Chapter 12: If Only They Were Normal

"Wife..."

Qi Shaolin was thoroughly confused by Jiang Luan's push, feeling a bit wronged. "Are you repulsed by me?"

Jiang Luan was in a state of great emotional turmoil and had no energy to comfort Qi Shaolin. He managed a strained smile. "Brother Lin, I'm not feeling well. Could you go find another room to sleep in tonight?"

"All right."

Qi Shaolin didn't ask why; he obediently climbed out of bed and gathered his bedding. As he bent down to put on his shoes, his short undershirt rode up, revealing a glimpse of his waist. Jiang Luan stared unconsciously, thinking to himself that the young man’s waist was lean, powerful, and remarkably well-formed.

Jiang Luan: "..."

*Dammit, why do I think a man looks attractive?!*

"Then, wife, I'll go sleep elsewhere."

Seemingly oblivious to having been leered at, Qi Shaolin bade Jiang Luan farewell and trotted off with his bedding in his arms. Once the door clicked shut, Jiang Luan began pummeling the mattress.

*I’m actually getting turned on by someone of the same sex...* Jiang Luan thought in despair. Whether it was the influence of the original body's flirtatious nature or the "Ge" (effeminate male) heat cycle, the only thing certain was that he was physically affected by Qi Shaolin.

*But I'm not gay! I like long-legged, thin-waisted women, not long-legged, thin-waisted men!* Jiang Luan roared silently in his heart. Furthermore, Qi Shaolin’s situation was unique—he wasn't just a man; he was a man with a diminished mental capacity. Even if he were physically mature, his intellect was like that of a child. This wasn't just immoral; it was twisted!

Jiang Luan jumped out of bed, pacing the room with his hands behind his back. He wasn't sure if he only felt this way toward Qi Shaolin or if he was becoming indiscriminate toward all men. If it were only the former, it would be easy to manage—just pack up and leave. But if it were the latter...

Jiang Luan paused, looking down at himself. *No, no! That would be too great a loss.*

After a few laps, he was out of breath and had to sit down to drink some water. Gazing at the glass, he couldn't help but recall how the "little fool" had cared for him when he was sick the previous night. Growing up as an orphan, and one of the oldest in the orphanage, very few people had ever asked if Jiang Luan was tired. From the very beginning, he had lost the two people who should have cared for him most. He had once had close mentors and best friends, but life—graduation, work, marriage, children—had swept them away. People were always either too busy living or too busy dying. In the end, he had always been alone.

Jiang Luan realized why he cared so much about Qi Shaolin: because the little fool needed him. And, in turn, didn't he also need to be "needed"? A ridiculous thought suddenly surfaced in his mind: *If Brother Lin were mentally sound, could I be gay for him?*

Unfortunately, there were no "ifs."

...

The next day, Jiang Luan rose lazily. He was the type to let worries come and go quickly—he’d deal with things when they happened. Qi Shaolin’s bedding was back on the floor, and Jiang Luan saw him squatting by a potted plant, fiddling with it.

"Isn't that from the courtyard? Why did you bring it inside?" Jiang Luan yawned, leaning against the headboard. He recognized it as a Murraya (Orange Jasmine); there were several such lush, fragrant plants in the yard.

Seeing Jiang Luan awake, Qi Shaolin moved the plant toward him. "Lin'er watered it so many times, but it still died. Look, wife, it's so strange!"

"It probably died because you overwatered it!" Jiang Luan scoffed.

"No!" Qi Shaolin sniffled, defending himself. "Several others died before, that's why I started watering them!"

"Oh? Let me see." Jiang Luan hadn't thought much of it—Qi Shaolin could barely take care of himself, let alone plants. He looked at the Murraya. The branches were still lush, but the leaves had curled and withered yellow, and the roots were rotting. He wondered what kind of gardening skills could produce such a result... Wait, a plant?

Jiang Luan suddenly recalled plots from palace intrigue dramas where concubines would tamper with plants—poisoning them or using conflicting medicinal properties. *But no, that's just television nonsense, right?* Even so, he sent Qi Shaolin to fetch Zuo Lang.

"Dou Kou’s confidant is a maid named Huazhao; she is the one who always schemes for him," Zuo Lang explained calmly after arriving. "But I’m not entirely sure what they are up to."

Jiang Luan thought for a moment. "Do you think this plant could have been tampered with?"

"It’s hard to say," Zuo Lang replied. "I only know that all the potted plants were ordered by Dou Kou. Perhaps I can take a few leaves and have Dr. Xu examine them."

"Good, go ahead."

After Zuo Lang left, Jiang Luan ate breakfast and sat in the courtyard, weaving a ball out of rattan vines. Qi Shaolin squatted nearby like a loyal dog, watching curiously. "Wife, what are you doing?"

"A ball for kick-ball. Have you seen one?" Jiang Luan asked.

"No..." Qi Shaolin replied honestly.

Back at the orphanage, Jiang Luan had often made toys for the younger children, so making a ball was a piece of cake. His long fingers danced with the rattan, dazzling Qi Shaolin. Before long, he had the prototype of a ball. He bounced it in his hand. "A bit light, but it'll do for now. I'll make a heavier one later."

Qi Shaolin stood blankly as Jiang Luan walked to the center of the courtyard. Jiang Luan tossed the ball, juggling it with his knees and shoulders, performing a few tricks. The rattan ball seemed to be magnetized to him, fluttering like a butterfly. Qi Shaolin was mesmerized, clapping enthusiastically. "Wife is so amazing!"

After a few kicks, Jiang Luan grew winded. He looked at Qi Shaolin’s excited face and gave a mischievous grin. "Brother Lin, catch!"

He kicked the ball, sending it soaring straight toward Qi Shaolin.

Qi Shaolin: "!!"

He scrambled to catch it, only to have the ball smack him on the head. "Haha, you’re so clumsy!" Jiang Luan laughed, teasing Qi Shaolin as he would a big dog. Qi Shaolin rubbed his head, picked up the ball, and played with it, clearly enchanted.

"I'll make you a better one another day," Jiang Luan promised.

"Hehe, let's play now, wife!" Qi Shaolin walked toward him, but stopped suddenly. "Father."

Jiang Luan blinked and turned to see Prince Su Ping standing at the gate, staring at them with suspicion.

"What are you doing?" the Prince asked.

"Playing ball," Jiang Luan replied, tilting his head. "Does the Prince wish to join?"

"I’m not a child," the Prince sneered. "I heard you killed the plants in the East Wing again. I’ve brought some more. Bring them in."

The Prince’s servants brought in twelve large, neat potted Murraya plants. As they set them down, Jiang Luan bowed. "Thank you, Your Highness. But they are merely plants; why trouble yourself to come personally?"

"I heard you were ill and wanted to see if you were dead yet," the Prince scoffed. "You seem quite lively, though."

Jiang Luan didn't care to trade barbs with the "Lich King," but he kept up appearances. "Thank you for your concern, and thank you for yesterday's gift."

"That was Yan'er's idea," the Prince glanced at him. "But kindness is wasted on the ungrateful. There’s a fresh batch of ginseng at the market, so I’ll have that girl stop doing things that irritate people."

Jiang Luan remained expressionless. "It seems the harvest is good; the year is shaping up well."

"You..." The Prince pointed a finger at him, wanting to say something but stopping himself. Finally, he snorted, "Take care of yourself," and turned to leave.

Jiang Luan watched the Prince leave as inexplicably as he had arrived. He ran his long fingers over the fresh plants, a look of doubt on his face.

By late afternoon, Zuo Lang still hadn't returned. Qi Shaolin spent the afternoon accompanying Jiang Luan, though he was clumsy and kept tripping, ending up covered in mud.

"Hahaha! Brother Lin, you're so clumsy!" Jiang Luan laughed ruthlessly.

"Wife, tell me again..." Qi Shaolin complained, trying to hug him.

"Don't move! Don't you dare hug me!" Jiang Luan held his hands against Qi Shaolin’s chest, but the young man still managed to smear mud on his face.

Just as they were fooling around, Zuo Lang walked into the courtyard with a solemn expression. Seeing the look on his face, Jiang Luan kicked the ball over the wall. "Go get it, Lin!"

After Qi Shaolin ran off, Jiang Luan turned to Zuo Lang. "Well? Is there a problem with the Murraya?"

Zuo Lang hesitated. "No."

Jiang Luan: "..."

To be honest, this answer was completely unexpected. He had already concluded the Prince couldn't be that kind, but Zuo Lang added:

"Precisely because there is no problem, that is the biggest problem of all."