Feudal Dregs - Chapter 41

That night, Lan Yu developed a low fever, the fresh marks on his body unmistakable. Without his permission, Yin Huan dared not summon Doctor Liu. She fed him medicine and tended to him through the night until his fever gradually subsided, allowing him to finally rest peacefully.

The illness left him listless for days, his face gaunt, his chin sharpened.

During this time, Old Master Li sent someone to check on him. The servant intercepted the visitor outside the beaded curtain, explaining that the Ninth Mistress was bedridden with fever.

The room reeked of bitter medicinal broth. Through the gaps in the swaying beads, the visitor caught only a glimpse of Lan Yu's delicate profile—pale and fragile in sleep.

The visitor thought to herself, No wonder the master defied convention to take a man as a concubine. A man with such looks is nothing but trouble. She had only come out of obligation, and for a disfavored male concubine, she spared no further concern. After a perfunctory glance and a few empty words about resting well, she took her leave.

Yin Huan breathed a sigh of relief.

Lan Yu had delicate skin that bruised easily, and the red mark from the slap was still visible on his face—something that could easily stir up trouble if seen.

Unexpectedly, on the afternoon of the third day, Old Master Li came to see Lan Yu in person. At the time, Lan Yu was lying in bed, listless, his face pale with a sickly pallor. The old man was wheeled in by a servant and seated by the sickbed.

Lan Yu called out hoarsely, "Master."

It had been a while since Old Master Li had taken a good look at Lan Yu. Seeing him lying there, frail as a withered lotus, a pang of tenderness and pity stirred in his heart. He took Lan Yu's hand and said, "How did you fall so ill?"

He shot a glance at Yin Huan and demanded, "How have you been serving your master?"

Yin Huan murmured, "This servant has been negligent in caring for the young master."

Lan Yu said, "It's not her fault. I was careless myself. With the change of seasons, the night breeze made me ill."

His voice was soft, his eyes downcast, his demeanor docile and quiet—utterly pitiable. Old Master Li was suddenly reminded of all of Lan Yu's good qualities. He squeezed Lan Yu's palm and said, "It's my fault. You've suffered these past days."

Lan Yu's fingers twitched slightly. He lifted his gaze to meet the old man's eyes, and in that moment, Old Master Li caught sight of the redness rimming Lan Yu's eyes. But just as quickly, Lan Yu turned his face away and said nothing.

Just as Old Master Li was about to speak, he noticed the maid standing dumbly to the side out of the corner of his eye. Frowning in displeasure, he snapped, "Leave us."

Yin Huan flinched and hastily complied. She glanced at Lan Yu, hesitated for a moment, then bowed her head and retreated.

Old Master Li held Lan Yu's hand—the young man's fingers were slender, each joint distinct, the kind that plucked the pipa strings with effortless grace. He thought of Lan Yu's obedience, his warmth, his youthful and supple body, and especially that little cunt between his legs. His grip on Lan Yu's fingers took on a more intimate, almost lewd quality as he murmured, "Are you angry with me?"

But Lan Yu pulled his hand back and muttered, "I wouldn't dare."

Old Master Li chuckled. "Your mouth says one thing, but your heart says another."

"It's my fault for leaving you alone in this big house, lonely and neglected," he said, bringing Lan Yu's hand to his lips for a kiss. "I've wronged my little bodhisattva."

Lan Yu remained silent.

Old Master Li continued, "I promise, from now on, I won't even glance at anyone else. I'll worship and cherish my little bodhisattva every single day. How does that sound?"

"Won't you say something to me, hm?"

Lan Yu pressed his lips together and finally spoke. "I only ask one thing of you."

Old Master Li said, "Name it. I'll grant you anything."

Lan Yu met his gaze and said hoarsely, "When I came to Beijing with you, I truly believed you were someone who understood me, someone I could rely on."

"But if you ever stop caring for me, please let me go. I, Lan Yu, am still a man. I have my pride. I don't want to spend my life like a discarded wife, withering away in this house."

Old Master Li studied the young man's face. Lan Yu had grown thinner, his fox-like eyes glistening with unshed tears, the very picture of heartbreak. The old man sighed softly, a rare flicker of genuine emotion rising in his chest. He reached out to stroke Lan Yu's cheek and said, "What foolish talk is this? How could I ever stop caring for you?"

"You're my little bodhisattva, the treasure of my heart."

Each autumn rain brought deeper chill, and soon, autumn had fully arrived.

The Beginning of Autumn marked Old Master Li's fifty-fifth birthday celebration, which was meticulously arranged by Old Madam Li on a grand scale. Carriages and horses streamed ceaselessly outside the mansion amidst bustling guests. On this day, Lan Yu presented the old master with a new opium pipe—a design he had personally drawn and entrusted to Li Mingzheng. Two days prior, Li Mingzheng had sent the pipe over in an exquisite brocade box via Tong Ping.

Lan Yu stared at the pipe for a moment before coolly asking Tong Ping to convey his thanks to Li Mingzheng.

Tong Ping, as taciturn and indifferent as his master, nevertheless treated Lan Yu with deference. "I will relay Ninth Concubine's words to our master," he said before taking his leave.

Lan Yu nodded and said nothing more.

From the madam and young masters down to the concubines, every member of the Li household had prepared gifts for Old Master Li. Even Li Ming'an had contributed a famous Song Dynasty painting. That day, the old master appeared exceptionally vigorous, his face alight with smiles. At this stage of his life, he lacked nothing, yet he reveled in the sight of the entire Li family revolving around him.

No matter how the world outside changed, the Li family stood unshaken in Beijing like an immovable boulder—and he remained its unchallenged sovereign.

Today, Lan Yu wore a long gown of pale blue brocade that accentuated his fair, translucent complexion. Li Yuqing stole several glances at him, but Lan Yu seemed utterly oblivious, refusing even a single look in return. His gaze drifted instead toward Li Mingzheng. Their eyes met briefly before both turned away as if nothing had happened.

Li Yuqing cursed inwardly.

That night, his mind had been haunted by the memory of Lan Yu's pallid face and the blood between his legs, filling him with deepening regret. He couldn't understand why, whenever it came to Lan Yu, both of them became so stubborn.

After a sleepless night, he heard the next day that the maid Yin Huan had summoned Physician Liu again. Fortunately, it was nothing serious, and Li Yuqing finally breathed a sigh of relief.

This was the first time he had seen Lan Yu since that night, and the sight only made his heart claw with restless agitation—especially watching Lan Yu smile at his father, a sight that left an inexplicable bitterness in his mouth. Frustrated, Li Yuqing drank several cups more than usual during the evening banquet. In the distance, Li Mingzheng conversed with others, clad as always in his traditional robe, moving with the ease of a man entirely at peace with himself.

Li Yuqing studied him. Since childhood, Li Mingzheng had been different from him. Old Madam Li was formidable; whatever Li Mingzheng desired, his mother secured for him without hesitation. Those born of concubines, like Li Yuqing, could never compete with him for even the slightest advantage.

Only what Li Mingzheng discarded would ever fall into their hands.

As he grew older, Li Yuqing lost interest in the Li family's possessions, seeing no point in contention. The world outside offered far greater opportunities to fight for. Old Master Li was conservative, clinging stubbornly to tradition, so whenever Li Yuqing needed to discuss important matters, he bypassed his father entirely and went straight to Li Mingzheng. He had initially assumed Li Mingzheng would be as rigid as their father, requiring lengthy persuasion—yet to his surprise, Li Mingzheng agreed without hesitation. Though they could hardly be called affectionate brothers, they rarely clashed.

Clutching his wine cup, Li Yuqing recalled Lan Yu's words—that Li Mingzheng was better than him—and nearly crushed the vessel in his grip.

In this vast Li household, Li Mingzheng's mind was the most inscrutable. His ruthlessness surpassed even that of Old Madam Li.

The banquet was coming to an end. Li Yuqing, Li Mingzheng, and Li Ming'an stood together seeing off the guests. Li Ming'an disliked such occasions and left shortly after, leaving only Li Mingzheng and Li Yuqing behind.

The early autumn night breeze carried a gentle chill.

Li Yuqing loosened his tie. Just as Li Mingzheng turned to leave, their shoulders brushed past each other, and Li Yuqing muttered, "That little whore is quite the charmer, isn't he?"

He didn't specify who he meant, but the moment their eyes met, the unspoken understanding was clear. Li Mingzheng regarded him calmly, silent. Li Yuqing lowered his voice and hissed, "Li Mingzheng, stay the hell away from Lan Yu."

Li Mingzheng arched a brow slightly and asked, "Why?"

Li Yuqing glared at him. "And why did you touch him?"

Li Mingzheng replied indifferently, "That's my business."

"You think that whore has any real feelings for you?" Li Yuqing sneered. "He just wants revenge—on me, on the Li family. He'd be happy to see you dead too."

Li Mingzheng neither confirmed nor denied it.

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