Chapter 135: Attending the Banquet (IV)

Le Wuya asked once, and seeing that Little Seven was unwilling to answer, he fell silent.

Palpitations—caused by worry and grief, blocking the heart vessels, leading to this illness...

How could this be?

Xiaoliu had always been well-versed in the arts of nurturing life and regulating the spirit. He had no harmful habits, such as drinking, insisted on going to bed early and rising early, and every morning he would practice a set of Tai Chi sword forms, or else the Five Animals Frolics—day in and day out, never once slacking.

Le Wuya had practically watched him grow up. He knew that not only was Xiaoliu diligent in self-discipline, but his body was robust and healthy, with no congenital ailments from birth. How could he have developed palpitations?

Le Wuya set the half-spilled cup of leftover tea back on the table, staring off into space.

Come to think of it, at the Four Seas Pavilion, when Little Phoenix had made a drinking bet with Xiaoliu, he had indeed mentioned that Xiaoliu, due to his betrothal, had offended the celestial omens, resulting in a strange illness that plagued him until the engagement was called off and he recovered.

This wasn't just being unlucky with the Red Luan star—it was practically clashing with it head-on.

Could the root of the problem lie in that great illness?

...

While Le Wuya furrowed his brow in thought, a young opera performer with painted brows and eyes, led by a servant from the Feng family, approached with a tablet bearing the list of plays, walking with mincing steps, and respectfully asked Xiang Zhi to choose a play.

By custom, when an opera troupe performed for officials, the program was already set, and no extra plays should be added.

But when an honored guest arrived unexpectedly, different rules came into play.

Xiang Zhi selected "The Female Top Scholar" and then passed the tablet onward, warmly inviting the prefects to pick a few lively plays as well.

The other prefects naturally didn't dare overstep, nor did they want to seem too fond of entertainment, so they all politely declined.

When it came to Le Wuya's turn, he waved his hand politely, just like the other prefects.

In the past, he would have eagerly picked out a fine play.

He had always loved having fun.

Now, however, he was listless, his interest completely gone, without even the desire to glance at the play list.

Xiang Zhi took in his languid, absent-minded look and nearly burst with silent rage.

He said, his words dripping with sarcasm: "Doesn't Prefect Wenren love 'The Legend of the White Snake' the most? Won't you pick one to watch?"

Le Wuya glanced at him.

Since when did he love listening to "The Legend of the White Snake"?

He clearly loved listening to "Beating Cao Cao."

But he couldn't very well offend the Seventh Prince, so he just smiled at him, silently going along with it.

After dealing with the play selection, Le Wuya lowered his eyes, also noticing how strange his own mood was.

He raised a hand to rub the cloth over his left chest, utterly bewildered.

He knew full well that Sister Qi, Little Phoenix, and Little Seven had all arrived one after another to back him up. He ought to seize the moment, strut like a peacock before these fellow prefects, and put on a good show.

But how could he be so lacking in spirit, just sitting there staring off into space?

Why was this so?

Le Wuya thought it over this way and that, and finally reached a conclusion:

Xiaoliu was bound by the celestial omens—unable to marry, so having heirs was out of the question.

The imperial family prized having many descendants. Especially for a grown prince, being able to produce offspring was practically a hard requirement, and if one had a talented heir, that was an invaluable bonus.

Xiang Zhijie, at his age, was still single and alone.

How outstanding would he have to be to make up for such a disadvantage?

So as his partner, Le Wuya had every reason to worry.

Having convinced himself, Le Wuya let his mind drift off with a clear conscience.

...Palpitations—when they hit, they must be terribly uncomfortable, right?

Among the pavilions and waterside terraces, today's performance had already begun.

It was a local traditional opera, full of folk charm.

Le Wuya propped his chin on his hand, his right fingers idly twisting his sash, watching the heavily made-up clown take the stage to warm up the crowd, leaping and singing across the stage, deliberately making a fool of himself, drawing laughter from all the guests. A faint, barely-there smile hung at the corner of his lips.

Beside him, Xiang Zhi saw his expression and was furious.

To be fair, if anyone else saw Le Wuya's smile right now, they'd surely find it sincere with a touch of reserve—not a hint of falseness.

But Xiang Zhi had always had a great memory.

Back when Le Wuya was still Le Wuya, what he saw most often was exactly this face, this smile.

No wonder he'd always felt the man was hypocritical and pretentious.

So it turned out Le Wuya really was putting on an act, without even a shred of sincerity?

Especially compared to that indecent, wanton smile from earlier...

Xiang Zhi suddenly stood up: "I'm going to change clothes."

With that, he grabbed Le Wuya by the arm, pulled him up, and said with a fake smile: "Prefect Wenren, care to join me?"

Without waiting for Le Wuya's reply, he tugged his sleeve and strode forward, led by the flustered servant of the Feng family.

The prefects exchanged glances, silently toasting each other.

Truly young and impetuous.

Couldn't even wait a single moment.

When they reached a quiet, secluded spot, Kong Yangping pulled the guiding servant aside, ordering him not to come near, while he himself stood ten feet away, keeping watch.

In a small courtyard with a winding corridor, lush greenery, and the faint drone of cicadas, in a corner where every turn framed a picturesque view, Xiang Zhi, seething with resentment, tugged at his collar, cursing the poor craftsmanship of his robes for choking him and making it hard to breathe.

Seeing Le Wuya still wearing that hypocritical, fake smile, he was furious: "Who are you putting on that dead-faced look for?"

Le Wuya looked startled and innocent: "Huh?"

He touched his own face. "Am I not smiling right now?"

Xiang Zhishi hatefully leaned down, grabbed his face, and roughly kneaded it.

This wretch didn't deserve gentle treatment from him!

He ought to bite him, hit him, make him hurt—only then would he know what's good for him!

By the time Le Wuya's cheeks were flushed red from his twisting, Xiang Zhishi straightened up, his eyes glinting coldly.

"He won't die!" Xiang Zhishi spat out hatefully. "You can rest easy now, right?"

Le Wuya, both pained and amused, stared at Xiang Zhishi.

In his eyes, even when Xiang Zhishi was fierce, his fierceness had its limits—it was childish at heart.

Seeing Le Wuya stay silent, Xiang Zhishi grew even more frustrated.

To fit into the beautiful, form-fitting green silk robe he was currently wearing, Xiang Zhishi had only drunk water since noon yesterday, not eaten a single grain of rice.

Since he'd taken his seat at the banquet, he'd only had three cups of wine, not even a single piece of pastry.

And yet Le Wuya had effortlessly made him full of anger.

What a skill!

Jabbing a finger at his own nose, he said sarcastically, "I thought Prefect Wenren was about to choke from holding it all in, and I couldn't bear to see that, so I kindly told you. If Prefect Wenren truly cares so much about Sixth Brother's illness, I clearly know the truth—you could just ask me directly. Why force yourself to endure? Aren't you afraid of letting it eat away at you?"

From Little Seven's tone, Le Wuya could tell that although Sixth Brother was ill, he wasn't about to kick the bucket anytime soon.

He slowly let out a breath, and the heaviness that had weighed on his limbs ebbed away like a tide.

He said, "What I'm afraid of is that you'll be upset."

Xiang Zhishi heard it clearly but didn't dare to fully understand it. "...What?"

Le Wuya sighed. "The Seventh Prince never did like the Sixth Prince. If I kept pressing you with questions, you'd just get all sulky and petty again. I don't want you to be upset."

Xiang Zhishi's ears rang with a sudden boom, leaving only the words "sulky and petty" echoing endlessly, lingering on.

A flush immediately crept up his face. He grabbed Le Wuya's collar and yanked him up to face him, panting, "What nonsense are you spouting! Who's acting sour over you?"

Toward Le Wuya... toward his teacher... how could that be? ...

This was utterly outrageous! What a load of lies!

Xiang Zhishi's chaotic, warm breath fell onto Le Wuya's face and then rebounded, scorching his own cheeks with heat.

Le Wuya's face caught the sunlight, his gaze very gentle, as if radiant with light, like summer flowers in full bloom: "Quit fussing."

All around were idyllic scenes of little bridges and flowing streams, yet Xiang Zhishi felt as if he stood amid a mountain of knives and a sea of flames, burning so hot he could hardly stay on his feet.

...Fussing?

Suddenly, Xiang Zhishi was a bit confused.

Ever since he and Xiang Zhijie had been raised separately, they each had their own things.

Le Wuya was their first common ground.

What was rare was that the Little Stutterer, who never fought or scrambled for anything, actually took this teacher seriously.

Xiang Zhishi discovered for the first time that Xiang Zhijie actually cared about someone.

And so, Xiang Zhishi got busy.

His treatment of Le Wuya was always hot and cold.

Whenever it was good, it was all acted out in front of Xiang Zhijie.

Xiang Zhishi acted all spoiled and clingy, doing his utmost to play the role of "devoted master and disciple," all just to make Xiang Zhijie miserable.

Whenever it was bad, it was all his true feelings showing in front of Le Wuya.

His most rebellious, darkest side was all on display for Le Wuya.

Over the years, up to this very day, he couldn't even tell what his feelings for Le Wuya were anymore.

In short, with others, he was all reason and calculation, but as long as it was Le Wuya, he acted entirely on "whim," truly like he was "throwing a tantrum."

But.

But...

Xiang Zhishi's heart was in a knot, and he hated Le Wuya all the more for throwing him into such disarray.

In life or in death, this man only knew how to cause trouble!

He shoved Le Wuya hard against the carved stone window of the corridor, then turned and stormed off, seething with resentment.

Xiang Zhishi had put some force into it, and Le Wuya's shoulder slammed painfully into the window lattice. He clutched his shoulder, hissing through his teeth, barely holding back a curse.

Little brat, no sense of proportion!

However, his pained gasp made Xiang Zhishi freeze in his tracks.

Xiang Zhishi froze in place, stomped his foot in frustration, then rushed back, his voice still carrying a hint of anger: "Does that hurt?"

Le Wuya shot him a glance, his eyes glistening pitifully, as if he might actually cry.

Xiang Zhishi's heart twisted. Just as he was about to offer some concern, he was shoved by Le Wuya, slamming solidly against the lattice window.

Xiang Zhishi felt a sharp pain in his shoulder blade and opened his mouth to curse, but when he looked up, he saw Le Wuya wearing the same smile from earlier at the banquet.

Smug, lighthearted, the grin of a prank that had just paid off.

He sidled up to Xiang Zhishi, all cheeky: "Seventh Prince, does it hurt?"

Xiang Zhishi stared at him, unmoving, expressionless, but his heart fluttered with unease.

He was horrified to discover that he actually liked seeing him smile like that—liked it so much he couldn't look away, forgetting the pain in his shoulder, forgetting his anger altogether.

He shook his head violently, as if trying to fling some thought out of his mind.

You came here to toy with him! To embarrass him in front of all the officials!

Have you lost your mind?!

Author's note:

Stuck so bad I'm basically dead inside

But I still got the update out!

Little Seven, a fine student whose obliviousness rivals his teacher's √