Delicate, Yet Shamelessly Freeloading [Quick Transmigration] Chapter 78

Chapter 78: The Snobbish Black Moonlight (27)

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They didn’t manage to meet the Recluse of Songshan, so Shui Que and Wei Yan changed course and went to Nie Xiuyuan’s residence instead.


 

The brewed Junshan Yinzhen tea was served in a celadon porcelain cup and pushed across the tea table toward the two seated guests.


 

Nie Xiuyuan asked in a calm voice, “Weren’t you planning to explore the great rivers and mountains of Darong?”


 

Shui Que sat upright with guilt, replying, “I heard the capital had beautiful sights, so I came here instead to tour around…”

 


“Besides, as someone from Darong, how could I not come see the capital at least once?”


He spoke with complete conviction, showing no sign of guilt. It was as if he weren’t the same person who had cut off all contact with his mentor after sending a single letter.

 


Wei Yan wasn’t aware that Shui Que had severed ties with Nie Xiuyuan. He focused on drinking tea—guzzling it, really. Not only did he not understand the tea arts favored by scholars, he didn’t even know how to properly savor tea.

 


Shui Que held the tea cup carefully. The tea was a bit hot, so he sipped it slowly and furtively glanced at Wei Yan.

 


Why was he drinking like a water buffalo? Couldn’t he say something to ease the awkwardness between him and Headmaster Nie?

 


Wei Yan had been keeping an eye on Shui Que out of the corner of his eye. When he saw Shui Que glance at him, he immediately acted eager to help—First, he casually praised Nie Xiuyuan, then turned to Shui Que: “Minister Nie clearly has a refined understanding of tea. This tea is excellent. Have you finished your cup? Allow me to pour you more.”

 


Nie Xiuyuan:, “It’s Junshan Yinzhen gifted by His Majesty a few days ago. If you like it, feel free to take some tea cakes home.”

 


Then, turning to Shui Que again, he asked, “How long have you been in the capital now?”


Shui Que grew nervous and fumbled with his fingers to count.


 

“I arrived around mid-August…”


 

Nie Xiuyuan didn’t press why he had been in the capital for two months without visiting his former teacher.


 

After all, while they had once shared a teacher-student relationship and exchanged letters regularly, the bond between them had never been particularly deep.


 

He asked the usual questions about how Shui Que had been lately.


 

He learned that Shui Que had been staying at Marquis Anyuan’s residence for the past two months.


 

“Did Qi Er not come with you?”


 

Nie Xiuyuan remembered Qi Chaojin well—he had excelled at the academy and was likely taking the imperial exam again this year. More than that, he recalled how close Shui Que and his distant cousin Qi Chaojin had once seemed—like two peas in a pod.


 

Shui Que answered awkwardly, “No, Qi Lang is busy with his studies.”


 

Qi Chaojin had actually let his cousin come to the capital alone?


 

Nie Xiuyuan sensed something was off.


 

Wei Yan was about to speak up—to expose how this so-called cousin had tried to force his younger relative into marriage.


 

Worried that he would say something reckless, Shui Que quickly covered his mouth.


 

He explained: “I had a fight with Qi Lang—we severed our cousin relationship. I ran away from home. It just so happened that Wei Yan was returning to the capital, so I took the opportunity and hitched a ride on his passenger boat.”

 

One often heard of fathers and sons cutting ties in Darong, but cousins severing their relationship? That was unheard of.

 

Nie Xiuyuan could tell at a glance that Shui Que was making things up.

 

But he had no intention of persuading or meddling—mending family ties was a matter for others to handle.

 

He simply asked about the examination results of the academy students.

 

Shui Que told him that Qi Chaojin had placed first in the provincial imperial examination, Cui Shixin second, and a few other classmates had also passed the provincial-level examination.

 

Nie Xiuyuan said, “Then next spring, we’ll likely see their names atop the imperial exam’s honor roll.”

 

Shui Que lowered his gaze, his eyelashes trembling slightly.

 

When the time came, Qi Chaojin would follow the original plot and, upon arriving in the capital and making inquiries, he would find out that Shui Que now lived in Marquis Anyuan’s residence. He’d certainly come to the conclusion that Shui Que was someone who scorned the poor and sought the rich, abandoning his original partner.

 

Although the original storyline didn’t mention Qi Chaojin taking revenge, it was only natural that someone deceived like that would be furious and seek to settle the score.

 

Yet, for some reason, Shui Que didn’t think Qi Chaojin would actually do that.

 

Perhaps it was because Qi Chaojin had left such an impression on him—he truly resembled the clear-headed and upright male lead from the original no-romance imperial examination story. Advancing the plot with him had been smooth and easy, everything proceeding step-by-step just like it was meant to.

 

Unlike Wei Yan, who repeatedly refused to follow the storyline.

 

That thought left Shui Que sulking.

 

Nie Xiuyuan noticed his downcast eyes and wasn’t sure what had made him unhappy.

 

Taking the chance, he pushed a manuscript across the tea table toward Shui Que.

 

When Shui Que saw the words on the cover, his eyes lit up. “Sir, is this…?”

 

“The original handwritten manuscript by the Recluse of Mount Song,” Nie Xiuyuan replied in his usual cool tone. “It’s the newest volume of Travels on a Donkey. The publishing house hasn’t finished printing it yet.”

 

Was he really going to let him read it ahead of everyone else?

 

Shui Que gently touched the cover, treasuring it. Though he was eager to take it home and read it right away, he still looked up and politely asked, “Sir, are you really giving this to me?”

 

Nie Xiuyuan replied, “I requested it specifically for you.”

 

…….

 

It seemed Cui Shixin had already guessed early on that Shui Que had gone to the capital with Wei Yan.

 

After all, it wasn’t hard to figure out. He knew there was a connection between Wei Yan and Shui Que, and the timeline of Wei Yan’s trip to the capital after his campaign to suppress the bandits matched perfectly with the days Shui Que went missing.

 

Cui Shixin could easily deduce that Wei Yan had taken him away.

 

What he hadn’t expected was that Shui Que had left of his own will, breaking off the engagement voluntarily. He had assumed the flamboyant and reckless Little Marquis Wei had forcibly abducted him.

 

As the New Year approached, the entire Cui family from Changzhou County moved back to their residence in the capital.

 

A few days after settling in, Cui Shixin leisurely paid a visit.

 

He didn’t ask about Shui Que and Qi Chaojin—just chatted casually like an old friend catching up.

 

Shui Que feigned calm as he asked, “Before you came back, did you happen to notice how Qi Lang was doing?”

 

He had left a letter for Qi Chaojin.

 

A letter breaking off the engagement—completely in character, written with ruthless indifference.

 

It spoke of envy for the luxurious life of the wealthy, to the point of tears. That getting sick because of the weather was unbearable, and that he longed for warm pavilions in winter and cool halls in summer.

 

He mocked the male lead for being poor, saying he didn’t want to marry and suffer through hard times together—lines and lines like that.

 

In short, he portrayed the role of someone who worshipped wealth and despised poverty to absolute perfection!

 

He figured Qi Chaojin would have discovered the truth as soon as he returned home that night during the Mid-Autumn Festival—there was no need to wait until he arrived in the capital and learned Shui Que now lived in Marquis Anyuan’ residence.

 

After all, he had left behind all the letters exchanged with Wei Yan at home.

 

Once Qi Chaojin searched the place, he’d definitely find out that Wei Yan had invited him to the capital long ago.

 

Unless Qi Chaojin was so rigid and rule-bound that he didn’t even dare to peek at those letters.

 

Shui Que was extremely anxious—his plot progress had been stuck at eighty percent for ages. Wei Yan was such a blockhead, totally uncooperative. He was counting on Qi Chaojin’s eventual heartbreak and emotional cutoff to push things forward.

 

Cui Shixin stole a glance at Shui Que’s expression and noticed there wasn’t even a trace of guilt about breaking off the engagement—in fact, Shui Que looked like he was hoping to hear that Qi Chaojin had lost all hope.

 

What a heartless Xiao Langjun.

 

To think, Cui Shixin had once believed Shui Que had chosen Qi Chaojin with firm resolve. He’d been heartbroken for a while, even planning to crash the wedding and steal him away.

 

Cui Shixin raised an eyebrow but still answered honestly, “That night during the Mid-Autumn Festival, he looked for you everywhere—even came to my house, asking if anyone had seen you.”

 

“I was playing Mahjong with Deng Cang and the others on a painted boat that night, didn’t run into him. It was my guards who told me afterward.”

 

He paused to recall, then added, “He seemed fine. When I saw him later, his face was still that same cold deadpan look. He continued copying scriptures and borrowing books at the academy, and even went back to working at the Chen family’s art and calligraphy shop.”

 

So… had he found out or not?

 

Shui Que drooped, feeling distressed.

 

But since Qi Chaojin hadn’t done anything dramatic, could it be that the male lead had already entered that numb, dead-inside phase?

 

Shui Que comforted himself with that idea and forced himself to relax.

 

……..

 

But he relaxed a little too soon.

 

The spring imperial exam was held in the second month of the following year, followed by the palace examination in the third.

 

Once the last of the lingering winter chill had passed, the day of announcing the exam results at the Daqing Hall happened to be sunny and clear.

 

The wind was gentle, the sun warm, and the willows swayed softly.

 

The Emperor had personally selected the top three scholars—Zhuangyuan (first scorer), Bangyan (second scorer), and Tanhua (third scorer)—along with a host of other successful candidates. The new jinshi* paraded grandly to give thanks for imperial favor.

Note: Jinshi is someone who passed palace imperial examination.

 

The list was posted at the Left Gate of the capital, as per tradition in Darong. The newly named Zhuangyuan would lead the jinshi to view the list there, then proceed to Qionglin Garden, where the Emperor would host a banquet.

 

Qi Chaojin had taken first place as Zhuangyuan and was granted a celebratory tour through the streets.

 

Behind him were the Bangyan and Tanhua, followed by the rest of the successful candidates.

 

The officials of the Ministry of Rites carried the imperial decree and cleared the way with gongs and drums. The clamor of drums, shouting people, and neighing horses filled the air.

 

The main streets of the city were packed. Cheers erupted on both sides, the crowd so thick it spilled into every alley and lane—everyone had come to see the top scholar, the living embodiment of the god of literature.

 

Qi Chaojin, tall and imposing by nature, wore a bright red python-embroidered robe, which fit perfectly on his broad shoulders and long legs.

 

He wore a black hat trimmed with gold, rode a horse with a golden saddle and a red mane, the bridle decorated with red tassels and brocade.

 

It should have been a triumphant moment—“riding swiftly in the spring breeze, beholding all the blossoms of Chang’an in a single day”—yet his expression remained cold and unchanged.

 

Still, because he was the Zhuangyuan, no one would call him stiff or lifeless. Instead, they praised his calm and stoic demeanor as fitting for a man unmoved by honor or disgrace.

 

Behind him rode the cheerful Bangyan.

 

And the nonchalant Cui Shixin.

 

Both the Bangyan and Tanhua wore dark blue python robes, black hats, and rode red-maned horses.

 

Cui Shixin was originally meant to be Bangyan, but because the Tanhua candidate looked rather plain, the Emperor had hand-picked him to take that spot instead.

 

This left him feeling like he’d lost out to Qi Chaojin twice over.

 

He harbored a faint grudge in his heart, and as he glanced toward the end of the crowded street, he caught sight of a familiar figure dressed in pale snowy colors.

 

Shui Que was waiting for Qiaoshan to buy him a bowl of cherry brew.

 

It was a kind of drink made from cherries.

 

He hadn’t had it in a long time and was craving it badly.

 

He hadn’t expected that a simple trip outside would lead him to stumble upon the very parade for the new jinshi.

 

Catching Cui Shixin’s gaze, Shui Que didn’t know how to react at first. He could only curl his lips into a polite smile, as if offering congratulations.

 

Cui Shixin raised his eyebrows, suddenly in a very good mood.

 

Qiaoshan returned. Shui Que took the porcelain bowl he handed over—it was full of cherry brew.

 

He licked his lips.

 

Suddenly, he felt a gaze sweep coldly across him.

 

Amidst the noise of the crowd, Shui Que looked up and saw Zhuangyuan on his tall steed withdraw his gaze indifferently, as if he had never looked in this direction at all.

 

Shui Que wasn’t mistaken—Qi Chaojin had definitely looked his way just now.

 

Seeing that the male lead showed no favorable expression toward him, he felt a wave of relief.

 

It seemed the plot was still unfolding as expected.

 

At last, the weight in his heart was lifted.

 

He boarded the carriage and headed home with Qiaoshan.

 

The distance from this market area to Marquis Anyuan’ residence was quite long.

 

So long, in fact, that Shui Que finished his cherry infusion during the ride.

 

Suddenly, there came a sharp neigh of a horse outside.

 

Shui Que lifted the curtain of the carriage. “What’s going on…?”

 

Dust-covered and breathing heavily, looking extremely disheveled—

 

Zhuangyuan, who had moments ago basked in the glory of success, had somehow broken away from the procession of newly appointed scholars.

 

At the far end of an almost deserted alley, he galloped up to block the Marquis’ carriage.

 

Qiaoshan was already speaking with him.

 

When he saw Shui Que getting out of the carriage, Qi Chaojin swung his leg over and landed on the ground.

 

His pitch-black eyes locked onto Shui Que’s without blinking, as if he feared Shui Que would vanish the moment he looked away.

 

His thin lips moved silently, but in the end, he only said, “You’ve lost weight.”

 

Shui Que had indeed fallen ill with a fever after the New Year.

 

The little bit of weight he’d gained the previous year had melted away again.

 

His chin was sharp, his neck adorned with a fine jeweled collar, and his snow-white neck was delicate and slender.

 

Qi Chaojin’s lips pressed into a straight line, his gaze as deep as ink, and he asked in a low voice, “Is the Marquis’ residence not feeding you properly?”

 

Shui Que answered quietly, “I’ve been eating enough.”

 

Qiaoshan wanted to protest—how could the Marquis’ household, with its silk and delicacies, ever let this honored guest go hungry?

 

But as he took a closer look, he realized this top scholar was the older cousin of the Shui Langjun he’d met in Changzhou County.

 

Qiaoshan didn’t know how to handle the situation, so he chose to stay quiet and go along with Shui Que’s words.

 

Now that there was no one else watching, Qi Chaojin stepped forward with long strides. Before Shui Que could react, he was locked in place by an iron grip, unable to move.

 

He had never seen Qi Chaojin like this—

 

Eyes bloodshot, breathing uneven, his throat clogged with words he couldn’t speak.

 

He held him tightly.

 

“Come back,” Qi Chaojin stared straight at him, leaving Shui Que nowhere to escape. “Come back, won’t you?”

 

“I’m a Zhuangyuan now, I’ve been granted official status.”

 

“My official career is set. I’ll work hard to be ennobled, even become prime minister. Whatever you want, I’ll get it for you.”

 

The more he spoke, the faster his words tumbled out.

 

He asked Shui Que with urgency, “What do you want? A warm chamber, an ice cellar, a cool palace? Or pearls and rare coal?”

 

“The Emperor is granting me a residence. Didn’t you say you’d decorate it for me back then?”

 

Qi Chaojin’s voice was low and pleading.

 

Shui Que was stunned by the torrent of words.

 

Why—why wasn’t the male lead following the plot either?

 

From what Qi Chaojin was saying, it was clear he knew Shui Que had broken off the engagement and gone with Wei Yan.

 

Shouldn’t he be seeking revenge? At the very least, shouldn’t he be cutting off all affection like in the original storyline?

 

Why was he trying to win him back instead?

 

Shui Que’s expression was pure confusion.

 

But Qi Chaojin saw no hint of emotion in it.

 

How could this exquisite Xiao Langjun, with brows like ink and lips like vermilion, be so utterly heartless?

 

Without saying a word, he’d broken off the engagement and run off with someone else.

 

Yet on the day they promised to marry, Shui Que had called him “Qi Lang” with such fondness, saying again and again that he liked no one else.

 

Qi Chaojin’s face turned pale, his eyes dim. He asked in a soft voice, “Is Wei Yan really that great?”

 

Shui Que, nervous, nodded like a pecking chick. “Mm, he treats me very well.”

 

“If he treats you so well, then why hasn’t he even begun to arrange the wedding?” Qi Chaojin pressed, aggressive in tone. “He’s just keeping you like some—”

 

Even at this point, he couldn’t bring himself to say such crude words, afraid they’d hurt Shui Que.

 

So he circled around it. “He clearly doesn’t cherish you.”

 

In truth, Wei Yan did want to marry him, but Shui Que felt guilty—going against the plot, how could he agree?

 

He had to follow Wei Yan with no title, no name!

 

That was the only way to extinguish Qi Chaojin’s hopes.

 

Shui Que stiffened his neck, closed his eyes, and began to fabricate wildly. “No, he treats me very well. He really loves me, and he values me a lot. He…”

 

His mind spun quickly. With a serious face, he blurted out, “He said I taste very sweet down there, and every time he eats me, he goes really, really deep.”

 

In truth, nothing had ever happened between him and Wei Yan. Without Shui Que’s permission, Wei Yan didn’t even dare kiss him, afraid of upsetting him.

 

But with every sentence Shui Que uttered, Qi Chaojin’s face turned a shade paler. By the end, he was nearly ashen.

 

Shui Que sensed this was working. He’d read strange phrases like these in some trashy street romance books and repeated them to Qi Chaojin.

 

“And he always licks me clean afterward, so I don’t even have to wash…”

 

He even acted proud, as if his love life with Wei Yan was blissful and affectionate.

 

“Enough.”

 

A voice choked with pain, barely suppressed.

 

Qi Chaojin looked like a man drained of his soul, stumbling on unsteady feet.

 

Even his brilliant red ceremonial robe seemed to lose all color, turning dull and gray.

 

Suddenly, he lowered his head and buried his face in Shui Que’s shoulder and neck.

 

His throat tightened; he couldn’t utter a word.

 

After a long pause, his voice came out hoarse: “Don’t… don’t let him treat you like that…”

 

Shui Que blinked slowly.

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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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