Chapter 7

Qixue could feel Wei Huai examining his body, methodically, tenderly, and meticulously, determined to check every inch thoroughly.

This kind of examination reminded Qixue of his days on Dali Mountain. He had always been chased and hunted by Sang Chi and the others. Once they caught him, they pinned him to the ground and licked his rabbit fur wildly, drenching the entire little rabbit before swaggering off in triumph.

What Wei Huai was doing now was much the same, but Qixue no longer had his rabbit fur, and with the blindfold on, the sensations were utterly overwhelming. He couldn’t take it anymore and groped blindly, grabbing Wei Huai’s hand and begging him to stop.

Wei Huai cheerfully refused. “You provoked me yourself, and now you want me to stop? Treating me like something you can summon and dismiss at will—aren’t you bullying me too much?”

Who was bullying whom, exactly!

Qixue hugged the quilt and bit the edge in frustration, but soon he didn’t even have the strength to do that.

In truth, Qixue’s knowledge of such matters was quite shallow, limited to what he had read in books. He had never experienced it firsthand and had even avoided it.

Every spring, when all things revived, the scenery on Dali Mountain became exceptionally spectacular, with mating animals everywhere across the hills and fields.

As the most beautiful little rabbit, Qixue was not only pounced on by female rabbits and mounted by males, but chased in droves by packs of animals. Even the nest-building birds took pride in lining their nests with tufts of his fur, pecking at his tail until they yanked off a big clump.

Qixue had endured over a hundred such springs, and the psychological trauma ran so deep it couldn’t be described in words.

That was why he had never taken a mate and had no interest in producing offspring. Rabbits of his generation had long passed away, leaving behind thousands of descendants, while he remained utterly alone. His longest companion had been his good friend Luxiangqiu.

It wasn’t until he came down the mountain and met Wei Huai that Qixue first tasted the pleasures of intimacy. It felt truly wonderful, but it was also truly exhausting—especially with Wei Huai’s endless variety of techniques. Qixue had surrendered almost from the very start.

Qixue buried his face and sobbed softly. His voice was melodious and touching, all the more heartbreaking when he cried.

But Wei Huai was different. He felt only desire, no pity. He loved hearing Qixue cry and teased him further. “Cry out and call me ‘husband’ once more.”

Qixue didn’t open his mouth. That was his last shred of dignity. Wei Huai noticed his little tantrum, and amusement overflowed from his eyes. He leaned down and kissed Qixue’s calf.

Suddenly, he noticed a scar on Qixue’s right leg. It wasn’t long, and the color was faint. At any normal distance, it would have been invisible.

Wei Huai gently stroked the scar. “An arrow wound. You’ve been shot by an arrow?”

“Mm…” Qixue’s response was sluggish, dazed as he murmured in reply.

“Who did it?” Wei Huai asked. “I’ll kill them for you.”

“No need.” Qixue said softly. “He’s already dead.”

That arrow had nearly killed him over a dozen years ago.

At the time, the Emperor had not yet ascended the throne. He was the youngest Ninth Prince in the palace. During the late Emperor’s hunt, all the princes, princesses, and several favored consorts had joined. The arrow in his leg had come from the Third Prince.

It had nailed through his hind leg, and he wailed in agony as blood poured out. He wanted to flee but couldn’t. The Third Prince’s attendants came to claim the kill, grabbing him by the ears and lifting him up, about to slit his throat—when a childish voice stopped them.

That child was the Ninth Prince, Helan Ji, who had just turned three.

The young prince had a kind heart and couldn’t bear to see the little rabbit skinned and eaten alive. He stepped in to save Qixue, took him back, and cared for him for a month until the wound healed, then released him back into the wild.

Qixue remembered that the Third Prince was narrow-minded. Having his prey snatched by his little brother infuriated him, and he threw a massive fit. But Helan Ji’s birth mother was the Empress, and the Crown Prince of the East Palace was his own elder brother—his status was too noble. No matter how angry the Third Prince got, he didn’t dare settle the score with Helan Ji. Qixue never saw him again before being released.

After returning to Dali Mountain, Qixue occasionally asked Luxiangqiu to inquire about Helan Ji’s news for him. But Shangjing was too far from Dali Mountain, and updates were rare. Qixue only knew bits and pieces about what happened to Helan Ji later.

Once, Helan Ji’s mother the Empress and his Crown Prince brother died one after another. The Third Prince took over the East Palace, and his birth mother, the Rong Consort, was promoted to successor Empress.

Then, two years ago, the sixteen-year-old Helan Ji killed his brother, slew his father, and usurped the throne, becoming the tyrant known throughout the realm for his cruelty.

The Third Prince naturally died that night during Helan Ji’s coup. Afterward, his body was dumped in the outskirts of Shangjing, pecked by crows until no whole flesh remained.

Qixue didn’t continue. Clearly, he didn’t want to say more.

Wei Huai didn’t press. He held Qixue’s ankle and lightly kissed the faint scar. “Consider this one I owe you. From now on, anyone who bullies you, I’ll kill them for you.”

Perhaps out of pity for Qixue, or maybe because Wei Huai kept his word—since there was only this one scar, he truly only went once that night and didn’t torment Qixue much in between.

Still, Qixue slept deeply and didn’t know when Wei Huai left.

That night, Wei Huai didn’t return to the camp. Apricot said this was common. Certain kinds of man-eating demons preferred to hide by day and hunt by night; only in the deep hours could they be caught. Even staying in camp two nights in a row was rare for him—he had only done so to keep Qixue company.

“The General specially instructed that if Young Master got bored in the camp, we should buy something to entertain you. Is there anything Young Master wants?” Apricot asked.

Qixue thought for a moment. “Can I go out for a stroll?”

The camp’s defenses were tight, and the demonic beasts could detect intruders’ scents. Luxiangqiu didn’t dare sneak in. He wanted to go out and meet her.

Apricot shook her head. “The wilderness outside the city is very dangerous. A few people alone can’t protect Young Master properly. But when the General returns, he’ll take you out to play.”

Qixue didn’t insist. Instead, he asked Apricot to bring him some primers for children learning to read. He still needed to learn characters to understand the novel Lady Shanyin had given him.

Apricot agreed readily this time and brought the books that afternoon, along with fine stationery.

Qixue had never used a brush before. He picked one up curiously and examined it, touching the bristles. “What kind of fur is this?”

The brush had been treated, so he couldn’t smell the source.

Apricot replied, “The one in Young Master’s hand is wolf hair. The one on the table is rabbit hair.”

Qixue: “…”

He silently pushed away the rabbit-hair brush. “Just prepare wolf-hair brushes from now on. And… bury this rabbit-hair brush.”

“?” Apricot didn’t quite understand but obediently agreed. “Yes, Young Master.”

For three straight days, Wei Huai didn’t return to camp. Qixue focused intently on his books and learned quickly, already recognizing many characters.

Apricot joined him, studying together. This was because Qixue noticed her staring longingly whenever he read. He asked, “Do you want to read books?”

“Yes…”

Apricot blushed, looking embarrassed. The usually steady girl finally seemed like a child. “But I’ve never studied… I’m pretty dumb.”

“You haven’t even tried, so how do you know you can’t? Maybe you’re the Star of Literature descended to earth.”

Qixue pulled another chair to the desk and patted the seat, smiling at her. “Come on, sit. Let’s learn together.”

“Thank you, Young Master!”

Apricot happily ran over and sat down. She carefully touched the snow-white rice paper, then the primer’s cover, her eyes sparkling. “Actually, I don’t recognize a single word on the covers. Lord Chief of Staff found these books for me.”

“I’ve already mastered all the words on the covers.”

Qixue puffed out his chest proudly. “I’ll teach you. This one’s Quick Learning Primer, this one’s Primer for Children…”

…

Late at night.

Apricot had studied characters all day and finally fell asleep from exhaustion. Qixue carried her to the couch and tucked her in. Fortunately, the girl was light; otherwise, with Qixue’s strength, he couldn’t have managed.

After settling Apricot, Qixue returned to the desk, rubbed his hands excitedly, and retrieved Yuheng Zhuan from his sea of consciousness, planning to give it a try right then.

The novel was straightforward and easy to understand, without lofty phrasing. Qixue could read most of it and learned that the protagonist was named Ji Yuheng—this book was his personal chronicle.

Ji Yuheng came from a distinguished background as the only son of the Baohua County Princess of Nanping County, who herself was the daughter of the previous dynasty’s Long Princess. By seniority, he was Emperor Helan Ji’s nephew, though actually two years older and just reaching adulthood this year.

Ji Yuheng had grown up without a father; the County Princess had divorced her consort. The consort had been a philanderer who secretly kept a mistress. When the Princess found out, she flew into a rage, stormed over with her sword, stabbed him several times, and kicked him out.

“‘The Princess raged: “You adulterous…”‘ Qixue read word by word, then hit a word he didn’t know. “What… husband and what… wife?”

As he was about to look it up, a faint bloody scent drifted into the tent. Wei Huai, absent for days, pushed aside the curtain and entered with a smile.

Qixue had no time to return the novel directly to his sea of consciousness—doing so would make it vanish into thin air, and Wei Huai would surely suspect something.

Helpless, he hid the novel under a stack of books and quietly withdrew it into his sea of consciousness.

Wei Huai saw him hastily concealing the book, as if it were something shameful, and his gaze turned profound. “What book is it that you have to hide from me?”

Qixue had successfully stored the novel and felt much relieved. With an innocent expression, he said, “I’m not hiding anything from the General. It’s just books for learning characters.”

“Is it?” Wei Huai walked over with a half-smile. “Let me see.”

Qixue let him look. Wei Huai flipped through them one by one—they were all indeed primers, nothing improper.

Wei Huai set the books down impassively and ruffled Qixue’s hair, smiling as he praised him. “I heard that while I was away these past few days, you’ve been studying without rest day and night. My A Xue is such a good boy.”

Qixue nodded vigorously like a pecking chick. “I really worked hard.”

To show his diligence, he wrote the two unfamiliar characters on paper and humbly asked Wei Huai, “General, I don’t know these two characters. What do they mean?”

Wei Huai looked down at what Qixue had written. Though Qixue’s handwriting wasn’t pretty, the forms were correct and easy to recognize.

One was “jian” for adulterer.

The other was “yin” for lust.

He glanced back at Qixue, whose eyes were pure and full of thirst for knowledge.

Wei Huai’s eyes curved in a smile. He drew his dagger, slit Qixue’s collar, and tore off all his clothes.

“Little lecher.” His tone was gentle, but he mercilessly flipped Qixue over, pressed him against the chair, and smacked his backside hard. “I knew you weren’t reading anything proper.”