Chapter 311: Battle of Wits (6)

As Xiang Zhijie made his way down the mountain, he marked the locations of the corpses he had discovered along the way, so that they could be properly collected later.

The scene at the foot of the mountain was one of controlled chaos.

Many of the original garrison soldiers had already fled in disarray. As for those who were wounded, unable to run, or simply too cowardly—having personally experienced such a cataclysmic landslide, their willpower had collapsed just like the mountain itself.

They all became living witnesses.

Before Ru Feng could even ask what had happened, they rushed forward and threw themselves to their knees, spilling everything about the mine landslide and its hidden secrets like beans from a tube.

Ru Feng listened in utter shock.

A riot at the Xiaolianzi Mountain mine?

The Mining Inspector sent by the imperial court had been killed?

The Mining Inspector—untouchable even by regional governors, free to squeeze money for the emperor—beaten to death with a shovel?

All three hundred miners had been silenced?

Magistrate Zhou had gone berserk, and now he was silencing the soldiers who had silenced the miners?

No wonder Ru Feng was rattled.

The Sixth Prince was deeply concerned about Lord Wenren, always fishing for details about how Dansui County was being run, worried it might be a den of vipers.

But once they entered southern Jin, all they heard was praise for Zhou Wenchang.

When they had stayed at the post station in the neighboring county the night before, even the postmaster had sighed from the heart, saying what a shame it was that Dansui County had been hit by the disaster, and hoping Magistrate Zhou would not be implicated by the natural calamity.

This magistrate had a sterling reputation, no doubt.

But now, well, seeing was believing—and this was something else.

Though Ru Feng was floored by the man's sheer nerve, when he watched Zhijie stumble down the mountain, leaning on Le Wuya, blood soaking through his clothes at the abdomen, he rushed over in a panic: "Master, they wouldn't dare shut you up too, would they?!"

Zhijie said gently, "Ru Feng, watch your tongue."

With that, he turned to lock eyes with Le Wuya.

Ru Feng's words sparked an idea in Le Wuya. He shot a meaningful look at the ground.

Zhijie took the cue and collapsed backward into Qiu Sinian's arms, playing dead.

The Vice Minister of Works who'd come with them was drafted on the spot to check for any risk of another landslide. He came back, saw the scene, and nearly had a heart attack on the spot.

And then it was chaos all over again.

Once Zhijie was settled, Le Wuya—legs still a bit shaky—took charge of the relief efforts like it was only natural.

Ji Zhun had already caught the servant who'd set off the explosives, knocked him out, and hauled him in.

Secretary Lin was tied up in the shed holding the bodies.

The shed had survived the landslide, and he was mostly fine—but he was shaken to the core, and his faith in Zhou Wenchang had crumbled completely. Even now, his eyes were still glassy and vacant.

Wen Huan, meanwhile, was trussed up like a pig and dumped under a hastily erected rain shelter.

That was all Ru Feng's doing.

He'd noticed that Wen Huan carried a lot of weight with these miners—probably riding his big brother's coattails, he'd been playing "second emperor" in little Dansui County for a long time.

So Ru Feng smeared mud all over his face, dumped him out in the open like a hog, and let the surviving soldiers walk by and gawk.

Seeing Wen Huan brought so low, the soldiers knew their crimes were out in the open. Desperate to make up for their crimes, they all tripped over each other to confess.

When Le Wuya came to see him, Wen Huan's face was dead gray with despair.

But the moment he saw Le Wuya, his eyes lit up. He strained to sit up, trying to scrape together some dignity, even attempting to stand—but it was no use, and he gave up.

Ru Feng might run his mouth, but he was damn thorough. He'd tied Wen Huan's knees with rope to keep him from moving, and the guards watching him were all personal retainers from the estate.

No way he was getting out of this.

This was exactly why Zhijie had brought Ru Feng along and left Jiang He back in the capital to mind the house.

When it came to serious business, Ru Feng was rock solid—way more reliable than Jiang He, who could be a bit flaky.

Wen Huan knew exactly where things stood.

He knew the jig was up.

Right now, only one thing was eating at him: "Lord Wenren... Imperial Censor, where's my brother?"

Le Wuya answered flatly, "Alive."

A huge weight lifted off Wen Huan's chest, and a single tear slid down his face.

Even though Le Wuya knew this guy was bad news, he couldn't help but tone down his usual flashy attitude at the sight. "You really care about him that much?"

Wen Huan stayed silent. What was there left to say now?

Le Wuya stared at him for a long moment. "You regret it?"

Still silence.

Le Wuya suddenly smiled and dropped to one knee. "Playing dead, huh?"

"Thinking it's winner takes all, so what's the point?"

Wen Huan was startled by his unhinged behavior, frowning at this young official with his eerie, fox-spirit vibe.

A wave of bitter jealousy and venomous resentment surged up in him, reddening his eyes.

He'd never cared about fame or glory.

It was for Zhou Wenchang that he felt cheated.

His brother came from a scholarly family and was a Bangyan—second place in the imperial exams.

In pedigree, in talent, in governing skill, his brother was second to none.

Yet he'd been stuck in this remote border county for ten years, grinding it out, forced to rub shoulders with wolves and jackals, forced to dirty his own hands to win the trust of those damned Mining Inspectors, working his ass off to root out corruption for the court—only to get dragged into the miners' riot and have to eat the consequences.

Is that fair?

Therefore, he hated Wen Ren.

Why had his path been so smooth?

In Lord Wang's description, this man came from humble origins, with scholarly honors no better than his own. It was only because of a mining case that he won a prince's favor, and from then on, he climbed over others' backs, step by step, unstoppable, soaring to prominence.

Zhou Wen Huan wanted to kill him, not just because of Lord Wang's veiled hints.

The description alone was enough to make Zhou Wen Huan's eyes bleed with hatred.

Wen Ren rose to power through the Xiaofu Coal Mine case—was he supposed to let this man use his brother's shoulders as a stepping stone to climb the ladder to heaven?

There was no justice in this world!

Meeting his cold, murderous gaze, Le Wuya knew this man was beyond redemption, with no trace of remorse, nothing but rotten schemes brewing in his head.

But that was exactly what he wanted.

"You're doing great. Whatever you do, keep it up." Le Wuya reached out to tuck the stray strands of hair behind his ear, his eyes gleaming with a sharp light, his tone laced with a hint of teasing excitement. "You will regret this."

With that, Le Wuya turned and left.

Of the hundred-plus soldiers stationed to guard the mountain, over twenty lay dead, more than thirty had fled, and the rest had been rounded up for the time being.

Heaven and Zhou Wenchang had joined forces to treat them to a thorough mudslide.

I wonder what went through their minds as the mud sealed their noses and mouths.

Seeing the dejected looks on their faces, Le Wuya ordered them to be dressed in civilian clothes and escorted back to Dansui that very night, where they would each be locked up separately.

"As for the reason for the arrest..." Le Wuya's lips curled. "Just claim they were mountain bandits."

Thanks to Zhou Wenchang's quick thinking when he'd charged down the mountain, he'd slapped that black mark on himself.

Borrow it and use it—how convenient.

As for the spies that Zhou Wenchang and Zhou Wen Huan had planted in Dansui, without their ringleader, they wouldn't dare make any reckless moves.

Even loyal men like Qingyun would need someone to call the shots.

Otherwise, if one strike couldn't wipe them all out, loyalty would only become a lethal poison.

Le Wuya was rather curious to see whether Zhou Wenchang, after ten years of building deep roots in Dansui, had managed to cultivate any force truly willing to wipe out those dozens of soldiers for him.

Anyway, those men all deserved to die—using them as bait to lure someone out was a good move.

As for the unconscious Zhou Wenchang, he needed to be kept close and carefully tended to.

With these thoughts churning in his mind, Le Wuya walked to the shed where the miners' bodies were laid.

Unlike when he had sneaked in last time, the smell here had turned rank due to the heat.

But Le Wuya walked among them without flinching or turning away, searching only for a familiar face.

Soon, he found the one he was looking for.

Little Dumpling's body had long since gone stiff, still in the position Le Wuya had arranged for their burial, curled up like a child in Sun Huizhen's embrace.

Le Wuya reached out and stroked his bluish cheek.

See, I've avenged you.

It took me a night, but I sent dozens down to keep you company. It took a while—don't hold it against me.

You've got strength in numbers down there now, so no need to fear them anymore. Give them a good beating and let off some steam.

After scaring the living and visiting the dead, Le Wuya planned to go see...

his beloved.

The thought crossed his mind, and Le Wuya couldn't help but amuse himself.

If he knew, that kid would probably be puffing up with pride again.

...

Zhi Jie had been placed in a small room that had miraculously survived the collapse.

It had to be said, Ru Feng was truly capable—he'd managed to scrounge up a clean set of clothes for him under the current conditions.

When Ru Feng entered carrying a bowl of wound medicine, Zhi Jie was sprawled on a makeshift wooden bed, breathing slow and deep, looking pitiful as he gritted his teeth against the pain.

Ru Feng glanced outside. "My lord, cut the act. It's me."

Zhi Jie's breathing steadied instantly, and he sat up with a composed expression. "You're here. Where's Lord Wenren?"

"Poking around outside."

With Ru Feng's help, Zhi Jie swallowed the bitter brew that made his throat go numb, then handed back the empty bowl. "Do you want to know what happened up on the mountain?"

Ru Feng said without hesitation, "No, I don't."

Zhi Jie said with certainty, "Yes, you do."

"..."

Ru Feng let out a deep sigh. "...Then please, go ahead."

A faint smile curled at the corners of Zhi Jie's lips, and his pale, bloodless cheeks took on a faint, delicate flush, as if savoring the memory, or perhaps feeling shy. "I'm not going to tell you."

Ru Feng's hand tightened around the teacup, making the tray tremble.

Zhi Jie smiled at him. "Ru Feng, keep your cool."

Ru Feng, caught red-handed in his plan to dump the medicine bowl on his head, had no choice but to back down.

Ru Feng wasn't so easily won over by Zhi Jie, either.

Thinking back to their early days of scheming against each other when he'd first arrived, Ru Feng couldn't help but chuckle.

Thank goodness he hadn't burned that bridge back then, or he'd be an old man eating arsenic—asking for a death sentence.

The Sixth Prince—the older he got, the deeper his schemes. Like a fox reincarnated. Who knows what kind of person raised him.

As he stormed out and slammed the door behind him, Ru Feng saw Le Wuya.

He raised his voice in surprise: "Oh! Lord Wenren, you're here!"

Zhi Jie's weak voice came through the door at once: "Ru Feng, don't try to fool me. My teacher is busy—don't bother him."

Ru Feng: "..." Then you're quite the sensible one.

Le Wuya, seeing the look on Ru Feng's face, raised an eyebrow and pushed the door open.

Zhi Jie, who had already heard Le Wuya's footsteps, forced himself upright on the small couch: "...Teacher."

"Oh, awake?" Le Wuya gently pinched his cheek. "Weren't you just about to knock that tree over a second ago?"

Ru Feng, who hadn't even gotten the door shut: "..."

I'm a eunuch—I don't get it, I'm out of here.

Zhi Jie pressed a hand to his lower belly, grinning despite himself: "Teacher, don't make me laugh..."

Le Wuya shook out his robes and sat down by the bed: "Alright."

The next moment, he placed his hand on Zhi Jie's wrist, gently rubbing it with his index finger, and couldn't help running his mouth: "That hundred-year-old tree—blown up three times, buried under two mudslides—and it's still standing. When I left, I gave it a shove—the roots were already giving way."

Zhi Jie naturally leaned against his shoulder, laughing and panting, his handsome face all scrunched up: "Teacher, ouch... it hurts..."

Le Wuya: "..." Sure, keep up the act.

That said, seeing how much pain he was in and how docile he was, he couldn't help but want to comfort him.

So, he pulled out the thumb ring he'd swiped from Zhi Jie, took his hand, and slipped it on for him.

"Returning the jade to its rightful owner."

"The jade's here." Le Wuya pointed at the ring, then at himself. "And the man's here."

Amid the footsteps coming and going in the outer room, Le Wuya slipped his warm, calloused hand up under Zhi Jie's shirt, pressing it over the bandaged wound.

"Teacher, it's like a dream. I keep dreaming you've gone and left me..." Zhi Jie gazed at his face, murmuring, "This time, it's a good one."

Le Wuya vaguely saw through his thoughts and grinned, baiting him: "What's it gonna take for you to believe this isn't a dream?"

Zhi Jie wet his lips, turned away, looking like he wanted to say something.

Le Wuya turned his face back, studying the faint sheen on his lips, muttering to himself in complaint: "Ugh, why do you even like this? Didn't get enough milk when you were a baby?"

Zhi Jie shook his head: "Don't want it."

"Tsk." Le Wuya smiled. "Still playing coy?"

This time, Zhi Jie really didn't want to: "Teacher, I just took my meds, I really can't kiss, I—"

Le Wuya had always been rebellious.

After a brief, warm, soft, tingly spark, Le Wuya pulled back, turned his head, stuck out his tongue, and caught his breath.

Zhi Jie smiled helplessly: "Teacher, I told you, it's bitter."

The next moment, Le Wuya, having caught his breath, leaned in and kissed him again.

Zhi Jie's hand gripping the blanket tightened suddenly.

He stared fixedly at the person before him, then gently closed his eyes.

His body felt like an empty shell, his soul drifting, pulled along by him.

After a while, Le Wuya straightened up, smiling at him, his expression idle and lazy: "Does our Xiaoliu still hurt?"

Zhi Jie raised his hand, covering his heart.

It hurt.

He loved so much that his heart ached.