Chapter 83: Heart’s Intent (Part 2)

Le Wuya froze for a moment, sensing something unusual in those words.

His heart began to churn. He kept his head down, hands never stopping, bandaging Xiang Zhijie's wound properly, even finishing it off with a neat bow.

Once he'd finished the important business, Le Wuya took a deep breath, preparing to speak.

But whether by chance or on purpose, Xiang Zhijie chose that moment to say in a soft, coaxing tone: "Teacher, am I putting you in a tough spot?"

What Le Wuya had been about to say was the exact opposite of this new question.

As he was trying to decide which question to answer, Xiang Zhijie leaned his head on Le Wuya's shoulder, bone-tired, and said in a soft, dreamy voice: "If it's too much trouble, Teacher, just pretend I never said it."

Le Wuya: "Don't play games with me. What's so hard about me holding Wen... holding Scholar Ming? What, did I do something wrong by holding him?"

Xiang Zhijie shook his head: "It's not your fault, Teacher. It's mine."

"So it's your fault again?" Le Wuya poked his forehead with a finger. "You sure do love taking the blame, huh?"

Xiang Zhijie humbly owned up to his mistake: "My mistake is that seeing you hold Wen Renyue makes my heart ache."

Le Wuya: "..."

Xiang Zhijie asked, genuinely curious: "Teacher, why would that be?"

Le Wuya turned his head away, sneaking a sip of his hot water. Feeling guilty, he suddenly got all proper and tight-lipped: "...Your teacher doesn't know either."

He'd been with Little Phoenix since they were kids, from playing with bamboo horses to riding into battle together—you could say he'd gotten his first taste of love from him.

That relationship, for various reasons, had fizzled out at its peak.

After that, he'd locked away all those feelings and never given them to anyone again.

Though they say a lazy teacher makes for undisciplined students, back when he was a teacher, he'd always played by the book—he'd never taught the kid anything like this!

...Back then.

Those two words couldn't help but stir up Le Wuya's memories.

He seriously started to reflect, wondering if he'd done anything wrong.

In his memory, Xiaoliu had never been a standout kid.

Though he lived in the gilded, deep palace grounds, in Le Wuya's eyes, any kid who was taken from their mother and brothers the moment they were born was pitiful.

But everyone else thought he'd landed in a good spot.

Imperial Consort Zhuang's rank and family background were both doubly prestigious. Though she had a prickly personality, she never asked anything of the child. If he wanted to work hard, fine; if he wanted to be a slacker, fine. Either way, he'd get neither praise nor a single word of criticism from her.

Whatever he turned into was entirely up to him.

So much so that when the other palace consorts all praised her for raising her son so well, she'd often be counting her prayer beads with a confused look on her face.

...She hadn't taught him a damn thing.

Little Seven's mother, Consort Xi, had picked up the palace gossip and passed it on to Little Seven, who then told Le Wuya.

Little Seven and his mother were super close; the two of them would gab away for hours.

Consort Xi's real name was Xi Ying. Her family was one of the eight imperial merchant houses, supplying cotton yarn exclusively to the royal family.

"Imperial merchant" sounded fancy, but to the royals, the goods they supplied mattered more and were more respectable than the merchants themselves.

If not for Xi Ying's stunning beauty, there's no way she'd have gotten into the palace with her merchant background.

But the Xi family hadn't planned to send her to the palace either. If her beauty hadn't been so famous that officials recommended her, she'd probably have been a lot happier than she is now.

She'd been doted on at home, growing into a naive, pleasure-loving girl. Despite her beauty, she lacked cunning and wit.

She enjoyed imperial favor for less than a year. After giving birth to a pair of twins, she faded into obscurity.

Her elder son was taken from her the moment he was born and given to a higher-ranking consort. She had no room to resist, and had to drag her postpartum body to thank Imperial Consort Zhuang.

After that, she seemed to have grown somewhat wiser. She never mentioned Xiaoliu in front of Little Seven again, pretending she'd only given birth to one child.

But it was also from that point on that she paid particular attention to every move Imperial Consort Zhuang made.

With her limited intelligence, she couldn't sense the deeper meaning behind her own actions.

But Little Seven understood.

While teaching thirteen-year-old Little Seven to ride, Little Seven's mouth wouldn't stay still, chattering on: "My mother misses him very much, but he doesn't know anything. He never comes to see my mother."

Le Wuya held the reins for him as he walked, saying: "He can't go."

"What? Is someone tying him up?"

Le Wuya looked ahead and said: "He is now Imperial Consort Zhuang's son."

"So what?"

Le Wuya said bluntly: "Don't play dumb with me here."

To the royal family, many sons meant many blessings, and twins were an auspicious sign.

However, because the royal family truly had a throne to inherit, if twins looked too similar, that was rather unfortunate.

Though they wouldn't be foolish enough to kill one, these two would generally have no chance at the succession.

Yet the Old Emperor had insisted on placing Xiaoliu under the powerful Imperial Consort Zhuang's name—clearly falling back into his old habit of elevating one while suppressing another, unable to bear seeing brothers in the harem too close and affectionate.

Having seen through his scheme, Xiaoliu could only draw a clear line between himself and his birth mother, pretending not to know her.

Otherwise, once the child showed any sign of "unfilial behavior," the Emperor naturally wouldn't go after Imperial Consort Zhuang, who came from a military family, or her two biological children.

The only one who could serve as his punching bag was Xi Ying, whose background was inferior.

Little Seven wanted to say more, but Le Wuya slapped his leg: "Squeeze your legs together. If you fall and hurt yourself, I'm as good as dead."

Little Seven had been sitting fine, but after that slap, he nearly tumbled off the horse.

After steadying himself, he wound the reins around his hand twice and smiled without warmth: "Teacher, you just love protecting him."

Le Wuya said irritably: "If I don't protect him, should I protect you, you smiling tiger? It'd be a blessing if you didn't go around biting innocent people."

Little Seven: "Fine, I'll go bite him right now."

Le Wuya: "You dare."

Xiao Qi said firmly, "You just like him."

Le Wuya couldn't stand seeing Xiao Qi look so smug: "I do like him, so much I want to take him home, what about it?"

Xiao Qi burst into laughter.

Le Wuya turned his head and found Zhi Jie had shown up at the edge of the riding ground at some point, clutching a book on astrology, smiling at him awkwardly.

...

Le Wuya hesitated. Could it be this time?

No, he'd only said a few good words for him behind his back; it shouldn't be enough to make him act like this, right?

Le Wuya thought hard, tracing the timeline further back.

Could it be from when he was ten?

...

That winter, Xiaoliu caught a cold and couldn't make it to the archery and riding lessons, so he stayed in the study to review his books.

After class, Le Wuya went to check on him, and while the instructor was out, he leaned against the window and asked what meds he was taking that day and if there was anything he felt like eating.

Xiaoliu said seriously, "Drink more water, eat light, don't give in to cravings, and the illness will naturally go away..."

Le Wuya waved his hand: "Cut the nonsense. I asked what you want to eat."

Xiaoliu answered obediently, "Oranges."

Le Wuya nodded thoughtfully, said "Oh," and turned to head out of the study.

Xiaoliu hurried after him, his voice stuffy: "The kitchen doesn't have any. I already checked."

Le Wuya ruffled his hair, nearly knocking him over, and announced with a flourish, "Just you wait. Your teacher can do anything."

Before long, Le Wuya came back to the study, and sure enough, pulled two big, fresh oranges out of his sleeve.

Xiaoliu's eyes lit up, looking at Le Wuya with admiration.

Le Wuya was a shallow guy who loved being admired.

He plopped down on Xiaoliu's desk, proudly peeling the white strings off the oranges, watching Little Dumpling happily eat them, feeling like he'd done something amazing: "See, when you're sick, eating something you like helps you get better the fastest!"

The smell of the oranges soothed Xiaoliu's dry throat.

He looked up at Le Wuya in awe: "Teacher, where did you get these oranges?"

Le Wuya said proudly, gesturing: "Behind Zhaoming Hall, there's this huge orange tree!"

Xiaoliu: "..."

He said nothing more and ate even faster, trying to destroy the evidence.

...

At that memory, Le Wuya shook his head.

That probably wasn't it, either.

Seemed pretty trivial.

Then could it be that time at the Nanyuan hunting grounds?

...

Fifteen-year-old Xiaoliu chased a deer a little too far and accidentally fell into a dry, abandoned well.

The well had been easy to miss, abandoned years ago after a young eunuch guarding Nanyuan had drowned in it, and the guy who'd filled it in was lazy, just covering the opening with a wooden board and adding a lock.

Over time, the board rotted, and wild grass grew up around it, completely hiding the well opening.

Le Wuya no longer held a teaching position by then, only a nominal title of Protector, but during the hunt, he couldn't help craning his neck to see how his two beloved students were doing.

Seeing Xiao Qi return victorious with five deer, but Xiaoliu still nowhere to be seen, Le Wuya got worried, found a horse, and secretly went to look for him.

Maybe it was fate, or maybe it was just his luck, Le Wuya wandered near the dry well.

Noticing the trampled grass lying in an unusual direction, and Xiaoliu's horse grazing calmly nearby, Le Wuya dismounted and, calling "Xiaoliu," pushed through the grass.

Xiaoliu fell into the well by accident.

Le Wuya, however, simply had poor eyesight.

As Le Wuya's foot slipped, he thought, if Xiaoliu is down there, my reputation...

Before the thought finished, he fell straight down, landing with a thud on his back in a pile of thick, rotted leaves.

He closed his eyes, praying devoutly: No one, no one, no one.

Then he heard a hesitant, gentle voice: "...Teacher?"

Le Wuya cursed inwardly, decisively turned his head aside, thinking, to preserve my dignity as a teacher, I'll faint for a moment first.

Unexpectedly, Le Wuya's fall caused a problem.

He called hesitantly, "Teacher?"

When Le Wuya didn't respond, he panicked, lifting his shoulders, carefully feeling the back of his head to ensure no stones or branches were beneath, confused and increasingly anxious: "Teacher, what's wrong?"

In his desperation, Zhi Jie embraced him, dragging and pulling him to the edge of the well wall, wiping away the moss with his palm, settling him down, his voice trembling as he called, "Teacher, Teacher Yue?..."

He was silent for a long time, only his increasingly rapid breathing filling the dry well, making Le Wuya unsure whether he should breathe at all.

As if sensing his breath was too faint, a cold, trembling finger cautiously reached out and placed itself under Le Wuya's nose.

Le Wuya couldn't hold it in any longer and burst out laughing.

The movement opposite him froze.

Seeing his disguise failed, Le Wuya quickly opened his eyes, trying to cover up: "I'm awake, awake... just woke up."

What met his eyes was Zhi Jie, whose lips had completely lost their color.

After staring at Le Wuya for a moment, he turned and sat down on the other side of the deep well, silently.

Zhi Jie giving him the cold shoulder was truly rare.

Le Wuya: "Hey. Xiaoliu."

Zhi Jie turned his face away.

Le Wuya scrambled over on all fours: "You mad?"

Zhi Jie: "No."

Le Wuya flashed a carefree grin: "I'm awake now, you're still mad?"

Even Zhi Jie, who had a good temper, found that annoying. He simply ignored the remark and said evenly, "Teacher, this isn't funny."

Le Wuya scratched the back of his head and broke into a brilliant smile.

Cheering people up—he was the best at it.

He heaved a big sigh and said, "Look, the sky hasn't darkened yet, and it's not even time for the hunt to be over. If I hadn't seen my good disciple vanish, why would I have come looking?"

Zhi Jie's ears perked up slightly, then he wrapped his arms around his knees, burying his face in his arms, remaining silent.

Le Wuya pressed on, settling down beside him.

Zhi Jie shifted his shoulders slightly but didn't budge an inch.

Le Wuya poked Zhi Jie's shoulder. "Hungry. Got anything to eat?"

Zhi Jie went back to his usual tight-lipped self: "...No."

Le Wuya: "I do."

With that, he slowly started undoing his clothes.

Zhi Jie, stomach growling, couldn't help but watch.

And after a mock-serious search, he presented a handful of air with great ceremony: "Look, my true heart—still nice and warm."

Zhi Jie buried his face in his arms again, the corners of his mouth twitching up despite himself.

But his upper face stayed perfectly composed, looking utterly unimpressed.

Le Wuya let out another dramatic sigh: "Ah well. Our Xiaoliu can't see his teacher's true heart—how sad that makes me."

Zhi Jie wanted to object, but then again, that would be playing right into his teacher's hands. So he shut his mouth and just reached out to pull Le Wuya's lapels closed.

…It was cold. His teacher's body couldn't take the chill.

But Le Wuya grabbed his outstretched hand.

Then, something heavy landed in his palm.

It was a rose pastry.

Le Wuya smiled warmly. "So the treats your teacher brought—can Xiaoliu see those now?"

With his arm no longer covering his face, Zhi Jie's smile had nothing to hide it.

He just turned his head away, trying to sound dignified: "This... where did teacher get it from?"

Le Wuya said casually, "I swiped it from your dad's snack box while we were talking business."

Zhi Jie: "…"

Le Wuya remarked: "Looks good, but it's way too sweet. I had one before I came, and now my stomach's all backed up. It's yours."

Zhi Jie held up the rose pastry, took a bite, and chewed slowly.

The pastry tasted just right—he couldn't taste any cloying sweetness.

Maybe his teacher just didn't have a sweet tooth.

Seeing the kid was happy now, Le Wuya let out a long breath, stretched his legs out, and gazed up at the well opening: "Why didn't you yell for help?"

Zhi Jie: "I did. Nobody came."

Le Wuya plucked a stalk of foxtail grass, stuck it in his mouth, and said lazily: "Then I won't bother either. I'll just sit here with Xiaoliu for a bit."

And so they sat—for over an hour straight.

As the sun sank west, the small circle of light from the well's mouth gave way to the deep blue night sky, revealing a few scattered stars.

The autumn night was chilly. Seeing that Zhi Jie wore only a thin riding outfit, Le Wuya took off his overcoat and tossed it into his arms.

The garment, still warm from his teacher's body, landed over Zhi Jie's head.

He frowned. "Teacher…"

Le Wuya shook his head with a grin and tugged at his collar: "I have a wife who cares for me—she lined my undershirt with fleece early on. I'm not cold at all."

Then he turned with a grin: "Our Xiaoliu hasn't married yet, so he doesn't know how nice it is to have a wife to look after you."

Zhi Jie: "…"

He didn't refuse again, quietly accepting the gesture.

Seeing Le Wuya had closed his eyes, looking about to pass out from sleepiness, Zhi Jie hugged the garment to his chest, grabbed a corner, held it under his nose, and sniffed it on the sly.

"Smells nice, right?"

Le Wuya hadn't actually been asleep. He squinted and said smugly, "It's pine-branch incense. I love burning it when I bathe."

Somehow, even though he said it totally innocently, Zhi Jie's face turned bright red in the moonlight. He buried his face in the garment, leaving only his ears, bright red, sticking out.

Le Wuya frowned, puzzled, then thought the scene was kind of beautiful:

Starlight above, rosy cheeks below—they complemented each other perfectly.

By the time the moon was high and the courtyard breeze picked up, someone finally noticed the Sixth Prince and Lord Yue were missing.

Fortunately, their horses had all remained above, grazing side by side—peaceful and conspicuous at the same time.

Soon, a sea of torches came flooding toward them.

Before long, a rope came down from above.

The two came up into the light one after the other.

Seeing the Sixth Prince was safe, the junior eunuchs at Nanyuan breathed a huge sigh of relief.

But when Le Wuya was pulled up, a sharp-eyed eunuch took one look and shrieked: "Oh! Lord Yue, your leg!"

Le Wuya exhaled softly.

—When he fell into the well, a lock pin on the edge had slashed his right leg, leaving a deep, long gash.

All the blood had poured into his boots, soaking his socks through.

Fortunately, he was dressed in a dark robe, and in the dim light, you couldn't see the blood on him.

Seeing how badly he was hurt, yet he had shown not a trace of pain at the bottom of the well, only teasing him with a smile and light talk, Zhi Jie felt a pang in his chest, and his voice edged up a notch: "Teacher, what happened to you?..."

Le Wuya didn't see what the fuss was about: "You were already so angry, I didn't want to make you worry any more than you already were."

Zhi Jie wasn't letting him off the hook.

He flat-out pushed the already sprawled Le Wuya down, pulled his collar open, and slid his fingers inside.

...Where was the padded lining on the inside of his undergarment?

"See now?" Le Wuya lay back lazily in the soft mugwort, as if the pain had nothing to do with him, "...Your teacher's true heart is plain for all to see."

...

Le Wuya's edict of self-blame was cut short halfway.

Because the more he thought about it, the more he felt that he was, if not one of the greatest teachers in all history, at least one of the finest since the founding of Dayu.

As for why his student had suddenly turned gay, he had no clue.

Being gay wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

But Le Wuya always felt that whatever he had, that was what was wrong.

Seeing that Le Wuya gave no response for a long time, the severely injured Zhi Jie could no longer resist the overwhelming drowsiness and fell into a deep sleep.

But his sleeping posture was quite clever—he leaned his entire uninjured side against Le Wuya's chest, and if Le Wuya tried to set him down, he would inevitably touch his injured arm.

Le Wuya simply let him sleep on his chest, sifting through the many memories.

Where exactly had things gone wrong?