Chapter 70: Cui Wenjing

Chapter 70: Cui Wenjing

Cui Yuanyang ultimately said nothing, only remarking, "Father is admiring the flowers in the rear courtyard pavilion. I think... he expects you to meet with him, Brother Zhao."

Zhao Changhe looked up at her. Those eyes, usually so vivid with joy and anger, were now shrouded like mist, obscuring all thoughts.

Yet she still smiled warmly. Seeing Zhao Changhe finish the milk pastries, she gracefully lifted her skirt and stood: "I'll take you there, Brother Zhao."

Zhao Changhe rose. Cui Yuanyang naturally took his hand again, leading him out of the room.

Zhao Changhe felt a bit uneasy, glancing left and right along the corridor: "You're holding hands even here..."

Cui Yuanyang said nonchalantly, "Whether it's proper or not, we've held hands countless times. Why deceive ourselves? In front of others or behind, Yuanyang is still Yuanyang."

Zhao Changhe pressed his lips together and didn't reply.

Cui Yuanyang led him along leisurely, saying, "Actually, I was in a bad mood earlier."

Zhao Changhe said, "Because you found out who the mole is?"

Cui Yuanyang sighed. "If only you could be a little denser sometimes, Brother Zhao, you'd be much more endearing."

Zhao Changhe said, "Like you?"

Cui Yuanyang nodded earnestly: "Yes, like me."

Zhao Changhe couldn't help but laugh.

Cui Yuanyang said, "But if you were dense, you couldn't be like a god leading me through thorns and brambles. What a dilemma... How about this: be clever with outsiders, but a little dense with Yuanyang?"

Perhaps it was the thief's suspicion, but Zhao Changhe suddenly felt the girl's words carried hidden meanings.

What did she mean by "outsiders"? What was "inside"?

He avoided the topic: "So who is the mole?"

"My third brother, Cui Yuancheng."

"The second legitimate son?"

"Yes."

Zhao Changhe fell silent. This was her full-blooded brother, same father and mother... Yet he wanted the life of this harmless sister, just to frame Cui Yuanyong for failing to protect her—a scheme whose actual effect on the succession struggle was uncertain.

No wonder the Cui family's initial response was sluggish. The assassins were already on the road, but the family didn't know. And these pursuits and blockades had a certain organization, which must have been orchestrated by a high-ranking mole, not something a powerless concubine's son or side branch could manage.

Putting himself in Cui Yuanyang's shoes, she should be crying now... Perhaps she had cried all night?

"How... will he be dealt with?"

"Father has thrown him in prison, no decision yet. I heard Mother has been crying at home, insisting it's a mistake and someone framed him."

Zhao Changhe shook his head, finding it hard to judge.

Cui Yuanyang smiled again: "But I don't hate him now."

"Oh?"

"If not for him, I wouldn't have met such a righteous and heroic Brother Zhao."

"..."

"You know? I regretted it before."

"Regretted what?"

"Not choosing the first path—to go with you to Jiangnan or the northern deserts." As she spoke, her voice grew softer until it was barely audible, and Zhao Changhe didn't catch the latter half: "Perhaps I'll never have that chance again."

Zhao Changhe didn't need to hear the latter half; the first half alone laid bare the maiden's heart.

He pressed his lips tightly, unsure how to respond.

But Cui Yuanyang suddenly stopped: "We're here."

Zhao Changhe looked up. Ahead, a riot of color—a hundred flowers in full bloom. A winding path of blue stone stretched into the depths, hidden among the flowering trees.

"I won't go in..." Cui Yuanyang smiled, then lowered her head shyly again: "The things you and Father talk about... I'm afraid it's not convenient for me to listen."

With that, she turned and ran off, disappearing around the corner of the corridor. At the turn, she looked back, her eyes filled with a mix of reproach and longing, impossible to read clearly.

Zhao Changhe stood there watching until her light green skirt vanished beyond the corridor, then silently turned and walked into the garden.

Strange—parting with Xia Chichi hadn't stirred such inexpressible emotions.

Deep in the garden, water babbled. Amid the flowering trees and ponds, the corner of a pavilion roof peeked out. Someone stood there in silence, gazing at the water.

Zhao Changhe approached. In the pavilion was a table with wine, no servants around.

Cui Wenjing still watched the water, not turning his head, and said casually, "Sit. I hear you're fond of drink—help yourself."

Zhao Changhe didn't sit. Instead, he walked to his side and stood shoulder to shoulder, also watching the water.

This gesture was quite rude... Of course, sitting down and drinking like a boor would also be rude, but it would fit his rough image. Standing side by side like this was even harder to define.

Cui Wenjing turned his head in surprise, his gaze lingering on the scar on Zhao Changhe's face for a moment before shifting back: "On what basis do you stand shoulder to shoulder with me?"

The benefactor of his daughter? A son-in-law? Or... a prince?

"A guest," Zhao Changhe said casually. "When a guest arrives, the host doesn't even turn his head, just stares at the water... The Cui family is renowned in this age. To keep you from being accused of rudeness, I had no choice but to stand here with you."

A hint of amusement appeared in Cui Wenjing's eyes. He turned around gracefully and made a gesture of invitation: "I was lost in thought and momentarily rude. Forgive me, guest. Please, sit."

Zhao Changhe sat down and this time took the initiative to pour wine for Cui Wenjing.

Cui Wenjing watched him pour with interest and suddenly said, "You've studied books and learned etiquette?"

Zhao Changhe said, "Mm."

Though I haven't studied the rituals of your world, and the books you read are different from mine, I am indeed a man of letters.

The temperament of a scholar is often obvious, but after mingling with bandits, Zhao Changhe's scholarly air had faded. Yet when facing someone like Cui Wenjing, it unconsciously surfaced. Back then, Cui Yuanyang had felt he was "not what he seemed"—not as rough as imagined.

But in Cui Wenjing's eyes, it carried another meaning: "A man from Zhao Cuo shouldn't have studied books or learned etiquette."

Zhao Changhe's hand pouring wine paused slightly, then he set the flagon aside: "Zhao Cuo is right next to Luo Family Village... It's not as desolate as the world imagines."

"So it's normal for people from Zhao Cuo to work in Luo Family Village, or for Luo Family villagers to live in Zhao Cuo?"

Zhao Changhe was silent.

Cui Wenjing looked at the wine in his cup and suddenly said, "Last night, I initially didn't intend to intervene. I wanted the assassins to kill you first, confident that I could rescue my daughter at the same time."

"I know." Zhao Changhe replied calmly. "Then I would have died at the hands of the Tingxue Tower assassins, and you would have arrived just a step too late, only able to save your daughter... Many troublesome matters would have vanished instantly."

"Do you resent it? After risking your life to escort my daughter, you get such an answer."

"If I were in your position, I might not have done much better, so I understand. In the end, you did step in to save me. What you thought before doesn't matter much. But I told Yuanyang this: understanding needs to be mutual to mean anything."

"Only with equal standing can there be a premise for mutual understanding—whether for me or for Tang Wanzhuang." Cui Wenjing said flatly. "Just like any family treats a live-in son-in-law differently from a marriage of equal status. Everyone is like this; I believe you would be too. So I ask again: on what basis do you drink with me now?"

Cui Wenjing's attitude was almost saying outright: Thanks to the Chaos World Record, my daughter's matter with you has no other options now. The only choice is whether you're a prince or a bandit. If you're a prince, we'll form an alliance by marriage. If you deny it, then be a live-in son-in-law and stay out of the way. I'm waiting for your answer.

Zhao Changhe suddenly thought that Cui Wenjing's attitude might indicate one thing: he knew this wasn't a real prince.

If it were a real prince, Old Cui could have said it outright. Only if he knew in his heart that it was a fake would he hesitate. After all, propping up a counterfeit and the subsequent moves would be a huge gamble—was the Cui family willing to bet so heavily?

That's why last night he had considered letting him die.

But today, discovering that Zhao Changhe had studied books and etiquette made things interesting again. Perhaps his judgment of "fake" was starting to waver... So he kept pressing for Zhao Changhe to admit he was a prince, hoping he would voluntarily produce some token.

Zhao Changhe, lost in thought, suddenly shook his head with a rueful laugh.

Cui Wenjing quietly watched his rueful expression, saying nothing.

Zhao Changhe finally sighed: "So I say, understanding requires mutuality. In this matter, no one has ever considered what Zhao Changhe thinks... Perhaps only Yangyang herself has thought about it, truly standing in Zhao Changhe's shoes to consider the problem..."

Cui Wenjing said coolly: "You might as well speak plainly."

"Bringing Yangyang back was merely doing what I ought to do. From the very start of this affair until now, there has never been the slightest romantic intent in my heart, nor have I ever coveted even a fraction of the Cui family's influence." Zhao Changhe said in a low voice: "I have a lover... Though I don't know now if she has forgotten me, until she says we are strangers, I must be worthy of her waiting. Yangyang is very lovely, the Cui family is noble, perhaps they could give me much assistance, allowing me to rise swiftly in the world... But Zhao Changhe has never had such intentions."

Cui Wenjing narrowed his eyes.

In the distance, under the corridor, Cui Yuanyang leaned against a pillar, looked up at the fleeting clouds in the sky, and sighed softly.