055 Undercover, drunk

The hare wanes, and time swiftly passes by.

As the sun descends, the rustic farmhouse courtyard is aglow with candlelight.

Facing the lack of spare chambers to accommodate Chuyao, Shen Tang contemplated yielding her own quarters. While she could easily endure a night's stay anywhere and devise a solution tomorrow, Chuyao's frail and elderly disposition made it unsuitable for him to sleep in corridors or alcoves. Despite Chuyao's dissent, it was ultimately Qishan who relented and allowed him to share his quarters.

This decision was eagerly sought by Shen Tang.

Having partaken of the late supper provided by an elderly woman, Chuyao, burdened with myriad thoughts, wandered alone to the courtyard, where the sound of flowing water accompanied his contemplations.

Following the sound, he spotted a shadow huddled in the corner. Drawing closer, he recognized Shen Tang, busily washing green plums in a wooden basin.

"What are you doing, Five Lang?" Shen Tang looked up upon seeing Chuyao, straightening her fatigued body with a gentle fist against her sore waist. After bending for too long, she felt weary, and she replied, "Washing green plums. I intend to make some green plum wine and savor it amidst the winter snow."

Upon hearing this, Chuyao lowered his gaze to the fluctuating plums in the basin, sighing, "Wasting nature's bounty, will you regret this, Five Lang?"

Shen Tang was perplexed, "???" How could she be squandering nature's gifts?

Chuyao then inquired, "Did Mister Qishan not dissuade you?"

Perplexed, Shen Tang asked, "Why would Yuanliang dissuade me?"

Chuyao's countenance darkened gradually, his calm demeanor concealing the burgeoning fury not directed at Shen Tang but at Qishan.

Uncertain of the cause of his anger, Shen Tang felt a twinge of apprehension. Chuyao's demeanor reminded her of impatient editors or stern headmasters. Softening her voice to avoid confrontation, she addressed him with a weakened tone, "Mister Wuhui, you and Mister Yuanliang are quite peculiar. Previously, when I conjured the green plums with my incantation, he asked if I would regret it, accusing me of recklessness. Surely, he should enlighten me on the reasons for such regret?"

Chuyao suppressed his anger and expressed astonishment at Shen Tang's ignorance. Shen Tang shook her head, indicating her lack of understanding. Chuyao's expression was difficult to interpret, and after a long sigh, he refrained from further explanation, simply stating, "Forget it. Your situation seems tolerable."

Shen Tang: "..."

(╯‵□′)╯︵┻━┻

Speak plainly!

Half-truths are a slow torture!

Chuyao assisted Shen Tang in washing a basin of green plums, and together they completed the initial steps of preparing the pickled plums. While lacking rock sugar, they substituted with syrup. After sealing the mixture for a couple of months, it would be ready for consumption.

With these tasks completed, Shen Tang tended to her slightly malodorous hair, bathing and changing into clean garments. Sitting on the veranda, she dried her damp hair with a dry towel. As she waited for her hair to dry, she envisioned Zhai Le drinking under the moonlight.

Drinking under the moonlight on the veranda...

It has a certain charm.

Without further ado, she swiftly retrieved a pottery bowl from the eastern kitchen, silently reciting an incantation to fill it with Du Kang wine. She first sniffed the fragrance with her nose, then tilted her head back, closed her eyes, and took a sip.

The mellow wine slid down her throat, warming her entire body and rushing straight to her brain.

Meanwhile...

Chuyao and Qishan were engaged in a fierce game of chess, each move a strategic gambit. Though appearing calm on the surface, both harbored profound depths beneath. Chuyao's maneuvers were more cunning than Qishan's, each move poised to strike fatally, his offensive akin to thunderous raindrops, imposing great pressure upon his opponent.

Before long, signs of Qishan's impending defeat began to emerge.

Finally, the once quiet room, with only the sound of placing pieces, was filled with voices. Chuyao inquired, "Qilang, why did you not intervene when you sensed his confusion?"

Qishan chuckled, "How could I intervene?"

Only afterward did he realize that this young man bore the national seal. Moreover, who could have anticipated the swift and easy awakening of the 'Way of the Feudal Lords'? Typically, the manifestation of this path required sacrifices to the heavens and the alignment of national fortunes.

At that moment, even Qishan was nearly rendered speechless with surprise.

Chuyao remained silent, allowing Qishan his turn to speak. "Chuyao, Chu Wuhui, once one of Chu's Three Greats, basked in glory and freedom. Yet within a few years, one met a grisly end on the execution grounds, another hanged himself in prison, while the third vanished without a trace... and you, you've been hiding in this small town all along. Are you following Shen Qilang in hopes of a turnaround? Unfortunately, his 'Way of the Feudal Lords'..."

Chu was a very small country.

It was more like a half-state than a nation.

Despite its diminutive size, it boasted a plethora of talents, especially the trio known as the 'Three Greats,' who gained fame across the northwest. Though of varying ages, their aspirations aligned. Given enough time, Chu might have had a chance to distinguish itself among the states of the northwest and become a powerful nation.

The outcome, however, was easy to imagine.

Neighboring nations perceived it as a threat.

Giving you time to develop?

Dream on, every seedling will be plucked!

The ruler of Chu was not foolish, even verging on benevolent and magnanimous. He understood the balance of power and the consequences, but when trouble brewed at home, and his sons were incited to fight, he could not stop their heated disputes. Among the three, Chuyao was the youngest, rose to fame the quickest, and disappeared just as swiftly.

There were rumors that Chuyao's literary talent had faltered, dealing a heavy blow to the young man who had risen to fame at a tender age, causing him to lose heart and become despondent.

"Though unfortunate, it may not be entirely so. Despite losing the initiative, fate may still hold unexpected opportunities. Who's to say a losing game can't turn the tide?" Chuyao furrowed his brow, looking at Qishan. "Though Xiaocheng is small, news travels swiftly. The name Qiyuanliang is widely known. There's only one thing I don't understand. I've been waiting in Xiaocheng for my destiny, so why did you appear on the road of exile with the Gong family? Hmm?"

Chuyao had gained fame in Chu, but Qishan, from Xin, hadn't gained notoriety in Xin, and in fact, had a rather unfavorable reputation in recent years. With a rich background, while others returned home in splendor, he returned with a string of enemies. It was obvious he was a formidable character, and Chuyao couldn't understand why he didn't seek development in a powerful central state but instead returned to this barren land in the northwest?

Just like this, he wasn't curious. He was neither good nor evil, and it was enough to keep his distance. But this person was entangled with his destiny, and he couldn't help but take notice. 

Unfortunately, Qishan felt the same way.

Just as the two were mutually disdainful, a loud, dull "thud" came from outside the corridor, the sound of a heavy object falling. The two exchanged a glance, then rose to open the paper door, only to find Shen Qilang (Wulang) collapsed on the ground.

"Youli!"

"Wulang!"

Neither cared for anything else.

They pushed everything else aside.

One took his pulse, the other checked his breath.

Then—

His pulse was steady and strong.

The two: "???"

Seeing the pottery bowl still containing traces of liquor, Chuyao picked it up and sniffed lightly, "It's Du Kang wine, has Wulang been drinking?"

Qishan: "..."

So, is he drunk?

Or was he knocked over by the wine I conjured?

Just as the two fell silent, Shen Tang, curled up on the ground, suddenly sat up straight, her eyes opening wide like a feigned corpse.