Chapter 231: The Wind Ceases (III)

After disembarking and switching to a carriage, Zhi Jie's mood had improved considerably.

Le Wuya rode alongside him, and they made a temporary stop at the official residence.

There was fresh water on the island, so washing up was not difficult.

And because Shinsui Shitarō was fond of bathing, he had even built himself a makeshift bathing shed.

But being away from home came with plenty of inconveniences—there was no way to get a proper, thorough wash.

The two weary travelers washed and changed, then transferred to a horse-drawn carriage bound for the government office.

Le Wuya's curly hair was still damp, and the warm, damp scent of pine and cypress bathwater filled the entire carriage.

The peaceful vibe from the boat quietly carried over into the carriage.

The two of them did nothing in particular—one twirled his hair lost in thought, the other stared at him lost in thought. So you could say they each had their own way of keeping busy.

When they were just a stone's throw from the government office, Le Wuya suddenly remembered something: "Oh, right—Little Seven is at the residence."

Zhi Jie's face turned a bit serious. "I know."

Le Wuya rubbed his nose, his tone tinged with hesitation: "So... before I left, I said some things to him. I need to fill you in, so that if he tries some sneaky trick afterward—like dosing you with laxatives—you'll be on your guard."

Zhi Jie said respectfully, "Please, go ahead, Teacher."

Le Wuya: "...Don't you dare laugh."

Zhi Jie: ?

Though he had no idea what it meant, he agreed without hesitation: "I won't laugh."

"I've got a gift for you, but if you laugh, it's gone."

"I won't laugh."

So Le Wuya leaned over and whispered something in Zhi Jie's ear.

When he was done, he quickly pulled back and studied Zhi Jie's face closely.

Zhi Jie really did have a knack for keeping a straight face, and he replied with polished composure: "Teacher and I have always gotten along well—that's not a lie. I'll find the right time to have a talk with Seventh Brother and tell him not to let his mind run wild."

Le Wuya squinted slightly.

If this were his past-life self—the one who didn't know the truth—he'd have been a thousand times smitten seeing this young man make such a solemn vow behind that gentlemanly facade, thinking him polite, refined, and perfectly measured in everything.

But the Le Wuya of now saw him as someone who'd gotten the upper hand and was still playing innocent.

Zhi Jie: "Teacher, what's on your mind?"

Le Wuya didn't hold back and told him straight.

Zhi Jie's lips curved down almost imperceptibly. "So, Teacher doesn't like the current Xiaoliu?"

Le Wuya went "mm," propped his chin on his hand, and thought it over seriously for a moment: "If it was a thousand times before... now it's more like ten thousand times, I'd say."

Before Zhi Jie could even react, Le Wuya leaned in close, his eyes sparkling with playful mischief: "...Did you laugh or not?"

Zhi Jie saw right through him: "Teacher, don't say stuff like that just to win and trick me."

"Still not laughing, huh." Le Wuya pulled back. "Boring."

As they were talking, the government office came into sight.

The carriage slowed to a halt.

Le Wuya lifted the curtain and moved to get out first.

Just as he was about to step down, Le Wuya suddenly turned back, hoping to catch Zhi Jie in the act.

But Zhi Jie really had patience—his lips just curved up slightly, natural and easy, his expression still composed.

Le Wuya asked, suspicious, "Are you laughing?"

"No, Teacher." Zhi Jie pointed to the corner of his mouth and said matter-of-factly, "I was born this way."

And when Le Wuya turned back around, the two of them lowered their heads at the same time, each breaking into a bright, beaming smile.

...

Xiang Zhi had been waiting at the government office for three days, and for three days he'd been stewing in frustration.

When he heard the prefect and the new imperial envoy had come back together, his heart jumped with joy at first—but then he remembered he was supposed to be angry right now.

That Le guy had left him here for so long, making him worry and fret—today, he was going to demand an explanation!

So, with a stern face, he stormed out in a huff.

He didn't spare Xiang Xiaoliu a single glance, naturally.

After confirming Le Wuya's left arm was injured, he took an extra step and grabbed his right wrist, his voice dripping with sarcasm: "Prefect Wenren, you sure kept me waiting."

But unexpectedly, Le Wuya twisted his hand around, grabbed his wrist instead, turned the tables, and pulled him along as he walked inside, laughing: "Everyone's back now, so why the sour talk? Come on, let's go inside—I'm dying of thirst. I'll grab some water, and the Seventh Prince can stare at me all he wants to cure his lovesickness. Sound good?"

Xiang Xiaoqi was caught off guard and got dragged along by him.

He wanted to snap back: Who wants to look at you?! And who's been "pining" for you?

But then he remembered he'd just said "you sure kept me waiting," and arguing more would be like slapping his own face.

...Le Wuya was a sly one!

As Xiang Zhi was angrily checking out his injured arm and trying to figure out how to naturally, yet gracefully, pull out the medicine hidden in his sleeve and hand it to Le Wuya, Le Wuya had already chugged half a pot of cold tea without a shred of decorum.

Then, he unclipped the twin tangdi swords from his waist and tossed one to each of them.

He wiped his mouth and said, "These were supposed to be birthday gifts for you two, but they handled so well that I took them along to chop up some Japanese pirates. The blades are chipped now, so they can't be proper gifts—but they'll do just fine as keepsakes to ward off evil at home."

"One for each of you—take them home as mementos. I'll give you new ones on your birthdays."

Xiang Zhi took the sword, and just like he'd done countless times before, he also snatched Zhi Jie's sword away, holding them up to the sunlight to compare, checking inch by inch to see if Le Wuya had played favorites in the craftsmanship or design.

Suddenly, those words echoed in his ears: "Xiaoliu and I are close—are you going to let me go or not?"

These past few days, that sentence would pop into his head out of nowhere, sending a shiver down his spine every now and then.

..."Close"...?

So what exactly does "good" mean here?

And how exactly do they want to be "good"?

Xiang Zhi's heart was inexplicably in a tangle; he raised his eyes and stole a peek at the two of them.

Zhi Jie never minded Xiang Zhi's rudeness, his gaze never leaving Le Wuya: "Going by the victory dispatch, Yuan Zijin took down twenty-three enemies. How many did you take down, Master?"

Le Wuya waved a hand, all nonchalant: "I don't bother counting that."

Then, as an afterthought, he added, "Thirty-eight... thirty-seven, I think. The thirty-eighth one caught my arrow in the neck and was a goner, but then Yuan Xiao'er caved his skull in with a hammer—Damn it! Infuriating as hell! When he gets back, I'm gonna make him swing that hammer a hundred times."

Xiang Zhi rolled his eyes: "And you call that not counting?"

Le Wuya had a thick skin: "I didn't count, but what can I say—I've got a memory like a steel trap."

He grinned at the peach blossoms and drifting clouds in the yard, utterly carefree: "So? Having me as your teacher—pretty damn good, right?"

Xiang Zhi's heart was thrown into a fluster by that dazzling, unrestrained grin; he turned his head away and fanned himself to cool the heat rising in his face.

He grumbled, "Still grinning. How the hell can you still grin?"

Lately, Xiang Zhi's restlessness wasn't just because Le Wuya had braved arrows and walked into danger, but also because of some murky, hard-to-name anxieties.

With such a monumental achievement, Le Wuya's brilliance was now out in the open; there was no way to keep his edge sheathed anymore.

His transfer up to the capital and a new official post was practically a done deal.

"A talent like yours—Father won't let you rot at the border," Xiang Zhi pointed out the crux of the matter. "And by the same token, those five hundred garrison soldiers of yours can't possibly go with you!"

In Dayu, civil and military officials had always kept to their own lanes, clear as day.

When Le Wuya first raised his garrison, he was already toeing the line of the rules, and it was only because Tongzhou had its own special local conditions that folks chose to look the other way.

Now, Le Wuya had led his garrison to rack up one of the most outstanding military achievements of the dynasty.

His next move would be to hand the military authority back with both hands.

If he showed even a flicker of hesitation, he'd be buried under endless accusations and attacks.

A civil official commanding troops—that was a first since the current emperor took the throne.

Xiang Zhi couldn't be sure whether Le Wuya had tripped any of Father's taboos.

And when Le Wuya finally entered the capital and came before the emperor, how Father would treat him at the sight of that face—Xiang Zhi didn't even dare dwell on it.

It was precisely because he knew the new storm about to hit Le Wuya that Xiang Zhi's heart ached for him, fretted for him.

Yet Le Wuya's breezy attitude made Xiang Zhi look like the fretful eunuch worrying over the emperor.

"Doesn't matter."

Le Wuya was supremely laid-back, shrugging: "I trained them, not to trot them out for show or to throw my weight around. With merit like that, they'll at least land the rank of a commander. After all we've been through together, I've done right by them."

Besides, with their skills, even without him, they'd sink roots and bloom on their own.

Only by nurturing crop after crop of talent like this could Dayu's borders hold steady for generations to come, and be worthy of the grain and pay squeezed from the people's mouths.

As for the old emperor...

Once he got to the capital and came before the throne, he was dying to see the old emperor's face.

But these tangled thoughts of his, light and dark mixed together, weren't something he could easily share with anyone.

He took a warm sip of tea and said, all casual: "Tongzhou's business isn't done yet. Before I go, I've got to help whoever comes next sweep this courtyard clean."

Beside him, Zhi Jie cradled his teacup, catching the sly glint in Le Wuya's eyes.

Then he looked away, mimicking his little fox's trick, squinting at the empty air ahead.

Sure enough, he caught a sneaky kick, leaving a dusty footprint on the side of his robe.

Zhi Jie didn't bother brushing it off; he just lowered his eyes, pleased as punch, thinking, Master saw me.

Otherwise, how would he have known I was copying him?

Meanwhile, Le Wuya peeked at him from the corner of his eye, seeing straight through Zhi Jie's little game.

He sighed to himself for the umpteenth time: Man, he'd really misread him.

On the surface, he looked one way, but underneath, he was a whole other story.

For a moment, the three in the courtyard—one brooding, one beaming, one watching like a hawk—each lost in their own thoughts, settled into a strangely peaceful, quiet vibe.

...

On the afternoon the fighting ended, Tongzhou folks started poking their heads out, setting up little stalls here and there.

They hawked their goods with caution while fishing for news about the battle.

The more they heard, the more fired up the common folk got:

They heard a tremendous victory had been won?

They heard those Japanese pirates hadn't even made it off the docks before the officials cornered them and wiped them out?

They heard the official had pressed the advantage and sailed out to sea—was he really gunning for the pirates' home base in Japan?

As the rumors got wilder and wilder, until folks were asking, "So is Japan's emperor dead yet?" the local gentry of Tongzhou all hunkered down in their homes, refusing to set foot outside.

...It wasn't that they didn't want to go out.

It was that their homes had been surrounded.

At dawn, when cannons boomed at the docks, these rich men, clinging to their lives, huddled inside their high-walled mansions, ordering their servants to stay on high alert.

If the Japanese pirates actually broke into Tongzhou and went on a looting spree, they'd be the juiciest targets.

Some gentry with especially cozy ties to the pirates even started thinking about hanging a chrysanthemum banner at their gates, to signal "we're your people" and avoid any friendly fire.

But as the morning mist burned off, the cannon fire and shouts of battle slowly died down.

...Looked like the pirates hadn't managed to break in after all.

One bold servant, on his master's orders, nervously cracked open the back gate to scout things out, only to find a squad of soldiers in red standing silently outside, blades bared.

Nobody knew how long they'd been standing there.

When word spread that a whole pack of soldiers had materialized out of thin air and sealed off every door and exit of their homes, the gentry all panicked as one.

They edged forward cautiously, pressing money on them and putting on fawning smiles, but the other side refused it all outright.

After much questioning, their stories were suspiciously uniform:

At the dock battle, the Tongzhou prefectural troops won a great victory, but a few scattered Japanese pirates still slipped into Tongzhou.

The Prefect, looking after the people under his rule, feared that stray bandits might harm them. And since the gentry were wealthy, they naturally drew trouble.

Out of his benevolence, the Prefect sent guards to watch over them and protect their persons and property.

He asked everyone in the households to put up with it for a few days, stay home to avoid the pirate threat, and leave even small errands like buying supplies to the soldiers stationed outside the gates.

The gentry weren't fools; they knew this was pure bullshit.

Even if there really were stray pirates, they'd go rob the common folk, wouldn't they?

That way, at least, they wouldn't make too big a fuss.

Coming to rob wealthy gentry households—with tight defenses, many retainers, and labyrinthine courtyards—any slight misstep could get you beaten to death on the spot.

In comparison, who'd be stupid enough to chase what's far when the easy pickings are right there?

However, since it was Prefect Wenren's order, these gentry, even if they had the guts of a bear and the gall of a leopard, dared not defy him, nor drive away the soldiers. They had no choice but to obediently follow the arrangement.

Those gentry who had never supported the pirates, upon hearing that the pirate threat was resolved and that soldiers were guarding their homes, felt at ease, staying indoors to eat and drink, living a leisurely life.

But some were restless with worry, their hearts burning like fire.

This was the task Le Wuya had entrusted to Zheng Miao.

— The officials and clerks in Tongzhou were limited in number, especially after the battle with the pirates; the local yamen clerks and garrison soldiers would be run off their feet with the aftermath.

Therefore, he brought in Zheng Miao as outside help, summoning a hundred soldiers from the Provincial Surveillance Commission at his disposal.

Le Wuya knew in his heart that his days in Tongzhou were numbered.

To thoroughly root out the abscess and tumor of Tongzhou, he would need a strong dose of medicine.