Delicate, Yet Shamelessly Freeloading [Quick Transmigration] Chapter 60

Chapter 60: The Snobbish Black Moonlight (9)

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Fortunately, both times he fell, it was onto grass, not the cobbled path, but even so, the ground was still hard, and Shui Que’s bottom hurt bluntly from the fall. His skin had always been delicate, and in these several worlds, he had always been pampered and protected. The three parts of fragility he originally had had now become seven.

 

Immediately, his lips curled into a frown, looking as if he could hang an oil bottle from them, visibly unhappy, his eyes reddening with pain.

 

Wei Yan’s mind finally clicked into place. Although women in Darong could attend school, they went to women’s schools or academies, never studying alongside men.

 

Xijiang Academy, however, clearly only admitted males.

 

He then carefully looked at the Xiao Langjun on the ground. His tea-colored eyes resembled a clear autumn lake, and his eyebrows were slender like a crescent moon. When he lifted his gaze, glaring at Wei Yan in anger, his eyes were clouded with layers of mist, hazy as if Wei Yan had greatly offended him.

 

Shui Que was furious. “You’re the girl! Didn’t you know you can’t ride near the academy?!”

 

He had never seen someone so outrageous—breaking the rules, scaring him aside, and making him fall twice on his bottom.

 

Wei Yan didn’t respond immediately.

 

Even when angry, his voice was soft, without a trace of force. It wasn’t like his father’s scoldings, which could shake the beams of the house.

 

And—how… how could he be so white?

 

So pretty… and not a girl?


Wei Yan squinted at Shui Que’s chest with suspicion and paused for two seconds.


Flat.


He let out a breath of relief.

 

With his brows dark and sharp like they’d been painted on, Wei Yan scratched his head with an open, casual air. His youthful and vigorous looks carried an unexpected hint of foolishness.

 

He wore a dark robe embroidered with blue python patterns—an official’s attire—modified like riding gear, with narrow sleeves and tied cuffs. He stretched out a hand to help Shui Que up.

 

“Sorry, little brother,” he said, “I saw your fingers stained with balsam juice and thought you were a girl. I didn’t mean to let go and make you fall just now.”

 

The usually soft-spoken Xiao Langjun lost his temper and sank his teeth into Wei Yan’s left hand—right at the tiger’s mouth.

 

Wei Yan had drawn bows and fired arrows since childhood in the military, shooting with deadly precision. Because of that, calluses had built up thick on his dominant hand’s tiger’s mouth.

 

The bite didn’t even break skin. Shui Que’s teeth just bumped against the tough skin uncomfortably.

 

Wei Yan blinked in surprise and grabbed Shui Que’s arm with his other hand. To him, Shui Que weighed no more than a feather and was easily lifted: “Not a girl, fine. But what are you, a little rabbit? Why are you biting people when you’re mad?”

 

Even if the bite wasn’t strong, and his skin was tough enough not to feel much pain, his hand was now all wet with saliva.

 

Shui Que let go with a sulky breath.

 

Wei Yan glanced at his own damp left hand, then at Shui Que’s lips, which were flushed and slightly wet.


Strange… why was his mouth so wet?


Why this much saliva?

 

Still, it was his fault. Wei Yan straightened up and sincerely apologized again. “I’m really sorry. Did you get hurt? Does anything hurt?”

 

He looked at where Shui Que had fallen—around the waist and below. His clothes had some grass and specks of dirt stuck to them.

 

Without thinking too much, Wei Yan reached out and brushed it all off. Considering how delicate this person seemed—he’d already gotten teary-eyed from just a fall—he made sure to be gentle.

 

As his hand brushed across, the curve of Shui Que’s lower back moved noticeably with his touch.

 

Soft and bouncy—like fresh tofu.

 

Wei Yan suddenly thought, Wait, why am I paying attention to his butt?

 

He was used to being rough. In the military, he always had an arm around his brothers’ shoulders, even gave them playful punches on the back. Sure, this was his first time patting someone’s butt, but still—everyone here was male, so it should be fine…

 

Thinking that, he brushed away the grass and dirt in two or three quick sweeps. But something possessed him to give one last light pat.

 

That subtle bounce he saw again made his ears burn.

 

Shui Que’s eyes went wide in disbelief. “You hit me again…? That’s four times now!”

 

Wei Yan quickly raised both hands in surrender. “You just fell, and your clothes got dirty. I was only cleaning them off!”

 

Shui Que gave him a once-over, skeptical.

 

Sharp brows, bright eyes but near the corner of his left eye, there was a scar—like it had been sliced by something sharp.

 

It marred his otherwise clean face and added a rough, dangerous edge.

 

…He really didn’t look like a good person.

 

Shui Que hesitated and glanced behind him, trying hard to twist and see his own back—but no luck.

 

How come he didn’t wear a waist sash like the others? Wei Yan wondered. How was his waist still so thin?

 

Wei Yan thought.

 

Even if you strapped him in tight enough to choke him, Wei Yan couldn’t get his waist that narrow.

 

Wait… why am I even paying attention to his waist?

 

Wei Yan composed himself. “I really did clean you off, I swear!”

 

He sounded so certain, it was like he was making a vow.

 

Shui Que looked up, half-believing.

 

【Host…】System 77 said meekly, 【That bad guy is the young Marquis you’re supposed to seduce later in the plot. But why’s he showing up so early? We’re only 30% into the storyline. You’re supposed to still be flirting with the male lead’s classmates and teacher in class! It’s not his turn yet!】

 

Shui Que didn’t want to think about that right now. What he couldn’t understand was how, in the plot, his character ever fell for this marquis. The guy looked fierce and like he could hit someone at any moment.

 

He glanced down at Wei Yan’s large, rough hands—those fists could probably beat up ten of him.

 

System 77, somehow completely in sync with him, added: 【It must’ve been for his money! This bad guy made you fall. Clearly no good. He’s even scarred and ugly. Aside from being rich and having a noble title to inherit, he’s got nothing going for him!】

 

Shui Que was a little scared looking at Wei Yan’s size and fists, but when he remembered the importance of being a sugar baby, he crossed his arms and stubbornly confronted him. “You made me fall and hit me on the butt. Now it hurts to walk—every movement tugs at it. What are you going to do about that?”

 

Wei Yan’s face tensed. “Seriously? That bad? I—I’ll carry you to a medical clinic!”

 

He had important business with Nie Xiuyuan, but now that he’d caused an accident, he couldn’t just leave.

 

But Shui Que had exaggerated. It didn’t hurt that much—just a dull ache that was already fading. By the time they got to the clinic, he’d probably be all better, and his lie would be exposed.

 

“No,” he quickly shook his head. “You must’ve come here for something. I’m generous. Just pay me, and I won’t make a fuss. I’ll buy my own medicine.”

 

Sigh. He really was getting good at extorting money from plot characters…

 

Aside from the blush on his cheeks, everything else looked fine.

 

“You really don’t want me to carry you to the clinic?” Wei Yan raised an eyebrow. He didn’t have cash on him, but then took off a golden leaf pendant from his belt and handed it over. “Here, take this for now. I’ve got things to do, but if anything else comes up, go to the county office and ask for Lord Cui. He’ll bring you to me.”

 

Shui Que blinked and looked at the item placed in his palm. It was shaped like a small folded book—ten pages thick.

 

It must’ve taken at least three taels of gold to make. Shui Que wasn’t entirely sure, but System 77 whispered that it was fine purple gold—top quality. One tael was worth eighteen strings of coins.

 

His head spun a little.

 

Three taels—that was 54 strings of coins. Fifty-four! That was 54,000 coins!

 

Now he understood why his character fell for the marquis in the story.

 

He was just too generous…

 

The sound of wooden wheels rolled along the blue-brick corridor.

 

Wei Yan clasped his hands in salute. “Teacher.”

 

Nie Xiuyuan had seen the whole thing—including Shui Que still examining the golden leaf in his hand.

 

“Anyuan Marquis Heir,” Nie Xiuyuan nodded and turned to Shui Que. “It’s class time. What are you doing here?”

 

Caught skipping before even leaving the academy grounds.

 

Shui Que swallowed hard.

 

Even if the academy didn’t officially forbid auditors from skipping class, getting caught by the dean still left a bad impression.

 

“I was just about to head back to class…” Shui Que said in a tiny voice.

 

Dragging his feet, he trudged reluctantly back toward the classroom building.

 

Wei Yan stared at his retreating figure. “Weird. He can walk just fine.”

 

Then he turned to Nie Xiuyuan and said more seriously, “Teacher, it’s been years. His Majesty sends his regards.”

 

The current emperor, once the Ninth Prince, was Wei Yan’s cousin—his maternal uncle’s son. Nie Xiuyuan had served as Grand Scholar of the Wen Yuan Pavilion and had also been the Ninth Prince’s tutor.

 

Wei Yan had grown up with the army on the northern border. On a rare trip home for the new year, he’d visited the palace, met his cousin, and attended a few of Nie Xiuyuan’s lessons. He, too, had to call him “Teacher.”

 

Nie Xiuyuan’s expression remained cool. “If it’s important, then please come to my study so we can talk.”

 

The study and living quarters for the academy’s teachers were in the southwest corner, the far end.

 

Wei Yan nodded.

 

……

 

After being caught skipping class by the Headmaster, Shui Que lost all desire to go out for lunch at the restaurant with Cui Shixin and the others.

 

Even so, Qi Chaojin still handed him a hundred coins as usual.

 

But Shui Que didn’t feel like going to the market for snacks either.

 

Qi Chaojin had just left for the dining hall, and Shui Que looked left and right, hesitating about whether he should go out to eat. After a moment of inner struggle, he ended up following Qi Chaojin to the dining hall.

 

The dining hall served uniform meals: a porcelain bowl filled to the brim with rice and side dishes.

 

Today’s meal was stir-fried snow peas with pork, served over white rice.

 

The pork was sliced thin and small.

 

Cradling his porcelain bowl, Shui Que found Qi Chaojin sitting in a pavilion by the pond outside the dining hall and sat down beside him.

 

Qi Chaojin hadn’t expected him to stay on campus for lunch, and his brows furrowed. “Why didn’t you go out to eat?”

 

He knew Cui Shixin and the others often treated Shui Que to restaurant meals.

 

Compared to the outside, the academy food was simple and plain no matter how you looked at it.

 

Shui Que hummed a bit, speaking with a slight nasal tone, “I wanted to eat with you.”

 

His tone was sticky-sweet, the kind of sugary talk that could

make one dizzy.

 

Qi Chaojin lowered his eyes, didn’t say a word, and transferred all the meat slices from his bowl into Shui Que’s.

 

“You’re really not eating?” Shui Que asked, puzzled.

 

Qi Chaojin softly replied, “Mm.”

 

Shui Que took a couple bites, then gave a few slices back, “I don’t really like it—it tastes bad. Not as good as what Qi Lang makes.”

 

Truth be told, it wasn’t terrible—just couldn’t compare to Qi Chaojin’s cooking.

 

Shui Que was just worried the male lead wouldn’t eat any meat and would faint from hunger during the intense afternoon study.

 

Qi Chaojin looked at Shui Que steadily, his gaze making Shui Que feel a little self-conscious. After a while, he finally opened his mouth and said, “Alright. I’ll cook for you when we get back.”

 

Shui Que nodded eagerly like a chick pecking rice. “Mm-hmm!”

 

…

 

The academy had a four-story library building. It was constructed from brick and wood, with a hard-gabled roof covered in blue tiles—simple and unadorned, matching the overall style of Xijiang Academy.

 

The rarest volumes were all on the top floor. Qi Chaojin borrowed a copy to transcribe in the study, as the library itself had no desks or chairs—books were only allowed to be borrowed for reading elsewhere.

 

The study was arranged in a corridor style, surrounding a courtyard filled with rockeries and bamboo, with red wooden doors separating the side rooms.

 

Shui Que followed Qi Chaojin all the way to an unoccupied room, perfect for transcribing.

 

He pushed open the double windows—right in front of the desk was a cluster of bamboo.

 

Shui Que had casually borrowed a travelogue from the library as well. While Qi Chaojin copied texts beside him, Shui Que sat flipping through the book.

 

Reading from right to left, top to bottom, and all in classical characters—he had to decipher each one slowly. After days of study, even if the knowledge was force-fed, he could at least now recognize a few more complex characters.

 

But he still couldn’t write. He wasn’t yet familiar with the correct stroke order or how to control a brush, so the calligraphy he produced looked like it had been scrawled by a puppy learning to crawl.

 

Modern simplified Chinese really was the most convenient to use.

 


Shui Que pouted.


 

He turned his head to look.


 

Sigh, the male lead’s handwriting looked so much better than his.


 

But then again, that man had practiced calligraphy from a very young age.


 

Qi Chaojin’s sitting posture was perfectly upright, his back as straight as bamboo, and his way of holding the brush was textbook standard.


 

He was focused, diligently copying the contents of a rare manuscript onto paper.


 

Then, a Xiao Langjun suddenly snuggled into his lap.


 

The bamboo chair wasn’t very big—barely enough to seat one person.


 

Shui Que had underestimated how little space there was, so he awkwardly ended up sitting on Qi Chaojin’s lap.


 

Qi Chaojin’s whole body tensed, the brush halted midair, and in an instant, a blot of ink the size of a bean splattered onto the paper.


 

His breath caught, completely thrown off.


 

A paper with a blot like that couldn’t be used anymore.


 

“Qi Lang, can you teach me how to write?”


 

Shui Que leaned back, tilting his head up. His dark hair brushed against Qi Chaojin’s chin.


 

Their body frames were quite different. From behind, Shui Que was nearly engulfed in Qi Chaojin’s embrace. Only his head peeked out near Qi Chaojin’s shoulder.


 

Qi Chaojin turned his head slightly and said in a low voice, “Mm.”


 

He moved the rare book and the copied pages aside.


 

Then, he laid out a fresh, clean sheet of paper.


 

It was bamboo paper provided by the academy—resistant to fading and insects, perfect for writing.


 

Qi Chaojin handed the brush to Shui Que and remained completely still so the other could sit comfortably on his lap.


 

Shui Que held the brush and shifted a bit to adjust his posture.


 

Qi Chaojin gritted his teeth, visibly suppressing some inner struggle, and asked through a muffled voice, “Are you settled?”


 

“Mm-hmm.” Shui Que noticed something was off in his tone and asked, worried, “Am I too heavy? Am I crushing you?”


 

The base of Qi Chaojin’s ears turned red with heat. He tried his best to sound normal: “…You’re not heavy. It’s fine.”


 

Shui Que was copying characters from a travel journal. He started with the character “礙”. No matter how he looked at it, it resembled a scribble from a little puppy—sloppy and uneven.


 

“You made the ‘stone’ part too wide,” Qi Chaojin said patiently, pointing at the character. “The right part is too high and lacks structure. But the middle section is well done—it flows nicely vertically.”

 


For just one character, the male lead had to dissect it into three parts, just to find one he could praise.


 

Shui Que’s face turned red from listening.


 

Seeing him fall silent, Qi Chaojin pressed his lips together, then gently placed his hand over Shui Que’s and wrapped it around.


 

“I’ll… teach you how to write.”

 


He guided him to start the stroke from the upper right, applying pressure from heavy to light, then back to heavy again…

 


The final stroke followed Qi Chaojin’s personal habit—ending with a hooked press.

 


“I got it,” Shui Que declared confidently.


 

Qi Chaojin let go of his hand. Shui Que mimicked the earlier strokes and wrote another one. This time the structure was much better—tight and compact.


 

He looked pleased and showed it to Qi Chaojin.


 

“Really impressive.”


 

Qi Chaojin’s tone was earnest. It didn’t sound like he was just saying it to appease him.


He had originally guessed that Shui Que came from a prestigious background, but it didn’t make sense—young masters from such families usually received a proper education. Shui Que’s calligraphy was still rather immature.

 

But this Xiao Langjun often acted like he had no idea how daily life worked. Qi Chaojin could only guess—maybe he had hit his head and completely lost his memory.


 

Qi Chaojin continued guiding him, correcting each character one by one.


 

Over time, Shui Que’s writing began to reflect Qi Chaojin’s brushwork style.


 

It was as if he had left his mark on the strokes themselves.


 

As that thought surfaced, Qi Chaojin’s heartbeat skipped a beat.


 

Then it began pounding even harder.


 

Qi Chaojin wasn’t sure if Shui Que could hear the sound of his heart beating wildly in his chest.


 

He tried hard to suppress it, but as he stared at those characters—


 

He questioned himself. He knew the standard stroke methods well enough.


 

So why had he deliberately led the other to follow his own habits instead?


 

Qi Er.


 

Do you really not have any selfish motives?


 

His jaw clenched tight. But then, the Xiao Langjun in his lap turned to the side and gently placed a warm palm on his chest.


 

Shui Que lowered his gaze and whispered, “Your heartbeat is too loud.”


 

The plot kept inching forward.


 

It was impossible to ignore it.


 

Qi Chaojin said, “I…”


 

A voice cut in coldly from behind: “This is a study hall. What are you two doing?”


 

Shui Que, nestled in Qi Chaojin’s lap, peeked out from behind his shoulder with clear eyes toward the doorway.


 

A large hand rested on a wooden wheel. Nie Xiuyuan stood against the light. In the shadows, his eyes glinted coldly like stars, staring at them with indifference.

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Huge shoutout to @candycorns2 on Discord for commissioning this! The chapter will be posted regularly, show your support for Ciacia at Kofi.

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