Transmigrated as the Villain and Driven Crazy by the Vengeful Male Lead - Chapter 37

Chapter 37: A Meal for Four — Purely in terms of looks, they really do make a perfect match…

Chang Huaichen narrowed his fox-like eyes at the tall, handsome silhouette. He didn’t say yes, and he didn’t say no. He walked back into the outer room and sat down, acting every bit the master of the house. “Can you cook?”

Jiang Zhiqing said, “I can.”

“What do you usually eat?”

“Whatever Huailing has—river fish, asparagus, water shield…”

Simple home-cooked dishes.

“Do you drink sake?”

Jiang Zhiqing shook his head. “I don’t drink.”

He had come a long way and stayed wherever he could find odd jobs. Because he was quick and diligent, he had avoided being homeless. Having simple greens to fill his stomach was already a blessing; how could he dare to ask for more?

Chang Huaichen’s lips slumped. “Is there any wine then?”

Jiang Zhiqing said, “…I can go buy some.”

Chang Huaichen’s fingertips tapped rhythmically on the table, the back of his hand glowing white in the dim room. “I’m hungry.”

Jiang Zhiqing’s silhouette straightened. “Then… I shall cook?”

Chang Huaichen waved him away, and Jiang Zhiqing headed from the doorway into the kitchen. Lü Shuyao thought to himself: This guy is truly shameless. One second he’s fiercely telling the man to get out, and the next he’s imperiously ordering him to boil water and cook.

The key was, Jiang Zhiqing actually listened to him.

Chang Huaichen, of course, couldn’t hear Lü Shuyao’s internal complaints. He sat alone in the twilight, propping up his chin. He didn’t light a lamp, staring blankly at a spot in the room while his fingers continued to tap idly on the table.

But a thickening sense of nostalgia began to leak from his gaze.

After a long while, he suddenly tilted his head, resting his face on his arm against the table. He seemed to want to hear the echoes of laughter and whispered sighs from the thousands of days and nights that had once taken place around this small table.

By the time Jiang Zhiqing came out with dinner, the Palace Master appeared to be asleep. Jiang Zhiqing washed his hands and stood opposite him, wanting to call him but feeling it would be a disturbance, wanting to touch him but fearing it would be a transgression. Even though Chang Huaichen wasn’t looking at him, he felt an unease that whatever he did would be wrong.

Jiang Zhiqing waited like that until the food had been reheated twice. Lü Shuyao thought: He’s truly a fool.

After an unknown amount of time, the sky had turned pitch black. Chang Huaichen’s arm grew tired and uncomfortable, and he grumbled as he opened his eyes.

He looked at the man opposite him with moist, unfocused eyes—a gaze that made Jiang Zhiqing instinctively clench his fists under the table. Chang Huaichen hadn’t slept enough and was about to slump back down, but this time Jiang Zhiqing finally reached out with his clean hand to steady him. “Hey.”

“Mm?” His skin was so white that after sleeping like that, red marks had been pressed into his face, making it look as if a layer of rosy clouds were floating there.

“…Eat before you sleep.”

Chang Huaichen was used to being arbitrary, changing his mind by the second. After a nap, he had forgotten what he’d asked for. “Eat what?”

“…” Jiang Zhiqing didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “It’s been heated twice. If it goes back in the pot again, it won’t taste good.”

Chang Huaichen rubbed his eyes, smoothing the corners into a vivid, captivating shape. “You didn’t even light a lamp.”

“If I light a lamp, will you eat?”

“Let me think… Mmm, alright. Go light the lamp. Where is it again?”

“Under the west window.”

“That’s not right,” Chang Huaichen countered. “I remember it was…”

He paused for a long time, then shook his head. “I can’t remember. There’s too much clutter; Sister always scolds me.”

What is he talking about?

Helpless, Jiang Zhiqing went to the west window. He lit a low-quality oil lamp; the light it emitted was dim and yellow, flickering crudely in the cramped hut—hardly bright or grand.

Chang Huaichen told him, “Sit.”

Having been busy and standing for so long waiting for him to wake, Jiang Zhiqing finally sat down opposite him. Lü Shuyao and Su Cheyue followed suit. Deigning to eat, Chang Huaichen picked up a piece of fish drenched in rich vinegar sauce and took a bite.

He narrowed his eyes, appearing as content and lazy as a resting fox.

“Is it good?” Jiang Zhiqing served him a bowl of water shield soup.

“A bit worse than what Master used to make.”

Su Cheyue’s gaze flickered. Jiang Zhiqing asked, “Who is Master?”

“No one.”

At that moment, Su Cheyue suddenly, slowly raised his hand. Lü Shuyao said, “Su Cheyue?”

Lü Shuyao suddenly remembered: this small hut was likely where Chang Huaichen and Su Chen had lived. These dishes were likely the ones Su Chen often cooked for him.

At this point in time, the disaster at the Ghost Purgatory hadn’t happened yet. Su Chen was still alive. He was either in Yangshuo or on the road away from it. He was always on the road away from home.

Lü Shuyao looked at Su Cheyue, a sense of melancholy rising in his heart: If only Chang Huaichen would let them see Su Chen in this illusion.

Lü Shuyao watched without blinking as Su Cheyue reached for the chopsticks. Unfortunately, this was a solid illusion; they couldn’t touch anything. Su Cheyue wouldn’t give up, reaching his bare hand toward the bowls and plates—

Only to have his arm grabbed by Lü Shuyao.

“If you want to eat,” although the other two couldn’t hear them, Lü Shuyao instinctively lowered his voice, “I can learn how to cook these once we go back.”

Su Cheyue looked at him, bewildered.

“I’m serious,” Lü Shuyao smiled at him. “I’m a fast learner.”

A glint passed through Su Cheyue’s light brown eyes. He pursed his lips and lowered his hand.

Chang Huaichen took another bite of fish. “Where’s the wine?”

Jiang Zhiqing said, “Drinking on an empty stomach is bad for the gut.”

Chang Huaichen acted as if he’d heard a joke, eyes widening slightly. “What was that? I’ve never cared about such things.”

Not only did Chang Huaichen laugh, but Lü Shuyao did too.

These two were strange—there was a suddenness to how they could sit and laugh together after nearly killing each other in the morning. Jiang Zhiqing had been ready to end Chang Huaichen’s life earlier, and by evening he was worried about the man’s stomach.

“Then… start caring from now on.”

Chang Huaichen, unhappy with being managed, downed a bowl of soup in one go and huffed, “Is that enough?”

Jiang Zhiqing silently placed the wine he’d bought on the table. Chang Huaichen asked, “Sake?”

“Unrefined cloudy wine made from brown rice.” Where would he get the spare silver for sake?

Chang Huaichen was pleased, tilting his chin to signal Jiang Zhiqing to pour for him.

The cup was drained as soon as it was handed over, then given back, then handed over again. After a few rounds, Jiang Zhiqing said, “Drink more later.”

Chang Huaichen: “No.”

Jiang Zhiqing didn’t move.

Chang Huaichen tilted his head to look at him, then suddenly stood up and leaned in close.

“Jiang… what?”

Red robes and snowy skin were reflected inches from Jiang Zhiqing’s eyes. A mist gathered in his gaze as he answered softly, “Jiang Zhiqing.”

“Jiang Zhiqing,” Chang Huaichen repeated. “Do you look down on me? This Palace Master can drink a thousand cups without getting drunk.”

“I don’t.”

Chang Huaichen said out of nowhere, “Then drink with me.”

…What kind of logic is that?

Jiang Zhiqing froze. “I… I don’t know how to drink.”

“You offended me today. You must drink this cup.”

Jiang Zhiqing: “…”

“Jiang Zhiqing,” Chang Huaichen tapped his shoulder from across the air. “Good moves. You must have been a real handful when you were a kid.”

Jiang Zhiqing said, “I had to protect Qingqing.”

“Did your parents also die early?” Chang Huaichen asked nonchalantly.

It was an offensive question, but Jiang Zhiqing looked at him with gentle eyes, not angry at all.

Chang Huaichen suddenly reached out to grab the wine pot, incidentally grabbing the large, strong hand that was still on the handle. Jiang Zhiqing felt that “electric shock” again and tried to pull away, but Chang Huaichen didn’t give him the chance, guiding his hand to pour two full cups.

Chang Huaichen raised his cup with a half-smile. “Jiang Zhiqing?”

Jiang Zhiqing stared at the back of his hand where he’d been touched. Hesitating for a second, he also raised his cup. He seemed to want to say something; his lips, slightly dry from the kitchen heat, were parted in a way that looked very awkward.

He looked at Chang Huaichen with a raw, unpracticed gaze.

“Aren’t you going to say something?”

“I…” He found it hard to speak, his throat bobbing. “I beg of you, don’t hurt my sister.”

Lü Shuyao thought: I bet what he’s thinking and what he’s saying are two completely different things.

Chang Huaichen said, “That’s easy to discuss, as long as you keep me happy. Drink.”

The low-quality oil lamp had been burning for a long time, and the light was becoming more undulating and hazy. The shadows between them danced wildly. Jiang Zhiqing and Chang Huaichen drank together across the light, dissolving the first layer of sorrow between them.

Jiang Zhiqing fell quickly. He truly didn’t know how to drink; after one cup of cloudy wine, he was already dazed and unconscious, slumping over the table. His breathing gradually slowed.

Chang Huaichen drank a good amount on his own until he saw the man wasn’t waking up. He said dejectedly, “Boring.”

He stood up and walked out, his red robes casting a bright blur through the room.

Is he just going to leave him there?

Chang Huaichen reached the door and suddenly stopped. He stood leaning against the doorframe for a while, looking down, thinking of something.

Before long, he turned back and walked straight to the room where the makeup case was kept. Just as he was about to lie down, he looked toward Lü Shuyao and Su Cheyue’s direction and clicked his tongue.

He remembered that someone had been lured by him into drinking night wine, had become intoxicated, had lost themselves, and was now piteously stuck in place, unable to get up or get out.

The hut had two rooms. Chang Huaichen actually struggled seriously over which bed to put the man in.

Finally, half-dragging and half-carrying, he moved Jiang Zhiqing to the bed he had just intended to sleep in. It wasn’t until he stood by the bed that he realized something, knocking his own forehead as if laughing at his own stupidity.

“I can clearly use spiritual power. Why did I use my hands? Idiot.”

Lü Shuyao analyzed: “That should be his own room. The other side must be Sect Leader Su’s room.”

Su Cheyue: “Mm.”

Sure enough, after Chang Huaichen entered the next room, he first bowed respectfully to the four quiet walls and said, “Master, your disciple is being inconsiderate. Forgive the offense.”

After bowing, he lay down to sleep in that room.

Lü Shuyao said worriedly, “It’s a long night. They’re sleeping, and we can’t leave. What are we supposed to do?”

Su Cheyue didn’t respond. He began to stroke the desk in the room; it bore the traces of his father’s life.

Lü Shuyao fell silent, staying by his side and quietly watching the old items that had been kissed by time.

His hand passed over a bronze mirror on the desk. The ancient, blurry brass surface reflected their appearances.

This was the first time Lü Shuyao had seen himself and Su Cheyue standing together. Like a sudden twitch in his brain, he remembered the comments from the passersby when they first arrived in Huailing.

A loving couple, a match made in heaven.

…Purely in terms of looks, they really do make a perfect match.

His original appearance was similar to his current one—high brow bones, puppy eyes, looking mischievous when smiling and obedient when not. In contrast, Su Cheyue’s phoenix eyes were more heroically beautiful, his light-colored pupils carrying a faint aura that seemed perfectly suited to grounding Lü Shuyao’s expressive features.

One in purple, one in white. Their heights were only slightly different. If Lü Shuyao just tilted his face a little, he could k—

Lü Shuyao quickly shook his head. Are you crazy? What are you thinking? How is that possible?

He said guiltily, “Su Cheyue, stop looking at the mirror.”

Su Cheyue didn’t listen; instead, he caught his gaze through the mirror. “Why?”

Lü Shuyao blurted out, “This is an illusion. Mirrors are prone to being haunted—HOLY SH—! WHO IS THAT?!”

Su Cheyue blinked. “…Talkative.”

—It was indeed haunted.

Besides the two of them, two more people had suddenly appeared in the mirror.