Chapter 3#
Night fell. Huarong lay in bed, bored out of his mind. Huagui, holding Lin Luoyin’s sword, was angrily scraping the white hair off a pig’s trotter, his voice booming like a bell as he scraped: “If you wanted to die, why didn’t you jump into the river? If you jumped earlier, the silver would have been mine sooner, saving you from being beaten half to death.”
One of Huarong’s hands and both legs were broken; only his eyeballs were still active. So he glared at him and gestured with difficulty: “Then why did you lie on top of me and take the beating for me? Half your face is swollen like a pig’s head.”
Huagui huffed, turned sideways to show him the half of his face that didn’t look like a pig’s head, and grumbled: “This sword is sharp, but it’s just not handy. It’s not good for chopping wood, and surprisingly not good for scraping hair either.”
Huarong gestured again with difficulty: “This is a left-handed sword.”
“Swords are distinguished by left and right hands?” Huagui blinked, suddenly understanding a little: “Master, how do you know? Don’t tell me you know martial arts.”
“Of course I do.” Huarong struck a pose, looking at him with his nose in the air, then pointed to his hair and gestured: “Then for the sake of me being a great hero too, you can wash my hair for me.”
Huagui smiled viciously with his half-swollen face: “If you’re capable, wash it yourself. Your hair smells worse than a mop; let’s see which man would still be willing to mount you.”
“Why don’t I help the Young Master wash it?”
A voice suddenly sounded under the window, and before the echo faded, the person was already in the room.
Prince Funing, Han Lang, actually visited at night by climbing over the wall without knocking.
Huagui was startled, and the pig’s trotter fell to the ground with a thud.
Han Lang waved his hand at him: “My horse is outside the door. Go bring it in. After bringing it in, feed it grass slowly.”
“My house has no grass.” The stupid servant Huagui squeezed out a sentence after a long time.
Huarong smiled, got up with extreme difficulty, and gestured to him: “Then you’d better go find some. If you starve the Prince’s horse, the Prince will definitely beat me until I speak again.”
Huagui quickly went to obey. Han Lang then turned around and smiled盈盈 at Huarong: “If you’re washing your hair, why not wash your whole body? Where is your bathtub?”
Huarong’s bathtub was very large and very ostentatiously rimmed with gold.
Han Lang placed him in it with great pity, scooping up water to pour over his head.
In the steam, Huarong sweated profusely from cold sweat, his left hand gripping the edge of the tub, his expression of enjoyment already very forced.
“Do your legs hurt or your hand?” Han Lang approached and asked with great pity: “If Young Master Hua doesn’t like it, we don’t have to wash. I am not a domineering person.”
Huarong quickly gestured, indicating he liked it as if he wanted money more than his life.
Han Lang came up and cupped his face, his lips covering his, a wet kiss that almost sucked all the air out of his lungs.
“It doesn’t taste any better than anyone else’s mouth.” Han Lang concluded after the kiss, pinching Huarong’s chin tightly: “Looking good doesn’t necessarily mean you can charm all living beings. So what did you rely on to steal the official prostitutes’ business?”
“Is it relying on this?” He asked again in the hazy steam, his other hand moving forward, finding the destination and probing in with a finger.
After one finger came the whole palm, stabbing forward fiercely and then quickly retracting.
The rear entrance quickly retracted after being stretched to the limit. Han Lang put another finger in, still enveloped by the heat, tightly enveloped, like a lover’s sucking lips.
“Your skills are good, but not necessarily unique.” Han Lang murmured again: “Tell me, where exactly do you excel?”
Huarong indicated that he couldn’t speak.
“You gesture, I can understand.” Han Lang kissed his neck, every lip print like a raging fire: “Is your zither skill outstanding?”
Prince Funing, Han Lang, actually understood sign language. Huarong didn’t seem surprised by this, only gesturing back: “I’ve seen zithers but never played one.”
“Then you have insight. Have you read many books?”
“I have read, but there is only one that I remember and like.”
“Which one?”
“Buddhist scriptures.”
This answer greatly exceeded Han Lang’s expectations, actually making him stop kissing and look up, asking: “So, it was Buddhist scriptures that taught you to let men press you underneath?”
“Yes.” Huarong gestured firmly, signing each word seriously: “The Buddha said, accept what should be accepted.”
“Accept what should be accepted?” Han Lang laughed loudly, narrowing his eyes: “Vulgar to the core, yet understanding everything clearly. Is this where your interest lies?”
Huarong remained still, neither admitting nor denying, just looking at him.
“Do you want me to taste it personally?” Han Lang raised his eyebrows, grabbed his waist and lifted him up: “Then I’ll respectfully comply.”
Water droplets fell all the way. Huarong hung naked on Han Lang’s waist, his lower body feeling as if penetrated by molten lava.
Fortunately, it was the front position he preferred, he thought. The pain in his injury was so extreme that he began to laugh, glancing at the table from the corner of his eye.
On the table lay his broken green fan, the words “Dian Qian Huan” (Joy Before the Palace) still faintly visible.
Looking at these three words, Huarong smiled again, the meaning in his smile unclear and endless.
After a night of passion, Han Lang finally tidied his clothes. Huarong lay on the ground, even his eyeballs inactive.
Huagui had returned and was translating for him: “Replying to Your Highness, my master says that matching the couplet that day was to attract Your Highness’s attention so he could latch onto you.”
Han Lang listened to this sentence with interest, adjusted his clothes, and prepared to leave.
When he turned around, he saw Huagui stuffing something under the desk.
“What are you hiding?”
Exposed, Huagui’s face flushed red. The guiltier he felt, the louder his voice became: “My master is already like this, yet this person sent a calling card asking him to visit the mansion tomorrow. Can’t I block it for my master?”
Han Lang raised an eyebrow, looking troubled: “I think it’s better not to block it. It would be inappropriate if I spoiled the patron’s mood.”
“How about this.” He clapped his hands, smiling incredibly happily: “If your master is inconvenienced, I’ll send someone to carry him tomorrow. As long as he has a breath left, carry him there.”
Huagui’s eyes bulged out. He was exasperated but helpless, so he could only say hatefully: “Your Highness seems to haven’t paid yet. Money is my master’s life, please don’t eat a meal without paying!”
“There’s plenty of time in the future. I’ll settle the bill monthly. But then again, Huarong, your servant’s voice is really loud. If he were sent to the palace to be a eunuch, it would be a waste of talent.” Han Lang replied leisurely, glancing at Huarong.
Huarong was cooperative, taking a breath and nodding in agreement.
Huagui immediately shot him a glare, almost splitting him alive on the spot.
“Don’t worry, I will definitely remember to send someone to carry you tomorrow.” Han Lang turned around with a smile.
“Then I’ll trouble you.” Huarong gestured, actually expressing gratitude.
Accept what should be accepted; he really could accept anything.
This person is interesting. Han Lang thought all the way after leaving, urging his flying horse with a fast whip, finally overturning his foolish opinion that one must be unyielding to be interesting.
“Mr. Accept-What-Should-Be-Accepted Joy-Before-The-Palace.” He raised the corners of his mouth: “I’ll wait for you to latch on. The game is still long.”
Back at the Prince’s mansion, after bathing, he changed into a robe and leaned on the brocade couch, closing his eyes to rest. Liunian dutifully poured water and made tea for him.
“Master, the things you ordered have been done.” Liunian said while pouring water.
“Where is the prescription?” Han Lang suddenly became energetic upon hearing this, opened his eyes and asked.
Liunian took out a folded piece of paper from his bosom and handed it over obediently, bringing a candle to illuminate it for Han Lang to inspect. He stole a glance at his master’s expression; it seemed quite happy.
“Master, this method can’t last long if used all the time.” Han Lang glanced at him, signaling him to continue.
“It’s no problem for one or two ordinary people to die suddenly in the capital, but if doctors keep dying, even if it’s an accident, it’s very puzzling.”
Han Lang frowned upon hearing this, seeming displeased, but still said calmly: “I know. I will think of another way.”
“Then does Master still want to change and enter the palace?” Liunian asked in a low voice.
“Did the Emperor finish his medicine tonight?” Han Lang asked again.
“Yes.”
“Oh, it’s too late. I won’t go.”
“Then should Liunian go to the palace specifically to report?”
Han Lang blinked. When did this kid become willing to be diligent? “If the Emperor asks you why I didn’t go, what would you say?”
Liunian paused, bowed his head in salute, and replied a hundred times more seriously: “Say that Master tossed about with a green scallion for a long time today and is tired. He won’t present himself to the Saint today.”
Han Lang was not angry upon hearing this. He flicked Liunian’s forehead with his finger. The water droplets that hadn’t dried on his hand splashed onto Liunian’s forehead, slowly sliding down his cheek.
“Liunian dares not deceive the Emperor.”
Han Lang smiled very magnanimously, a bit too deliberately magnanimous. “It looks like it’s going to rain. Don’t go. I’ll sleep for a while too. Go wait for orders outside the door.”
“Yes.” Liunian responded and withdrew, but was stopped by Han Lang before leaving the door.
“That porridge seller, has he agreed to work in the mansion?” It seems the master also has times when his memory is bad. Liunian busily replied yes.
Han Lang chuckled: “No need to go out for breakfast tomorrow morning. As for his accommodation, arrange a courtyard for him, try to make it quiet.”
A newcomer to the mansion actually made the master care so much; Liunian had doubts but didn’t dare to say much, accepted the order and left the room.
Inside the Imperial Palace.
Someone began to regret obediently finishing the medicine and dismissing everyone, leaving only himself.
The candles in the hall burned high, a stream of slightly black heat rising; the third watch drum sounded outside.
The memorial impeaching Han Lang was placed right in front of his desk.
Since Han Lang roughly reviewed every memorial before it was presented, how could this one still appear before the current Emperor?
He actually had no taboos at all. Either he truly had a clear conscience, or he simply didn’t take this Emperor seriously.
The time promised last night had long passed, and his figure was still not seen.
The person sitting at the desk finally couldn’t hold back, angrily picked up a brush, wrote a few words on the paper, then frantically crumpled the paper with the words into a ball with both hands and threw it fiercely out the window.
It had started raining outside the hall at some point, fine as silver hairs, quietly wetting the carved windows in front of the Leisure Palace.
The Emperor was silent for a moment, then suddenly stood up, rushed out the door, painstakingly found the wet and mushy paper ball, and silently unfolded it in his palm.
The ink was not yet dry, and the rain dripped on the paper, melting it into a blur, but the words on the paper were still faintly discernible: Han Lang.
“You threw it away, why pick it back up?” An umbrella shielded him from the increasingly dense raindrops, and a faint voice drifted from behind.
The Son of Heaven didn’t look back, stepping to walk back into the hall.
“Are you going to wait for him until dawn?” The voice asked again. The Emperor still didn’t answer, nor did he turn around.
“Your Majesty, are we going to live like this for a lifetime?”
The Emperor stood still under the eaves, his body a bit unstable, even swaying.
“Without me, you couldn’t be the Emperor; without you, I couldn’t live in this world anymore. Han Lang said that now our fates are halved, inseparable. Your Majesty, do you really want to live like this for a lifetime?”
The rain fell harder and harder, rhythmically beating on the roof. The sound seemed to have magic, letting the rain fall on people’s hearts, dripping endlessly…
====================
The next day, the autumn rain continued to linger. Near evening, Huarong was indeed carried by Han Lang’s men to Commander Lai’s mansion.
Bumping along the way, Huarong held on. Although the folding fan was gone, he could still maintain a dashing appearance, but his consciousness was a bit trance-like, as if his soul could drift out of this exhausted body if he wasn’t careful.
Indeed, before reaching the entrance of the Lai mansion, his consciousness finally scattered, and he passed out.
When he woke up, the first thing Huarong saw was the Hua family’s number one servant—Huagui.
“Where is the patron? Is it done? Is the silver received?” He quickly gestured, concerned about the transaction status.
“You won’t die for the time being. I originally wanted to come and collect your corpse.” Huagui’s face drooped. “Can you still walk? If you can’t walk, I don’t have money to hire a sedan chair to carry you back.”
Huarong glanced at him, wanting to reward him with a dashing smile, but it was extremely difficult.
“Didn’t earn the money?” He was depressed and gritted his teeth.
Was it because he fainted that the customer wasn’t satisfied?
Huagui immediately replied with his loud voice: “Your patron today didn’t have time to mount you. They all went to the court to discuss Han Lang’s messy business.”
Huarong blinked sleepily.
Huagui knew what he wanted to ask and cut him off: “According to them, the Emperor and that damn Grand Tutor Han fell out in the Golden Hall!”
Huarong was stunned again after hearing this, and busily gestured weakly: “How could they fall out?”
“How would I know? I only heard that the guy named Han was reading his own memorial when the Emperor suddenly stood up from the dragon chair, rushed over without a word, and tore Han Lang’s memorial to shreds, absolute shreds! He even glared at Han Lang for a long time, almost issuing a decree to drag him out and behead him.” Huagui embellished what he had just heard, “Hey, do you think he will fall?”
Huarong smiled and gestured weakly: “It would be too fast for him to fall. I haven’t latched onto him and earned enough silver yet.”
“Exactly! He still owes us silver! Remember, before you die, you must ask for it back. That Prince Funing can’t compare to me; he doesn’t even understand the principle of helping people to the end. He only knew to carry you here, but didn’t care how you would get back.” Huagui grumbled unwillingly while supporting Huarong off the couch.
“Only because after I die, my belongings will be yours, not Prince Funing’s.” Huarong gestured weakly, actually still able to smile at this moment.