Delicate, Yet Shamelessly Freeloading [Quick Transmigration] Chapter 64

Chapter 64: The Snobbish Black Moonlight (13)

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The next morning, Wu Chun really did leave a bamboo cage containing the white rabbit at the courtyard gate.

 

Qi Chaojin discovered it under the woven gate, though he didn’t see who left it. But he remembered Shui Que’s fondness for the white rabbit and guessed it had been left by the hunter who occasionally visited Shui Que.

 

He held the bamboo cage in one hand and carried a wooden basin in the other.

 

He had just returned from washing clothes outside. Inside the basin, besides freshly cleaned garments, was a quarter-bowl of dew collected from grass tips.

 

That day was the first of August, the Day of the Six Spirits. At dawn, people would grind dew with cinnabar. Dipping the pinky finger in the cinnabar water and dotting it on the center of the forehead and lower abdomen was said to ward off all illness in children.

 

In the southern Darong region, this custom was called “Heaven Moxibustion.”

 

The rabbit cage was placed just outside the short fence where chicks were kept, beside the kitchen room. Qi Chaojin sat in the courtyard, grinding cinnabar water.

 

The autumn sunlight was gentle and warm. The academy was on holiday, and Shui Que was still asleep.

 

Qi Chaojin returned to the bedroom and rolled up the bamboo curtain.

 

Sunlight spilled into the room. Shui Que was curled up in a cotton quilt stuffed with reed blossoms—perfect for the cool autumn weather.

 

He hadn’t opened his eyes yet, but he raised a hand to shield himself from the light and turned over to face away from the window, intent on sleeping longer.

 

The entire quilt was wrapped tightly in his arms. It wasn’t even that cold, yet he had one leg stretched out over the blanket, bunching it up with wrinkles.

 

His underpants had ridden up from tossing in bed, revealing a delicate ankle. His skin was like melting snow in spring, glowing softly in the warm autumn light.

 

One corner of the quilt was pressed under his cheek, squishing his face and lips into soft, puffy curves.

 

Qi Chaojin stood quietly by the bed, watching his sleeping face. As the sunlight shifted, it was as if he suddenly came back to his senses.

 

He held the bowl of cinnabar water and dipped his clearly jointed pinky finger into it. The water was cool to the touch. He gently dotted it between Shui Que’s delicate brows.

 

The cinnabar was a bright, vivid red.

 

Dotted onto such a pure and innocent face, it added a faint touch of alluring charm—like the fox spirits in storybooks who could make poor scholars fall head over heels with just a curl of a finger.

 

Qi Chaojin stared, transfixed.

 

Shui Que’s thin eyelids fluttered, and then he opened his eyes. Upon seeing it was Qi Chaojin, his lips curved into a sleepy smile. He reached out and wrapped his arms around Qi Chaojin’s shoulders and neck, nestling close.

“Qi Lang… what’s for breakfast this morning?”

 

His arms wrapped tightly, the soft flesh of his upper arms squished against Qi Chaojin’s stiff shoulders. A sweet, warm fragrance enveloped him completely.

 

It was like he was a little Buddha that could convert others with just his scent.

 

Qi Chaojin stood even more rigidly, like a statue cast in iron or bronze.

 

“…Wheat-peel noodles,” he replied hoarsely.

 

Shui Que let go, while Qi Chaojin stepped back. His hand still held the small ceramic bowl of cinnabar water.

 

“What’s this for?” Shui Que asked, puzzled.

 

He had woken up because of the cool dot of water between his brows.

 

Qi Chaojin explained, “Dew mixed with cinnabar. On Six Spirits Day, you dab it on the forehead and abdomen to ward off illness.”

 

“Oh, I see.” Shui Que nodded, then instinctively lifted his shirt with his mouth, freeing his hands to reach for a wooden comb on the bedside table. As he combed his hair, he mumbled through the cloth, “Alright… go ahead and dot me.”

 

His speech was muffled and sticky-sounding.

 

Qi Chaojin quickly averted his gaze as if burned.

 

Shui Que didn’t seem to mind at all. He hastily lifted his undershirt and bit the cloth between his teeth, not realizing that his chest and abdomen were now exposed to the cool air.

 

Qi Chaojin caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye—a pale pink curve rising slightly with each breath. He couldn’t tell if the color came from the cinnabar water or a natural blush, but it looked even lovelier.

 

Afraid of misplacing the dot, he lowered his eyes. Shui Que calmly combed his black hair, waiting for the cinnabar ritual. Qi Chaojin half-lowered his eyelids, trying his best to remain composed.

 

His pinky, stiff with tension, dipped into the cinnabar again. With a cool touch, he gently pressed it one inch above Shui Que’s navel.

 

The tips of Qi Chaojin’s ears turned burning hot. He quickly looked away, stared at the floor, and murmured hoarsely, “Done.”

 

Shui Que released the cloth from his mouth. Since he had been biting through fabric, his lips were left slightly red and swollen.

 

Qi Chaojin placed the ceramic bowl on the table, then helped Shui Que tie up his hair with a hairpin.

 

He asked, “The chestnuts in the back hills are ripe. After breakfast, want to go pick some with me?”

 

Shui Que: “Mm-hmm.”

 

In the back hills, near the place where they had picked wild peaches before, stood a few chestnut trees—already many years old. The fallen chestnuts could be collected by hand with gloves. Qi Chaojin mentioned they could roast them with sugar when they got back in the evening.

 

“I need to visit the Chen family’s calligraphy and painting shop in the north of the city around noon.”

 

Qi Chaojin asked if Shui Que wanted to come along into the city.

 

Shui Que figured he had nothing else planned, so he might as well go with him after lunch.

 

They entered through the southwest gate. The familiar market streets and alleyways had changed—suddenly, every shop had lanterns hanging out front, some even decked with red and gold fabric decorations. The tall drum-tower building in particular had colorful flags fluttering in the wind, a canopy tied together with silk, adorned with bird and flower tassels, and pasted with bright orange lanterns.

 

Qi Chaojin noticed his curiosity and said, “The Mid-Autumn Festival’s coming. The shop owners are preparing.”

 

The lantern festival in Changzhou County was a major annual event. During the nighttime celebration, the entire city would be lit up like a sea of stars and flowers.

 

Suddenly, Shui Que grabbed Qi Chaojin’s sleeve with one hand and used the other to shyly cover the cinnabar dot on his forehead: “Why is it only kids who get this?”

 

He hadn’t seen any adults with a cinnabar dot. Wasn’t this for preventing illness?

 

Did it only work on children?

 

He glanced up at Qi Chaojin. His forehead was spotless. Shui Que muttered, “Why didn’t you do one too? Why just me…”

 

He was the only adult on the street with a cinnabar mark. The rest were all children playing with grass or spinning tops. Shui Que felt pretty embarrassed.

 

Qi Chaojin answered matter-of-factly, “Shui Que, I’m already twenty-one.”

 

In other words, he had come of age the year before.

 

Shui Que had almost forgotten—when he first arrived in this world, the system had set his physical age to eighteen.

 

So he really was still just a young man.

 

Still feeling a little embarrassed, Shui Que averted his gaze—but then suddenly froze in place.

 

A tall, familiar-looking Hu man led the group, followed by two or three others with similarly deep-set eyes and high-bridged noses, all dressed in robes and wearing headscarves—also Hu people. There was also a thin, wiry Han man with a black beard, dressed like a scholar.

 

The group entered the Drum Belly Pavilion, and a waiter from the restaurant greeted them, leading them to a private room upstairs.

 

Besides Wu Chun, all the other faces were completely unfamiliar to Shui Que.

 

Thinking about Wu Chun’s strange behavior in recent days, Shui Que felt an ominous premonition begin to stir in his chest.

“What is it?”

 

Qi Chaojin followed his line of sight, but by now, the group had already disappeared from view.

 

Shui Que’s eyes darted as he opened his palm. “Qi Lang, give me some money. I want to go to the Mei family snack shop on West Street for a bite. I’m not going with you to the north of the city—it’s too far.”

 

The Mei family snack shop on West Street sold all kinds of snacks and pastries. They also offered flavorful dishes like minced chicken and stir-fried kidneys, all for just fifteen coins a portion. It was very popular among the people of Changzhou County for its quality and affordability.

 

They were currently in the southwest part of the city, and going all the way to the north would take another half an hour. Qi Chaojin figured it was indeed too far, and Shui Que probably wouldn’t want to go.

 

So he handed over a hundred coins and told him to wait at the Mei family snack shop afterward.

 

Once Qi Chaojin’s figure had passed over Bazi Bridge and was walking farther toward the north of the city, Shui Que glanced at the brightly colored canopy over the Drum Belly Pavilion and stepped inside.

 

Most of the restaurant staff already recognized him—he was a regular who often came with Third Young Master Cui.

 

One quick-witted servant came up immediately. “Does the young master wish to go to the second-floor private room?”

 

Shui Que nodded.

 

As the servant led the way up the stairs, he apologized with a smile, “So sorry, young master—the room you and Third Young Master Cui usually use already has guests today.”

 

Shui Que asked sharply, “Was it those Hu people?”

 

The servant replied, “Yes, yes! Did you see them, my lord? They seemed like members of a Hu theatrical troupe, but the material of their robes was unusually luxurious…”

 

The servant couldn’t help but wonder when acting in troupes had become so lucrative.

 

“Then I want the private room right across from them,” Shui Que said, face unblinking and calm, even though he knew the hundred coins Qi Chaojin had just given him weren’t enough to cover the tea charge for a private upstairs room. “Put it on the tab of Third Young Master Cui. He’ll pay it next time he comes.”

 

After all, Cui Shixin had promised him—if he ever ate at a restaurant, just charge it to him.

 

Shui Que clung to that, even if it was a little weak.

 

He had already eaten lunch before he came and didn’t order much—just a pot of Dongting Junshan tea—then waved the servant away.

 

The door to his private room wasn’t fully closed—left half ajar—so he could keep an eye on what was happening across the hall.

 

It didn’t look like the people across the hall were there to eat either. He saw the servant only bring in wine and some simple side dishes.

 

He had no idea what they were discussing. Shui Que’s butt was already sore from sitting, but the door to the opposite private room remained firmly shut.

 

Hadn’t it already been nearly an hour?

 

Propping his chin on his hand, Shui Que was getting drowsy from waiting. He kept his eyes half open to watch the room across the way.

 

Suddenly, the sound of a teacup shattering rang out from across the hall.

 

It was followed by a servant’s shout from downstairs: “Something’s wrong—fire! There’s a fire! Quick, call the men from the Hidden Flame Bureau and the military patrols!”

 

The Hidden Flame Bureau was responsible for fire emergencies in every city of Darong. When fires broke out, stampedes were a risk, so the military patrols were also needed to keep order.

 

A fire?

 

Shui Que snapped fully awake.

 

Thick smoke billowed outside—the fire had started from the silk canopy outside the second-floor window. The fabric, red gauze, and decorative lanterns all caught instantly, flames leaping skyward.

 

The entire exterior of the restaurant was engulfed in roaring fire. With the autumn wind, the flames blew inward, catching the wooden beams.

 

Guests in each private room, startled like birds, fled their rooms in panic, scattering like frightened animals.

 

Shui Que ran out of his room, coughing from the smoke.

 

A tall man burst out from the room next to his, violently kicked open the Hu people’s door.

 

The window was wide open, flames raging outside. Only shattered teacups and overturned wine jars remained.

 

He cursed and turned around.

 

Narrow sleeves, armguards, a battle tunic with a blue bull patch, and a slung belt—he even carried a sword.

 

A scar at the corner of his eye twisted with the fierce expression on his face, exuding pure menace.

 

Noticing Shui Que standing there in a daze, seemingly not understanding the situation, Wei Yan stepped forward, raising his voice, “Why haven’t you run? Aren’t you afraid of the fire?”

 

Smoke rolled in.

 

Wei Yan’s face was stern, like a grim reaper sent from the underworld. With overwhelming force, he hoisted Shui Que over his shoulder, holding him by the thigh.

 

He leapt down the stairs three steps at a time. His shoulder was rock-hard, jabbing painfully into Shui Que.

 

Outside the Drum Belly Pavilion, members of the Hidden Flame Bureau had already arrived, carrying large water sacks and bamboo tubes to fight the fire.

 

Wei Yan set Shui Que down, speaking in a deliberately harsh tone, “Isn’t it just too coincidental? Every time I investigate these Hu people, eight out of ten times, you’re nearby. Especially with that half-breed—you’re always together.”

 

His face was smeared with soot, and the scar made him look even more fierce and disheveled. But Shui Que still looked clean and fair, though flushed pink from the heat and smoke inside.

 

Seeing his red cheeks, Wei Yan suspected Shui Que might be feeling guilty.

 

But upon a closer look—

 

Innocent expression, blinking slowly, as if he didn’t understand a word of what Wei Yan was saying.

 

Snow-white cheeks tinged pink, the cinnabar between his brows looking even more vivid.

 

Wei Yan furrowed his sword-like brows, sizing Shui Que up suspiciously. “Didn’t you say you were a rabbit today? Changed your disguise again—to a little Guanyin?”

 

The streets outside the building were crowded with people. Wei Yan, tall and broad, created a small safe space around them to speak without interruption.

 

“Why don’t you defend yourself? Clear your name?” Wei Yan asked, growing more suspicious. “Or did the smoke inside make you lose your voice?”

 

He reached out and pinched Shui Que’s cheeks, trying to make him open his mouth to check his throat.

 

Shui Que had no choice but to tilt his head back and mumble, “I—I don’t understand what you’re talking about…”

 

From outside the southwest city gate, a troop of armored soldiers galloped in, their heavy gear gleaming under the setting sun. These were military patrols, shouting loudly as they cleared the crowd and maintained order.

 

From the far end of the alley, a fine horse rode in and stopped a short distance from Wei Yan and Shui Que.

 

A man in a flying fish robe dismounted, dragging along a thin, middle-aged man—none other than the only Central Plains man Shui Que had seen earlier among the Hu group.

 

The man in the flying fish robe held the middle-aged man firmly. Unable to salute, he bowed his head to Wei Yan and said, “Many thanks, Little Marquis, for the fine horse. It helped this subject catch the traitor from Suwu Prefecture.”

 

Wei Yan gave a slight nod and asked, “Captain Liang, you’ve done well. What about the other Hu people?”

 

“Captain” was the official title of the man in the flying fish robe, a subordinate of the Imperial Guard, sent from the capital to investigate the Suwu Prefecture case. King Wu* was suspected of colluding with Hu people from Daxiang to betray the nation.

Note: King Wu is a prince conferred title and a terrority out of the capital.

 

With Wei Yan’s help, after a month of moving between Suwu and nearby areas, they finally captured one of King Wu’s advisors in Changzhou County.

 

Sweat beaded on Captain Liang’s forehead. He jabbed the advisor’s knee hard, forcing him to kneel on the ground like a dead fish. Then he cupped his hands and said, “The Hu people are sly. They’ve vanished without a trace. My men are still searching.”

 

Wei Yan responded coldly, “Mm.”

 

Captain Liang nervously glanced up—only to find the usual grim-faced Wei Yan tugging and grabbing at a fair-faced Xiao Langjun, looking suspicious. He hesitated, then asked, “And this is…?”

 

With a sweep of his pitch-black brows, Wei Yan forcibly grabbed Shui Que’s hand to stop him from pinching his arm. Still maintaining a stern demeanor, he said to Captain Liang, “This person is highly suspicious. I’ll be taking him in for questioning.”

 

Shui Que’s eyes widened in disbelief as he stared at him.

 

【Now this really is like a clay Bodhisattva in a flood.】 The Overseer chuckled quietly, not exposing the truth, and said cryptically, 【If you asked him to carry you across the river, he’d probably be delighted. Do you believe it or not?】

 

Wei Yan’s arm was pinched again. He frowned deeply.

 

He’d only said a few words!

 

Why such a big reaction?

 

Shui Que, very seriously and slowly, enunciated every word: “What suspicion… don’t you slander me.”

 

Thinking of how often Shui Que interacted with the leader of the Hu people, Wei Yan gritted his teeth and said, “Then you’ll have to come with me and explain everything clearly.”

 

He lifted Shui Que onto his horse, then leapt up himself, wrapping both arms around to grasp the reins—trapping Shui Que right against his chest.

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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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