Chapter 84: Heartfelt Intentions (Part 3)

By the time the group arrived at Nanting, it was already dawn.

The city gates of Nanting County had just opened, allowing the carriage to roll straight in.

The county office was brightly lit, its lamps having burned all night without being extinguished.

Upon hearing from the bailiff that the magistrate and the noble guest had returned safely, Deputy Magistrate Sun nearly turned into a moth in a frenzy, flapping out in high spirits.

Then he saw the Sixth Prince being helped down from the carriage, his face deathly pale.

Torn between elation and horror, he nearly collapsed onto the steps.

Ru Feng, who had stayed behind at the Nanting county office, kept his cool.

He first unwrapped the bandages to check Xiang Zhijie's wounds, then had someone fetch a physician—only the county's most experienced doctor would do, and no knocking on every door, so as not to stir up the whole town.

With Le Wuya at the helm and Ru Feng calling the shots, the Nanting county office quickly snapped out of its headless-chicken mode and got running smoothly inside and out.

Ru Feng worked with remarkable efficiency; no matter how tangled the mess of trivial matters placed before him, he sliced through them with surgical precision.

Before the physician had even arrived, he'd already sealed up the hush money and a little something extra for the doctor.

With Ru Feng's able assistance, Le Wuya found himself twiddling his thumbs.

Then it was time to attend to official business.

The county office crew had pulled an all-nighter, and it surely wasn't just because the Sixth Prince and the magistrate had failed to come back without a word.

Sure enough, when he summoned Qin Xingyue for questioning, everything was just as he'd figured.

The two fugitives who'd fled to Nanting to fence stolen goods were indeed hooked on opium.

Not long after Le Wuya and his party left the county, Qin Xingyue noticed the two men trembling uncontrollably, which soon escalated into wild screaming and raving, bordering on madness. Not about to take any chances, he'd urgently consulted Deputy Magistrate Sun in the middle of the night.

Deputy Magistrate Sun had just settled into his warm bed when this news sent him shooting out of it.

He'd figured Qin Xingyue was just crying wolf, but when he personally went to the prison and saw the two men rolling on the ground, groaning and wailing, Deputy Magistrate Sun had seen enough in his day to know exactly what was going on.

Any trace of sleepiness evaporated on the spot.

As Le Wuya had said, Nanting County didn't carry dead weight.

In recent years, Xingtai County had been running smooth and prosperous, which had long been the envy of other county clerks.

Sun Ru loved to play politics and had more than once colluded with the previous magistrate in cooking the books and papering over the truth. He'd always had a twisted mind, so it didn't take him long to put two and two together—there might be a big secret behind the Xingtai massacre.

The Dayu dynasty had always banned growing and selling opium across the entire realm. Even Sun Ru, desperate for money to grease the wheels of promotion, refused to touch that dirty money.

What was the point of earning money you'd never live to spend?

The way these two were suffering made it plain they'd been hooked on opium for a long time.

If you tried to pass them off as bandits, that didn't add up either.

Sun Ru knew exactly how bandits operated in Yizhou:

Those guys were able-bodied men who couldn't make a living any other way, so they holed up in the mountains. They didn't want much—just enough to eat and drink their fill. Half the year they were idle and restless, bleary-eyed and starving, scheming about where to raid for food. How would they have the time or money to play at being rich young lords and smoke opium?

So that got him thinking—just who the hell were these two?

Deputy Magistrate Sun sent a rider racing to the prefectural capital to report to the magistrate, while also rounding up some painkilling herbs, brewing a strong batch, and pouring it down the two men's throats to take the edge off for now.

These two witnesses were too valuable to let them fly off the handle and bash their brains out.

Deputy Magistrate Sun was brimming with ambition, hoping to pick apart another blockbuster case piece by piece. Little did he know, the soldiers he sent to the prefectural capital and Le Wuya's crew, who'd stopped at the courier station to change, just missed each other completely.

Nor did he anticipate that the magistrate would take the Sixth Prince and head straight for that seemingly peaceful hornet's nest in Xingtai.

Seeing the Sixth Prince return wounded, Deputy Magistrate Sun sat in the courtyard staring blankly.

...For the first time in his life, he actually thought about quitting and fading into obscurity.

In this short half-year, he felt his lifespan had been cut at least in half.

Le Wuya couldn't have cared less about his misery.

Seeing his hunch pay off, he got fired up all over again.

He strutted around the yard with his hands on his hips for a while, then hollered: "Qin Xingyue!"

Qin Xingyue was jonesing for a drink; he leaned against a pillar in the front hall, clutching his empty wineskin, nodding off.

When Qin Xingyue didn't answer, Le Wuya kicked the railing: "Hey, Qin! I'll count to three—get your ass over here!"

Qin Xingyue jolted awake, shot up like a rocket, and in three quick strides dashed to Le Wuya's side.

Only when he was standing right in front of a smirking Le Wuya did he glance back, dazed, at where he'd been.

His soul seemed to still be lazily nestled against the hall pillar, continuing its life as a slovenly drunkard.

But his body was standing there, sharp as a tack, in front of the magistrate.

Qin Xingyue licked his lips and grinned to himself, head down: Well, I'll be damned.

That handsome demon of a magistrate had given him his orders—go plant himself in the jail, and the moment those two showed signs of withdrawal, hold court immediately.

Done with his orders, Le Wuya turned and made for another guest room in the compound.

When he kicked the door open with a bang, Wen Ren, half-naked, was scared half to death.

Though he wasn't badly hurt, the night of frantic running had left him scraped up and bruised all over.

Le Wuya was a little surprised—the guy usually looked skinny, but he'd secretly packed on a nice set of muscles.

Le Wuya quickly looked away.

Because the man before him was about to turn as red as a boiled shrimp.

Seeing him get so flustered, Le Wuya couldn't help but find it funny. He walked over on his own, took the ointment from his hand: "Turn around."

His back was a mess of nasty scrapes he couldn't possibly reach on his own.

"Don't go home for the next few days," Le Wuya said as he applied the cooling ointment around the wounds, rambling on. "I'll send someone to buy some firewood and grain later. Go tell your mother that I'm keeping you at the office on business. Once the marks on your face heal up a bit, you can head home. The old lady's getting on in years—we can't scare her half to death, or she'll never let you run with me again."

When Le Wuya said "mother," he was talking about Ming's mom.

But the way he said it had a soft, natural warmth that was downright pleasant to hear.

Wen Ren Yue had his back to him, his chest gently rising and falling.

The slight sting of his wounds was almost negligible compared to the fierce pounding of his heart.

A small, unquenchable flame burned deep in his chest, scorching, blazing, urging him to speak, to say something—anything.

His opening words were fairly plain: "My mother is gone."

Le Wuya, intent on the wounds in front of him, replied absently, "Mm, mine too."

"The mother I have now isn't my real mother either."

Le Wuya thought of his own absurd past life, of the mother who had called him "Ali," and felt a bitter ache in his heart. He gave a soft "Mm" in response: "What a coincidence, mine too."

Wen Ren Yue blurted, "I was thinking—perhaps we could take care of Mother together, how about it?"

Le Wuya was still lost in thought: "Aren't we already taking care of her together now?"

Wen Ren Yue, still facing away: "I mean from now on, for the rest of our lives."

Le Wuya blinked. "Ah."

Le Wuya: "...Ah?"

Sensing that this conversation was taking an awkward turn, he moved to withdraw his hand, but Wen Ren Yue caught it, turning around to face him. His gaze was clear as jade, with no hint of impropriety.

Though his face was flushed bright red, his back was ramrod-straight, his demeanor open and honest, and his words were clear and unwavering: "Whether you are Brother Gu, Brother Le, or anyone else, for these past six months, Wen Ren Ming Ke has respected you, valued you, and loved you. Today, when you risked your life to lead the pursuers away, I thought—if anything were to happen to you, I would go with you, and that wouldn't be a wasted life."

Le Wuya gave a dry laugh: "...Ha ha, well, that truly is a friendship that crosses mountains and rivers."

Wen Ren Yue said firmly: "I don't want to be just your friend."

Le Wuya: "..."

Seeing Le Wuya fall silent, Wen Ren Yue did not push the issue.

He let go of Le Wuya's hand and said softly, "This is my heart, not yours. I say this today only to tell you: you don't have to guess how I feel. I am here. Whenever you come to give me your answer, I will respond—without hesitation, without refusal."

Just like the questions Le Wuya had asked him.

He accepted them all, welcoming each one gladly.

Le Wuya quickly left the room. Looking up at the sliver of a waning moon, he felt a pang of melancholy.

He racked his brain, unable to fathom what he had done to attract such a flood of romantic entanglements.

He wasn't especially worried about Wen Ren Yue.

Their meeting had begun in a time of crisis, so of course Wen Ren Yue had grown to depend on him entirely. Over these six months, Le Wuya had taught him both letters and martial arts. Given Wen Ren Yue's gentle and upright nature, finding himself unable to repay such kindness, the only solution he could think of was to "offer himself" in lifelong companionship.

Once he stepped out into the wider world and saw how vast it truly was, he would naturally find more choices and wouldn't remain stuck by Le Wuya's side.

By comparison, Le Wuya was more concerned that his own teaching had gone wrong.

While Le Wuya was reflecting on himself under the moonlight, Qin Xingyue, who had just gone to the southern city prison, rushed back with urgent news: the two prisoners' cravings were getting bad—they were already yawning nonstop.

Le Wuya immediately turned his mind back to business, announcing the drum and opening court for trial.

The common folk had little in the way of entertainment, and when Le Wuya presided over court sessions, he often delivered witty remarks that drew laughter. Over time, "His Honor's Court" had become a spectacle in Nanting. The moment the court drum sounded, a devoted crowd would stream toward the county office—hair uncombed, faces unwashed, hair disheveled and breakfast in hand, all rushing to watch the show.

But the prisoners this time were truly exceptional. Before Le Wuya had even asked a few questions, they began trembling as if struck by cold in the sweltering summer heat, their teeth chattering audibly as they spilled out their crimes like beans poured from a bamboo tube.

What they confessed matched almost exactly what Le Wuya had deduced when confronting Shao Hongzhen in Yin Family Village.

The much-praised good official, Magistrate Shao, had planted vast fields of opium poppies in Yin Family Village. The Yin and Hang families there refined them into raw opium, which was then transported out of the mountains under the guise of grain shipments.

These two men had once been bandits of the Xiaojiatuo Mountains near Yin Family Village.

Two years prior, the moment Magistrate Shao took office, he had come alone to their stronghold and offered them amnesty, promising them a stable livelihood and the chance to hold their heads high from then on.

They had originally been hunters in the nearby mountains—living off the land when game was plentiful, and turning to robbery down the mountain when it wasn't.

Seduced by the bright future Magistrate Shao had painted, they willingly became enforcers and guards for Yin Family Village.

One group was stationed near the opium fields, setting up crossbows and training villagers in their use to repel outsiders.

These two, along with another group, were assigned to the Yin and Hang households as their private guards, protecting them from intruders who might discover their secret enterprise.

Magistrate Shao kept his word, and indeed brought prosperity to Yin Family Village.

However, once their bellies were full and their bodies warm, these men began to grow restless.

This stuff was so expensive—what could it possibly taste like?

They were in prime position to help themselves, quietly skimming some off the top. Surely no one would notice.

Of course, they kept this hidden from the villagers of the Yin and Hang families.

These native-born villagers were Magistrate Shao's diehard loyalists, revering him like a deity. They would never have tolerated such theft from within.

Their thievery had gone smoothly for a while.

But their brief run of good fortune came to an end just days ago.

Late that night, as they were in the midst of a smoke, lost in a dreamlike haze, the head of the Yin family pushed open the door and caught them red-handed.

In his shock, he refused to let it go, raising a ruckus and insisting he would report the matter to Magistrate Shao.

They had just taken a hit, their bodies and minds floating on clouds, feeling like kings of the world—how could they tolerate some mortal jumping and squawking before them?

So the Yin family patriarch took an axe to the head and crumpled like a sack of flour.

But the commotion he made drew others.

That night, the entire Yin household ran with blood, blooming into a field of glorious poppies.

By the time they came to their senses, things had spiraled beyond any hope of redemption.

In their panic, the Yin guards found the Hang guards.

When the Hang guards heard what had happened, they too were dumbstruck.

Like their counterparts at the Yin estate, they had also been skimming more than their fair share.

With the Yin family wiped out, Magistrate Shao would surely launch an investigation in his fury—and wouldn't their own misdeeds be exposed along with it?

After a quick discussion, they reached an agreement:

Time to run.

They took some opium paste, made off with the valuables of the Yin and Hang families, along with the identity documents they had looted during their bandit days, and scattered in all directions.

These two unfortunate souls who ended up in Nanting were caught in a torrential downpour on the road, which ruined the opium they valued most.

Helpless, they had to send the one with a milder addiction, before his cravings kicked in, to venture into Nanting and pawn the stolen goods in exchange for something to ease their suffering.

As for the wound on the severely injured man's leg, it was self-inflicted during a fit of withdrawal, when the itching and pain became unbearable.

Having barely managed to confess this much, they could no longer endure it, wailing and howling like banshees, repeatedly banging their heads on the ground, crying out, "Your Honor! Have mercy! Just one puff! Let us live!!"

The people of Nanting, witnessing this, were dumbfounded, as if they'd stumbled into a living hell, watching King Yan torture little demons firsthand.

Le Wuya, seeing the trembling citizens, nodded slightly.

Good. This worked better than a thousand anti-opium lectures.

Le Wuya had the clerk get the two to sign and fingerprint their confessions, then had them thrown into prison, shackled hand and foot, chained, and barred from killing themselves. He ordered daily decoctions of herbal medicine to slightly ease the agony of a thousand ants biting their hearts, awaiting higher authorities' interrogation.

These confessions were much as Le Wuya had speculated, so he was not surprised.

This wasn't Nanting's business, and he couldn't overstep by going to Xingtai to play magistrate and meddle. He only needed to stay put in Nanting and await further instructions.

Moreover, for Le Wuya, he had more pressing matters to worry about.

He mulled over what Zhi Jie had said in the carriage and Wen Ren's invitation, his ears getting hot just thinking about it.

To verify whether he had truly failed in his teaching, Le Wuya, as soon as he finished the case, returned to his study, sat at his desk, and wrote a lengthy letter, planning to have Xiaoliu deliver it to the residence of the seventh young master in due time.

He employed ornate rhetoric, subtle metaphors, and exquisite parallelism to ask one question:

Little Seven, you wouldn't happen to be a homosexual, would you?