Chapter 67: Chopped Chili Fish Head (Part 18)
Jing Yi was slapped on the chest, yet his face beamed as if he had just received a kiss. Clutching the letter to his chest, he grinned like a blooming morning glory. "Did you write this for me?"
Leng Yue’s expression remained icy as she replied coolly, "When the time comes, I’ll naturally burn whatever I write for you."
"..."
Disheartened, Jing Yi pulled the letter out from his embrace. Frowning, he examined the envelope, which bore no writing, turning it over several times. "Then what is this?"
"This is the letter that should have been burned to ashes by Shenxiu..." Meeting Jing Yi’s peculiar gaze, Leng Yue’s beautiful face darkened. "Don’t overthink it. I didn’t magically restore the burned letter... It was my carelessness—I accidentally grabbed the wrong one when I took it out. The one I gave him was a copy your third brother made of Wang Tuo’s writings about the Food-Delivery Goddess of Mercy and such..."
As she spoke, Leng Yue pointed a slender finger at the envelope in Jing Yi’s hand. "This is the one that should have been given to him."
Jing Yi carefully examined the unsealed envelope again and looked at Leng Yue in confusion. "If the one he burned was just a copy, then what does it matter if it’s burned? Why not just return this one to him? What do you need me to see?"
An unsealed envelope entrusted to Leng Yue for delivery meant its contents were not something she, as the Chief of the Criminal Department’s Constable Unit, needed to hide. In other words, even if Shenxiu had some undisclosed secrets, this envelope would not contain them.
It was likely just a letter from a close friend who, upon hearing that Anguo Temple would be temporarily closed, had written to express concern and comfort.
Leng Yue’s soft reply answered Jing Yi’s question.
"This letter was entrusted to me by your third brother."
"...My third brother?"
Jing Yi suddenly recalled Shenxiu’s earlier muttering: "Do all members of the Jing family grow up sleeping on the floor?" Indeed, in his youth, his third brother, Jing Qian, had come to Anguo Temple to study Sanskrit under the current abbot, Master Qingguang. He had lived at the temple for over half a year and emerged speaking Sanskrit as fluently as Chinese.
If Jing Qian and Shenxiu had formed some kind of friendship during those months, it would make sense.
However, given that Jing Qian, now a senior official in the Ministry of Rites, was currently frantic over Wang Tuo’s bizarre letter, it seemed unlikely he would take the time to write to Shenxiu.
Frowning, Jing Yi opened the envelope, carefully unfolded the letter, and scanned the handwriting. His brow immediately smoothed, and he shook his head repeatedly. "No, no... This isn’t my third brother’s handwriting."
Leng Yue was taken aback. "If it’s not your third brother’s, then whose is it?"
Jing Yi stared at the writing and shook his head gently. "I don’t know. It appears to be written by a woman... This is a copy of Biographies of Exemplary Women, Volume Four."
Remembering his own connection to Biographies of Exemplary Women, Jing Yi sighed inwardly. Aside from him, what other man had the "fortune" of memorizing that text backward and forward?
Leng Yue had clearly forgotten about Biographies of Exemplary Women. Suddenly recalling Prince An’s earlier words, she reminded him, "Don’t forget, Jing Qian can imitate Wang Tuo’s Korean script so perfectly it looks authentic. Are you sure this isn’t him mimicking some woman’s handwriting?""No, it doesn't resemble..." Jing Yi shook his head again while examining the letter, speaking as he looked. "Everyone has their own habits when writing. Even if someone can roughly imitate another's handwriting style, the pressure applied when writing and the speed of brushstrokes inevitably remain their original way."
As Jing Yi spoke, he lifted the first page he had finished reading and placed it behind the others. While looking at the second page, he continued casually, "If my third brother tried to imitate Wang Tuo's handwriting to pass off as genuine, he wouldn't even stand a chance of deceiving Prince An. At most, he might only fool you..."
"..."
It wasn't until he finished reading the letter and looked up that Jing Yi noticed Leng Yue smiling at him - a smile that sent chills down his spine...
"Ouch..." Jing Yi immediately threw the letter aside, his features contorting as he clutched the wound on his upper thigh with both hands. Hunched over, he began moaning weakly, "It hurts... it's killing me..."
Leng Yue picked up the letter that had fallen to the floor and tucked it into her robe. Though she didn't want to indulge this obvious act meant to play on her sympathy, she ultimately couldn't help worrying about his slow-healing wound. With a resigned sigh, she pointed toward the bed from a distance, "Go lie down. It's time to change your dressing."
Jing Yi hopped on one leg and threw himself onto the bed, sprawling out like a starfish. Just as Leng Yue had loosened his outer garment and was about to remove his trousers, a knock came from the outer door.
When the door opened, Wang Tuo stood there with reddened eyes. Upon seeing Leng Yue, he immediately said, "Bodhisattva... The Central Plains people say that timid people don't lie, and the snake spirit master said so too."
Leng Yue didn't understand a single word of what Wang Tuo claimed "Central Plains people" said.
However, there were plenty of things Central Plains people said that she couldn't comprehend, so she didn't take it to heart. Maintaining an expressionless face, she gestured for Wang Tuo to enter, closed the door behind him, then grabbed a vase from the room and shoved it into his hands.
"Balance this vase on your head, stand still, and wait until I call for you."
Though Wang Tuo looked confused, he respectfully acknowledged the instruction and placed the vase on his head.
When Leng Yue returned to the inner room, Jing Yi was lying on his back on the bed, beaming with delight.
Leng Yue rolled her eyes in exasperation and approached to remove Jing Yi's trousers. As she carefully unwrapped the bandage from his left upper thigh, she whispered, "Don't grin at me like that. I'm angry because he destroyed the Porcelain King's genuine work, not because I'm standing up for you..."
Jing Yi's smile widened even more. He smoothly propped himself up on his elbows, leaned over, and planted a firm kiss on Leng Yue's delicate lips. Replying in an equally hushed tone, he said, "That last part of yours is nonsense... My wife is so good to me."
With slightly flushed cheeks, Leng Yue lifted her eyelids to glare at him, then casually pinched his other uninjured thigh. The flesh felt warm, soft, and firm beneath her touch - much like well-kneaded, perfectly steamed white buns. Unable to resist, she pinched it a couple more times with interest, making Jing Yi bite his lip and repeatedly clasp his hands in a pleading gesture before she finally stopped.
Strangely enough, ever since Jing Yi had come to Anguo Temple, his wound had been soaked in well water and neglected, not to mention he hadn't gotten proper nourishment. Yet now, though the wound still looked dreadful, there were already signs of improvement and healing.
Could it really be that after taking monastic vows, one receives special care from the Buddha?Leng Yue felt reassured, and her hands became much more nimble. Cleaning the wound, applying medicine, and bandaging it only took the time of one cup of tea. Once everything was properly handled, she was about to call Jing Yi to put on his trousers himself when she realized he had unknowingly fallen into a deep sleep. His cheeks were flushed with a sickly redness from the fever, yet his slightly parted lips were unusually pale.
Leng Yue didn’t wake him. Instead, she pulled the quilt over him carefully, sighed silently as she watched his restless sleeping face.
This assignment seemed simple, yet it had already sprouted countless complications in just two short days. Leng Yue had investigated many perilous cases and had her own life hanging by a thread numerous times, but this was the first time she encountered a situation where she could clearly sense danger lurking everywhere yet couldn’t pinpoint its source.
Zhang Lao Wu died inexplicably, the Goryeo prince’s foolishness seemed both real and feigned, and there was Shenxiu, who appeared righteous and straightforward but was actually shrouded in mystery—seemingly causing trouble for Jing Yi everywhere, yet also seemingly offering him support and hints everywhere.
Prince Hui, Xiao Zhao Ye, also seemed highly interested in Zhang Lao Wu’s death—so much so that he even took Zhang Lao Wu’s genuine artifact to seek information from the person with the tightest lips in the world. And Hua Mei, a dying man, would rather perish on the street covered in festering sores than reveal a single truthful word about Xiao Zhao Ye…
A bunch of unrelated people and events were like a jumbled pile of peanuts, melon seeds, almonds, walnuts, and peach kernels. At first glance, it seemed chaotic and disorganized, but if one could find a basin of flour, a bowl of oil, and a few assorted seasonings, they could bake a proper five-nut mooncake.
That’s easy to say, but how simple is it to find those ingredients?
Leng Yue leaned down and kissed Jing Yi’s slightly furrowed brow. As soon as she turned around, the hem of her robe was gently tugged. Turning back, she saw Jing Yi had forced his eyes open with difficulty.
Leng Yue raised her hand and pointed toward the door leading to the outer room. Jing Yi shook his head lightly and pointed distantly at the incense burner by the window.
Leng Yue was slightly taken aback, then seemed to understand something. She bent down close to Jing Yi’s ear and whispered, "Replace the porcelain on his head with an incense burner?"
Jing Yi suddenly felt that the two of them were still a little short of perfect harmony. "No... wait for one more stick of incense."
"Why?"
Jing Yi reached out and wrapped his arms around Leng Yue’s waist, pulling her toward him with some force. Leng Yue, already leaning over unsteadily, tumbled into his warm embrace.
"Let him stew for a while; it’ll make him easier to talk to." Jing Yi said, gently closing his eyes and nuzzling a few times into the crook of Leng Yue’s neck, murmuring drowsily, "I’m cold... hold me for a while..."
This tone was entirely different from his previous half-real, half-feigned moans. Leng Yue’s heart ached terribly. She simply took off her boots, slipped under the covers, and held Jing Yi’s feverishly hot body tightly. After Jing Yi fell into a deep sleep, his grip around her waist loosened, but she never relaxed her hold in the slightest.Jing Yi normally slept in a restless manner, rolling all over the bed without waking up. Getting him out of bed was harder than plucking stars from the sky, which was why he was rarely on time for morning roll calls. This time, perhaps weakened by fever, he lay still in Leng Yue's arms after falling asleep, motionless with shallow breaths. Leng Yue had assumed he would sleep for at least an hour, but in about the time it takes a stick of incense to burn, Jing Yi woke up groggily.
"Wrong... wrong, wrong, wrong..."
Baffled by this stream of dreamlike mutterings, Leng Yue reached out to touch his forehead. It was still warm, but not enough to cause delirium. "What's wrong?"
Rubbing his fever-swollen head, Jing Yi struggled to sit up. Leng Yue hurriedly passed him the clothes piled at the foot of the bed. After dressing and standing up with some difficulty in his shoes, he softly answered Leng Yue, who was supporting his arm.
"Zhang Lao Wu most likely killed himself."
Leng Yue stared in shock. "Why?"
"Because his grandson was already dead."
Leng Yue gazed blankly at the drowsy yet utterly serious Jing Yi. This explanation matched what the Capital Prefecture had reported to Prince An – seemingly reasonable at first glance, but falling apart under scrutiny. If the truth were that simple, Prince An wouldn't have been so reluctant to mention it, and Xiao Zhao Ye certainly wouldn't have personally brought Zhang Lao Wu's vase to the Prince An residence to fish for information.
Was Jing Yi still asleep... or just sleep-addled?
As if reading Leng Yue's thoughts through her dazed expression, Jing Yi squinted with a smile. Grabbing the hand she had placed on his arm – one slightly calloused from years of wielding a sword – he lightly patted his own warm cheek with it. "Don't worry, I'm awake."
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