Feudal Dregs - Chapter 12

Li Yuqing's words—I'll be waiting for you at home—sent a chill down Lan Yu's spine, filling him with the dread of being coiled around by a venomous snake. Its fangs pressed against his neck, slowly teasing, never revealing when it might strike.

Clenching his teeth in fury, Lan Yu nearly threw the tray in his hands. He took a deep breath, forcing down the agitation.

The rain had stopped, and the sky had cleared. Old Master Li, noticing Lan Yu's listless and distracted demeanor, assumed he was unaccustomed to temple life and decided to have Li Mingzheng accompany him for a walk outside.

Li Mingzheng glanced at Lan Yu but said nothing, simply agreeing.

After the rain, the sky was a pristine blue, and the mountains were filled with the refreshing scent of damp grass and earth. Lan Yu thought to himself—since when did a concubine and a son get to go out for leisure? Perhaps it was because he was still a man, and Li Mingzheng was the kind who remained indifferent to such matters.

A few steps away stood an ancient, nameless tree, its trunk thick and sturdy, adorned with countless red silk ribbons and wooden prayer plaques. Upon closer inspection, each one bore the wishes of devoted pilgrims. A mother and daughter were earnestly writing something at a wooden table beneath the eaves. Moments later, they picked up a wooden plaque and walked toward the tree. Lan Yu paused, watching them, and Li Mingzheng, sensing his hesitation, stopped as well.

The girl was about sixteen or seventeen, petite and delicate. She struggled to hang the plaque, standing on tiptoe, only to be startled by rainwater dripping from the branches, hopping away in a display of youthful innocence.

For some inexplicable reason, Li Mingzheng glanced at Lan Yu. The man was watching intently, the gloom between his brows easing slightly.

Li Mingzheng mused idly—did Lan Yu fancy girls? But if so, why had he ended up with his father?

Neither spoke as they watched the girl finally manage to hang the plaque after much effort. Sensing their gaze, she turned and saw the two men staring at her. Flustered, she ducked behind her mother without even wiping the rainwater from her face. The woman, dressed plainly with a wooden hairpin, eyed them warily. "Gentlemen, is there something you need?"

Lan Yu smiled. "Apologies, we were merely passing by. No harm intended."

The girl peeked out from behind her mother, looking first at Lan Yu, then at Li Mingzheng. Her gaze lingered on Li Mingzheng's face, her cheeks flushing even redder. Li Mingzheng remained indifferent, nodding politely before turning to Lan Yu. Without another word, Lan Yu continued walking.

Even as they moved farther away, Lan Yu could sense the girl still stealing glances at Li Mingzheng. He studied the man beside him—there was no denying it. With his sharp brows, piercing eyes, and striking features, Li Mingzheng was undeniably the kind of man who would captivate young women.

Lan Yu remarked, "Judging by that girl's reaction, she must have come to pray for love."

Li Mingzheng: "Hm?"

"From today onward, the dashing suitor in her dreams has a face," Lan Yu teased.

Li Mingzheng paused, glancing at him but offering no response.

Watching Li Mingzheng's unshakable composure, Lan Yu said leisurely, "Young Master, I'm genuinely curious."

Li Mingzheng: "About what?"

They rounded a prayer hall, and before them stretched mist-shrouded peaks, ethereal as a celestial realm. Lan Yu stepped to the edge, gazing at the verdant mountains below. "Is there anything you truly desire?"

Li Mingzheng looked at him silently.

Lan Yu turned back. "Your father loves wealth and women. Li Yuqing takes after him. As for the Third Young Master—" He hesitated. "He's passionate and naive, but at least he acts his age. Humans are driven by emotions and desires. Everyone wants something in this world."

"Young Master, what is it that you want?"

Li Mingzheng replied unhurriedly, "What concern is that of yours?"

Lan Yu smiled. "As your father's concubine, I'm practically family. It's only natural to care for the younger generation."

The corner of Li Mingzheng's mouth twitched—whether in mockery of the idea of "family" or the absurdity of such "concern" was unclear. His gaze drifted to the distant mountains. "Who says one must want something?"

Lan Yu said, "A man who doesn't even know what he desires is pitiable—no matter how vast his fortune."

Li Mingzheng retorted, "What do you want by becoming my father's concubine?"

Lan Yu replied with a mix of sincerity and jest, "Your father and I felt an instant connection, a love at first sight."

"You're lying," Li Mingzheng cut him off.

Lan Yu sighed. "This is genuine affection. Look at Emperor Xuanzong of Tang—even in his sixties, he found a soulmate in Yang Yuhuan, forging a love story that has endured for centuries."

Spouting nonsense without a shred of truth, Lan Yu continued until Li Mingzheng, expressionless, interjected, "Yang Yuhuan hanged herself at Mawei Slope."

Blinking, Lan Yu quoted, "For the ideal that I hold dear, I'd not regret a thousand deaths."

Li Mingzheng fell silent.

"At twelve, I lost my mother and grew up on a pleasure boat in Yangzhou. Few in this world have shown me kindness," Lan Yu said. "Your father is one of them. Naturally, I care for him. I even hope he lives to a hundred—who knows, this ninth concubine might become the first wife, and you'd have to call me 'Mother."

As Lan Yu's words grew increasingly absurd, Li Mingzheng couldn't help but dampen his enthusiasm. "My father isn't that senile yet." Lan Yu turned to look at Li Mingzheng, smiling faintly before suddenly asking, "You saw it that day, didn't you?"

He didn't specify when, but Li Mingzheng immediately recalled that moment outside the meditation room—his father kneeling between Lan Yu's legs, the slender waist, the pale flesh pressed against the dark wooden table, flushed with desire. Those withered hands gripped plump buttocks, murmuring Lan Yu's name like an addict, the wet sounds of sucking and licking barely audible.

Those feet, unmistakably a man's, were perfectly proportioned, toes curled tight, a crimson mole at the ankle like cinnabar.

Lan Yu's voice dropped, laced with provocation. "Your father adores me—utterly obsessed."

Li Mingzheng met his gaze. Lan Yu lounged lazily, watching him before remarking, "But he's old."

The words were cruel, sharp as an unsheathed scarlet blade, lethal in its allure. Suddenly, Li Mingzheng felt soft lips against his own—Lan Yu had kissed him without warning. Stunned, Li Mingzheng stared wide-eyed as Lan Yu whispered, "Li Mingzheng, I like you."

Cracks appeared in Li Mingzheng's usually composed demeanor. Pushing Lan Yu away, he frowned. "Do you have any idea what you're doing?"

Unfazed, Lan Yu chuckled. "Of course."

"I like you," he repeated, holding Li Mingzheng's gaze.

Coldly, Li Mingzheng said, "You're my father's concubine."

Lan Yu nodded, grinning. "If not for that, how else would I have met you? From the moment you stood up to Li Yuqing—no, even at the family banquet—I've liked you."

Li Mingzheng: "…”

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