn't expected An Yi to refuse so decisively, without leaving any room for negotiation.

Their expressions froze instantly, a flash of barely suppressed anger crossing their faces.

The fair-faced scholar took a deep breath, reining in his temper, stepped forward, lowered his voice, and spoke with an unmistakable threat:

"Mr. An, we have been sent by the eldest son of the Minister of Personnel's residence. I advise you... to think twice."

He stressed the words "Minister of Personnel" and "eldest son," trying to apply pressure.

Minister of Personnel?

An Yi's mind quickly scanned the original novel's data.

Wasn't this one of the major villains later taken down by Fang Huaixing and his mentor Grand Tutor You's faction?

How could he, an idle person who never intended to get involved in court disputes, have anything to do with this person?

He thought of Fang Huaixing.

That’s right. Fang Huaixing had recently gained great fame. He was the last disciple of Grand Tutor You, highly praised even by the emperor, and a top contender for this year’s top scholar.

And Fang Huaixing had indeed been frequently visiting his bookshop lately... It seemed someone had taken him to be Fang Huaixing’s “close associate,” either hoping to get information from him or to use him as a pawn in some scheme.

As his mind raced, he heard voices from the comments section.

An Yi raised an eyebrow. So the viewpoint had shifted to him?

“Why would they come to An Yi’s place? What are they trying to stir up?”

“Right, An Yi is gay! (Shouting)”

“?? Being gay doesn’t stop him from being used in schemes, right?”

“It’s a big problem! I can’t stand it! (Angry)”

“If you can’t stand it, then leave! (Angry) (Angry)”

“The spring exam is coming soon. Could this be about cheating?”

“Maybe. They want An Yi to help frame the male lead!”

“......”

An Yi raised an eyebrow. In the original work, there had never been an incident of cheating.

That likely wasn’t the case here either. Cheating was a serious crime, and he was merely a commoner, unlikely to be of much use. Perhaps there was another conspiracy at play.

The fair-faced scholar raised his hand toward An Yi. “Mr. An, please!”

An Yi lifted his gaze toward the doorway.

Sure enough, a carriage—lavishly decorated but without any identifying marks—was quietly parked at the street corner not far from the bookshop. The driver stood respectfully with his hands at his sides, clearly prepared in advance, confident that An Yi would accept the invitation.

A faint, barely perceptible smile tugged at the corner of An Yi’s lips.

He looked back at the scholars and spoke clearly, with no wavering in his voice: “Oh no, I’m not going.”