SEHE Chapter 88

Cold 

In his previous life, Pei Yanci had disdained that Great General for being weak.

In this life, he choked with sobs for half the night, from cursing Tang Xizhui for his inhuman behavior to later pretending to soften and beg for mercy.

This person saw through his false submission at a glance, completely ignoring his subsequent explanations. Only when he had thoroughly cried himself hoarse and his body truly had not a bit of strength left, did Tang Xizhui finally let him go.

For a moment, he questioned whether he had nothing better to do with himself, to have actually agreed to a eunuch’s proposal.

Everyone said eunuchs couldn’t perform in bed, but why didn’t anyone tell him they had plenty of ways to torment people.

When he opened his eyes again to look for the other person in the room, Tang Xizhui had already changed into fresh, dry underpants.

In the sweltering summer heat, he wore no inner garment, sitting sideways as he dried his waist-length black hair.

Pei Yanci’s originally bright crescent-shaped eyes were now veiled with intoxicating exhaustion, yet he still struggled to keep them open to watch him.

Sensing his gaze, Tang Xizhui looked down, his eyes flickering. “What,  feeling regretful you didn’t get to see me change clothes?”

“Who wants to see that thing?” He averted his gaze, lazily turning over to face away from him.

His body felt a bit tired yet also very light. He yawned, wanting to sleep but unable to, so exhausted that tears welled up in his eyes.

Behind him, the ivory mat rustled softly as Tang Xizhui lay down on the bed and pulled him tightly into his embrace.

“Hot…” He instinctively struggled, but couldn’t resist the man’s hold. The wine had already left him weak, and after being tormented for half the night, he was now too lazy to even move his eyelids much.

Once he truly settled into the embrace, he discovered the body was ice cold—more comfortable than hugging a bamboo wife.

(TL: “竹夫人” (zhú fūrén) literally means “bamboo wife,” which refers to a traditional bamboo bolster or cooling body pillow used in hot weather.)

He used to dislike this person’s cold body temperature, but now he could finally see the benefits.

It was just that this person was strangely silent tonight. Last time after the deed, he would still pretend to act coquettish, clinging to steal a kiss or two, but this time his expression was cold and aloof, impossible to read.

“I was drunk tonight, how come I didn’t pass out and instead ended up here?” He remembered this matter.

Tang Xizhui’s expression froze for a moment, then he said gently, “You did pass out, lying at the entrance of the restaurant. You scared my shopkeeper quite badly, so he reported it to me.”

Pei Yanci recalled—he remembered sending Fang Qingdu off, standing under the eaves at the entrance waiting for Wuli to come. The next time he woke, he saw this person doing things that violated his superior status.

His right hand fingers couldn’t help but curl, hiding beneath his body.

His closed eyelids were tinted with a thin blush, his crow-black lashes trembling involuntarily.

He knocked his forehead in frustration, and Tang Xizhui immediately understood his thoughts. “Headache from the alcohol?”

“Mm.”

Tang Xizhui pillowed his head on his own thigh, pressing his hands to the acupoints at his temples, slowly massaging in circles, his gaze slowly lingering over his masterpiece.

Pei Yanci’s snow-white skin still showed the lingering pink flush left from passion, like a freshly ripened peach on a dew-covered branch, tempting and delicious. His nape, chest, arms, and inner thighs were covered in deep and shallow red marks—bite marks, kiss marks, layer upon layer. Anyone could tell he had just been thoroughly ravaged, utterly pitiful.

Tang Xizhui’s dark purple eyes were deep and intense, like a restless beast flexing its muscles, his gaze never leaving his prey for a moment.

“Xiao Pei’er, did I serve you well?”

“Mm, why suddenly ask this?” Pei Yanci’s throat bobbed as he made a comfortable sound. A cool kiss fell on his warm eyelids, then departed like a dragonfly touching water.

His lashes trembling, he opened his eyes.

That androgynous face was slightly lowered, close enough to touch. Half-wet hair draped over the shoulder, tangling with his own hair.

No longer able to distinguish you from me.

Pei Yanci saw himself in those eyes, as did Tang Xizhui.

For some reason, looking at each other, they both couldn’t help but smile knowingly.

“Do you want it?” Pei Yanci suddenly asked softly. From last time to this time, he couldn’t detect any sign of arousal from Tang Xizhui—he remained as calm as a perfect gentleman.

“Mm.”

“Now?”

“Always.”

Pei Yanci opened his mouth, about to say more, but Tang Xizhui didn’t want him to become interested in this topic. He turned and pressed the man onto the bed, his lower lip brushing against the upper lip.

The inquiring, tentative nuzzling made Pei Yanci unable to suppress his amusement. He tilted his head back and voluntarily opened his mouth.

Two silhouettes once again became entangled, inseparable.

****

The consequence of fooling around for most of the night was that on this scorching summer day, when Pei Yanci woke up, his nose was congested, his head throbbed with pain, and he felt dizzy.

He’d caught a cold.

He opened his mouth but couldn’t manage a complete sneeze for a long while.

Tang Xizhui helped him dress in his inner garment, the cool back of his hand pressing against his forehead—it felt wonderfully comfortable.

“You seem to have a fever.” Tang Xizhui frowned. “You stayed in the water too long last night. My fault.”

“No fever, it’s nothing serious.” Pei Yanci rubbed his nose, urging him to quickly help him into his outer robe.

“Just rest at my residence today. What’s so important about those petty matters at the Imperial Academy?” Though Tang Xizhui spoke dismissively—he couldn’t even hold the man a bit longer—he still helped him dress properly, kneeling down to put his feet into socks and shoes.

His broad back curved slightly, and in this posture, his shoulder and back muscles rose in defined shapes. The morning sun filtered through the window, scattering broken warm rays. Under the sunlight that seemed to melt the sinewy muscles, faint shadows traced the lines and contours of his waist and abdomen.

His hands under his sleeves clenched tight then released. Pei Yanci’s throat bobbed as he forced himself to look away. “I’ll have you know, those petty matters concern the future paths of poor scholars throughout the realm.”

“Why do you care about them?” Tang Xizhui scoffed. “That lot are just stubborn stones, extremely annoying.”

“Stones can become gold too. Right now, seventy to eighty percent of those we see are scholars from aristocratic families and powerful houses, not poor scholars.” Pei Yanci said.

“As you wish.” Tang Xizhui looked up, his large, elongated eyes blinking bewitchingly. “Need my help?”

Pei Yanci’s breathing hitched, but his expression remained unchanged as he lifted his foot to kick at the man’s chest. “It would be good enough if you didn’t scheme against me behind my back.”

“Xiao Pei’er, saying that is rather heartless of you.” Tang Xizhui caught the foot at his chest and obediently fitted it into sock and shoe.

Pei Yanci’s eyes held a faint smile, but his gaze was cool. “In this court, who has a conscience?”

****

He went straight from the restaurant to the Imperial Academy. As soon as he entered Gewu Hall, he saw Fang Qingdu with a stern face, still writing furiously at something.

“Busy, are we, Vice Chancellor Fang?” He called out a greeting.

Fang Qingdu didn’t look up, his expression visibly darkening several shades.

Seeing he was ignoring him, Pei Yanci didn’t care. He organized the documents he needed to submit and went to have Qi Xiang review them.

Qi Xiang was rarely not drunk out of his mind. He washed his face and read through the documents, then asked something he didn’t want to. “When did I agree to formally allocate specific quotas for paid admissions?”

“Last time when I came to see you.” Pei Yanci said. “Did Fang Daren come to see you today?”

“Today? Last night at midnight he killed his way to my house, dragged me out of bed, and gave me a thorough scolding from head to toe, training me like I was his grandson. This position truly can’t be kept.” Qi Xiang shook his head and sighed, patting his forehead. “How come I have no recollection of it?”

“You were dead drunk. I coaxed you into signing.”

Qi Xiang’s eyes widened. “You… this person…”

He slapped his thigh. “Too unconventional.”

Saying this, he picked up his wine gourd. “I absolutely must drink two cups with you.”

Pei Yanci didn’t refuse, making a show of taking two small sips while explaining his insights and plans.

When he finished, Qi Xiang didn’t speak immediately. His expression was slightly pensive as he tilted his head back and poured a mouthful of wine into his mouth.

“The aristocratic families can’t possibly change their attitude so quickly—abandoning admission to the Imperial Academy just because they’d have to study alongside a few people they look down on. We curse it every day ourselves, but the reputation outside is still quite good. Whether it’s rotten or not, only you and I know. Only if we can’t get through this ordeal will the history books decades from now pass judgment.”

“So I’ll visit the Zheng family these next two days to lobby.” Pei Yanci said.

Seeing he was well prepared, Qi Xiang tucked the documents into his sleeve and said, “You’re determined to standardize admission qualifications? You must know, this isn’t your affair. Even if you help Fang Qingdu solve the Imperial Academy’s financial problems, he won’t thank you—on the contrary, he won’t understand what you’re doing now. Sui Lu will agree to this measure because he can see at a glance the difficulties involved. Whether it’s offending the aristocratic families or causing the Imperial Academy’s reputation to fade and its glory to dissipate, it’s all something he’d be happy to see happen. And you, even as a Zheng family member, still have to add the character ‘adopted’ before it—the connection is tenuous.”

“But if admission qualifications are standardized, those poor scholars who’ve studied hard for decades won’t find it so difficult to even enter the Imperial Academy, and they’ll have more opportunities to rise in the world.”

Qi Xiang was stirred by these forceful, resonant words into hearty laughter. He hugged his glossy wine gourd to his chest, looking at him with kindness and gratification.

“Do you know, from where can the decline of a nation first be detected?”

If he didn’t speak, that was that, but once he opened his mouth, it was talk of national decline and downfall—completely contrary to His Majesty’s proclamations of prosperity and flourishing. If this got out, it would be enough to earn him a trip to the Elu Bureau’s dungeon.

The Elu Bureau had ears and eyes everywhere—this was no time for loose talk.

With his connections, getting himself out would be difficult enough.

Just as he was thinking this, Qi Xiang had already provided the answer.

“Education. If education is poor, then officials lack talent, don’t know when to advance or retreat, don’t know the people’s suffering, can’t distinguish right from wrong or great righteousness, and only care about calculating personal gains and losses. It’s not that such people didn’t exist before, but when there are too many of them in court, disaster strikes.” He declared with certainty.

This was truly a novel viewpoint. Pei Yanci thought about how in the past, he had given little weight to either official academies or private schools—in fact, he had ignored their existence most of the time. Because the official education system had long been set in stone just as it was now, and those scholars didn’t know how to work the system. All day they either taught or pursued scholarship—they were an extremely easy-to-overlook group in court.

“And to start with education, one must reform the current system.” Qi Xiang said. “It’s not enough to just rely on our small-scale tinkering within the Imperial Academy. In mathematics and law, we also recruit commoner students with exceptional talent in those areas, but this isn’t enough—far from enough! We need to push for educational reform throughout all of Great Yu, so that people from the bottom rungs also have more opportunities to get ahead.”

Ever since the innovation of the imperial examination system was introduced, everyone praised its merits. For hundreds of years, even reforms were just minor, inconsequential tinkering. After Great Wu’s fall, aristocratic families proliferated and acted even more recklessly. Dynasties changed, circumstances changed, people changed through dozens of generations, but academies remained the same academies.

Everyone took it for granted that official schools or private academies were just places for students to study. Whether the teaching was good or bad depended on whether the academy’s teachers were renowned great scholars, and on the students’ individual comprehension.

A dynasty’s rise and fall was the Mandate of Heaven, the emperor’s lack of virtue, treacherous officials disrupting the court, uprisings and rebellions overthrowing the regime.

No one ever blamed education itself, much less connected it to a nation’s survival or demise.

“You trust me?” Qi Xiang looked at his shock and contemplation with a smile. “Trust that these aren’t just drunken words?”