Chapter 25

Wen Biesang was not very good at turning people away.

To be precise, he was not very good at turning away people who lacked the social awareness to leave.

The words he could manage to say were limited to only a few phrases, yet there were always those who could pretend not to understand, and for that, he was truly helpless. The last time he had encountered such a person was back in Junzi City.

Wen Biesang swallowed his cold medicine with water. The moment the pill slid down his throat, he silently narrowed his eyes, his expression betraying a restrained shiver.

Cheng Yun subconsciously felt his own pockets, only to remember that he had long since given up the habit of carrying snacks on his person. He realized that the man in front of him was somewhat delicate—afraid of being startled, afraid of pain, afraid of mice, and even afraid of bitterness. He was nothing like someone who spent his life wandering the pugilistic world.

"I have a suggestion," Cheng Yun said, drinking water to wash away the bitterness in his mouth. "Why don't you come to the Crown Prince's residence to practice the zither? The space is larger, you won't disturb anyone, and there are underground heating flues to keep you warm."

Wen Biesang did not understand this, nor did he agree. "I am going to sleep."

He stopped trying to drive his guest away, rose from the charcoal brazier, returned to the bed, and let down the cotton-linen curtains. Turning over to lie inside, Wen Biesang closed his eyes, yet he remained vigilant, listening for the other man’s movements. Based on his understanding of Gong Wuchang, this fellow would surely leave before long if no one paid him any mind.

Wen Biesang did not trust his own hearing much; although he had not heard the man leave, as the cold medicine took effect and his mind grew hazy, he assumed the other had departed.

"The patrols in Shengjing have increased recently, and they are consciously screening for anyone carrying firearms. Presumably, Zhou Cangshu is using the Prince of Chu to hunt you down."

Wen Biesang felt a bit dazed. Only when he had cleared his head slightly did he realize the man had not left. "Thank you."

"Unless you are in an extreme situation, you must not use firearms."

"Mm."

"Tomorrow, I shall accompany you out of the city and teach you the zither. How about that?"

"No need."

"I am certain I play better than the tutor Song Qianfan found for you."

"Sleepy."

"..."

The room fell silent, and Wen Biesang soon drifted into a deep sleep, his hand still gripping the small crossbow beside his pillow.

Wen Biesang woke up on his own. The room was silent, yet it felt slightly warmer than usual. Pushing aside the bed curtains, he immediately saw Crown Prince Cheng Yun still sitting on the stool. The man was leaning slightly to one side, his hands pressed against the small table that was a bit higher than the stool, appearing to be in a deep sleep.

The charcoal fire, which should have gone out, was still burning.

What on earth is this Gong Wuchang playing at? Wen Biesang was utterly baffled.

Just then, the other man suddenly opened his eyes. Wen Biesang sat still, watching as the man rubbed his forehead. A slightly hoarse voice reached his ears: "Why is there a rooster crowing in this alley?"

Wen Biesang listened intently and managed to hear a faint sound. "I wonder if there is a dog barking, too."

"It sounds like a puppy," Cheng Yun said. "Full of spirit."

One could barely hear such things in the courtyard, but with the doors and windows of the room shut tight, Wen Biesang could hardly hear most sounds. He said nothing. Cheng Yun rubbed his numb forearm, looking as if he were still drowsy. "The neighbor's child was crying all night, and there was a couple across the way arguing. How on earth do you manage to live here..." And sleep so soundly at that.

After washing up, Wen Biesang prepared to leave. Cheng Yun followed suit, putting on his mask and whispering, "Let me tell you something interesting."

Wen Biesang kept his eyes forward. "Mm."

"It's the house to your left. A woman arrived in the middle of the night. She is actually the personal maid of a young master from a wealthy family. The two are deeply in love, whispering their hearts to each other in the night, plotting to escape Shengjing."

"Oh."

"...Is that all the reaction I get?"

"Are you not going back?"

"Do you think I want to..."

Wen Biesang looked over at him, and Cheng Yun softened his voice: "I am concerned for your safety."

The dream last night had truly made him restless. He hoped it would happen soon so he wouldn't have to live in constant dread, yet he also hoped it wouldn't happen at all, as this rabbit would surely be terrified again.

"If you want to lose your temper, just go ahead," Wen Biesang said. "Don't bottle it up."

Pressed by the mask, his expression was unreadable, but he seemed to let out a chuckle. "I'm not losing my temper. I won't lose my temper with you anymore."

Wen Biesang stopped in his tracks. "Why?"

"..." Under the mask, his throat moved. This fellow was always particularly earnest when he shouldn't be.

Cheng Yun turned his gaze away, and Wen Biesang tilted his head, his eyes following the other's gaze.

"Must you have a reason?"

Wen Biesang thought for a moment. "It’s not necessary."

He continued walking. A few steps later, Cheng Yun caught up. "Didn't you agree to work for me? I won't bully you from now on; that is only basic."

"That is not what you said before."

"And what did I say?"

"My affairs are not important," Wen Biesang said. "Everything must be secondary to the Crown Prince's orders. I should be at your beck and call, ready to be summoned or dismissed, to be struck or scolded, and to serve with all my might until..."

"Only the first part was said by me!"

"The rest was all action."

Cheng Yun felt his hair stand on end. "Wen Biesang, are you exceptionally vengeful?"

"Not vengeful."

Cheng Yun did not believe him.

"Just vengeful about pain."

The two stopped at the mouth of the alley. This area belonged to the outer city, inhabited mostly by commoners and laborers. In the corner by the wall, there were ragged beggars, a sight completely absent in the inner city.

An old man crawled slowly toward Wen Biesang, holding a broken bowl. "Young lady, please spare some food..."

Before the bowl could touch him, Wen Biesang simply stepped aside and continued walking straight ahead.

Cheng Yun stood rooted to the spot. The old man continued to crawl slowly forward. "Young master..."

Cheng Yun looked left and right, then at the slender back of the person in front, and quietly took a piece of silver from his sleeve, took two steps forward, and dropped it behind his back. The old man accepted it with a soft word of thanks and scrambled up to run out of the alley.

Cheng Yun gripped his sleeves and caught up to Wen Biesang. "If I told you that I am not usually like that to others, would you believe me?"

"I believe you."

Cheng Yun asked, "Truly?"

"The world is unjust, and human hearts are biased; it has always been so."

"..." You would have been better off not believing me.

A carriage stopped in front of them. Wen Biesang lifted his hem and climbed inside. Chen Changfeng looked surprised. "This is..."

"A newly hired zither tutor," Cheng Yun said, pausing before adding, "Named Wuchang."

Chen Changfeng let him into the carriage and asked curiously, "Why such a name for a vengeful ghost?"

No one answered.

As the carriage drove out of the city gate, Cheng Yun glanced outside. "Is Shopkeeper Chen acquainted with the guards?"

"He has been in the capital for many years and has some roots."

No wonder he was so successful in leaving the city every time.

Cheng Yun sat inside, holding the zither vertically between his legs. "From now on, I will favor you more. Can we stop mentioning things from the past?"

"You are very strange today."

"How am I strange?"

"You keep talking to me about these trivial, unimportant things."

"...You and I will have to work together in the future. Of course, the most important thing is that I appreciate those with talent."

That made sense, so Wen Biesang gave an "mm."

It was unclear what exactly he was agreeing to. Cheng Yun said, "Previously, because of my dreams, I did indeed have some prejudice against you... In this life, I have never suffered such humiliation. To me, you were an enemy that had to be defeated, so... what is that look in your eyes?"

What other look could it be?

Every time Gong Wuchang mentioned the things from his dreams, Wen Biesang felt he was a textbook case of a madman. Yet, the man spoke with such genuine emotion, every word heartfelt. Wen Biesang did not want to provoke him; if he were to go mad here, it might very well expose his own identity.

"I understand."

"You have no idea what I dream about every day!"

"What do you dream about?"

"..." Silence. Cheng Yun raised a hand to touch the mask on his face, his mind settling slightly.

It seemed that Crown Prince Cheng Yun had already given instructions, as the previously arranged zither tutor did not appear. For Wen Biesang, learning the zither from Gong Wuchang was not difficult to accept. He found that the man seemed to truly believe his words—that once the task was complete, he would join the Crown Prince's residence—and was very patient during instruction.

From Chen Changfeng's evident enjoyment, Wen Biesang could tell that Gong Wuchang’s zither skills were indeed exceptional. As the grandson appointed by the late Emperor, while his personality had countless flaws, his technical mastery was beyond reproach.

From his sitting posture to his fingering technique, Wen Biesang had to relearn almost everything.

"Your hands must be like this." He demonstrated a plucking technique once. The zither note was rounded, full, and vibrant. That single note alone made one feel as if they were standing on a fairyland mountain, and even after his fingers left the strings, a dense vibration lingered in the air.

Wen Biesang tried to pluck the string as well.

It was monotonous, stiff, and dull—like a wild boar grinding its teeth.

Crown Prince Cheng Yun remained calm and peaceful, demonstrating repeatedly. Chen Changfeng’s expression flickered between looking like he had eaten a delicacy and like he was gnawing on husks.

After a dozen tries, Wen Biesang said, "It must be that my zither is not good."

Cheng Yun swapped zithers with him and demonstrated again. Using the same instrument, the difference between the two of them remained as vast as heaven and earth.

Wen Biesang said, "This time it is better than before; it is indeed the zither's fault."

"You are right."

Half an hour later, Wen Biesang said, "It must be because I do not know martial arts, which is why I can never get it right."

"You are right."

"But if I have to learn martial arts from scratch, it would be too much of a waste of time."

"..." You are actually thinking about that? Cheng Yun said slowly, "Actually, it is already quite good."

Wen Biesang’s personality was inherently dull and strange; he couldn't even handle human relationships well, let alone the arts. Wen Biesang had been waiting for him to break into a fit of rage, but today, Gong Wuchang seemed like a different person. Thinking it over, he could only conclude it was because his set of mechanism blueprints had convinced him completely.

"How about this," Cheng Yun gestured. "Shall I... sit over there?"

"?"

Cheng Yun set down the newly purchased zither, walked over, and sat beside him. He leaned in slowly and tentatively covered Wen Biesang’s hand. Wen Biesang remained calm, his posture not changing in the slightest.

The Crown Prince's voice rang low in his ear: "Your fingers must be like this..."

Wen Biesang’s hands were slightly cool and smooth to the touch, almost identical to the ones in his dreams. Cheng Yun’s gaze peered out from behind his mask, fixed on the black mole near Wen Biesang’s left ear.

In his dreams, he loved this spot dearly; whenever he touched it, he would always linger, licking it for a long time. So much so that upon waking, he could still remember the sensation of that raised mole against the tip of his tongue.

The charming creature no longer smelled of the sandalwood he used to love; what remained was the faint scent of soap and the smell of sulfur and saltpeter. This scent was clearly extremely dangerous, yet it possessed an immense, penetrating power, as if it had slipped from his nose deep into his lungs, waiting only for that single moment to ignite.