Chapter 251: Thinking of You

Doctor Xiang, who'd rushed all the way over for the house call, not only didn't make a cent in consultation fees, he was out ten coppers on top of it, asking Hua Rong to fetch two steaming bowls of wonton soup.

The little table in the guest room was crooked and wobbled unsteadily.

Fortunately, neither of them was particularly picky, and they tucked into breakfast, heads bent together.

Le Wuya asked him, "Skipping court today?"

"You mentioned the day before yesterday you had things to do, so I put in for leave early."

"You're off, I'm off—what a perfect day." Le Wuya gazed out the window, his tone tinged with regret. "Weather this clear, not too hot, not too cold—perfect for a ride."

Zhi Jie nodded. "Noted."

"Noted what?"

"One of these days, when the weather's right, I'll drop everything and take you riding."

Le Wuya pushed his luck. "Then I want to bring a sheep too."

Zhi Jie smiled, dipped his spoon into Le Wuya's bowl, and swiped two wontons while replying, "Alright."

Le Wuya instantly got protective over his food. "Hey! Why you stealing my food?! Don't you have your own?"

Zhi Jie: "Teacher, there are twenty-five wontons total. You drank yesterday, so your appetite's off—you won't even get through twenty."

Le Wuya shot back stubbornly, "Who says? I can eat! I'm starving! Get me hungry enough and I'll eat you too!"

"Fine, fine, fine." Zhi Jie laughed. "Take your time, Teacher."

Le Wuya counted each wonton as he ate. When he reached the nineteenth, he set down his spoon and gave Zhi Jie a meaningful look.

Zhi Jie asked with concern, "Teacher, what's wrong?"

Le Wuya countered, "How long have you been sneaking peeks at me?"

Zhi Jie thought for a moment and answered honestly, "I've forgotten."

He'd been watching his teacher from behind for so long it was just habit by now.

Le Wuya pushed his bowl toward him. "Then don't let it go to waste—it's all yours."

Zhi Jie took the bowl and praised him sincerely, "Teacher's health is basically fully recovered now. Back at New Year's, with the imperial dumplings, you'd be full after eight or nine at most."

Le Wuya: "..."

He squinted, eyes half-lidded, drummed his fingers on the table three times, and waited until Zhi Jie had finished all the remaining wontons in his bowl before saying flatly, "Hand."

Zhi Jie froze, recalling the painful experience of having his palm smacked before. After a moment's hesitation, he cautiously offered his left hand.

Le Wuya didn't have anything handy to use, so he dug through Zhi Jie's medicine box and found only a medicine scale to use as a makeshift switch.

Each smack came with a scold: "Next time, no sneaking looks! Back then, I was your teacher!"

And Zhi Jie's post-spanking review: the medicine scale hurt less than the iron ruler.

After the punishment, Zhi Jie pulled back his hand, now a little red, blew on it softly, and said with eyes crinkling in a smile, "I'll remember, Teacher." Next time, he'd look without hiding.

Le Wuya, seeing that he could still smile after being hit, asked curiously, "What are you smiling about?"

Zhi Jie: "Teacher eating well—that's good fortune; Teacher's hand strength—that's long life."

Le Wuya: "..."

As Le Wuya scrambled for a comeback, Zhi Jie said softly, "In the past, even if we were hundreds of miles apart, at least there was a place where we could talk in peace. Now that we're in the capital, there are all sorts of inconveniences. Just getting to see you, Xiaoliu already feels incredibly lucky, so before I knew it, I was saying too much, doing too much..."

He looked at Le Wuya with clear eyes. "Xiaoliu overstepped with Teacher, so punishment is deserved."

Le Wuya: "..."

He gave a half-smile. "You little brat, don't think I don't know what you're up to."

He grabbed Zhi Jie by the collar and yanked him close, looking up at him with a grin. "What else do you want? Spit it out."

As he spoke, he dragged a finger lightly across the taut muscles of Zhi Jie's neck.

Zhi Jie's heart lurched, and his breath hitched.

Taking his chance, he pressed a soft kiss to the side of Le Wuya's neck.

Le Wuya didn't flinch. After letting him have that one kiss, he nimbly shoved Zhi Jie back. "Pack your stuff—we're checking out!"

With that, he turned to grab his outer robe. "...And cut the 'all sorts of inconveniences' talk."

"What I want to do, I do; who I want to see, I see."

"If I want to talk to you, who's gonna stop me?"

He slipped on the socks Zhi Jie had knitted for him, and once his boots were on, he stomped his feet on the floor, smiled at Zhi Jie, and praised naturally, "So comfy. Knit me another pair or two when you've got time. I want winter jasmine on the sides!"

Watching Le Wuya buzz around the room, all noise and energy, Zhi Jie closed his eyes and forced himself to calm his mind.

He was about to part ways with his teacher soon.

He needed to go back to being the normal Zhi Jie.

He worked the Taoist beads down his wrist to his fingertips, pinching the bead for "Six Entrances" and rolling it slowly.

The "Six Entrances" are the eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind.

Cultivation means using these six senses to experience all the absurdity and noise of the world, and still staying clean and unbothered.

He could shut off his five senses—not look at him, not hear his voice, not catch the pine scent on his clothes, not taste the wine on his lips, not touch his cheek or fingertips.

But that one "mind"—that he could never seal, no matter what.

To him, that person had become almost formless, without shape or substance.

He was the embodiment of a thousand fantasies and endless longing, and just by his shadow, he could whip up towering waves in Zhi Jie's heart.

The sound of Le Wuya's footsteps across the floor, the soft rustle of him shrugging into his robe...

He hadn't done a thing, yet the beads in Zhi Jie's hand spun faster and faster, until the beads nearly scorched his fingertips with friction.

"Xiaoliu!" Suddenly, the voice was right beside him. "Playing with those damn beads again!"

Zhi Jie's fingers stopped mid-motion.

All six senses came alive at once.

He opened his eyes and gazed quietly at Le Wuya. His voice, strained from holding back his emotions, came out stiff and measured: "Master, I missed you."

Le Wuya was taken aback, then poked him on the forehead. "How sappy. I'm right here, aren't I?"

The socks were comfy, the company was pleasant, and his body felt at ease.

So Le Wuya was in a great mood, beaming as he bent down and tilted his head to look at him. "Don't just think about me—look at me!"

Zhi Jie ducked his head, looking all shy and obedient, carefully hiding his eyes.

Seeing him so quiet, Le Wuya remembered how he'd stammered like a little stutterer last night, and his mood brightened further.

The kid back then—so pitiful and cute.

But this one now...

Le Wuya chuckled, cinched his belt, grabbed Zhi Jie's medicine box, and tossed it to him. "Let's go. Time to go our separate ways."

...

While Hua Rong was paying the bill at the inn's front desk, Le Wuya and Zhi Jie emerged from their room one after the other.

The cashier glanced up, a hint of confusion on his face, and casually remarked, "Oh? The doctor didn't go home last night?"

"Nope."

Hua Rong sighed, deliberately lowering his voice with a troubled expression. "My master can't hold his liquor. Last night, we called the doctor in a rush—he showed up with just his medicine box and no ID. By the time he was done, it was past midnight. So we had to shell out for another room to put him up. This morning, he checked my master's pulse, and now we've got to hire a carriage to see him properly home—another day's doctor's fee and carriage fare. I ask you, are these capital doctors made of gold or studded with jade?..."

Hua Rong's silver tongue quickly turned the talk to "capital doctors are just too pricey."

As Le Wuya and Zhi Jie came downstairs, a waiter squinted at Zhi Jie with a frown.

He often ran errands for guests and knew all the local clinics and eateries.

Why was this young doctor so unfamiliar-looking?

Just as he was about to get a better look, Le Wuya called out, "Hey, waiter!"

The waiter automatically answered, "Yeah?"

Le Wuya said cheerfully, "Your table's got a wobbly leg—I almost spilled my breakfast all over myself! Don't go blaming me for breaking it."

The waiter gave an exaggerated bow and quipped smoothly, "Oh, don't say that! You're a VIP—your stay here is our honor! I'll chop that naughty table leg off and burn it for firewood!"

While they talked, Zhi Jie slipped past behind them, medicine box in hand.

Thanks to that distraction, nobody got a good look at Zhi Jie's face.

Zhi Jie stepped out and slid smoothly into a gray-canopied carriage waiting at the door.

The driver was Jiang He, in a bamboo hat.

The plain carriage quickly disappeared into the busy capital streets.

Le Wuya stepped out of the inn and stared thoughtfully at where the carriage had vanished.

Hua Rong, who'd slept like a log in his own room last night, was now feeling refreshed. Seeing no one around, he murmured, "Master, quit staring. Time to head back."

"He just said he missed me," Le Wuya muttered to himself, a smile tugging at his lips. "Interesting."

...

After a long, winding trip, Zhi Jie finally made it home. He went into Shuangshui Hall and grabbed his favorite flute.

He set the bamboo flute to his lips, fingers dancing over the holes, and a tune drifted out lazily.

It was a folk festivity tune called "By the Vanity Table."

He'd played this piece a thousand times, but today the flute's sound felt alive, burrowing into his ears and crawling under his collar.

Zhi Jie felt itchy.

Not on his skin—an itch deep in his bones, in his heart.

...Just like when his master smiled and asked his name last night—that same maddening itch.

The flute's notes faded softer and softer, until they couldn't go any lower and turned into faint breaths.

Zhi Jie's fingers stayed on the flute, but he couldn't play anymore.

He stared blankly at his hand, thinking, if these fingers pressed against his master's body, they'd be like this too.

Press, then release.

...Pale when pressed, red when released.

The flute went quiet.

Zhi Jie, flustered, set it on the flute rack, but it didn't stay put.

The flute rolled off the wooden stand and hit the floor with a soft thud.

It lay there, silent, and nobody picked it up.

Only at dusk did Zhi Jie, fully dressed and back to his proper gentlemanly self, come out of the room. There, lying in the shade of a tree, was a sleek black hound with shiny fur, lazily scratching its ear.

Zhi Jie thought he was hallucinating. The moment he blinked, Er Ya, seeing her master, stretched lazily, picked up a small basket hidden behind the tree, and padded over to him with grace.

In the basket lay a letter:

"If missing me makes you sick, and I'm just a chess piece, who'd dare take my hand?"

"Here's a remedy to ease your heart."

The so-called "heart-calming pill" was just a small, smooth black Go stone.

Zhi Jie clutched the stone in his palm, his heart churning with emotion.

Master, oh master.

How can you blame me for missing you?

Author's note:

Good news—the author got promoted.

Bad news—more work now.