Chapter 234: Tangdi (I)

The two brothers wandered through the estate, eventually settling in a secluded waterside pavilion.

Their teacher had once taught them that for confidential discussions, high walls and deep courtyards made it easy for eavesdroppers to hide; better to go out into the open, where only fish, birds, and flowers could hear—far more private.

Hua Rong, who handled all the household's day-to-day affairs and was most perceptive, noticed the two noble lords heading to the pavilion to enjoy the view. She initially meant to go wait on them, but sensing the tense atmosphere between them, she quietly refilled their tea and withdrew.

A breeze stirred through the winding corridor, sending ripples across the water.

The pavilion was elegantly appointed, with a stone chess board, white porcelain drum stools, and koi fish swimming alongside the carved railings on three sides. On the stone table, tea smoke curled upward, and the celadon tea tray mirrored the sky and clouds above—a picture-perfect scene of serene spring splendor.

Xiang Zhishi gazed at the scenery and thought, sharing this view with Xiang Xiaoliu would be a sheer waste of beauty.

He also thought that he shouldn't have been so hard-mouthed this morning—he should have badgered Le Wuya into taking him to see that local squire who was on the verge of ruin.

He, too, wanted to see others looking pathetic and disgraced.

Xiang Zhishi let his mind wander without restraint, as if that could somehow stave off what was coming.

...Even though he was the one who had initiated this brotherly talk.

Seeing him gaze at the sky, the water, the teacup—anything but at himself—Xiang Zhijie was the first to break the silence: "I like our teacher."

Xiang Zhishi: "..."

This opening was far too ominous—so blunt it was almost terrifying.

Xiang Zhishi forced down his churning emotions and revealed a dimple of malice at the corner of his mouth: "I know. You've always been happy to trail after him since you were little, shamelessly chirping 'teacher' this and 'teacher' that—who doesn't know you like him? But back then, you could barely get out a single coherent sentence. If you wanted to talk to him more, you'd have to hide away and secretly practice for ages. Pretty pathetic, really."

Xiang Zhijie was somewhat surprised: "You knew?"

"When I dragged him through the imperial garden, we both caught sight of you," Xiang Zhishi said smugly. "He told me to go on ahead, saying he wanted to hear you get through your whole speech, and that he'd memorize it all to make fun of you..."

Mid-sentence, Xiang Zhishi stopped short.

Because he realized Xiang Zhijie didn't look the least bit embarrassed.

Instead, he went blank for a second, then ducked his head with a soft, bashful smile.

Xiang Zhishi: "..."

He knew it! That Le bastard definitely hadn't gone to mock him!

He'd always had the biggest soft spot for Xiang Xiaoliu—he must have stayed behind to secretly keep him company!

...No.

Something was off—nine times out of ten.

Why was he scraping up sweetness on his behalf?

Xiang Zhishi, off to a bad start, clamped his mouth shut in frustration.

Xiang Zhijie let the smile fade from his lips and lightly stroked the rim of his teacup.

His tongue was nimble now.

Words he'd kept buried in his heart for years could now flow out of him with ease.

"Zhishi, when we were young, our teacher often gave me extra things from outside the palace, because there were many things you had that I didn't."

"You'd always claim you liked my things and come up with all sorts of excuses to take them. Whether it was a brush washer, an inkstone, a riding crop... you asked, and I gave. Do you know why that was?"

He paused, then said softly: "Because I never cared about worldly things like that."

"What mattered most was how our teacher felt about me: as long as I said I'd lost something, he'd always give me another."

"Likewise, he knew you loved to raise hell and do whatever you pleased, but he never reproached you harshly. Because our teacher always understood—you just wanted someone to notice you. That's why later, whatever I had, you would always have a share too."

At this point, a faint light shone in Xiang Zhijie's eyes: "He's such a good person."

Not because I am Xiang Zhijie, not because you are Xiang Zhishi—but because he himself is simply that good.

Xiang Zhishi let his fingers fall and began twisting the hem of his robe.

He suddenly felt a wave of grievance.

Because of Le Wuya's words about "getting along well with your brother," Xiang Zhishi had come all wound up, ready to tear into Xiang Zhijie.

If it came to that, shoving him into the water was on the table.

But when push came to shove, Xiang Zhishi only lowered his head and asked a question laden with meaning: "In all these years, this is the first time you've spoken so much to me... and it's for him?"

Xiang Zhijie looked at him, his gaze kind, and took no offense.

Over the years, they'd seemed as irreconcilable as fire and water, yet in the end, they were bound by blood. Even if you burned bone as fuel and hatred as fire, when it burned down to the end, they'd still be indistinguishable.

But love was a one-way road—it had always been either you or me.

Xiang Zhijie pointed at himself: "Aren't you always calling me Little Stutterer? A stutterer shouldn't talk so much."

Xiang Zhishi curled his lip in disdain: "Not funny."

"Siblings of the imperial house have always been cold to one another. I ask for nothing else—only that you and I never turn into enemies. Going our separate ways as strangers, each safe on our own—that would be for the best."

"Aren't you afraid I'll turn on you because of him?"

"You don't give a damn about me, but you care about him." Xiang Zhijie's eyes were clear and steady. "And precisely because of that, you never will."

Xiang Zhishi let out a sneer: "What makes you so sure?"

"Because you are Xiang Zhishi. Our teacher said that Zhishi is a good kid."

This answer blindsided Xiang Zhishi.

He could have flat-out denied it, or even gone to their father to tattle behind his back, to refute this infuriating claim.

But that man had said it—he... was a good kid.

All of Xiang Zhishi's bluster deflated in an instant.

His voice came out strained: "If I'm so great, then why won't you give him up to me?"

"Zhishi, I know your feelings for him are every bit as strong as mine." Xiang Zhijie asked softly, "But have you ever stopped to think—what can you actually give him?"

"I..."

Xiang Zhishi was caught a bit flat-footed by the question, but he'd always been quick on the uptake. After a brief pause, he answered: "Two people, one horse, poetry and wine to the ends of the earth. I can throw away this prince's title anytime—as long as I'm with him, I'd go anywhere."

"I wasn't asking you." Xiang Zhijie suddenly leaned forward. "I was asking him."

"If he truly sought a life of leisure, he could have resigned and retreated from the world when he was Magistrate of Nanting County." There was no provocation in Xiang Zhijie's tone, no boasting—only patient reasoning. "What is it that he truly desires in his heart? And is what you can offer really what he wants?"

Xiang Zhishi retorted sharply, "And what about you? What can you give him? The status of principal wife, a first-rank official title? Or..." he sneered, "the throne of the realm?"

"Why not?"

Those four words hung in the air, and the entire pavilion fell silent.

Seeing his certainty, Xiang Zhishi took it for wishful thinking and reckless promises, and could not help but sneer: "Sixth Brother, I am not unaware of what you have been up to lately. But even if you ascended the dragon throne, would you truly be free of constraints? Could you truly do as you please?"

"If even an emperor faces constraints, then wouldn't a prince, a royal son, or a commoner face even more?"

Xiang Zhijie raised his eyes, a spark of fire within them. "Besides, he deserves all of this. If I cannot even offer him these things, how could I presume to speak of love?"

Hearing this, Xiang Zhishi felt as if a bramble had lodged in his chest.

He had been locked in overt and covert rivalry with Xiang Zhijie for all these years, and what he hated most was the expression on the other's face at this moment.

When speaking of that person, his eyes and brows were steeped in light—so candid it was dazzling.

And as for himself...

He would rather proclaim the word "hate" with ringing conviction than utter the word "love" without shame the way Xiang Xiaoliu did.

"Well spoken. How touching." He forced himself to maintain his composure. "But I wonder, Sixth Brother, how long can this devotion of yours last?"

"I do not know."

Xiang Zhishi was just about to mock him when he heard him continue: "I do not know how many years my lifespan holds. Therefore, I rise at the crow of the rooster every day, striving to wrest a few more years from heaven."

Xiang Zhijie lowered his lashes, pressing a hand to his chest, and said calmly: "If we are to be husband and wife, then let us grow old together as husband and wife."

Xiang Zhishi could no longer endure this lovesick act. He slammed the table and rose: "Xiang Zhijie, are you determined to fight me to the very end?"

He stared hard at him, tears welling in his eyes, veins standing out: "Yes, you understand him and know him—but I and he... ours is no ordinary bond! When he assassinated Kui Zhengqing and was gravely wounded, it was I who took him in; when he... left that day, it was I who saw him off at the prison. His most wretched moments, I've witnessed them all..."

Before he could finish, he saw Xiang Zhijie look up at him, his expression bearing no jealousy—only sincere bewilderment.

Xiang Zhishi: "...Why are you looking at me like that?"

Xiang Zhijie picked up his teacup: "Among the eighty-two charges against our teacher, one was 'allowing a prisoner to die.'"

"That time, he rode a hundred li, felled a man with one arrow, then rode back at full gallop. It happened that I had gone to the outskirts to stargaze, and on my way back I happened to meet him. He was burning with fever, so I took him back to my home. Later, I heard that a vicious criminal he had sentenced had died on the road to exile. I suspected it was our teacher's handiwork."

He gazed at Xiang Zhishi through the steam rising from his tea: "So, Zhishi, I confess I don't quite understand what you mean. ...Our teacher may have been in a sorry state, but when has he ever seemed so wretched?"

"He is plainly the best person in this world."

Xiang Zhishi was utterly speechless, and only after a long pause did he find his voice: "Does he know how you feel?"

Xiang Zhijie answered honestly: "I have not yet told our teacher in full. That would not be proper."

At that single sentence, Xiang Zhishi understood it all.

He knew Le Wuya only too well.

If that person had truly already given his heart to Xiang Zhijie, he would have brazenly announced it to the world long ago—why would he be sounding out Xiang Zhishi with his words?

The matter between them was far from resolved.

And then there was the obstacle of their father, the Emperor...

"Ha." Xiang Zhishi suppressed the bitterness in his chest, but his tongue refused to yield: "Don't let it end up with you pining after him alone!"

Xiang Zhijie wrapped his hands around the cup, as if holding his own heart.

His voice was steady, every word resolute: "If he does not want me, then I will wait. If waiting won't suffice, I'll find other means."

"The full moon wanes, and water brimming overflows." Xiang Zhishi narrowed his eyes. "Be careful—don't speak too absolutely, or you'll be embarrassed later!"

"Thanks for the warning." Xiang Zhijie smiled. "Fortunately, I'm not fond of full moons. 'The moon has its phases, now bright, now dim'—that suits me just fine."

...

The man Xiang Zhijie cherished for his "phases of brightness and shadow" was at that very moment riding along the official road back to the city.

Suddenly, he pulled on the reins, his attention caught by a roadside tea stall.

The stall was perfectly ordinary—bamboo poles, a cloth canopy, rough wooden tables and chairs—yet someone had ringed it with basket after basket of fresh flowers, transforming it into a riot of spring color.

The stall was so eye-catching that even the dull-witted Yuan Zijin let out a puzzled "Huh? When we passed by earlier, this stall wasn't like this at all."

With that, he swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing.

Afraid that Zhang Kai might have poisoned the tea in a desperate last stand, even though one whiff told him the tea was fine pre-Qingming (early spring) tea, Yuan Zijin had suffered his dry throat and not touched a drop at Zhang's residence.

He hadn't had a drop since leaving the government office, and he was truly parched.

Le Wuya's eyes swept over the transformed stall, and a smile tugged at his lips. He clapped Yuan Zijin on the shoulder: "Come, I'll buy you some tea."

As they approached, Le Wuya saw that not only had the stall changed, but the vendor had too.

The long-bearded old man and the child with topknots who had been there before were gone, replaced by a tall man in a coarse apron, standing behind a large steaming tea urn.

As the two entered, the man looked up, his wolf-grey eyes as cold as frost meeting theirs.

Le Wuya met his gaze for a moment, then smiled, his eyes crinkling into crescents.

Unlike in his previous life, in this one, every meeting with his elder brother was like warm sun melting snow.

If no brilliant flowers welcomed him, a warm embrace would do instead.

While Yuan Zijin dashed off eagerly to choose tea, Le Wuya quietly tugged at his sleeve: "How did you get here?"

Helian Che glanced at the cheerful simpleton, sure he wouldn't turn around, then leaned down and gave him a quick, impassive hug, and answered: "...I was following you."