So You’re a Little Chick (2)

"Brother Xiao, no big deal, no big deal," Lin Wanrong said with a cold smirk. "Like you said, I'm not a scholar." He caught the embarrassment flickering in Xiao Qingxuan's eyes and waved it off before the guy could open his mouth, cutting him off without a shred of mercy. Xiao Qingxuan bit his lower lip lightly, flashed Lin Wanrong a small smile, and showed off a row of pearly white teeth. That pretty face hit Lin Wanrong like a punch again, and he whipped his head away, refusing to look. Fuck, this pretty bastard's flirting with me, he thought, pissed as hell but stuck with no way to deal with it.

It took a minute to shake off the nausea. He swore off staring at Xiao Qingxuan's face again and pressed on, "Even though I'm not a scholar and don't buy into their complacent bullshit, I don't think it's their fault. The real problem's somewhere else."

"Somewhere else?" Xiao Qingxuan's delicate brows scrunched up. "What do you mean by that, Brother Lin?"

Lin Wanrong took it slow. "Simple. What we're seeing here is a mirror of the country's livelihood. And livelihood's the gauge of how a nation's run—uh, you get what a gauge is, right?"

Xiao Qingxuan gave a half-assed nod, like he kinda got it. Lin Wanrong couldn't be bothered to explain and kept going. "This scene at Xuanwu Lake—scholars swarming, ladies flitting around—it's all because of the country's propaganda." Lin Wanrong still wasn't used to this weird-ass place, so he just called it "this country."

"Propaganda?" Xiao Qingxuan hit another word wall, frowning in that cute way that reminded Lin Wanrong of the old Xishi clutching her heart story. Shit, why'd I think of something that gross? He shook his head hard, kicking the thought out.

Xiao Qingxuan glanced at him, blushing a little. "Mr. Lin, could you break down what 'propaganda' means?"

This kid was a fast learner—already back to calling him "Mr. Lin." Thinking of the other meaning of "mister," Lin Wanrong's skin crawled. I'd rather God snip my balls than be this pretty boy's "mister."

"Brother Xiao, please—don't call me 'mister' again, okay? Honest to God, that word makes me itch like a motherfucker," Lin Wanrong said, scowling.

Xiao Qingxuan blinked, then nodded. "Sure, Mr. Lin."

Lin Wanrong rolled his eyes, helpless. This pretty bastard's a lost cause.

Xiao Qingxuan caught his slip, his jade-smooth face turning red. He shot Lin Wanrong an awkward, sheepish grin.

Too lazy to bitch about it, Lin Wanrong let it slide. This was the first time in a month he'd talked this much to anyone—he'd been suffocating in silence. Besides, finding someone in this shithole who'd listen to his rants was rare as hell.

"Propaganda's just spin. Control the story, and you can make people think whatever you want. Tell these scholars to sing and dance? They'll do it. Tell them to die for the country? They'll march off. It's all about how you play it," Lin Wanrong said, keeping it casual.

Xiao Qingxuan's eyes sparkled—he got it. Pumped, he said, "Mr. Lin, you mean we could control the—" He stopped himself halfway, smart enough to catch it.

Sharp kid—quick on the draw and knew when to zip it. Lin Wanrong smirked coldly. "Sing and dance or face a national shitstorm—it's up to the guys in charge. Right now, the country's fucked, but these scholars are still partying like it's nothing. That's on the government screwing the pooch."

Lin Wanrong had only been here a month, dropped in by some cosmic fuck-up, but he didn't belong. He had zero respect for emperors—wouldn't bow to one if he saw him. Deep down, he was cocky as shit, so he didn't bother watching his mouth. Truth was, only a nobody like him, with nothing to lose, dared to say this crap out loud. Anyone else might think it but wouldn't spit it out.

This Xiao kid was obviously a hardcore royalist. Hearing Lin Wanrong's sneer, his face darkened. He shot back, icy, "Mr. Lin—er, Brother Lin—I don't think it's as bad as you're making it out. The emperor's in his prime, busting his ass to run things right. This northern invasion's a hurdle for our great Hua Dynasty, sure, but it's also a shot at something bigger. From what I know, the emperor's got big plans—cleaning up the officials, building strength. He's aiming to either dodge war or win it in one go, to pump up the spirit of our mighty Hua."

The kid had a point about finding a silver lining in a shitstorm—smart eye. But all that "emperor in his prime" nonsense was pure kid's stuff. Lin Wanrong had been here a month and already knew the emperor was past sixty, worn out from a wild youth, with no sons—just two princesses. "In his prime"? The old geezer probably couldn't get it up anymore. As for "busting his ass," that wasn't up to the emperor alone. The people's lives told the real story. With Jinling's party scene clashing hard against the northern war fires, "running things right" was probably just a fancy sign in the old man's temple.

Seeing Xiao Qingxuan's blind faith in the emperor, Lin Wanrong didn't bother arguing. He just snorted, "History sorts out the wins and losses. Little Xiao, since you've got so much trust in the emperor, I hope you're right—hope he's doing right by the people."

Hearing "Little Xiao," the pretty boy flushed—nobody'd ever called him that before. He glared at Lin Wanrong, hard.

Lin Wanrong's hide was thick as a city wall; the glare slid right off. But the cute servant next to Xiao turned red, clenching his little fists like he wanted to throw down.

"From what you're saying, Brother Lin, sounds like you've got zero faith in the emperor?" Xiao Qingxuan's face got uglier, his words clipped and sharp.

Pissed off, he gave off that rich-kid vibe—some high-and-mighty aura only fancy families could pull off. Too bad Lin Wanrong didn't give a fuck about that kingly bullshit. To him, the kid's tantrum was like a neighbor's brat throwing a fit. Still, the blush on Xiao's face made him even prettier.

If I was into guys, I'd keep him, Lin Wanrong thought, then freaked out at the idea. What the fuck—where'd that come from? This pretty bastard almost warped my damn tastes.

"Faith?" Lin Wanrong laughed, eyeing him. "Little Xiao, don't bet on that old emperor prick. People can only count on themselves."

"You—" Xiao Qingxuan's face went beet red, pointing at Lin Wanrong. "You've got the balls to say treason like that?"

In his rage, even his earlobes turned red, and Lin Wanrong spotted two tiny dots on those crystal-clear lobes standing out.

"So you're a chick, huh," Lin Wanrong blurted out.