Delicate, Yet Shamelessly Freeloading [Quick Transmigration] Chapter 76

Chapter 76: The Snobbish Black Moonlight (25)

---

Marquis Anyuan’s residence was a grand five-courtyard complex with a central garden, intricate carvings, painted beams, red walls and yellow tiles, and polished vermillion lacquer doors. But by Wei Yan’s generation, the household had dwindled.

 

His mother had died early, and there were no other women in the household. The management should’ve fallen to his grandmother, but she was elderly and lived in a large estate in the outskirts near Xian Ning Temple, spending her days chanting scriptures and nurturing her spirit.

 

His father, Marquis Anyuan, was stationed on the northern frontier and hadn’t returned to the capital in years. Now, this vast marquisate was mostly maintained by household servants, with only the two Wei brothers living there.

 

Wei Yan lived in the east courtyard, while his younger brother Wei Zhao lived in the west.

 

The two brothers weren’t particularly close. Wei Zhao, for his part, avoided provoking Wei Yan. So although they lived under the same roof—one entering the palace daily to report to the emperor, and the other indulging in songs, wine, and pleasures—they rarely crossed paths, maybe once every half month.

 

Wei Zhao had no idea his elder brother was secretly keeping a Xiao Langjun in the estate.

 

With their father away, Wei Yan, as the elder, enforced strict discipline. If Wei Zhao dared to bring someone home from outside, Wei Yan would probably break his leg, write a letter, and have it sent to the northern frontier to summon the Marquis back—who’d break the other leg.

 

Wei Zhao would’ve never imagined that his upright brother not only kept someone in the east courtyard but had even given up the main room to that person and moved himself into the side wing.

 

Shui Que had been living there for over a month.

 

Despite Shui Que’s insistent demand for separate rooms, which Wei Yan reluctantly agreed to, there was no sign that Wei Yan planned to distance himself at all.

 

Every day after court, he’d rush over like an overly attached plaster—clingy as could be.

 

This didn’t match the plot at all, and Shui Que was distressed.

 

So distressed, in fact, that he skipped the “cold neglect” phase entirely and jumped straight to pretending to be depressed.

 

But he’d only kept up the act for half a day before terrifying Wei Yan.

 

The man, who already brought him trinkets every day, had clearly gone to the emperor to ask for rewards this time. Treasures began flooding in: rhinoceros jade, tortoiseshell, amber, yellow silk and purple gauze, gold flowers and silverware—an endless array, all delivered to Shui Que.

 

Wei Yan had recently been promoted for his success in suppressing bandits. He was now the Deputy Commander of the Imperial Guards, and since the top Commander’s position was vacant, he was essentially the one in charge of the Imperial Guard.

 

Each day, he had to oversee training drills and rehearse protocols for imperial ceremonies.

 

He was only allowed one day off every ten days.

 

After his promotion, he’d been busy for several days, but he still had household servants constantly monitoring Shui Que’s well-being.

 

A personal attendant came galloping in to deliver a message.

 

He only drank half a bowl of porridge for breakfast!

 

And barely touched lunch?

 

This wouldn’t do!

 

Wei Yan rushed back home from court, galloping on horseback.

 

Shui Que: “…”

 

It had clearly only been half a day since they last saw each other, but Wei Yan acted like he’d gone on a three-day hunger strike.

 

Still in his armor, he hurried over and grabbed Shui Que by the shoulders, scanning him up and down. In a low voice, he concluded, “Your jaw’s already looking sharper…”

 

Shui Que: “…”

 

The Overseer sneered: 【Stupid mutt.】

 

This time, Shui Que didn’t object.

 

It was a bit much…

 

Wei Yan.

 

Was being… way too much.

 

How could a man act like a big dog with separation anxiety? It had only been half a day, and he was already panicking and circling him like crazy.

 

Shui Que couldn’t bear to look. He leaned lazily against a wide red sandalwood couch.

 

He resolved to stop giving Wei Yan any warmth.

 

If Wei Yan wouldn’t neglect him, then he’d just emotionally neglect Wei Yan in return!

 

The Overseer cheered: 【What a clever baby, even knows how to turn the tables.】

 

Shui Que felt a little shy.

 

He had been studying the Thirty-Six Stratagems lately…

 

And as soon as he applied one, 01 praised him.

 

He hadn’t even skipped meals properly—certainly not enough for his jaw to become pointy like Wei Yan claimed.

 

He just never gained weight. His face was naturally small, and when he leaned lazily, his hand pressing into his cheek made the tiny bit of soft flesh look even slimmer.

 

It was chilly outside, but warm enough indoors. He wore a floral gauze robe with wide sleeves. The jade-and-gold pendant draped from the nape of his neck down to his chest. His skin was pale like snow, his attire lavish, looking even more delicate than before.

 

Even when sulking with a little scowl, he still inspired affection.

 

Wei Yan, a large dog in human form, was lovestruck. He leaned on the wooden couch’s armrest and scooted close. “Why aren’t you eating? Is your appetite gone? Is it because the kitchen food here doesn’t suit your taste?”

 

Shui Que pressed his lips together and ignored him.

 

Let’s see how long Wei Yan could keep trying to warm a cold shoulder.

 

But the more he stayed silent, the more persistent Wei Yan became.

 

“Then how about I dismiss the current cooks and hire new ones?”

 

Shui Que hesitated slightly.

 

In truth, the current cooks actually made food just the way he liked.

 

“Wait, so it’s not about the food?” Wei Yan observed his shifting expression and took the chance to ask, “What is it then? Are you unhappy? Did I upset you?”

 

He was quick to blame himself.

 

Shui Que glanced at him with a listless expression. “I just don’t feel like eating.”

 

Wei Yan tried to coax him. “Recently, lots of theatre troupes from all over have come to the capital. Want to go see a show?”

 

“Oh, and that Songshan Hermit who wrote the travelogue Riding a Donkey Through the Rivers and Mountains—he recently returned to the capital. Don’t you like his writings? I’ll have someone from the residence deliver a calling card to arrange a visit. How about that?”

 

At the mention of this, Shui Que perked up a bit.

 

Anyway, there was no rush to push the plot forward—he had already earned a passing grade in this world.

 

The corners of Shui Que’s lips curled slightly. He was clearly looking forward to it, but still spoke slowly, as if hesitant: “Wouldn’t that be bothering him too much?”

 

But all his thoughts were written plain as day on that pure, innocent face of his.

 

“How could it be?” Wei Yan said confidently. “The Songshan Hermit would definitely be happy to know someone enjoys his travel notes. I have a day off the day after tomorrow—after reviewing the navy drills at Jinming Pond, I should be free around si hour (9-11am). Then we can go visit him together. I’ll have Qiaoshan deliver the card now. How does that sound?”

 

Shui Que: “Mm-hmm.”

 

Wei Yan noticed that he was in a good mood and seized the opportunity to say, “I’ve consulted the fortune-telling Taoist at the Great Xiangguo Temple so many times. Our eight characters match perfectly…”

 

Shui Que could almost guess what he was about to say next—it was nothing more than asking him to give their relationship a proper name or title.

 

Great Xiangguo Temple opened for market trade five times a month, and every time it did, Wei Yan would go. Upon returning, he would tell Shui Que all about what the masters had said regarding their matching eight characters. If the reading wasn’t favorable, the fortune-teller was a fraud; if it was, the master was a sage and praised to the skies.

 

Then, he would ask Shui Que when he planned to pick an auspicious day for the ceremony.

 

Shui Que had heard it so many times that his ears were about to sprout calluses.

 

He quickly pressed a hand over Wei Yan’s mouth.

 

With practiced ease, he put on a little scowl. “Let’s talk about this another time.”

 

There was nothing in the plot about getting married.

 

Shui Que felt like even the imaginary tail wagging behind Wei Yan had stopped moving.

 

Wait—Wei Yan was a human, not a dog.

 

Wei Yan shut his mouth awkwardly.

 

After a moment, he lowered his head and rested his ear on Shui Que’s belly, blankly asking, “You haven’t had much appetite lately. Don’t tell me you’re…”

 

Through the gauzy floral fabric, his stomach felt warm and soft. In the center was a tiny navel. His waist was so slim it could be grasped with one hand, and even after all this time, he still hadn’t put on much weight.

 

Wei Yan’s ears burned red.

 

Just as he raised his head, Shui Que seized the chance and kicked him.

 

With his snow-white little face taut, he scolded slowly and deliberately, “Are you out of your mind? Kissing won’t get you pregnant.”

 

Wei Yan, having been kicked in the chest, stared in a daze.

 

“Oh…” After a moment, he shamelessly leaned in and kissed Shui Que’s flushed cheek. “Then… can I kiss you?”

 

…So that was the point of all this.

 

Shui Que refused. “No.”

 

Out of nowhere, the Overseer’s voice chimed in: 【Baby, your first reaction wasn’t that men can’t get pregnant.】

 

What kind of nonsense was that?

 

Shui Que was dizzy with frustration at the two of them.

 

【…You’re not allowed to talk.】

 

…

 

Streams of gold, jade, and silverware were noisily delivered to the main house in the east courtyard. Wei Yan’s younger brother, Wei Zhao, had just returned from drinking with his shady friends in the capital. It was hard not to notice the commotion.

 

He leaned in by the veranda, eavesdropping, and heard the servants in the east courtyard whispering about someone incredibly beautiful, with skin fair and delicate…

 

Of course, Wei Zhao wouldn’t associate such descriptions with his cold-faced, sharp-tongued elder brother.

 

But he immediately understood what was going on.

 

Ha!

 

So big brother had secretly kept someone in the residence?

 

Suddenly, a sharp palm strike landed hard on the back of his head.

 

“Ow!” Wei Zhao yelped, clutching his head.

 

“Sneaking around—what are you doing here?”

 

Wei Yan’s face was stern, his sword-like brows sharp and imposing. Standing with the light behind him, he looked to Wei Zhao like a grim reaper.

 

But Wei Zhao was tipsy with drink and dared to argue with his brother.

 

“Who’s sneaking around? It’s clearly you, Brother! You didn’t even tell us—you’ve been hiding a beautiful woman in the residence!”

 

He automatically assumed Wei Yan had taken in a young lady.

 

Having finally caught some dirt on Wei Yan, Wei Zhao absolutely wasn’t going to back down.

 

Why should Wei Yan forbid him from bringing his favorite girl from Qin Lou back home, while secretly giving himself all the privileges and keeping a mistress in the estate?

 

Not only did he plan to make a scene, he even intended to write to their father a thousand miles away!

 

Wei Zhao was as slippery as a mouse at that moment. Before Wei Yan could catch him, he darted past the decorated archway and into the main house of the east courtyard.

 

“Hey!”

 

Wei Yan strode after him in large, quick steps.

 

A meditation cushion flew at him like a bolt of fury, hitting Wei Zhao squarely in the head and leaving him stunned.

 

The cushion thudded to the floor.

 

From inside the room, the Xiao Langjun hadn’t seen who entered and directly snapped, “Didn’t I tell you not to come in?”

 

Though his words were harsh, his tone was softer than even the gentlest Wu dialect, leaving Wei Zhao dazed.

 

Why go out to listen to operas when he could stay home and hear this lovely guest scold people?

 

The Xiao Langjun was sitting on a chaise, clearly displeased.

 

His delicate brows furrowed like ripples on a spring lake.

 

Only then did he seem to realize he had scolded the wrong person. He blinked slowly, as if processing the situation.

 

His long, neat lashes fluttered like butterfly wings, enough to tremble one’s heart.

 

Wei Yan, with no mercy, grabbed his brother like a chick and dragged him out.

 

Wei Zhao, still dumbfounded, kept apologizing to the person inside. “Sister-in-law—no, brother’s spouse—no, brother’s lover? Ugh, I got lost, took the wrong turn, I’m so sorry!”

 

Wei Yan dragged him out into the courtyard and scolded fiercely, “He has a temper. Don’t bother him. If you make him unhappy, I’ll throw you to the northern frontier.”

 

Wei Zhao quickly begged for mercy. “Brother, you’re trying to kill me! You know what kind of weakling I am—one trip to the north and I’ll die of travel fatigue and water sickness!”

 

“Besides…” Wei Zhao’s eyes darted about. He pouted, “Was it really me who made him angry? Isn’t he clearly mad at you?”

 

Wei Yan’s face darkened so much it looked like ink could drip from it.

 

Emboldened, Wei Zhao ventured a guess. “He’s giving you the cold shoulder. Don’t tell me… you didn’t satisfy him properly?”

 

With the alcohol in him, he dared say anything in front of Wei Yan. He began rattling off all the debauched gossip he’d heard about pleasure and romance.

 

Even though he preferred women, he’d heard plenty of spicy stories from the southern quarters.

 

Wei Yan felt like his ears were being sullied, but somehow he kept listening.

 

…

 

The next morning, Wei Yan had to rise at the fourth watch. By the fifth, when the palace gates opened, he needed to be inside for the daily court assembly.

 

Shui Que was still fast asleep, groggy and dazed. The bed curtains hadn’t been drawn, and the sky outside remained pitch black. The autumn wind was cool, yet fine sweat beaded on his forehead and his earlobes were flushed pink.

 

He lay in a silver-threaded white sandalwood bed, beneath a pearl canopy, resting on a twin-phoenix embroidered pillow, covered in brocade quilts.

 

It was unclear if he felt cold or feverish. The Xiao Langjun on the bed clutched the covers tightly, wrinkling them all over. His legs twisted around the blanket’s edge, and his soft pink toes curled inward.

 

His underclothes were thin, and it was faintly visible that his back was trembling slightly in waves.

 

Wei Yan truly couldn’t bring himself to do anything indecent.

 

Because Shui Que hadn’t eaten well the day before, Wei Yan had ordered the kitchen to prepare a medicinal dinner—meals that could replenish blood and energy.

 

They boiled century-old ginseng, angelica, atractylodes, and other herbs together. With late autumn approaching, he also arranged a hot pot of mutton to fend off the cold.

 

His intentions were good.

 

But he had barely slept an hour before his blood surged, forcing him to take a cold bath in the middle of the night.

 

Worried that Shui Que might also be uncomfortable, he stopped by to check on him before heading to court.

 

Sure enough, Shui Que was still asleep.

 

But not sleeping peacefully.

 

His snowy white face had soft cheek flesh pressed out by the blankets, his forehead damp with sweat, and his small face flushed pink from the heat.

 

His lips parted in a small gap, his breathing stickier than usual, no longer calm and shallow.

 

Through the slightly open lips, one could almost glimpse the tender pink inside his hot, moist mouth.

 

A cold breeze swept in. Shui Que shivered and stirred from sleep. His wet lashes drooped in little clusters.

 

In his blurry vision, the candle was still lit, the darkness outside thick as ink. Wei Yan was leaning by the bed, staring at him with unblinking, dumbfounded eyes.

 

Shui Que jumped in fright.

 

His voice trembled. “Y-You’re not asleep in the middle of the night… what are you doing here?”

 

Wei Yan realized he had startled him, so he lowered his voice to soothe him. “No, I… I’m just about to head off to morning court. The weather’s gotten colder, so I came to check if you’d kicked off your blanket…”

 

Shui Que seemed to realize something, his cheeks flushing red.

 

He awkwardly pulled at the covers and mumbled, “Oh… got it. I didn’t kick the blanket off. You should hurry and go to court.”

 

Wei Yan’s ears were burning hot, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. His voice came out dry and strained as he asked, “You… I—do you need my help with anything?”

 

His mind was still stuck on what Wei Er had said earlier—was it because he hadn’t served Shui Que well enough, that the other wasn’t willing to show him a kind face, let alone speak of marriage?

 

He wasn’t even talking about bringing honor to his family. As the Deputy Commander of the Imperial Guard, commander of the Imperial Army—how could he not even manage to secure a proper title for himself?

 

Roughly half a stick of incense passed.

 

From the eastern courtyard of Marquis Anyuan’ residence came the sharp crack of a slap.

 

Startling two or three birds from the old tree above.

 

…….

 

The sound of horse hooves echoed through the darkness of night. The sky was pitch-black, while palace lanterns burned brightly.

 

Wei Yan urged his horse forward at full speed. A lantern was tied to a long pole and raised ahead of him as he finally reached the Left Side Gate of the imperial palace. There, in front of the southern-facing Dailou Courtyard, he waited.

 

A number of officials had already gathered before the palace gate, dressed in robes of vermilion, purple, blue, and green.

 

A registry officer was checking names to ensure that tardy officials could still be reported and accounted for.

 

“Deputy Commander, did you bring your identification token?” the officer asked politely as he saw Wei Yan dismount.

 

Wei Yan patted his clothes, only to realize he had actually forgotten the token required to verify identity at the palace gates.

 

His mind still felt feverish, as if wrapped in fog. He truly believed he was dreaming.

 

But the registry officer recognized him as a favored and trusted aide of the Emperor. His mere presence served as sufficient proof of identity, so the officer said nothing more and went around him to check the other officials’ tokens.

 

These identity tokens were originally just record plaques. Although it wasn’t yet time for court, the officials of the Censorate, standing a bit farther away, were already glaring in Wei Yan’s direction, brows furrowed and pens flying furiously across their paper.

 

Wei Yan didn’t even need to think about it to know that those ever-busy censors were going to file a whole stack of memorials to impeach him.

 

If it were any other day, he would have been irritated to death by this pack of pedantic scholars.

 

But today… he was still in the mood to hum a tune.

 

The palace gates opened. Officials stationed at the east and west pavilions began calling out and organizing the entry lines. The ministers filed in one after another like a stream of fish.

 

Wei Yan rode through the first side gate and only dismounted when he reached the second gate.

 

Most ordinary officials had to dismount before the first gate.

 

Only those who were considered pillars of the court—true confidants of the Emperor—were granted the imperial favor to ride all the way to the second side gate, from where they would walk to Wende Hall for the morning assembly.

 

Even so, there were rare exceptions.

 

Three or four soldiers from the Yulong Guards carried a brightly lit sedan chair.

 

The Grand Scholar of the Zhongji Hall, who stood closest to the center of imperial authority, wore a scarlet official robe and lowered his eyes as he asked, “Commander Wei, what happened to your face?”

 

Wei Yan’s left cheek bore a faint, blurry handprint, but he beamed cheerfully, flashing his sharp canine teeth. “Thank you for your concern, Minister Nie. I got up too early and couldn’t see clearly—our grape trellis at the Marquis’ Residence collapsed today and accidentally hit me.”

 

Darong did not have an official prime minister position; the Grand Scholar held the highest rank among civil officials, much like a Prime Minister in the previous dynasty. So, calling him “Minister” was acceptable.

 

Anyone with eyes could tell that his injury clearly wasn’t from a collapsed grape trellis.

 

Nie Xiuyuan remained expressionless. He had no intention of prying into others’ private affairs.

 

But Wei Yan was practically glowing with happiness, even humming as he walked in.

 

Nie Xiuyuan felt a strange sense of agitation. “Commander Wei, have you received some joyful news? Have all the grapes at the Marquis’ Residence ripened?”

 

Wei Yan casually replied, “Yes, they’re very sweet.”

 

There wasn’t a grape trellis at the Marquis’ Residence.

---

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

---