One Hundred Ways to Have a "BE" (Bad Ending) with the Protagonist Gong [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 2

The bamboo forest before him was pitch black, with only the moonlight casting a cold, dim light over a desolate path.

Xue Xuening felt a sense of unease. The wind sighed (lonely and silent) in his ears as he walked along the bluestone path. After walking for a long time, he finally saw a house glowing in the distance.

“Excuse me, is anyone home?”

He raised his hand and knocked. He felt so bitterly cold that he couldn’t help but want to enter to escape the chill, though he did not know whose home this was standing so forlornly on the outskirts of the city.

A cold, gentle voice responded, as alluring as the plucking of a zither string: “Xuening? The door is unlocked. Come in.”

Xue Xuening was startled.

Because he had been frail and sickly since childhood, and no doctor’s treatment had proven effective, a fortune teller had cast a fortune for him. It was said that he would not live past twenty, so they gave him the small name “Xuening” choosing feminine-sounding characters to help him grow strong and ensure his safety.

Apart from those closest to him, few people knew of this.

To the world, he was Xue Shao, yet the person inside the room called him “Xuening” so naturally and intimately, as if he had called out that name a thousand times before. It was truly strange.

He walked into the house, and upon seeing the person’s face, his originally cold and guarded expression could not help but show a trace of surprise.

It was the very same scholar who had lost his book in the rain.

“Qin… Guan?”

Xue Xuening could not be certain of the man’s identity, but that was the name inscribed in the book.

Beside a gold-plated floor lamp, a beautiful face was illuminated.

The youth was slightly hunched, brush in hand, painting. Strands of black hair fell from his snow-white neck, gently swaying with the breeze as if wishing to kiss his fragrant cheeks, or perhaps to slip into the slightly parted collar of his robe.

Qin Guan raised his eyes, revealing a soft, gentle smile: “Xuening, you are being so formal. In the past, you always called me ‘Guan Guan.’ Why have you changed your form of address today?”

It was clearly a casual question, yet the youth before him possessed an innate air of elegance and spirit. Every gesture and movement made Xue Xuening’s heart beat faster.

“I…”

Having spent years studying books, this was the first time Xue Xuening felt clumsy with words. In his momentary panic, he could not utter a single syllable, only coughing until his cheeks turned crimson.

He could not understand when had he ever addressed the other as the intimate “Guan Guan”?

Qin Guan stepped forward calmly and, with great familiarity, took Xue Xuening’s hand and led him to the table: “It is your birthday next month, and I didn’t know what to give you. Yesterday, I remembered two blocks of Yumi ink I had treasured for years they are quite beautiful. I prepared one today. Would you like to see the quality of the ink?”

It was strange; Xue Xuening was clearly unaccustomed to such intimacy with others.

Yet, as soon as Qin Guan’s palm covered the back of his hand, Xue Xuening felt as if his heart and lungs had been slowly soaked in a cool spring. He instantly felt much better, and his coughing ceased.

“Pitch black and full, with a delicate luster. One can faintly see a purple sheen. It is truly a fine piece of ink.”

Xue Xuening lowered his head to gaze at the green bamboo in the painting, expressing his heartfelt admiration.

It was not just the ink that was exquisite; the bamboo stalks outlined on the white paper were lonely, proud, and upright. Be it the brushwork or the technique, it was beyond reproach.

He remembered when his essay, Su Shu, had made him famous in the capital. The current Emperor had once bestowed upon him a piece of “Dragon Scent” imperial ink. He had thought it to be the pinnacle of all inks, yet it paled in comparison to this unassuming block of Yumi ink before him.

He remembered the Emperor’s sigh: “Had you been born twenty years earlier, I would have had better ink blocks to bestow upon you. It is a pity that back then, they were all granted to that scoundrel of the Lin family. Forget about you even if I wanted to use one myself, I couldn’t find a single one left.”

Xue Xuening stared at the painting, dazed as he thought:

“There will never be anything better. In this world, what other piece of ink could possibly surpass this one?”

Qin Guan dipped his index finger into the inkstone and brought it under Xue Xuening’s nose: “Smell this scent. Do you like it?”

The scent of green plum blossoms wafted over, perfectly masking the original foul coal odor of the ink, and even becoming tinged with the cold, clean scent of the person himself.

Xue Xuening saw the smudge of ink on the fingertip, like black lacquer on mutton-fat jade, teasing him into a strange tremor of the heart. He withdrew two steps without a trace: “It is indeed excellent.”

Qin Guan leaned over the table, tilting his head with a smile: “In that case, let us have one piece each, shall we?”

On the table lay two ink blocks one engraved with a coiling dragon, the other with a dancing phoenix. Just like a dragon coiling and a phoenix flying, the two combined carried the beautiful meaning of a matched pair.

The piece Qin Guan had been using to paint was the phoenix ink.

Xue Xuening felt inexplicably flustered. His hands, hidden within his sleeves, tightened slowly, though his face remained calm: “Young Master Qin, we have only just met. How could I accept such a precious—”

Before he could finish, his pupils widened. His entire body stiffened into a statue.

Until this moment, Xue Xuening had never known why the romantic poems written in books were considered “good.” He had always disliked those flowery, decadent verses; he usually memorized them by rote and never investigated their deeper meanings.

However, Xiao Ziyi, Jiao Nanyu, and Yang Shubo those wealthy young nobles always loved to tease him when the teachers were away, chanting with laughter:

“The cup tilts, the cherry lips move slightly; A cough drifts, carrying the scent of jasmine.”

“Light crimson lips, nimble and clever; Cloud-like steps, moving softly and slowly.”

“Drinking deeply, the intestines broaden; Drunkenly kissing, the throat parches, as the head-scarf is soaked.”

…

But at this very moment—

Each word, each phrase, was filled with rhythm and cadence.

Those echoes of laughter seemed to be clamoring in his ears. He was like the blank sheet of paper on the desk, inexperienced in the ways of the world, only to have a vibrant, heavy stroke of ink written upon him today.

Before a single incense stick could burn to ash, Xue Xuening’s back was already soaked with a thin layer of sweat.

Qin Guan rubbed his earlobe, pulling his upper body back by half an arm’s length. A drop of crystalline liquid dripped down from where they were joined.

Xue Xuening still had not regained his senses. His lips parted slightly, and his hands, he knew not when, had tightly circled Qin Guan’s waist. When they first met in the rain, he had only felt that Qin Guan was too thin, but held in his arms now, he felt an extraordinary resilience—he found himself reluctant to let go.

Qin Guan raised his head, looking at him with a flushed face: “Xuening, do you have anything else to say?”

“…Why is this thing beating so violently?”

Xue Xuening’s breathing gradually steadied. He lowered his head, staring in bewilderment at his own chest, as if he were encountering his own unfamiliar body for the first time, feeling quite uncomfortable.

Qin Guan leaned in closer: “Let me listen. Indeed, it is beating very fast. Could it be that you have some hidden ailment? Xuening, you are already in poor health; you must take good care of yourself.”

The first two sentences were fine, but the latter sounded as if he were deliberately teasing him about his poor health, provoking him into a misunderstanding. Xue Xuening reached out and hooked his chin. Sure enough, he saw a very faint smile curling the corner of the other’s vermilion lips, entangled with a strand of transparent liquid that was difficult to notice.

Xue Xuening’s eyes gradually darkened.

Soon, it was Qin Guan who was unable to speak.

Those excessively slender and soft fingertips were grabbed tightly. At first, they trembled violently, but as time went on, they lost their strength, hanging limply against the base of Xue Xuening’s thumb.

He knew not how much time had passed.

Qin Guan let the other hold him tightly, lazily half-closing his eyes, having no strength left even to speak, thinking to himself:

Bad thing. He learns quite quickly.

On this day, Xue Xuening was uncharacteristically late.

Since he had entered the Imperial Academy at the age of twelve, seven years had passed; this was the very first time.

Everyone looked at him with some surprise, especially Xiao Ziyi, whose eyes were fixed on him with a meaningful, knowing smile, as if there were a flower on his face.

Xue Xuening remained calm and composed, walking naturally to his seat.

Qingbao took out the books from his satchel, spread them on the table, and laid out his brushes, ink, paper, and inkstone one by one.

Xiao Ziyi tapped his fingers on the table rhythmically, looking at him sideways.

“Xuening, why are you so late today? Could it be that you were greedy for sleep on this spring day, and had your soul hooked by some peach blossom spirit?”

Others did not dare to tease Xue Xuening, but Xiao Ziyi had no such reservations. The Prince of Yu had only one son, and his aunt was the current Imperial Noble Consort; even the Crown Prince addressed him affectionately as “Brother Xiao” on ordinary days.

There were many in the study who flattered and catered to him. Even if he made a mistake, the teachers would not punish him too severely, usually dismissing it with a few scoldings.

The person in front did not turn back, and his voice was very indifferent: “I didn’t rest well last night, so I woke up late this morning.”

Xiao Ziyi doubted this: “What is the matter? I heard from your mother a while ago that your chronic illness had improved a lot. Has it flared up again recently?”

“It is of no consequence,” Xue Xuening said. “I will be better once I have taken a medicinal bath upon returning home.”

Xiao Ziyi nodded: “You look even paler than usual. Later, I will have someone send you some snow clams; stew them with bird’s nest it is best for nourishing the yin and the lungs.”

Sending imperial tributes as one pleased would inevitably invite gossip.

Xue Xuening originally wanted to refuse, but knowing Xiao Ziyi’s relentless nature, he simply nodded with a smile and gave his thanks.

Seeing them like this, Yang Shubo’s unspoken concern turned into sour, vinegary mockery: “Oh my, I am truly heartbroken. Xuening was only a moment late, and there are those who rush to show favor. I coughed for nearly an entire afternoon yesterday, yet certain people acted as if they hadn’t heard a thing.”

Xiao Ziyi looked up and cursed with a laugh: “Get lost. That was because you were drinking at Heng Garden! Fooling around under the rockery you deserve to freeze to death. If you were ever unfortunate enough to die of ‘horseback wind’ (sudden death during intercourse), I would definitely be the first to pay my respects. Never mind a little snow clam even a mountain of gold and silver would be worth burning for you.”

As soon as the words were spoken, the surrounding students laughed, and the looks they directed at Yang Shubo couldn’t help but become suggestive.

Yang Shubo was not angry upon hearing this; he only shook his head, sighing in mock pity: “That won’t be necessary. My body has always been sturdy. You only need to send someone with some antler velvet and deer-blood wine, and that will be quite enough for me.”

“You wish,” Xiao Ziyi hummed with a laugh.

The others laughed together, their talk becoming increasingly irreverent.

Jiao Nanyu had been watching them fool around for a long time and was laughing in secret, when suddenly his eyes swept toward the window and he said: “Scholar Kong is here!”

The boisterous atmosphere in the schoolroom immediately dissipated, and everyone sat upright, looking forward.

Scholar Kong was the most senior and the most rigid.

He rarely showed any expression on his face. It was only when facing Xue Xuening that he would occasionally show a faint smile; even then, his praise was very restrained at most, a “quite original,” “acceptable,” or “not bad.”

Today, the subject was still policy questioning.

Because the triennial provincial examinations would soon begin and the review was mostly complete, Scholar Kong began to distribute the examination papers.

The papers covered everything from local historical sites to canal irrigation and animal husbandry, primarily testing the students’ knowledge of the classics, from “viewing history to examine the classics” to “using the classics to address the world.”

Xue Xuening answered carefully. Regarding a policy on water control alone, he wrote hundreds of words in a sweeping flow. When he finished answering and set down his brush, it was just in time for the collection of the papers.

The papers were handed in one by one. Scholar Kong frowned as he looked them over, his entire face wrinkled like a dried walnut.

It was not until Xue Xuening’s paper was handed in that he finally revealed a look of relief and uttered a “not bad.”

After Yang Shubo and Jiao Nanyu handed in their papers, their minds had long since flown to the infinitely romantic Heng Garden. Turning back, they winked at Xiao Ziyi, “Still the same tonight?”

The latter understood, glanced at Xue Xuening’s side profile, and returned to his seat with a smile, the meaning in his eyes very clear: “Not tonight.”

When the class ended, Qingbao began to pack the satchel, and Xue Xuening also rose to leave.

Xiao Ziyi leaned over and sat on his desk, saying intentionally or otherwise: “Xuening, is the name ‘Qin Guan’ that you told me about yesterday his real name? I have inquired carefully; among the list of scholars who have come to the capital for the examination this time, there is no such person.”

Xue Xuening was surprised in his heart, yet for some reason, he felt a trace of relief. He raised his eyes and said: “That is indeed his name. Perhaps… he did not participate in this examination.”

After saying this, Xue Xuening himself felt it was strange.

The scholars from humble families whom his father had invited that day were all young men who had come to participate in the examinations. If Qin Guan was not going to take the exam, why was he among them?

Xiao Ziyi smiled: “Why not bring that poetry collection and let me take a look? If he truly has talent, others will naturally have read his poems, and I will know as soon as I ask.”

Xue Xuening was naturally reluctant to give him the handwritten copy, so he picked up his brush and said: “I will recite it for you then.”

“Picking green locusts among the white clouds, Accustomed to entering the deep forest, the birds are not wary. Unintentionally bringing along a few flowers, unexpectedly provoking the butterflies to follow me down the mountain.”

Xiao Ziyi leaned over to look. The wording of this seven-character quatrain was simple and descriptive, yet extremely stunning.

Especially the line, “Unexpectedly provoking the butterflies to follow me down the mountain,” which seemed to spread the beautiful scenery of the mountains before one’s eyes, possessing an extraordinarily fresh and lively quality.

Xue Xuening asked: “How is it?”

Xiao Ziyi’s brows twitched slightly, a smile appearing in his eyes: “He is indeed a marvelous person.”