Delicate, Yet Shamelessly Freeloading [Quick Transmigration] Chapter 74

Chapter 74: The Snobbish Black Moonlight (23)

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Shui Que ended up staying at the Cui residence all the way until the twelfth lunar month.

 

It was mostly because Madam Du Si was just too warm and welcoming—treating him as if he were her fourth child. Although his illness could’ve been cured in five days, Madam Du Si earnestly invited him to stay longer. She even asked about his food preferences and had the kitchen tailor meals to his tastes every day. She went as far as inviting an opera troupe to perform in the residence.

 

Later, Father Cui seemed to have looked into the Qi family’s circumstances and assigned the end-of-year clerical work from the county yamen to Qi Chaojin. The payment for that was quite generous, clearly meant to lend him a helping hand.

 

As a result, even during the twelfth month, Qi Chaojin barely had time to visit Shui Que.

 

He came by just once to check if Shui Que had fully recovered. He didn’t stay long—didn’t even have a meal—and left in a hurry.

 

Shui Que remembered him mentioning that people still commissioned him to write peach wood charms around this time of year.

 

On the day of the Laba Festival, the Cui kitchen prepared several big pots of Laba porridge.

 

Even in the populous and prosperous Jiangnan region of Darong, there were still beggars and poor folks who couldn’t afford food or winter clothes. They dressed as Kitchen Gods or Zhong Kui and performed exorcism dances in front of wealthy homes in hopes of receiving alms.

 

The Cui family, as they did every year, welcomed them at their gate, offering porridge and cotton-padded clothes.

 

If the crowd was particularly large, or the year colder than usual, then throughout the entire twelfth month until New Year’s Eve, the Cui family’s servants would hand out food and clothing daily at the county yamen to prevent anyone from freezing or starving to death in the streets.

 

The beggars were always moved to tears, calling Magistrate Cui their “parent official.”

 

Madam Du Si sighed and said, “Even in a golden age, there’s no escaping the plight of the homeless old…”

 

“Father’s being transferred back to the capital next year, isn’t he?”

 

Cui Shixin asked, waiting until his bowl of Laba porridge had cooled enough before handing it to Shui Que.

 

Madam Du Si replied, “Mm. When that time comes, we’ll move back to the capital too. Isn’t that just in time for you to sit for the Spring Imperial Exams at the Gongyuan?”

 

Father Cui had requested a post in Changzhou to avoid serving as a high-ranking official in the court at the same time as Cui Da. Both came from noble families, and it was easy to draw suspicion from the late emperor or get entangled in court factional strife.

 

In Darong, the maximum term for an official was six years. Naturally, the new emperor would reassign Father Cui back to the capital.

 

After all, Cui Da had aligned himself with the Ninth Prince—he had backed the right horse. The Cui family’s status would only rise higher from here.

 

The porridge was made with seven precious grains, savory and comforting.

 

Shui Que didn’t understand the intricate workings of the political world. He simply held his spoon and ate small bites slowly.

 

Having been ill with a high fever for two days straight, he hadn’t eaten much and had grown noticeably thinner. His vitality had taken a hit, and the bit of weight he’d managed to put on this year was gone.

 

His chin was sharp and tucked under a scarf.

 

His lips were a pale pink, lacking any healthy color.

 

Before Cui Shixin could say anything, Madam Du Si looked at him with distress and said, “Sweetheart, look how thin you’ve gotten—eat more.”

 

It was snowing lightly, the scent of plum blossoms drifting through the front courtyard.

 

They were seated in the pavilion, gathered around a stove. Screens were placed on both sides, and gauzy curtains hung low.

 

In the courtyard, a servant followed household orders to mold a snow lion or store snow and water.

 

Another servant, per Cui Shixin’s instructions, buried a large block of quicklime in the snow. A wine pot, white-glazed with peony patterns, was placed over it. When cold water was poured over the quicklime, it reacted with a hiss. Soon, the wine inside the pot began bubbling.

 

They were heating pear blossom wine.

 

It wasn’t very strong—meant more for warming the body than getting drunk.

 

They sipped it slowly.

 

Shui Que truly felt like he was experiencing the refined lifestyle of an ancient noble household.

 

Cui Shixin watched him dazedly, and couldn’t help but pinch the soft flesh of Shui Que’s cheek. “You’ve gotten so thin. How long will it take to fatten you up again?”

 

Shui Que puffed out his cheeks and let Cui Shixin poke them again. With his lips still closed, he mumbled, “Mm-hmm, it’ll grow back.”

 

Dear heavens, was he always this cute?

 

Cui Shixin’s heart itched. He had the sudden urge to bite into those soft, tender cheeks.

 

But in the end, he only gave Shui Que’s cheek one more poke.

 

…..

 

The snow stopped after midday but resumed again in the evening, falling steadily.

 

A florist from the south part of the city came to deliver flowers that could be placed in vases—cultivated in underground cellars with heated fires. They were out of season, of course.

 

Tonight, on the desk in the warm room, sat a narrow-necked, celadon vase holding a few magnolia branches.

 

Outside, the snow was falling thick like cotton, blanketing the plum tree branches until they drooped with a rustling sound.

 

Inside, the room was cozy and warm.

 

Beaded lamps, embroidered drapes, and a fair-skinned Xiao Langjun with snowy cheeks and a jade-like face lounged lazily against the headboard, reading a storybook.

 

Cui Shixin knew Shui Que loved these tales, so he had sent people to scour the market for all kinds of storybooks and travelogues.

 

He walked in holding a small box made of yellow pear wood.

 

Shui Que didn’t even lift his head when he heard footsteps—he had already memorized Cui Shixin’s gait.

 

It wasn’t until Cui Shixin sat down by the bed that Shui Que looked up curiously and asked, “What’s that?”

 

The box was carved with peony patterns and only palm-sized.

 

Cui Shixin led him to the dressing stand and had him sit properly.

 

He opened the box’s lid.

 

Inside were golden foil floral forehead ornaments.

 

?

 

Shui Que blinked, not understanding, and looked at him with puzzled eyes.

 

Cui Shixin cleared his throat awkwardly and explained, “My mother had these plum blossom-style ornaments made. I borrowed a few to see how they’d look on you. Sit still, don’t move.”

 

Shui Que nodded and obediently stayed still.

 

His cheeks were already pale and tender. In the warmth of the room, they turned a soft pink—his complexion naturally beautiful.

 

He didn’t need any powder or lip balm.

 

Cui Shixin pressed the gold foil ornament onto his forehead and had him close his eyes. He dabbed cinnabar and drew delicate strokes between the ornaments to form swallowtail shapes.

 

When Shui Que opened his eyes, the lights flickered in their clear reflection.

 

In the candlelight, a Xiao Langjun with dark brows, rosy lips, and jade-like cheeks sat before him.

 

“All done.”

 

Cui Shixin said, letting him look into the bronze mirror on the dressing stand.

 

It was newly polished, very clear.

 

Shui Que honestly couldn’t tell if it looked good or not—he could only see the intricate craftsmanship of the swallowtail pattern.

 

But Cui Shixin just stared at him in a daze.

 

Outside, the night watchman passed by, striking his clapper and calling out “fire and candles,” snapping Cui Shixin out of it.

 

Shui Que rolled his eyes and suddenly asked, “Does it look good?”

 

Cui Shixin dumbly nodded. “It looks good. Sweetheart, it looks really good.”

 

He truly was a little dizzy from it all.

 

That nickname, which only Madam Du Si usually used, had slipped from his lips without him noticing.

 

Shui Que curled his finger, motioning for him to sit on the other round stool in front of the mirror.

 

This way, the two of them could sit side by side.

 

Xiao Langjun’s eyelashes trembled as he lifted his eyes and asked, “Could you help me undress?”

 

Cui Shixin didn’t respond at first, instinctively thinking he had misheard. “Hm?”

 

Shui Que suddenly walked to the wardrobe and took out a silver-red brocade robe, hanging it neatly on an ornate carved rack.

 

Then, spreading his arms and looking at Cui Shixin with expectant eyes, he confidently gave instructions, “I’m slow at changing clothes by myself. You need to help me…”

 

The red candles flickered; his eyes were captivating.

 

Third Young Master Cui, his mind blank, found himself undressing Shui Que and loosening his sash just like a household servant would.

 

The warming room was as cozy as spring. Normally, one didn’t need to wear many layers while inside.

 

On top was a round-collared robe, and underneath that, just a thin inner garment.

 

Cui Shixin loosened the palace sash at Shui Que’s waist.

 

As the robe opened, his hand slipped past the slender waist, starting to pull the sleeves down.

 

Shui Que’s frame was noticeably smaller than his.

 

In this position, all Cui Shixin had to do was slightly tighten his arms and he could completely gather Shui Que into his embrace.

 

His throat went dry. “It’s done.”

 

The round-collared robe was draped over the rack to the side.

 

Only a thin inner garment remained. For a moment, it felt like Shui Que’s scent had filled the entire room.

 

There was no escaping it.

 

Cui Shixin was utterly dazed.

 

Even the act of helping Shui Que into the silver-red robe slowed down unconsciously.

 

“Here.” Once the robe was adjusted properly, Shui Que handed him the palace sash. “This too.”

 

He was spoiled enough to even ask Cui Shixin to tie his sash.

 

Left with no choice, Cui Shixin bent down and tied it for him.

 

How could his waist be this slim?

 

He’d been eating well lately, yet didn’t gain any weight.

 

Cui Shixin straightened up.

 

Shui Que smiled. “If I put on plum blossom forehead decorations and wear this, do I look good? Does this color suit me?”

 

The silver-red hue made him appear even paler, dazzlingly beautiful.

 

Cui Shixin stood stunned, able only to nod.

 

Taking advantage of Cui Shixin’s dazed state, Shui Que said softly, “Earlier, I saw someone deliver a bolt of Zhang velvet to your household… It was this same color…”

 

He left the sentence hanging on purpose.

 

Cui Shixin followed the lead. “You like it?”

 

Shui Que nodded.

 

Cui Shixin immediately offered, “Then how about I have it made into new clothes for you?”

 

That fabric was actually meant for Cui Shixin’s own new clothes.

 

But since Shui Que liked it, it no longer mattered.

 

Seeing that Cui Shixin had suggested it himself, Shui Que’s lips curved into a small dimpled smile.

 

Ah, this Cui San was just so easy to fool—what’s wrong with letting him treat him to some luxuries?

 

He needed a little lesson! He couldn’t be too generous!

 

Or else someone like him would be tricked into giving away even his new clothes!

 

Qi Er probably didn’t have the money to buy him New Year clothes, but Cui San did.

 

If Shui Que returned home already wearing new clothes, the male lead wouldn’t need to worry about getting them for him.

 

Shui Que was quite pleased with himself—his plan was working perfectly.

 

Seeing him happy, Cui Shixin, who just had the opportunity to help undress Shui Que, also felt satisfied.

 

…….

 

At the end of the twelfth lunar month, every household began cleaning out dust and grime to prepare for the New Year.

 

That day, pine branches were burned across the city. The air filled with bluish smoke, and the sky turned pale.

 

The sound of hooves rang out as a red-lacquered double-shaft carriage stopped at the entrance to Qinghe Village.

 

The fur curtains lifted, and a person bundled up thickly like a dumpling stumbled down, tripping as they headed toward the Qi household.

 

Someone from the carriage reached out, grabbing the hem of his white fox-fur cloak.

 

Cui Shixin called out in displeasure, “Why are you in such a rush?”

 

“You’re really not staying at the Cui residence for the New Year?”

 

Shui Que was forced to take a step back. He shook his head like a rattle drum. “No, no, I’m not staying.”

 

Cui Shixin could spend the New Year with his parents, but the male lead only had himself.

 

Shui Que couldn’t bear to think of him spending the New Year all alone.

 

So even though System 77 had deducted ten points from his character score, he still left the lavish Cui residence and came back.

 

Cui Shixin adjusted the snow-dusted hat that had fallen onto the soft bedding, placing it back on Shui Que’s head. “Alright, walk slowly. You’re so bundled up that if you fall, you might not even be able to get back up.”

 

Afraid the cold wind might make him sick again, he had wrapped him up in layers.

 

Outside, a white fox-fur cloak. Inside, a silver-red Zhang velvet padded jacket. On his feet, little sheepskin boots.

 

Even his head had a small hood over it.

 

Shui Que: “Mm-hmm.”

 

He walked toward the Qi household, his movements small and careful due to the thick layers he wore.

 

It was a rare sunny day. Qi Chaojin was cleaning the courtyard and airing out bamboo chairs and wooden stools that had been rinsed with water.

 

He was placing holly and cypress branches along the eaves, a folk tradition symbolizing rising fortune with each step.

 

Having just brought out a ladder and adjusted its position—

 

Shui Que rushed into his arms like a swallow returning to its nest.

 

“Qi Lang, I missed you so much.”

 

It had only been a few days, but he clung to Qi Chaojin with a syrupy voice.

 

Qi Chaojin seemed to just process his presence and gently embraced him. “Mm. I missed you too… very much.”

 

“How much?” Shui Que let go and smiled. “I missed you so much I couldn’t even eat. Did you miss me that much too?”

 

He had clearly eaten full meals at the Cui residence, plus sweet fermented rice dumplings, yet he deliberately spun sweet words to tease the male lead.

 

Qi Chaojin replied in a soft tone, “Mm, very much. A lot.”

 

He recalled how he had to hug Shui Que’s clothes at night just to fall asleep.

 

Of course, Shui Que had no idea what he’d done with his clothes, but he was very satisfied with the male lead’s answer.

 

The male lead really was hopelessly in love with him.

 

Having confirmed there were no issues with the plot progress, Shui Que then tried to recover the ten points he’d lost in his character score.

 

He removed the fox-fur cloak, revealing the silver-red Zhang velvet padded jacket underneath.

 

His eyes sparkled proudly, like showing off a medal. “Cui San gave me this new robe. I heard Zhang velvet is very expensive.”

 

He mumbled on about how well he’d eaten, dressed, and been cared for at the Cui residence.

 

Pretending to be dazzled by all the wealth.

 

Qi Chaojin lowered his gaze slightly and first adjusted Shui Que’s cloak properly. “Let’s go inside. Don’t catch cold again.”

 

He was terrified.

 

He often dreamed in the middle of the night of Shui Que burning with fever, red-eyed, whispering “It hurts so much.”

 

Shui Que managed to earn back a few character points and said no more.

 

Later, after Qi Chaojin placed the holly and cypress on the eaves and climbed down, Shui Que asked, “Why do you have door couplets but no peach charms?”

 

The front door had guardian deity couplets, but no Spring Festival couplets on the sides or above.

 

Qi Chaojin asked, “Do you want to write them?”

 

He had written charms for many people, just not for his own home yet.

 

Shui Que: “Sure.”

 

After having washed the clothes and passed by, Aunt Liu marveled, “Oh my, Qi Erlang! These spring couplets are so auspicious!”

 

There were finally some properly written calligraphy scrolls—

 

Money come come come come come come come come.


Fortune arrive arrive arrive arrive arrive arrive arrive.


Horizontal scroll: Worldly Riches.

 

Outside the home of a proper scholar, such a vulgar and plain set of Spring Festival couplets was posted.

 

Shui Que muttered, a little embarrassed, “I wrote them…”

 

Still, writing them did earn him back a few more character points.

 

Aunt Liu chuckled. “Well then, let’s wish Qi Er great success in the exams and a huge fortune!”

 

By New Year’s Eve, Shui Que claimed he wanted to stay up all night to welcome the New Year. But before the midnight candle was even halfway burned, he tilted his head and fell asleep leaning on Qi Chaojin.

 

Qi Chaojin worried he’d slide while sleeping and burn himself on the fire stove, so he had no choice but to carry him to bed.

 

During the first month of the year, the sound of firecrackers and bamboo flutes began early in the morning.

 

Shui Que woke up to a plate of oranges and lychees by his pillow. After washing up, Qi Chaojin peeled the fruit for him and earnestly said it was auspicious to eat them.

 

“Qi Lang, you’re so superstitious.”

 

Shui Que mumbled. Though he had just brushed his teeth, he still ate the fruit.

 

Qi Chaojin was a scholar. Even in this era, one would expect he wouldn’t be so superstitious. Yet, he truly seemed to believe in all sorts of lucky omens.

 

On the fifteenth day of the first month, he even carried Shui Que up the city tower.

 

The sun was out, and children were running all over the tower in nothing more than a padded jacket. Shui Que, however, was bundled tightly in a cloak.

 

Qi Chaojin whispered, “Climbing the city tower will drive away all illness. You won’t fall sick again this year.”

 

Shui Que buried his face in Qi Chaojin’s shoulder and neck. The sunlight was warm, and he grew sleepy, responding drowsily, “Mm.”

 

…

 

The new year passed especially quickly.

 

Shui Que had to reply to Wei Yan every few days. It was as if sending letters didn’t cost Wei Yan a single coin—he would send four, five, sometimes six letters in a month. The couriers delivered them so frequently that they could ride to the Qi residence in Qinghe Village with their eyes closed.

 

Sometimes, before Shui Que could finish one reply, the next letter had already arrived.

 

It got even more confusing when Nie Xiuyuan’s monthly letter also arrived around the same time.

 

In his distraction, Shui Que once returned the letters to the wrong bamboo tubes—mixing them up between the two.

 

Thankfully, he hadn’t written anything strange.

 

To save time, his replies were basically a running commentary—what he’d eaten, which storybook he’d read, whether he slept well—just casual chatter.

 

Apart from the names on the letterheads, the content was practically copy-pasted.

 

Because of this, both Wei Yan and Nie Xiuyuan eventually commented in their next letters, surprised that Shui Que seemed to be on such good terms with the other.

 

When writing back to Nie Xiuyuan, Shui Que guiltily explained that their relationship was just ordinary.

 

For some reason, he still remembered how Headmaster Nie once scolded him, asking who he planned to become a Xiao Langjun for.

 

He was terrified that Nie Xiuyuan would guess he was planning to follow Wei Yan to the capital without title or status.

 

Around June and July, Wei Yan and the Gongwei Division were stationed in Jiangnan to suppress bandits—mostly along the mountainous border areas surrounding Suwu Prefecture. Every year, cases of bandits robbing and even killing merchants were reported to the local authorities.

 

Since the provincial-level autumn exam was scheduled for August and Suwu Prefecture was the provincial capital, all Jiangzhou scholars had to go there for the exam.

 

With a token from the emperor, Wei Yan borrowed troops from Suwu Prefecture and, along with several captains from the Gongwei Division, launched a swift and fierce campaign. Like a hot knife through butter, they managed to uproot several mountain bandit camps before mid-July.

 

The people lined the roads to send them off with gratitude.

 

Yet Wei Yan did not return with the Gongwei Division to report back.

 

Instead, he detoured to Changzhou County.

 

Back at his residence in the west of the city, he didn’t immediately go to see Shui Que.

 

In August, Qi Chaojin was headed to Suwu Prefecture for the exam, which took a full day by ox cart.

 

Shui Que couldn’t understand why, even after arriving in Changzhou County, Wei Yan was still writing him letters every single day.

 

He told Qi Chaojin not to accompany him to Suwu Prefecture—riding an ox cart was too tiring.

 

Qi Chaojin gave him the household’s savings jar and only kept enough travel money for himself. “You can’t cook. I’ve told Aunt Liu—you can eat at her house, and I’ll pay her when I return. If you want to eat in the county, just take money from the jar. Lock the courtyard gate at night.”

 

Shui Que nodded like a pecking chick.

 

This season always brought frequent rain. Shortly after Qi Chaojin left for Suwu Prefecture, Shui Que put on a raincloak, wore a bamboo hat, and quietly went to see Wei Yan.

 

The man hadn’t come to see him even once—he had better not forget he still had to take him to the capital.

 

The servant at the gate went in to announce him. Wei Yan stepped out and immediately saw Shui Que, his green raincloak soaked through.

 

With his little face all tense, Shui Que marched up and questioned, “Have you had a change of heart? Why do you keep writing me letters but never come see me?”

 

Wei Yan was terribly wronged. He rushed to explain, “How could I have a change of heart? I—I even held your hand. No one else would want me except you…”

 

“……..” The Xiao Langjun, who had kissed who-knows-how-many others, hesitated for a moment, lowered his gaze, and changed the subject. “What happened to your leg?”

 

He had purposely held himself back from visiting, but still got caught.

 

Wei Yan said gloomily, “On the way back from the bandit suppression, we ran into a landslide during a storm. My leg got pinned down.”

 

Now, he limped when he walked, which looked rather silly—so he refrained from visiting Shui Que.

 

He asked, “If I end up like this forever, would you still want me?”

 

He looked at Shui Que with the pitiful eyes of a big dog worried about being abandoned and forced to wander the streets.

 

As long as his brain wasn’t injured, it was fine.

 

Shui Que breathed a sigh of relief.

 

He couldn’t forget his mission.

 

So he nodded twice.

 

After a while, he asked with concern, “Does it hurt? Is it serious?”

 

Wei Yan: “It’s nothing, really. Just give it half a month, and I’ll be fully healed.”

 

That meant he’d still be in time to head to the capital after the results were posted.

 

Shui Que was completely at ease now.

 

He politely handed his raincloak to the servant, then affectionately helped support Wei Yan as they headed inside. “Then you should avoid walking too much and recover your leg quickly.”

 

Shui Que only reached Wei Yan’s shoulder. Wei Yan couldn’t quite figure out how someone could be so slim yet soft at the same time—he didn’t dare lean his weight on him, afraid he might accidentally crush him.

 

That sweet, familiar scent he had thought about for so long now lingered right under his nose.

 

His heart itched. Trying to shift focus, he brought up something serious. “Even though I was injured, when the mountain collapsed, it cleared the way to a mass grave near the bandit camp. We found a lot of merchant corpses—people who were robbed and then murdered. They matched the cases reported to the authorities. But there was one family that no one claimed. Seems like the whole household was wiped out.”

 

“Captain Liang brought people to examine the bones. One of them hadn’t yet come of age—about your age.” Wei Yan’s face showed lingering fear as he confessed, “When I heard that, my heart almost stopped. I thought of you. Thank goodness you’re safe.”

 

He still remembered Shui Que telling him his parents were killed by bandits.

 

But among the corpses, there were no merchants with the surname Shui. That unclaimed family matched a case in the official records—a cloth merchant family surnamed Su, who went missing last summer in Suwu Prefecture.

 

Captain Liang kept muttering and even started digging in the dirt, saying something about unmatched corpses. He also went to check the gold and silver seized from the bandits’ camp.

 

There were always odd types in the Gongwei Division. Wei Yan didn’t pay much attention to his strange behavior—maybe the emperor had ordered him to investigate some related case.

 

Still, Wei Yan asked anyway, “When and where were your parents killed? Have the bandits been this rampant in the past two years?”

 

Shui Que blinked slowly.

 

That backstory had been made up by Qi Chaojin—to claim he was going to rely on a distant relative and hide the fact that he had lost his memory, had no relatives, and was an undocumented person.

 

He had no idea how to respond, so he planned to muddle through.

 

In his panic, he couldn’t come up with anything useful. He only knew one thing clearly—he couldn’t let Wei Yan grow suspicious. If Wei Yan decided not to bring him to the capital because of his mysterious background, how would he be able to push the plot forward?

 

To distract Wei Yan and make him a bit dumber,
Shui Que simply stood on tiptoe, tugged at Wei Yan’s collar, and kissed him.

 

He kissed with quite a bit of force—his small lips were pressed so tightly that they turned a deep, flushed red.

 

Wei Yan only felt the soft, tender flesh covering his lips.


His pupils instantly widened.

 

It was his first time kissing someone, and he reacted slowly, not even knowing he should use his tongue.


He stood frozen for two seconds. A servant who had followed behind stifled a startled gasp, knocking over the grape trellis in the courtyard.

 

Realizing someone was there, Shui Que’s face flushed hot, and he awkwardly pulled away from Wei Yan.

 

Only then did Wei Yan sharply suck in a breath.

 

Shui Que realized in that moment that he had accidentally stepped on Wei Yan’s injured foot.

 

He backed away a couple of steps, nervously asking, “Did—did I hurt you? Are you okay?”

 

His eyelashes trembled slightly, and his lips were still slightly puffed up.

 

Wei Yan gritted his teeth. “It hurts.”

 

Shui Que asked, “Should I call a physician to take a look?”

 

“No need.” Wei Yan shook his head, ears burning red. “It hurts, but… I… I didn’t taste anything just now. Can we kiss again?”

 

Shui Que gave him a weird look,
feeling like Wei Yan’s brain had been kissed broken.

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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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