Feudal Dregs - Chapter 49

The abruptness of Lan Yu's insults seemed to make the carriage pause. Outside, Tong Ping called uncertainly, "Master?"

Li Mingzheng didn't respond. The noise outside ceased, and the carriage resumed moving. The interior was sparsely furnished, doors and windows shut tight, the air faintly scented with alcohol and cold incense. The atmosphere was so heavy it pressed on one's chest.

Li Mingzheng regarded Lan Yu placidly. "What do you want me to do?"

His tone was peculiar, as if it were just the simplest of questions, unhurried yet exuding an air of lofty indifference and arrogance. Lan Yu looked at Li Mingzheng and suddenly felt like a clown on stage, there solely for others' amusement.

He had tried to drag Li Mingzheng into the mire of incest and immorality, seducing him like a whore. Li Mingzheng seemed to play along, yet remained detached throughout. He was a complete bystander, watching Lan Yu's humiliating struggles and desperate attempts to please.

So clever, weren't he?

Lan Yu's heart plummeted into an abyss, a bone-chilling cold slicing through every inch of his body like a blade. He shivered, his fingers clenching and unclenching nervously against his knees. After what felt like an eternity, a hand pried open his tightly clasped fingers, smoothing them out before moving to cup his cheek. Lan Yu blinked slowly, only then realizing that tears had been streaming down his face without his notice.

Li Mingzheng asked, "Why are you crying?"

He wiped the tears from Lan Yu's face with his fingers. Lan Yu wept silently, each teardrop rolling down like pearls, as if he were drowning in sorrow and grievance. Lan Yu said nothing, and Li Mingzheng didn't rush him, patiently drying his tears as though carefully polishing an exquisite statue. Yet his words were calm and indifferent.

"Lan Yu, are you begging me?"

"Begging me to stand up for you, to deal with Li Er, to seek my protection?"

Lan Yu's lashes trembled, and in that moment, he sobered completely. Li Mingzheng and Li Yuqing shared the same surname—Li. Even if the brothers were at odds, they wouldn't let an outsider, an insignificant concubine, drive a wedge between them. Especially not someone as composed as Li Mingzheng.

He had overstepped, lost himself in the moment. His plan had always been to wound the enemy at the cost of his own ruin.

Lan Yu tried to pull away, but Li Mingzheng gripped his chin, forcing him to meet his gaze. Those fox-like eyes, usually alluring and full of charm, were now red-rimmed, pitifully flustered, like a creature caught by the tail.

"Lan Yu, has no one ever taught you? If you're going to put on a show, you must see it through to the end."

Li Mingzheng didn't spell it out, but Lan Yu understood instantly—he was mocking him for his coquettish act, for all those declarations of affection he had shamelessly thrown at Li Mingzheng.

It was nothing short of a scathing ridicule.

Lan Yu slowly lowered his eyes, then suddenly slapped Li Mingzheng's hand away and turned to flee toward the carriage door. But Li Mingzheng seized his arm and yanked him back. Lan Yu resisted, thrashing wildly, but Li Mingzheng pinned him against the carriage, leaning down to bite his earlobe. Lan Yu whimpered in pain, choking out between sobs,

"Li Mingzheng, you've just been treating me as a joke all along."

Lan Yu's hair had grown longer. Since Old Master Li had instructed him to grow it out, he hadn't cut it again. Li Mingzheng inhaled Lan Yu's scent—likely because Lan Yu hadn't been attending to his father these past few days, the cloying, decaying odor of opium was gone, leaving only a clean, refreshing fragrance with the faintest hint of perfume.

Li Mingzheng brushed aside Lan Yu's soft hair and saw the bite marks and love marks on the back of his neck—restrained yet fierce, as if someone had savored that patch of skin over and over.

Li Mingzheng paused slightly, rubbing Lan Yu's nape before asking casually, "Is there?" He pressed his thumb against the bite mark, applying pressure as if trying to force the skin imprinted with another man's mark deeper into Lan Yu's neck. Lan Yu winced in pain, tilting his face up, but remained silent.

Li Mingzheng said, "Did Second Brother bite you?"

Lan Yu retorted mockingly, "Just a plaything for amusement. Why would you care who bit me? Even if the old man used me, if Li Er fucked me, or even if your whole family had their way with me, you wouldn't care, would you?"

Li Mingzheng considered for a moment before replying, "No."

"Dirty," he stated bluntly.

Lan Yu said indifferently, "Then I'll seduce the Third Young Master into bed another day."

Li Mingzheng looked at him and said, "Lan Yu, don't court death."

Lan Yu sneered, "This worthless life of mine—I don't care if I lose it."

Li Mingzheng watched his defiant expression and suddenly felt an inexplicable pleasure. Gripping the back of Lan Yu's neck, he forced him to lift his face. The two stared at each other before Li Mingzheng asked, "Angry?"

Lan Yu smiled coldly. "I wouldn't dare."

Li Mingzheng held his gaze, his rough fingertips reddening the skin. Just then, Tong Ping's voice came from outside the carriage, "Young Master, we've arrived."

Li Mingzheng said, "Get out."

Lan Yu asked, "Where to?"

Li Mingzheng glanced at him before stepping out of the carriage on his own. Lan Yu stared at the open door for a moment before bending down to follow. Only then did he realize they had stopped outside an opera house.

The building stood three stories tall, with today's playbill posted outside. The name of the lead performer was written in flamboyant calligraphy—Hua Xiaoliang, the current star of Peking opera who had taken the city by storm.

Lan Yu had heard of his fame back in Yangzhou—his voice, soaring above the clouds, had driven countless admirers to madness.

He never expected Li Mingzheng would come to listen to opera.

Lan Yu followed Li Mingzheng inside with practiced ease. The opera house was packed, teeming with enthusiastic fans, while tea servers weaved through the crowd, calling out occasionally. Onstage, the musicians were tuning their instruments—the jinghu, yueqin, flutes, and gongs— creating a lively, bustling atmosphere.

Li Mingzheng went straight to the second floor, to a private box with the best view. The window opened directly toward the stage.

A sharp-eyed tea server had already brought hot tea and, knowing Li Mingzheng preferred quiet, left with a polite, "Please enjoy," before withdrawing.

Lan Yu glanced around and remarked, "I never took the Eldest Young Master for an opera enthusiast."

Li Mingzheng neither confirmed nor denied it. Tong Ping remained outside the door, leaving only the two of them inside. Lan Yu studied Li Mingzheng, unsure why he had suddenly brought him here.

He fell silent as well.

Fortunately, the performance began shortly after. Hua Xiaoliang was performing a classic piece—Longing for the Mundane.

Hua Xiaoliang's movements were exquisite, his eyes shimmering as he stepped onto the stage, whisk in hand, to thunderous applause from the audience.

Lan Yu glanced at Li Mingzheng beside him, who was watching the performer on stage with rapt attention.

Hua Xiaoliang sang: "The young nun is but sixteen, in the bloom of youth, yet her master has shorn her hair."

Zhao Sekong, long confined within the temple, draped in solemn monastic robes, found a flicker of worldly desire stirring within her tranquil heart. From then on, even the dignified statues of the Eighteen Arhats became subjects of her amorous dreams—vivid, intoxicating, a bewitching dance of soul and senses.

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