Feudal Dregs - Chapter 45

The anklet on Lan Yu's foot became the talk of Li Mansion, but what truly set tongues wagging was how Old Master Li had publicly contradicted Old Madam Li's authority over Lan Yu. Old Madam Li had long held formidable sway over the household, primarily due to her iron-fisted management of the inner quarters. Whenever she disciplined servants, Old Master Li would merely offer a few casual words before letting the matter drop.

There had been those who'd wept before Old Master Li in the past. In earlier years, Second Concubine had fiercely contested Old Madam Li's authority, and Old Master Li had indeed favored Second Concubine for a time. But after Third Concubine Bai entered the household, Second Concubine lost favor and passed away within a few years. Even during Second Concubine's most favored days, Old Master Li—had never openly crossed Old Madam Li-let alone in front of Li Mingzheng.

For a time, undercurrents of tension surged through Li Mansion.

Yet Li Ming'an remained unaware of these developments. After his conversation with Fifth Concubine Zhao, he'd scarcely returned home the next day, practically living at school instead. Though Zhao had some private misgivings, thinking of Lan Yu who was currently at the center of controversy, she had no choice but to let Ming'an have his way.

This son of hers wasn't raised like a typical young master from a wealthy household, Zhao reflected. Li Ming'an was still young, after all—perhaps just momentarily infatuated, his judgment clouded. If he spent more time with girls his own age away from home, that distance might sever his inappropriate thoughts.

On this particular day, Li Ming'an happened to return to Li Mansion to fetch some belongings. Zhao insisted he stay for lunch, which he did, even taking a short nap before preparing to leave again.

Worried her son might suffer hardships outside, Zhao gave earnest instructions while having servants pack some of Ming'an's favorite snacks. "Mother," Ming'an said helplessly, "it's not like I'm never coming back... I'm just staying at school with classmates. I won't be suffering any hardships."

Zhao replied softly, "A mother worries when her son travels far. How can I not be concerned when you're away from me?"

Ming'an laughed, "My school isn't even a thousand li away, Mother. Why don't you just tie me to your waistband?"

Zhao pretended to glare at him in mock anger. "What nonsense are you spouting?" she sighed. "I'd like nothing more than to keep you tethered, but my An'er has grown up."

She studied Ming'an carefully, then smiled. "Have you grown taller again?"

Ming'an touched his head. "Have I?"

Zhao said, "Autumn's coming. I'll have the tailor visit soon to make you some new clothes."

"Alright—"Ming'an agreed, glancing at the sky outside. "Mother, I should go now."

"Go then," Zhao said. "Have the coachman take you."

Ming'an acknowledged casually, slinging his leather satchel over his shoulder and plopping his hat on his head as he headed out. He glanced back to see Zhao leaning against the doorframe watching him. When their eyes met, she smiled warmly and called out, "Be careful out there. Don't go stirring up trouble."

Ming'an waved. "Got it."

After leaving the courtyard, he paused at a fork in the garden's cobblestone path. Ming'an stared down the smaller trail—it led to Lan Yu's quarters. He hadn't seen Lan Yu for days now. Even when Lan Yu had been ill, Ming'an had only observed from afar, not daring to disturb. He reminded himself: that was his father's concubine, his young stepmother.

Yet even as this thought crossed his mind, Ming'an found his feet moving of their own accord, carrying him down the path toward Lan Yu's courtyard.

Li Ming'an seemed to have a little devil in his heart, whispering in his ear, urging him to go see Lan Yu—just one glance. It kept prodding him, driving him, yet another voice reminded him he had promised his mother. He and Lan Yu were impossible—she was his father's concubine.

But what harm would one glance do?

Lan Yu had recovered from his illness, and he hadn't seen him since. He just wanted to check if he was fully healed.

Li Ming'an arrived at an opportune moment. Before he even stepped into the courtyard, he heard the sound of a pipa—Lan Yu was playing. He held his breath, footsteps lightening as he approached. There he was, seated on a stone bench in the courtyard, cradling the pipa in his arms.

The leaves in the courtyard had turned red with autumn. The afternoon sun was lazy, filtering through the branches and spilling over Lan Yu, gilding his well-trimmed fingertips in a dazzling glow. His head was slightly bowed, his neck pale and slender, and as his fingers danced across the strings, the pipa's melody flowed out—languid and melodious, adding a touch of serenity to the quiet afternoon.

Then, abruptly, the music paused. A single pluck of the string, like a lazy swordsman suddenly unsheathing his blade, and the pipa's tone turned fierce and impassioned. Against the backdrop of drifting leaves, it carried an inexplicable air of lethality.

Li Ming'an's heart clenched. Staring at Lan Yu, he realized that in his memory, he had always been aloof, gentle—never so sharp-edged. His pipa held resentment, laced with venom that could kill with a single drop. One misstep, and blood would spill.

He couldn't describe what he felt—as though he had never truly known Lan Yu, yet was utterly entranced. Lost in thought, he didn't expect him to lift his head. Their eyes met abruptly, without warning.

Li Ming'an's heart jolted violently.

Lan Yu seemed to see him, yet also seemed to look right through him. His fingers never stopped, plucking and strumming as usual, but his gaze was like a hook—cold, arrogant, resting on him yet also piercing past him, as if fixed on something beyond.

With a final zheng, the pipa's music ceased abruptly. Holding the instrument, Lan Yu greeted him politely, "Third Young Master."

Li Ming'an snapped out of his daze, staring at her blankly, flustered. "Lan Yu—no, Ninth Concubine."

"Forgive me for interrupting your playing," he said.

Lan Yu replied, "It was just a casual tune. No interruption at all."

Li Ming'an stammered an "Oh," hesitating before finally stepping through the arched gate. "I heard Ninth Concubine was ill recently. Have you recovered?"

Lan Yu rose, still holding the pipa, and gestured toward the table where a teapot and cups sat. "I have. What brings the Third Young Master here today?"

The moment he moved, the bells on his ankles jingled crisply. Li Ming'an instinctively glanced at his feet, then stiffly averted his gaze, feeling it improper. He sat rigidly on the marble stool.

Li Ming'an adjusted his glasses and said, "I came back to get some things, and happened to pass by—"

Passing by—yet deliberately coming in. The unspoken reason was obvious.

Lan Yu pretended not to hear. He set the pipa aside and poured Li Ming'an a cup of tea. "The tea has gone cold."

Flustered by the gesture, Li Ming'an hastily took the cup. "It's... it's fine."

Lan Yu smiled without responding, making Li Ming'an increasingly uneasy. He barely dared to look at Lan Yu, focusing instead on the pipa on the table. It wasn't the one he had given Lan Yu—this one showed signs of age and wear, far inferior to the new one he'd bought. Yet Lan Yu wasn't using his gift. A pang of disappointment struck Li Ming'an, and he murmured, "Why aren't you using the new pipa?"

Lan Yu took a sip of the cold tea. "I'm sentimental. No matter how old or cheap, a pipa I love feels right in my hands."

Li Ming'an fell silent.

As they sat facing each other, the silence stretched until Li Ming'an finally gathered the courage to glance at Lan Yu. Softly, he asked, "Have you been... well these days?"

Lan Yu met his gaze. "Thank you for your concern, Third Young Master. I've been fine."

Li Ming'an frowned worriedly. "You've lost weight, and your complexion doesn't look good. Have Dr. Liu prescribe some tonics. You're still so young—you should take care of your health."

Lan Yu studied Li Ming'an as the boy rambled on, his care genuine and earnest. What a pity, Lan Yu thought. What a pity that Li Ming'an bore the Li surname, that he was part of the Li family.

With a faint smile, Lan Yu said, "I was ill for a few days—it's only natural my complexion suffered. I'll recover soon. The master has already instructed Dr. Liu to prepare tonics, which I take daily."

Li Ming'an's chest tightened, his throat clogged with unspoken words. Lan Yu was his father's concubine—it wasn't his place to care. Yet he couldn't suppress the ache in his heart. Staring at Lan Yu, he whispered, "Does my father treat you well?"

Lan Yu replied, "Everyone in the Li residence knows the master favors me above all now."

The words stung. Li Ming'an had never felt so conflicted—he wished his father wouldn't dote on Lan Yu, yet feared what would happen if he cast Lan Yu aside. Hearing this from Lan Yu's lips was unbearable.

"And you?" Li Ming'an pressed.

Lan Yu remained silent.

Seizing a sliver of hope, Li Ming'an asked, "Do you... like it this way?"

Resting an elbow on the stone table, Lan Yu idly swung his foot, the bells tinkling. "There's nothing wrong with it."

Li Ming'an blinked, distracted by the sound. "Those are..."

"Anklets," Lan Yu stated plainly.

"A-Anklets?" Li Ming'an was stunned. Bells, anklets... Innocent and inexperienced, he'd never imagined adults—especially men—wearing such adornments. But why would one wear anklets? As his thoughts wandered, his eyes fixed on Lan Yu's pale fingers, his mind conjuring all manner of forbidden fantasies. The more naive the heart, the wilder its imaginings—thoughts too improper to voice aloud.

Li Ming'an couldn't help imagining what kind of charm Lan Yu must have exuded while wearing that anklet in bed—would it jingle with every movement like now? His Adam's apple bobbed as he murmured, "Did... did my father put this on you? Why wear an anklet?"

Even the words "anklet" sounded indecent now.

Lan Yu gave him an enigmatic smile without answering.

Flushing crimson, Li Ming'an blurted, "My father is utterly shameless."

"Just a man's whim," Lan Yu chuckled. "Third Young Master will understand when you're older."

Li Ming'an abruptly straightened his posture, ears burning. After several seconds of struggling, he finally managed, "I'm not a child."

Lan Yu arched an eyebrow.

"I'm nineteen," Li Ming'an declared.

Lan Yu nodded indifferently, which only made Li Ming'an's heart itch with frustration. Choking back embarrassment and indignation, he muttered thickly, "Lan Yu, don't treat me like a child."

"Oh?" Lan Yu smiled. "Understood."

Pursing his lips, Li Ming'an realized his visit today had been impulsive—he feared both his mother's discovery and Lan Yu discerning his true feelings. After hesitating, he whispered, "I should go."

"If you ever need anything, send for me," Li Ming'an offered. "I'm staying at school."

He added earnestly, "For your matters, I'd return immediately. I'll help you."

To him, Lan Yu remained that pitiable yet endearing creature—a vulnerable bird tragically caught in the Li family's mire.

Lan Yu paused, studying Li Ming'an before finally saying, "Thank you, Third Young Master."

Li Ming'an smiled. "I'm off then."

Lan Yu nodded. "Very well."

Reluctantly leaving the courtyard, Li Ming'an glanced back one last time to see Lan Yu pouring tea. His slender wrists looked almost sickly pale in the sunlight as the liquid streamed into the cup, his thoughts unreadable.

Though momentarily dazed by Li Ming'an's naive yet genuine words, Lan Yu regained composure within seconds.

Finishing the cold tea, he picked up his pipa to leave when footsteps sounded behind him. Without turning, he said, "Yin Huan, clear the tea set."

Hearing no response, he turned to find Li Yuqing leaning against the stone table, watching him with an inscrutable gaze.

Their eyes met.

Li Yuqing immediately noticed the wariness flashing in Lan Yu's eyes, stirring displeasure. Coolly, he remarked, "Why clear it? Won't you offer me a cup?"

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