UCTOOT CH11

Fate only smiles upon the ambitious and the conquerors.

For those who simply follow fate, fate only grants a cold glance as charity.

Shi Shu stepped forward and, with the highest respect a straight man could show another man, patted his shoulder.

“Should you become wealthy and successful, do not forget me.”

“When you’re rich and riding in a fancy car, I’ll open the door for you; when you eat fish, I’ll pick out the bones; if it’s cold, I’ll add clothes for you; if the soup’s too hot, I’ll blow on it to cool it; even if you’re going to the bathroom, I’ll hold you up.”

Xie Wuchi: “Hold me up for what?”

Shi Shu looked at him like, “Do I really have to explain this?”: “Hold you up for anything.”

Xie Wuchi: “Have you ever helped a friend hold them up?”

“Not really, but they often want to shower or go to the bathroom with me; they also often want to hug me, sniff me, and so on…”

Xie Wuchi: “Did you shower with them? Hug them? Let them sniff you?”

Shi Shu: “Of course not. I don’t like men touching me.”

Xie Wuchi: “Then don’t hang out with your friends anymore.”

Shi Shu: “Why?”

Xie Wuchi said nothing, turned, and walked away. Shi Shu followed him, puzzled: “Hey, Xie Wuchi! Explain yourself! Don’t tell me your friends are gay too?”

…

Following Xie Wuchi, the lush shade of the Bodhi tree at Xiangnan Temple came into view. Shi Shu kept rambling: “Even if I wanted to hang out with them, it’s impossible now. We traveled through time; it’s destined that you and I depend on each other.”

“You’re pretty decent. Even as roommates for now, you keep your distance—no hugging, no cuddling, no kissing.”

“You’re definitely not gay; you don’t like touching me.”

“Only truly straight men hug and cuddle each other. Gay men generally don’t. If they hug, it’s an 18cm negative distance.”

Xie Wuchi identified the bustling market streets, his expression calm as water, and turned left toward the nearby alley.

Shi Shu: “Where are we going?”

“Just came out to get medicine. Let’s check your health at the pharmacy.”

Shi Shu: “Ah? Oh.”

Xie Wuchi sometimes showed signs of control, but so far Shi Shu accepted it—it was like a grandmother forcing you to wear long underwear in autumn.

Inside a quiet clinic, the old doctor stroked his beard.

“Hmm, there’s blood deficiency. I’ll prescribe several doses of Si Wu Tang (Four Substances Decoction). Eat more longan, red dates, and lean meat soup regularly…” The doctor looked at their monk robes and said, “But skip the lean meat soup.”

Xie Wuchi paid, took the medicine. Shi Shu rolled down his sleeve on his forearm and smelled the strong herbal scent: “Will it be very bitter?”

Doctor: “Buy some red dates, crush them, and add them in.”

Holding red dates, longan, and the medicine, standing on the main street, Shi Shu headed toward Xiangnan Temple, but Xie Wuchi went another way. Shi Shu asked, “Xie Wuchi, are you in the mood to shop today?”

Xie Wuchi: “The doctor said you should eat more pork liver and lean meat porridge. Find a good place to eat.”

Shi Shu: “But these two streets don’t sell meat or fish to monks, right?”

“Money makes the mare go. If you have money, you can buy anything,” Xie Wuchi said. “Let’s go.”

…

In the afternoon, the Crown Prince of Great Jing Dynasty, Chu Wei, accompanied by the leader of the Elite Vanguard Army and Henan Eastern Road military commander Zhao Shirui and others, arrived at Xiangnan Temple to enjoy the rare spectacle in the back courtyard—a spring bamboo forest.

Because the Crown Prince had set up the banquet in the temple’s back courtyard to entertain guests, the newly influential and popular military general who had just quelled the people’s rebellion was not yet seated.

Shi Shu and Xie Wuchi followed a group of scouts and spies, bypassed the long corridor, and arrived outside the pavilion. The Crown Prince sat in a chair wearing a brocade robe with jade belt and round collar, looking bored as he admired his new folding fan.

A man knelt before the prince, bowing his head repeatedly.

“Your Highness, the letters from various places have been sent. The wealthy merchants refuse to donate money. The salt and tea taxes were just raised a few years ago. The people have nothing left to give. It’s truly difficult to raise the funds!”

“Trash!” The prince erupted in anger, throwing his fan, which hit the man’s head and caused bleeding. “They can all talk so well—better than singing—but when it’s time to act, they’re useless!”

“Money! Who can get me three million taels? The Elite Vanguard’s pay can’t cover it. Will these rough soldiers leave the capital? It’s easy to ask for help, hard to send it away! And then there’s the overdue military funds from Liaodong for years. If we can’t get the money, I’ll bear the blame from the Emperor, but all of you will be sent to repair the imperial tombs! Stop dreaming about comfort and wealth!”

The prince slammed the back of his chair, furious: “Damn bastards, damn bastards!”

Upon arriving, Shi Shu saw this intense scene.

The prince was furious. Shi Shu blinked and elbowed Xie Wuchi: “So it’s money troubles. Three million taels is a lot?”

“Much, but not too much. If these dukes and princes emptied their estates, they could raise three million. But no one’s willing to pay.”

“Why?”

“They treat the world as their private property, and the people’s survival money as their own. The rich feast while the poor freeze to death on the road. Even if the country’s about to collapse, even if invaders come, these noble families won’t pay a penny; instead, they squeeze the poor, dry them out, until there’s nothing left to squeeze, and the people rebel.”

Shi Shu gritted his teeth: “My heavens, feudal dynasties really deserve to die.”

“People are very selfish. The more they have, the tighter they hold on.”

Xie Wuchi’s eyes lowered, a half-smile on his face: “The recent rebellion in Huainan Road was a group of peasants driven to banditry by heavy taxes and levies. They shouted ‘The old heaven is dead, the yellow heaven rises!’ and rose up. The court had to send troops to suppress them, resulting in soldiers killed and equipment broken. They had to spend money to reorganize the new army, creating a vicious cycle. Most late dynasties are like this.”

Shi Shu was surprised: “So Great Jing is actually in the late dynasty period?”

Xie Wuchi: “Yes. Dynasties usually go through good governance, flourishing, and then decline. Time travelers cannot change fate during good or flourishing times. We’re lucky; now it’s the decline period.”

“……”

Shi Shu scrutinized him up and down and saw Xie Wuchi squint thoughtfully.

“You’re kind of crazy.”

Shi Shu recalled a saying he had heard before, “Who cares if floods come after I’m gone,” thinking Xie Wuchi seemed to only care about his own pleasure, regardless of others’ lives.

Shi Shu scratched his head, distracted by a voice not far away.

A eunuch shouted sharply: “Henan Eastern Road military commander Zhao Shirui has arrived—”

Shi Shu couldn’t help but look at this general.

The prince quickly changed his expression and stepped down to welcome him: “Commander Zhao, you’re truly a valiant warrior, imposing and heroic!”

This general who had just suppressed the peasant uprising was a middle-aged man with a bloodied face and a strong build. A scar ran from his forehead to his jaw—wounds from a stray arrow when he fought enemy tribes in his youth as an elite soldier in the vanguard army. Over the years, it had become a mark of honor.

“Greetings, Your Highness.”

“Commander Zhao, no need for formalities. Please rise. I’ve long heard of your heroic presence. Seeing you today proves you live up to the reputation. Tonight, I’ve arranged a banquet and invited you to admire the temple’s bamboo sea. Afterwards, we will see a strange stone I brought from Taihu Lake with the effort of thousands of people. Please, please come.”

Zhao Shirui’s gaze was sharp: “Your Highness, I came today to inquire about the military pay.”

“Ah!” Crown Prince Chu Wei smiled, “I invited you today to enjoy the beautiful day and scenery. Don’t waste the time. Let’s discuss these military and political matters another day, another day.”

“Your Highness!” Zhao Shirui seemed to lose patience, “In suppressing the rebellion, six ten-thousand elite troops lost thirty thousand soldiers! The remaining thirty thousand still need food. The dead soldiers have funeral expenses, and their families need support. Every day delayed means tens of thousands go hungry. How can you say these urgent matters are to be discussed ‘another day’? Is the livelihood of tens of thousands of people a ‘political’ matter? If we imitate the idle noble officials of previous dynasties, then our Great Jing is doomed!”

The heir’s face darkened and flushed alternately. He wanted to explode in anger, but the Langdi Army was the emperor’s new favorite. Even he dared not openly scold them. Gritting his teeth, he said, “Don’t rush. I’ve already made arrangements. Within ten days, the military pay will definitely be issued to you.”

Zhao Shuirui finally received a definite reply and said, “Military matters are complicated. I am but a rough soldier and don’t know how to please the heir, so I won’t disturb your mood. I take my leave.”

With that, the general truly turned and left without another word.

Impressive.

Shi Shu respected him as a real man.

On the other side, the heir was burning with rage.

Chu Wei, the heir, looked ferocious, his hands nearly crushing the railing. “Outrageous! A barbarian from the north, a country bumpkin servant, so rude and ignorant of manners, shameless beyond measure!”

Those beside him hurriedly joined in the insults: “Yes, yes, a bunch of rustic folks, clumsy goods from the northern border. Naturally, they don’t understand etiquette. Heir, please calm your anger.”

“That man boasts of his achievements in suppressing rebels and acts arrogantly. Sooner or later, he’ll fall into our heir’s hands.”

Others tried different angles: “It’s all those damned rebels’ fault. If they hadn’t rebelled, that crude and filthy scoundrel wouldn’t even see the light of day, even if his ancestors rose from the grave.”

Shi Shu: “………………”

Flatterers’ basic moves: twisting right and wrong, blindly picking sides.

Every fault, every mistake, was someone else’s fault.

Since ancient times, it was always the officials who oppressed the people until the people rebelled. No commoner would live peacefully and then suddenly rebel, risking their family’s extermination.

The heir looked at this useless crowd and growled with anger, “Enough! What’s the use of these empty words? Within ten days, I want three million taels. Where will you get them from?”

The council members started arguing among themselves: “In my opinion, we should toughen up the people and raise taxes!”

“If taxes rise again, the whole world will rebel!”

“The wealthy merchants… the Jiangnan rich have already borrowed everything they can. With fewer and fewer men at their gates, they truly can’t borrow more.”

“Heir, there are still ten thousand acres of official land in the south of the city. Why not pawn them all first to raise the military funds and solve the urgent problem?”

Heir: “Official land belongs to the court and can’t be sold.”

Shi Shu: “That won’t work?”

Xie Wuchi fiddled with his prayer beads and said, “Of course not. Those official lands nominally belong to the court, but in reality, they have long been swallowed up by imperial relatives and nobles. Cutting into their ‘meat’ will not be easy.”

Shi Shu clicked his tongue twice.

Forget the peasants wanting to rebel — Shi Shu himself was on the verge of rebellion!

He frowned, his fair and handsome face instantly turning fierce. Xie Wuchi looked at him and said, “Control your expression.”

Shi Shu: “Hmph, I told you I didn’t want to come here. Just seeing this heir makes me want to curse.”

“Memories are a kind of punishment,” Xie Wuchi said calmly. “Some things that cannot be changed are better forgotten quickly.”

“……”

Seeing the banquet to win over the new military elite fail, and the Prince of Liang’s heir in a rage, the next step would probably be the temple preaching Buddhism to relieve his anger. Xie Wuchi gestured to Shi Shu, “You go back first and stay put. I’ll be home late for the next few days.”

Shi Shu: “What are you going to do?”

Xie Wuchi looked at the heir sitting there like a fat pig on the chopping block, then relaxed and smiled at Shi Shu, “Of course, help him raise the military funds.”

…

Xie Wuchi forbade Shi Shu from going out to avoid provoking the Langdi Army’s wrath. In the past few days, Shi Shu stayed in the courtyard, bored out of his mind, and ended up playing with Laifu every day.

“Good dog… go!” Shi Shu threw a wooden stick.

Laifu fetched it and wagged his tail at him.

“Good dog… go!” Laifu dashed out crazily and fetched the stick again.

“Dogs are the best, always keeping people company. What exactly is Xie Wuchi doing… going out early and coming back late?”

As dusk fell, Xie Wuchi walked up the bluestone path. His tall figure was striking in the night, his expression deep and thoughtful, like a heavy shadow concealing deep worries.

Shi Shu originally wanted to pretend not to notice him.

Xie Wuchi took something out from his sleeve: “I brought you a book. Bored staying in the courtyard, right? Kill time with this.”

“No way,” Shi Shu said, holding it. “I get dizzy reading.”

Night fell, a dim lamp lit the room. After entering, Shi Shu couldn’t help but open the book under the light: “!!!” His face immediately burned red to his ears. He slammed the book shut, his fair complexion fading, as if he had met a monster, then threw the book away.

“Xie Wuchi, y-you actually gave me a pornographic book!”

“This book has words and pictures. I guessed you’d understand, so I brought it back.”

Shi Shu: “I don’t like reading this kind. Take it away.”

“This is a very popular storybook lately, very popular in the singing halls and dance houses, enjoyed by all classes. Many people buy it before printing even starts.”

“Really that amazing?”

Shi Shu skeptically opened it again, his fair fingers pressing the paper. By chance, he flipped to a scene where the protagonist was embracing someone. Reading from the start, it was the story of Liang Shanbo and Zhu Yingtai.

“Elegant and refined works are appreciated by only a few, but this is for the masses. The book uses colloquial language, daily and lively. Even in temples, some impure monks secretly hide it under their pillows. I borrowed it from them.”

Shi Shu casually flipped through the whole book: “But there are still such scenes inside?”

“Food and sex are nature. Yes, is it strange?”

At the end of the book, Shi Shu saw the author’s signature in ink. He read it out loud line by line: “Yuan Ying — the author’s surname is also Yuan. Could he be a northern slave?”

Xie Wuchi sat on a bench, drinking tea, and glanced at him with deep eyes: “Most likely, that author is Yuan Guan.”

“What?… It’s him?”

Shi Shu’s eyes widened in disbelief.

Knowledge is wealth. In ancient times, literacy was a class divider. Studying meant the household lost a laborer but still had to pay head tax. Poor farming families couldn’t afford this. So those who read were either from scholarly families or relatively well-off landlords.

Northern slaves were forbidden to take the imperial exams. Studying had no practical value for them. Yuan Guan was the only one who loved reading despite this, writing articles and learning painting.

His poetry couldn’t enter the refined halls, so he wrote popular novels and illustrations, letting people who yearned for love or wanted to see the world have something to dream about.

“The world won’t allow it. To go against the heavens,” Xie Wuchi said.

Shi Shu was moved, holding the storybook, “I’ll look carefully.”

Xie Wuchi: “But this kind of book is still considered obscene and unfit for the mainstream culture of Dajing. Take your time reading.”

Xie Wuchi picked up a history book and resumed reading by lamplight, his features sharp but eyes dim.

Shi Shu squinted, peeking through his fingers at the pictures. It wasn’t as filthy as he imagined. His eyes grew wide, and he sat beside Xie Wuchi, sharing the same lamp.

Though written in plain language, it was still difficult to read. Shi Shu muttered, “But knowing what he looks like beforehand makes reading the book feel very strange.”

“Hey Kid.”
“…What are you saying?”

Xie Wuchi said, “You should read more novels, open up your mind a bit.”

After finishing the book and putting it down, when it was time to sleep, Shishu instinctively crawled to the inner side of the bed. Before lying down, he couldn’t help but ask, “Hey, Xie Wuchi, what have you been up to recently? You always come back so late.”

“I’m preaching to the Prince, trying to get on his good side,” Xie Wuchi replied. “Why, don’t you like being alone in the courtyard?”

“…Not really. Mind your own business.”

Xie Wuchi said, “Then what are you guarding?”

“Hmph.” Shishu turned his face away. “Just asking casually. You can forget about me. I’m fine alone here with food and drink.”

Xie Wuchi squeezed the book scroll in his hand, his fingers tightening slightly. “Did I hear that right? Are you flirting?”

“!!!” Shishu suddenly jumped up from the bed, looking shocked as if realizing what he’d just said. “What did you say? What did I just say?”

Xie Wuchi lowered his eyes. “I’ve been busy with my own matters these days, and have neglected you?”

“Aaaaaah! Don’t talk nonsense!” Shishu exploded suddenly, burying his face in the pillow, thinking to himself how he’d accidentally exposed his feelings again!

He had promised himself to act like a cold, unfeeling, independent adult!

Just now he swore he’d play it cool when Xie Wuchi came back.

How did he accidentally blurt out what was in his heart again?!

They weren’t even close enough to say such things!

Damn it! He’d be laughed at!

Shishu buried his face deeper in the pillow. “I’m dead. Don’t talk to me. You can’t hear me.”

“…”

Xie Wuchi stared at the bulge on the bed, at the fluffy head of Shishu. The boy’s shoulders were thin but not weak, his appearance clean and unruly. He looked so mad it made him seem especially easy to hold, to soothe, to cuddle — so soft…

Suddenly, a strange image flashed through Xie Wuchi’s mind.

It was as if Shishu’s face would flush red when kissed, then push him away with his hands, resist pinned against the wall, but weakly…

He imagined holding him, bowing his head to see the pale, sharply defined neck, the warm skin.

The candlelight flickered in the silent room. Xie Wuchi’s brows slowly furrowed.

It felt like a stab to the heart, a sudden sharp pain. His features twisted, revealing a dark underlying shadow.

…This wasn’t good.

Xie Wuchi’s breathing sped up, heart pounding hard, his face outlined by the candlelight, eyes reddening.

He closed the book, slowly withdrew his gaze, but his chest trembled, his mind restless.

—

The temple’s evening bells chimed repeatedly, lamps were blown out and candles extinguished. Xie Wuchi came to the bedside and covered the sleeper with a blanket.

The person beside him slept peacefully as usual. Xie Wuchi didn’t like sharing his personal space, but he’d learned long ago to yield unemotionally to things that couldn’t be changed.

They had shared a bed for days before, and it was acceptable. But tonight, through the warm quilt, he could sense the other’s faint breathing.

…

The gates of hell opened, Satan smiled within, the shackles of desire shattered, endless dark tendrils and vines crept upward, the heart’s fire burned the purgatory.

Drowsy heat clung to the body. In his dream, endless noise and waves swirled around him, pushing and pulling.

Xie Wuchi’s eyelids twitched; cold sweat dripped from his forehead, sliding down his sharp jaw to his neck, veins lightly bulging on his throat. He swallowed hard. In the dream, he seemed tangled by demons, bound like a ghost, limbs trapped.

Countless voices whispered: “You are flawless,” “You are invincible,” “You are proud, heaven’s favored, the shining star,” “You cannot stray,” “You are unparalleled…”

Under thousands of eyes and laser lights, in perfect tailored suits, red wine swirling, smiles drifting in a decadent haze.

Like a dream.

On the dark other side, the voices faded… Xie Wuchi spread his fingers, pressing a narrow waist to fill the emptiness. Arms reached out to wrap his neck, pressing the warm body close, a face against his ear.

Hands in the dream stroked his spine, warm.

Soft, fluffy black hair, familiar. Xie Wuchi turned his eyes to look, seeing a patch of pale neck, sharp vertebrae visible, the back curving inward from shoulder blades to spine, bone lines clear, lean and refined, a youth, in his prime.

“Xie Xun—”

The voice suddenly whispered at his ear. Xie Wuchi’s double eyelids, pressed tight, snapped open in the dark.

“…” He panted heavily.

Cold sweat drenched him.

The air seemed sealed by silence, his back cold and damp, like a fleeting dream.

The hour was late. When Xie Wuchi pulled back the blanket, a stiff, cold ache spread across his brow and jaw.

Outside, dawn faintly glimmered from the temple tower, dim light spilled into the courtyard, birds perched on branches chirping their morning songs.

Discarded clothes lay on the railing. Morning breeze brushed over his deeply carved collarbones and chest muscles, his shoulders sharp and defined. Xie Wuchi stared at the dark, intense, sharply contoured face reflected on the water’s surface.

Breathing.

Two hands — breaking apart this bewildering facade.