Chapter 267: An Old Acquaintance (Part 2)

As he watched his small notebook nearly run out of pages, crumpled paper balls scattered haphazardly across the ground, and Jiang He still standing there with a three-foot sword in hand, eyeing his head with predatory intent, Qiu Sinian finally reached his limit. He bent down, scribbled a few quick strokes, stepped forward, and shoved the last page directly in front of Jiang He's face.

Jiang He nearly went cross-eyed trying to focus on it.

He stared for a long moment, then poked half his head out from behind the drawing, his brow furrowed into a knot: "...A chicken?"

Qiu Sinian: "..." For the first time in his life, he cursed his missing tongue.

He stabbed at the paper emphatically with his brush.

Qiu Sinian had caught more than one crow and studied them carefully. A crow's beak was pointed, slightly upturned, with sharp, piercing eyes—how was that anything like a chicken?!

He had even gone to the trouble of adding a striking white ring around its neck.

The master had to look this good.

If time had permitted, he would have painted a lovely little bell on the bird's foot as well.

But Jiang He clearly didn't know art when he saw it, and simply frowned deeper at the drawing.

To be fair, Jiang He wasn't entirely to blame.

He was on full alert, suspecting that Qiu Sinian's rambling and sketching was just a stalling tactic to buy time for reinforcements to arrive.

So Jiang He had devoted all his attention to guarding against external threats, with no headspace left for riddles.

Whatever Qiu Sinian wrote went in one eye and out the other, never once registering in his brain.

Seeing that Jiang He's head truly wasn't the sharpest tool, Qiu Sinian gritted his teeth for a long moment, then opened his tongueless mouth and forced out a hoarse, raspy cry: "...Ah!"

Jiang He blinked, finally focusing on the drawing. After a moment's hesitation: "...A crow?"

His eyes suddenly lit up. "The Young General? ...You know the Young General too?"

Qiu Sinian heard the sudden excitement in Jiang He's voice, and only then did his tense shoulders relax slightly.

So this man, though he had changed masters several times, hadn't forgotten his roots after all.

But after all these years serving in the imperial presence, Qiu Sinian had spent so long in the viper's nest that he had grown naturally suspicious and wary.

Without letting on, he tore off the page with the crow drawing, crumpled it into a ball, and swallowed it down.

Fortunately, he had spent years wolfing down his meals without chewing, so destroying evidence came just as easily.

Jiang He sheathed his sword and gave Qiu Sinian a once-over. A sudden thought struck him, connecting the dots: "You're Wang Chao—no, Ma Han... no, that's not it either..."

He scratched his eyebrow and mumbled vaguely: "You're the one the master mentioned, right?"

Qiu Sinian swallowed the paper: "..." What the hell is this guy babbling about?

Seeing that Qiu Sinian didn't understand, Jiang He didn't push it.

He stepped forward and cut to the chase: "Why were you lurking around the Sixth Prince's estate at night?"

Qiu Sinian picked up a crumpled ball from the ground, scribbled on the back of it, and answered with a question of his own: "Why were you there, of all places?"

Jiang He furrowed his brow, thought for a moment, then said gravely: "I was on patrol."

Qiu Sinian: "..."

There's no way it was that big a coincidence.

Jiang He was the captain of the Sixth Prince's guards. Patrolling the estate was hardly a job for the captain of the guards.

Qiu Sinian saw it clearly now: Jiang He had hit him with a slingshot earlier.

If Jiang He hadn't been watching the wall, on high alert, he couldn't have reacted that fast.

There was only one logical explanation:

When Qiu Sinian climbed onto the Sixth Prince's wall, Jiang He had been posted near the bamboo grove, on high alert.

And unlike Qiu Sinian, Jiang He had a tongue. If he'd spotted an intruder, why didn't he raise the alarm right away, instead of silently jumping the wall to chase him?

This went completely against what a prince's guard was supposed to do.

How could Jiang He be so sure Qiu Sinian wasn't a decoy, a distraction?

What if Qiu Sinian had deliberately shown himself to lure away the best guard, while another assassin waited in the shadows, blade aimed at the Sixth Prince?

Either way, Jiang He should have alerted his master the moment he saw him.

...Unless the Sixth Prince himself was right there by the bamboo grove.

When Jiang He gave chase, the Sixth Prince would already know there was danger and be on guard.

And Jiang He's refusal to raise the alarm was probably because the Sixth Prince was doing something important and didn't want to attract attention.

Yes.

That would explain everything.

With this realization, Qiu Sinian sighed and scribbled on a scrap of paper: "Next time you lie, don't think so long."

Jiang He: "?"

Impressive—he could actually tell Jiang He was lying.

While silently admiring Qiu Sinian's sharp eye, Jiang He bent down, picked up the crumpled balls one by one, and handed them back.

Qiu Sinian knew these private words couldn't fall into the wrong hands, so he cooperated in getting rid of the evidence.

Jiang He counted the paper balls one by one, making sure everything was cleaned up. Then he clapped his hands, and with a look of perfect innocence, rummaged through the broken bricks and rubble at his feet. He pulled out a whole brick, testing its weight in his hand.

"Bang!"

Before Qiu Sinian could react, everything went black.

The gray brick snapped in two against his skull.

Qiu Sinian staggered, steadying himself against the wall, his vision swimming in blackness, stars bursting before his eyes.

Thanks to his tough constitution, he barely managed to stay conscious.

Through the haze, he watched helplessly as Jiang He pulled a big padlock from his robes with a clatter, raising it as if to bring the brass lock down on his head again.

But a flicker of hesitation and reluctance flashed across his face.

In the end, he abandoned the lock and picked up a new brick instead. He reached out to smooth Qiu Sinian's hair, then—

"Thud!"

Before he completely blacked out, Qiu Sinian thought, damn it, I got taken down by a cheap shot.

Jiang He had really switched loyalties—his old friendship with the young general just couldn't beat out his loyalty to his new master.

Qiu Sinian didn't regret having taken care of him.

He just regretted not having shielded Jiang He better.

When his lord saw him down in the underworld, he'd probably get a good laugh out of it.

A guy with a life this stubborn—whole family wiped out, and he still refused to die—only to get taken out by two bricks?

...

When the night dew settled on his eyelids, Qiu Sinian's mind slowly surfaced from the murk.

He blinked his eyes open, still groggy.

The cool scent of bamboo leaves filled his lungs.

A few fireflies flitted through the grove. He squinted, thinking the stars had come down to him, and reached out in a daze to grasp them.

So even the underworld has stars, huh?

I'll grab one to bring back for my lord.

While he was lost in the haze between the living and the dead, he suddenly heard a cheerful greeting: "Oh, you're awake?"

The voice cut through the fog like a knife.

Qiu Sinian jolted hard, his blurry pupils snapping into focus.

He stared wide-eyed in disbelief, desperate to see, to find—

The man he'd been dreaming of day and night was sitting cross-legged just a few feet away, with some crumpled papers spread across his lap.

Le Wuya kept trying to flatten the wrinkles with his palm.

And on top was that exact line: "...the one who shields me. The one who treasures you. The kindest soul in the world. My savior."

Seeing Qiu Sinian's dazed eyes still desperately reaching for him, Le Wuya's heart ached with a mix of sorrow and bitterness.

He lightly tapped Qiu Sinian's forehead: "Little A'Si, you lovesick idiot."

Qiu Sinian's eyes instantly welled up with hot tears, and his teeth started chattering.

Qiu Sinian had long since gotten used to being alone.

He loved his family down to the bone, but he couldn't even remember their faces anymore.

Back when he first entered the palace, a eunuch had taken a liking to him—fed him well, taught him to read and write. He was grateful for that.

But when he returned to the palace later, intending to look after him in his twilight years, he found out the eunuch had messed up at the Late Crown Prince's memorial service, accidentally knocked over a vase. The emperor had him dragged out to "go serve the Late Crown Prince"—in other words, killed.

He'd finally managed to find himself someone to call family.

But fate had taken that one too soon as well.

Sometimes he even wondered if his own birth chart was cursed, that he was doomed to ruin everything he touched, that he only stayed alive by leeching off other people's lifespans.

Lord Yue told him to live, so he lived. Even though he was always ready to fall and smash to pieces, he wasn't scared.

But sometimes Qiu Sinian would sneak over to the abandoned Yue manor and curl up there for the night.

When he woke up, all that was left was a hollow ache.

The most infuriating part was that he couldn't even catch a cold. After waking up, he'd still have to slap on that blank, dead-eyed face and go do whatever the emperor ordered.

But now—it was okay!

Finally, it was okay!

Qiu Sinian lunged forward, arms and legs going everywhere, and threw himself onto Le Wuya, locking his arms around him.

This terrifying prison warden—the one who made the whole court shake and could scare crying kids into silence—burst into loud, bawling sobs right in front of Le Wuya: "...Ahh!"

Zhi Jie, who had backed off a good distance: "..."

Jiang He: "..."

Zhi Jie tried to reassure himself, sounding dry: "They're just old friends."

Jiang He echoed, sounding less than thrilled: "Yeah."

"It's only natural after being apart so long."

Jiang He nodded like his head was on a spring: "Yeah."

Le Wuya didn't push him off. Instead, he looked over at Zhi Jie from a distance, asking silently: Can I hold him?

At first, Zhi Jie didn't get what Le Wuya was asking.

A beat later, it clicked, and Zhi Jie felt a sweet warmth bloom in his chest, washing away most of the sourness that had been sitting there.

He nodded, quiet and understanding.

With the nod from the man he held dear, Le Wuya finally made his move.

He wrapped his arms around Qiu Sinian's shoulders, rocking him softly like a scared kid: "Our Little A'Si's been holding on all these years—finally can't hold on anymore, huh?"

"It's okay. It's not your fault. You did great, every step of the way."

"Give me your hand. Yeah, right here. Press down on my pulse. Keep it there."

"Count ten heartbeats, take one breath, and whisper to yourself 'Little A'Si's okay'... Yeah, just like that. Nice and slow."

Under Le Wuya's soft, steady coaxing, Qiu Sinian's frantic breathing slowly evened out.

He let go of Le Wuya, overjoyed, and looked up at him with total trust, still a little dizzy.

Qiu Sinian opened his mouth to speak, but he still couldn't make a sound—just rough, raspy noises.

He didn't waste time on regret, quickly scratching words into the wet mud: "My lord, I'm okay now. Where are you taking me?"

Meeting Qiu Sinian's hopeful eyes, Le Wuya grinned and clapped him on the shoulder: "Take me back to the Wen Ren estate. It's almost daybreak. You know the Five City Patrol's routes and schedules like the back of your hand—Little A'Si wouldn't want me getting spotted, right?"

Qiu Sinian froze. "..."

A long moment later, he bolted upright.

A dull, tearing ache pulsed at the back of his head.

But he couldn't care about that now. He stumbled backward, grabbed the swaying bamboo pole for support, and stared, panicked and bewildered, at the smiling eyes in front of him.

He wasn't dead?

Then who... who was this person before him?

Author's note:

Yaya whipped his head around 180 degrees: "You actually cried?" .jpg