C162 — Kill that top scholar (29)

A few days later, Shen Jue suddenly woke up in the middle of the night. The moment he stirred, Wen Yurong beside him also awoke.

Wen Yurong’s voice was still drowsy: “Hmm? You’re awake?”

Shen Jue didn’t answer. He stared silently at the bed canopy above him for a long while. Then he sat up, trying to slip out of bed without disturbing Wen Yurong—but was pulled back into an embrace.

“What’s wrong?” Wen Yurong sat up too, wrapping his arms around Shen Jue from behind. His voice was low, with a hint of hoarseness.

Shen Jue frowned deeply. After a long time, he turned to look at Wen Yurong. His phoenix eyes were filled with confusion. “I… I…”

He repeated “I” several times, but never managed to say the rest.

Seeing this, Wen Yurong reached out to smooth the deep crease between Shen Jue’s brows. “Don’t rush. Just speak slowly.”

Shen Jue didn’t even know what he wanted to say. He just felt like he had forgotten so much. But he couldn’t even name what it was he had forgotten—so how could he explain it?

He could only stare blankly at the young man in front of him.

The room was dimly lit. Only a single red candle burned on the distant candlestick. In the flickering light, the youth’s features looked even softer. His eyes shimmered like spring water—warm and gentle.

Perhaps sensing Shen Jue’s helplessness, Wen Yurong gave a small, knowing smile. He pulled Shen Jue back into his arms and gently stroked his long hair. Then he lightly patted Shen Jue’s back and said softly, “It’s okay. If you don’t know what to say, then don’t say anything. Let’s sleep.”

Shen Jue rested his head on Wen Yurong’s shoulder. Something felt wrong—he could faintly sense it—but he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what.

He closed his eyes. Then, suddenly, he opened them wide, pushed Wen Yurong away, sat up straight, and asked:

“Who are you?”

The question was strange—borderline absurd—but Wen Yurong didn’t look surprised at all. Instead, he calmly answered:

“I’m Yueze.”

That was Wen Yurong’s courtesy name.

When Shen Jue heard “Yueze,” his eyes were full of confusion. He looked at Wen Yurong, his lips moved, but no sound came out. Wen Yurong, seeing this, gently pulled him into his arms again and murmured, “It’s alright. Take your time.”

 

Take your time?

What did that mean?

A faint floral scent drifted into Shen Jue’s nose—something between osmanthus and locust blossom. As he inhaled, his tension began to melt away. He dropped all his defenses, leaning into Wen Yurong’s arms. After a long while, he quietly repeated the name he had just heard:

“Yueze.”

“I’m here,” Wen Yurong replied.

…

The next morning, the servant noticed something odd about Shen Jue. He hadn’t smashed the medicine bowl.

The servant had prepared himself for another broken bowl and even left several backups in the kitchen. But this time, when he placed the bowl on the table, Shen Jue simply picked it up and drank the medicine—though he did frown a little as he drank.

The servant, being mute, couldn’t ask why. He simply took the empty bowl and left.

While chopping wood in the courtyard, he glanced toward the main house—and saw Shen Jue coming out.

Shen Jue walked over to the swing and sat down. The rabbit had long since been let out of its cage and seemed unusually fond of Shen Jue. The moment it saw him, it hopped over to his feet.

The servant moved to catch the rabbit and shoo it away, but after just a few steps, he froze.

Shen Jue—who had never shown any interest in the rabbit before—bent down and picked it up.

He sat there, rabbit in his lap, gently stroking its fur while gazing at the tall locust tree outside the courtyard. The rabbit, clearly enjoying the attention, nestled into Shen Jue’s lap and didn’t move, perfectly content.

Although the servant found Shen Jue’s behavior odd, he quickly brushed it off. After all, Shen Jue was someone with “madness”—maybe he was just having a good day.

That evening, Wen Yurong returned home earlier than usual, carrying a fish with him. Since he was back early, he personally cooked dinner.

The servant’s cooking was decent, but Shen Jue rarely ate much. So, Wen Yurong would make porridge in the morning before leaving and instruct the servant when to serve it. Lunch had to be left to the servant, but as long as he returned early, Wen Yurong always insisted on cooking dinner himself.

The servant never ate with them. He dined alone in his small room. After finishing his own meal, he went to check whether Wen Yurong and Shen Jue had finished theirs—so he could clear the dishes.

But when he reached the front room, he paused at the door. Peeking inside, he was stunned.

Shen Jue was sitting on Wen Yurong’s lap, his face buried in the other man’s neck. His long hair cascaded over both their shoulders like a waterfall. Wen Yurong had his head slightly bowed, seemingly whispering something into Shen Jue’s ear. But then, as if sensing someone’s gaze, he looked up—and his eyes met the servant’s.

A sudden chill ran down the servant’s spine. He looked away immediately and fled back to his room, only realizing once he was safely inside that Wen Yurong’s gaze had been… different.

Usually, Wen Yurong’s eyes always carried a gentle warmth—a faint smile that made him seem approachable. But just now, there was no smile in those eyes. They were deep and still, like a bottomless well. And what lay beneath that well’s surface… the servant dared not guess.

…

A few days later, Wen Yurong did something unprecedented—he stayed home.

He first prepared breakfast, then went to wake Shen Jue. Shen Jue, now that it was summer, was less sensitive to the cold and in visibly better spirits.

Wen Yurong gently woke him, helped him dress and wash, and then led him to the front room for breakfast.

After the meal, Wen Yurong turned to the servant and said, “I’m taking today off. I’ll take him out for a walk. You don’t need to buy groceries—I’ll bring them back.”

The servant was surprised. He had never seen Wen Yurong take Shen Jue outside. He looked over at Shen Jue, who stood beside Wen Yurong with a tired expression, his gaze wandering off somewhere.

Having given his instructions, Wen Yurong took Shen Jue’s hand and led him out. Even once they were outside, he didn’t let go.

“There are a lot of people outside,” he whispered to Shen Jue, “Stay close to me.”

“Mm,” Shen Jue replied quietly, obediently following.

This was Shen Jue’s first time walking the streets of Jinling. His eyes darted everywhere, overwhelmed by the sights.

As they passed a teahouse, Shen Jue suddenly stopped, staring at the lively crowd inside. He turned to Wen Yurong and asked, “Yueze, can I go in there?”

“Of course,” Wen Yurong smiled and led him in.

The two of them had been walking hand in hand the whole time, drawing many stares. Although Jinling was known for its liberal customs and didn’t frown upon male companions, it was still rare to see two men openly holding hands in public—especially ones so well-dressed and noble in bearing.

Wen Yurong ignored the stares. Once inside, he chose a corner seat. Shen Jue sat down and immediately began looking around, his gaze finally settling on a nearby table where a group of men were shelling sunflower seeds while listening to the storyteller.

Wen Yurong noticed and called over a waiter to order some sunflower seeds and tea.

When the snacks arrived, Wen Yurong leaned in and said softly, “You can eat some—but not too much.”

“Okay,” Shen Jue nodded, then glanced again at the nearby table. Imitating them, he reached out, grabbed a handful of seeds, and began to snack.

Wen Yurong had actually wanted to get a private room, but the teahouse was doing brisk business that day. All the second-floor rooms were full, so he had no choice but to settle for a seat in the main hall.

They hadn’t been seated long before others began to notice them. Most people’s attention went straight to Wen Yurong—his appearance and bearing made him hard to ignore. But a few sharp-eyed individuals were drawn to Shen Jue, sitting quietly at his side, cracking sunflower seeds.

Shen Jue looked… a little strange.

Though he didn’t appear especially young, his features were unusually clean, almost innocent—so much so that even young men in their prime might not possess eyes as clear and untainted as his.

Shen Jue didn’t notice he was being watched. He was entirely focused on the storyteller, listening intently while idly shelling sunflower seeds. The tale was about a famous emperor from the previous dynasty—Murong Xiu, known both for his beauty and scandal.

The storyteller’s voice rang out:

“They say Murong Xiu was as beautiful as a woman, and used that beauty to ascend the throne. But in the end, he and the regent turned against each other in a bitter feud.”

“It’s said Murong Xiu’s hatred stemmed from a single individual—someone he valued more than the empire itself, for whom he would stop at nothing, not even killing the regent.”

At that, the storyteller shook his head dramatically.

“Ah… what a fool.”

Someone in the audience shouted:

“Old man, don’t just shake your head—who was it? Man or woman?”

The storyteller chuckled, “No need to rush. I’ll tell you now. That person… was neither man nor woman. A eunuch.”

The room exploded into shocked murmurs.

Shen Jue, who had been munching on a seed, froze mid-bite. He slowly put the rest of the sunflower seeds back on the plate.

Wen Yurong wasn’t paying much attention—he found most of these stories to be overly dramatized fictions. But when he saw Shen Jue stop eating, he pulled out a handkerchief and gently wiped Shen Jue’s hands.

“Not hungry anymore?”

“No,” Shen Jue replied softly.

Meanwhile, the storyteller was still going on, describing in vivid, theatrical detail how Emperor Murong Xiu and a eunuch had fallen in love, defied the world, and finally died together. The crowd gasped and sighed at all the right moments, enraptured by the tragic tale.

Once the story ended, the next one was about a wealthy merchant’s rise to fortune. It was clearly less exciting—people started to drift out.

But Shen Jue listened to that one too, only getting up with Wen Yurong once it finished.

Afterward, they went to the market to buy groceries. Many vendors recognized Wen Yurong and greeted him warmly. He responded to each of them politely and led Shen Jue to the fish stall first.

Wen Yurong had noticed Shen Jue liked fish soup, so he planned to make it again. While picking out fish, he let go of Shen Jue’s hand for a moment.

Shen Jue stood beside him, watching for a bit, then looked away toward the rest of the street.

The street was long and bustling, with stalls selling all kinds of things. When he spotted a rabbit vendor, he suddenly thought of the rabbit back at home. On impulse, he walked over to take a look.

By the time Wen Yurong finished paying and turned around, Shen Jue was gone.
.
His expression instantly changed as he scanned the crowd, only to spot Shen Jue standing in front of the rabbit stall. But Shen Jue wasn’t alone—a richly dressed young man stood beside him.

That young man had followed them from the teahouse.

At first, it was Wen Yurong who had caught his eye, but by the time they left, his attention had shifted entirely to Shen Jue.

He hadn’t planned anything in particular—just felt compelled to strike up a conversation.

“Brother, thinking of buying a rabbit?” he said with a friendly smile.

But Shen Jue didn’t respond at all.

He gave an awkward smile, about to say something more, but someone suddenly blocked his way.

“Excuse me, may I ask what your business is?”

The young man looked and recognized the person as someone from the teahouse earlier. He hurriedly replied, “I’m not doing anything, just wanted to make friends.”

Wen Yurong’s eyes were cold and indifferent. “No need.” With that, he grabbed Shen Jue’s wrist and walked away. Shen Jue’s gaze was still fixed on the rabbit, and as he was being pulled away, he couldn’t help but say, “Yueze, I want to buy a rabbit.”

Hearing this, Wen Yurong had no choice but to turn back. After buying the rabbit, he took Shen Jue and left, while the brocade-clad young man watched their backs and sighed deeply.

When he returned to the mansion, he went straight to the backyard training ground, where he indeed saw his cousin.

“Cousin, why are you always training here with me?” The young man sat down in the pavilion. “Isn’t it too hot to train in such weather?”

Those on the training ground chuckled upon hearing this. One turned around and said, “What’s up? Don’t want me here? Then I’ll leave.”

“Forget it, just stay here, so your aunt won’t keep nagging you to get married.” The young man poured a cup of cold tea and invited the others to drink.

The newcomer didn’t hesitate, taking his coat from a servant and casually putting it on before striding over.

The young man handed him the cold tea, then suddenly thought of the person he had just encountered and sighed quietly.

The newcomer raised an eyebrow. “Cousin, why the sigh?”

The young man cleared his throat and told him everything that had happened earlier, then added, “In all my life, I’ve never met someone so contradictory. Clearly imposing, like a former official, speaking with a Beijing accent, yet his demeanor and mannerisms are like a young boy. Very strange.”

The newcomer shook his head. “Cousin, have you seen another beauty that’s made you unable to move again?”

“Not really. Although that person’s eyes are beautiful, the rest of his appearance is quite plain. But those phoenix eyes are really striking.” The young man looked up and suddenly exclaimed, “Why do I feel like you two look somewhat alike? Your face shape, your eyes… there’s some resemblance.”

The other had been smiling casually but stopped halfway, his smile frozen. “You said that person has phoenix eyes, is about thirty years old, speaks with a Beijing accent, and looks somewhat like me?”

“Yeah.” The young man nodded.

After saying this, he noticed his cousin’s expression change, and the cousin immediately put down his cup and left. The young man was stunned for a moment, then stood up quickly and called out, “Cousin, where are you going?”

“Back to the prince’s mansion.”

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