The Young Marquis is Ruining the Court! - Chapter 4

There wasn’t actually a cut on his face. If there was anything at all, it was a faint scratch from the willow branches back on the riverbank, he certainly hadn’t been beaten for harassing anyone.

But the most pressing issue wasn’t explaining that. It was this:

This man clearly knew him! The familiarity in his tone was even deeper than the Crown Prince’s.

Chi Zhou found himself momentarily speechless. He couldn’t even tell if the man had realized something was wrong with him. If the man had noticed, Chi Zhou had only managed half a sentence since entering the room. If he hadn’t noticed… then that sudden drop in temperature in his voice and eyes was impossible to explain.

Chi Zhou suddenly felt that the transmigration novels he’d read in the past were far too idealized. Could a person really transmigrate into total darkness and survive more than three days?

He certainly couldn’t. He felt like he was at death’s door.

Perhaps because he’d been overstimulated for the past half-day, a strange sense of calm washed over him. It was the peculiar peace one feels right before the end—a sense of detachment. He took a deep breath, raised his eyes, and met the man’s gaze in silence.

The youth stepped around the screen, stopping at a distance that was neither too close nor too far. He knit his brows and studied Chi Zhou for a long time before suddenly letting out a short laugh. However, the mirth didn’t reach his eyes; instead, it carried a trace of an inexplicable, deep-seated exhaustion.

Not knowing how to react, Chi Zhou chose not to answer the previous question.

The youth turned back to the daybed and flipped over two upturned celadon teacups on the table. He poured tea for both of them, his tone lukewarm: “I had heard long ago that the Marquis was a reckless romantic, leaving a trail of broken hearts everywhere. It seems you’ve forgotten me?”

Chi Zhou froze, his scalp tingling. He realized things had taken an even more surreal turn.

He flashed back to where he had been on the day he first transmigrated and remembered the “debauched playboy” reputation of the original host—a reputation he had mentally mocked eight hundred times.

Suddenly, looking at this decadent pleasure boat and hearing the youth’s words, everything clicked. The underlying resentment and the biting familiarity in the man’s voice now made sense.

No way…

Chi Zhou was dazed, but his feet moved instinctively. He couldn’t help but steal another glance at the daybed.

Seeing this, the youth let out a cold snort and whipped the quilt aside. His tone was ice-cold: “What? Are you actually here to catch me in the act of cheating?”

With that sentence, Chi Zhou gave up his last bit of struggle. He offered a sheepish smile. “How could I…”

The youth eyed him coldly, his posture so haughty and regal that Chi Zhou momentarily forgot who was supposed to be the “customer” and who was the “entertainer.”

The man hooked a round stool with his foot and gestured for Chi Zhou to sit, then set a cup of tea before him.

Chi Zhou was so panicked he needed to hold onto something. Just as his fingers touched the warm porcelain, a voice dropped beside his ear: “Does the Marquis even remember my name?”

Chi Zhou kept his head down. Internally, he was shaking his head violently, but his face remained a mask of calm as he tested the waters: “How could I forget? You trust me far too little, ba”

“You’re going to call me ‘baby’ again?” the youth interrupted frostily. “Your way of coaxing people is far too promiscuous.”

Dusk was approaching. The lingering glow of the setting sun scattered across the shimmering river and reflected onto the window frames, softening the lines of the youth’s face. Under the warm early spring sun, his coldness transformed into a flicker of lonely vulnerability. It made one want to comfort him.

It was like wanting to stroke a beautiful, large cat the right way.

Chi Zhou’s hand itched. He rubbed the rim of the cup a few times, but before he could speak, he was interrupted again.

“Xie Jiu,” the man said coldly. “How many days will the Marquis remember me this time?”

Chi Zhou never expected that this man, who seemed so sharp and aggressive, as if he wanted to corner and devour him, would let him off the hook so easily. He breathed a sigh of relief and blurted out, “I’ll never forget it again.”

“Heh.” Whether Xie Jiu believed him or not was unclear, but he let out a cold, mocking laugh.

The skin on the back of Chi Zhou’s neck felt tight. His hands still felt restless.

The unease he’d felt since seeing the Crown Prince should have intensified here. Yet, curiously, after Xie Jiu’s laugh, the room fell silent. The man leaned back on the daybed and stared out at the river, neither speaking nor moving.

Chi Zhou’s strained nerves unexpectedly relaxed in this atmosphere. Holding his teacup, his gaze wandered aimlessly around the room. He looked at the layout, then the river, and then—somehow—his eyes landed on Xie Jiu’s well-defined hands.

At first, he wanted to look at the man’s face, but he felt it would be impolite. Since Xie Jiu was sitting there as still as a statue, Chi Zhou would stare for two seconds, steal a glance at the face, stare at the hands for two more seconds, and steal another glance. Seeing no reaction, he grew bold and let his gaze linger on the man’s fingers, tracing the skeletal structure in his mind.

He only snapped out of it when those hands moved suddenly, pulling the quilt up to cover himself. Chi Zhou looked up at the owner of the hands.

Xie Jiu was glaring at him. His expression was fierce, but the tips of his ears were flushed a faint red, as if Chi Zhou were some lecherous rogue molesting a young master from a respectable family.

Chi Zhou felt a bit embarrassed and wanted to apologize, but seeing this reaction, the urge to apologize vanished—replaced by the sudden desire to actually be a lecher.

After all, who doesn’t want to pet a cat until its fur stands on end? Especially when the cat is glaring at you while tucking its “paws” away, with ears turning pink.

Fortunately, his last shred of human reason held him back. He decided to blame the original host; clearly, the “dandy” persona was influencing him. He wasn’t actually that kind of flirtatious person!

“I’m sorry” Chi Zhou started.

“Are you tired?” Xie Jiu interrupted him again, evidently having no interest in listening to his lies.

Chi Zhou blinked, not understanding how the topic had jumped so abruptly, or how the man had noticed. Before he could respond, Xie Jiu knit his brows, studied him for a moment, and pulled his hands out from under the quilt again.

Cat paws… cat paws…

Chi Zhou felt he was becoming a bit of a pervert. As soon as the hands appeared, he stared instinctively. He even noticed a tiny mole hidden at the base of Xie Jiu’s right middle finger. It was on the side near the palm a very private spot. Most people wouldn’t be so indiscreet as to observe someone’s fingers that closely.

The mole appeared and disappeared. It was so small that it was hard to track once his focus shifted. But his eyes followed the fingers as the man reached up to unfasten his outer robe.

Chi Zhou froze, his mind snapping back to reality as he looked at Xie Jiu in shock.

Xie Jiu had already placed two soft pillows side-by-side at the head of the bed. He moved toward the outer edge, letting out an impatient “tsk” as if complaining the bed was too small. Then he spoke: “The boat is constantly swaying. You sleep on the inside so you don’t fall off.”

Chi Zhou: “…?”

Wait. What?

What is happening now?!

He was utterly stunned, nearly lost for words. He stared at Xie Jiu, his eyes brimming with visible panic.

Receiving no reply, Xie Jiu turned to look at him. Seeing the raw, undisguised emotion on Chi Zhou’s face, he was momentarily taken aback—then he actually laughed. This wasn’t the cold, mocking laugh from before; it sounded genuinely amused. A flicker of playfulness danced in his eyes.

He said, “What? This isn’t like the old days when you’d start stripping my clothes to drag me to bed the moment you saw me?”

“Marquis, isn’t it a bit late to start acting like a gentleman now?” The youth smiled thinly. With the sunset glow illuminating his features, he looked dangerously alluring—like a water ghost risen from the Xuanxing River to steal a man’s soul.

Chi Zhou was dazzled by the light in his eyes and blinked reflexively. “No… that’s not…”

Xie Jiu leaned against the daybed. His outer robe was off, leaving him in a moon-white inner garment with a wide collar. That sharp collarbone Chi Zhou had noticed earlier was visible again, forming deep hollows on either side. Above them was his vulnerable, prominent Adam’s apple, sliding slightly with every breath.

He looked over with a shimmering smile, acting as if he really liked Chi Zhou. But Chi Zhou could see right through him—the man was full of mischief, deliberately saying these things to see him flustered.

Chi Zhou knew he couldn’t possibly get on that bed, no matter how exhausted he was. He was engaged to the Sixth Prince, for heaven’s sake. While this beautiful “cat” of a youth was exactly his type, it was a mess left by the original host. Besides, did he have a death wish? Lying down with a brothel entertainer right before his royal wedding?

But the teasing glint in Xie Jiu’s eyes annoyed him. It was as if the man had seen through him in an instant, knowing he wouldn’t actually do it, and thus doing all this just to mess with him.

Chi Zhou wasn’t happy about it. He hadn’t even managed to tease Xie Jiu, and yet he was being teased back. This was an injustice.

Chi Zhou’s thumb rubbed the edge of the teacup. He couldn’t hold back.

The pleasure boat swayed on the water. The wooden walls offered poor insulation; he could even hear the faint, lingering melodies of flirtatious songs from the next room.

He stepped across the swaying floor to the bedside. He looked down at Xie Jiu for a long moment, then—without any warning—he leaned down. He brought his face incredibly close to the “big cat’s” cheek, as if he were about to kiss him.

Only when he saw the flicker of genuine panic deep within Xie Jiu’s eyes did Chi Zhou feel his good mood return.

A smile curled his lips as his gaze traced Xie Jiu’s eyes, then moved to the bridge of his nose and the corners of his mouth, his look lingering and suggestive—exactly like a dandy who had spent years in the pleasure quarters.

Chi Zhou raised his hand, as if to stroke the man’s cheek or press against that prominent Adam’s apple. Every movement was thick with flirtation.

But in the end, he only lightly flicked the tip of the ear that was starting to turn pink again. He felt a satisfied surge at the tiny tremor that shot through the youth’s skin.

So innocent.

And he thought he could play with me?

Tsk.

Chi Zhou mocked him silently, but his face remained smiling. Before Xie Jiu could react, he withdrew his hand and whispered: “You like me that much, baby? You even noticed I didn’t sleep well?”

“Or… do you just want to sleep with me?”

Chi Zhou looked at him with a smile, his eyes filled with the broken reflections of the sunset. The light was turning the river blood-red, and the people red along with it.

“Baby, is your name really Xie Jiu?” Chi Zhou asked with a grin.

He should be called Xie Mao-Mao (Kitty). He’s too cute.

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