Your Majesty, Please Be Obedient - Chapter 12

Fang Wuming’s “bitter meat” tactic of playing the victim was surprisingly effective. The two quickly reconciled, appearing for all the world like inseparable close friends.

However, Jiang Qiyan still harbored some concerns, and he had a lingering feeling that Fang Wuming was still hiding things from him.

Fang Wuming took him to the woodshed to play, using rounded logs to build miniature houses. But Jiang Qiyan often spaced out, causing sections to collapse, which forced them to start over repeatedly. It was not until the sunset painted the patches of snow in the corners a pale red that they gave up, having failed to build anything substantial.

“I am not playing anymore. Brother Fang, come with me,” Jiang Qiyan said, brushing the wood dust off his hands. He proactively took Fang Wuming’s hand with his own now-clean small hand. “It will be cold if you sleep here tonight. I will take you to see Master.”

“Then,” Fang Wuming did not refuse, tightening his grip on Jiang Qiyan’s hand, “thank you, Yanyan.”

“It is only right,” Jiang Qiyan led him through the corridors. “We are best friends.”

“Yes, we are best friends,” Fang Wuming nodded.

Jiang Qiyan lowered his eyes, not letting Fang Wuming see the dejection within them. Master had told him that true friends should support one another and hide nothing. But what if there was a reason for the secrecy?

He was a bit lost. Though he had accepted Fang Wuming’s apology, a sense of unease remained. Jiang Qiyan was, after all, young and inexperienced. Anything slightly complex required long periods of rumination, yet he would still struggle to reach a decision.

In fairness, he and Fang Wuming shared much in common, and he felt having such a friend would not be bad. But there were too many reasons not to be friends, while the reason to be friends seemed to be only this one feeling.

As Jiang Qiyan walked, his head hung lower and lower. It was hard to understand.

Maybe he should ask Master when they were alone? Jiang Qiyan felt useless, needing to ask his Master for help even regarding whether he could be someone’s friend.

With a heart full of trepidation, he pushed open the study door.

Pu Tingsong was buried in official memorials. Under his governance, Suyang had seen no major incidents for years. However, man proposes but God disposes. Chencang had suffered massive flooding in early autumn, drowning many crops. He had to organize the third wave of disaster relief immediately. Otherwise, when the harsh winter arrived, another wave of commoners would perish.

Grain was scarce everywhere, and the capital’s reserves were low. He had to calculate precisely. Otherwise, he would just be robbing Peter to pay Paul, which was ultimately pointless.

Just as he was about to set brush to paper after deep thought, the door opened, and a small head peeked inside.

“You do not knock, yet you do not come in. Is little Qiyan planning to spy on his Master?”

Resting his brush on the washer, Pu Tingsong leaned his head on his left hand, teasing the little figure whose head was inside the room while his body remained outside. “Speak up. Caught red-handed spying, and now you are too scared to talk?”

Jiang Qiyan pulled the door wider, revealing Fang Wuming beside him.

After a brief exchange of glances, Jiang Qiyan suddenly felt the temperature in the study drop several degrees. Pu Tingsong’s gaze landed on the space between him and Fang Wuming.

Very good. They were already holding hands.

“Qiyan,” Pu Tingsong’s voice remained gentle. “Come here, stand closer. Tell Master, what brings you here? Are you hungry?”

Though the tone was as tender as usual, Jiang Qiyan felt, for some reason, that it was strange. He shivered, instinctively trying to let go of Fang Wuming’s hand, but Fang Wuming, whether frightened by Master or for some other reason, tightened his grip instead.

“Little friend,” Pu Tingsong curled his finger and tapped the desk twice. “My child wants you to let go. Can you not feel it?”

The chill from Pu Tingsong did not directly hit Jiang Qiyan, so he did not quite understand the intensity. But Fang Wuming felt an invisible, overwhelming pressure sweeping toward him, forcing him to release his grip.

“Come here,” Pu Tingsong finally showed a hint of a smile, asking warmly, “What is it?”

Jiang Qiyan glanced at Fang Wuming just once before turning back to face his Master. He explained his thoughts, and after a moment of consideration, Pu Tingsong rubbed his head and said, “I see. Then let the old housekeeper arrange a room for him.”

“How did you get so dirty from playing? Where did this little dirty cat come from?” Ignoring everyone else, Master tapped the tip of his nose. “Did the little cat go looking for mice?”

Hearing this, Fang Wuming’s clenched fists trembled. Who was he calling a mouse? That old fox!

“Wuming thanks the Imperial Preceptor,” after a few breaths, Fang Wuming relaxed his fists and bowed. “I will go explain things to the housekeeper myself. I will not disturb you two further.”

Once the eyesore had finally left, Pu Tingsong opened his hand and spoke softly, as if afraid of startling a little rabbit. “So dirty. You need a good washing.”

Was he that dirty? Jiang Qiyan looked down at himself. He had been careful while playing. No wood shavings were on his clothes, he had brushed his hands clean, and he even used water to wash them. Where was the dirt? Was it on his face? If his face was dirty, why did Brother Fang not tell him?

Jiang Qiyan raised his hand to touch his face but was stopped by Master. Holding his wrist, Master’s tone was hard to read. “Be good, do not touch it. Otherwise, this face might have to go.”

Why would it have to go? Jiang Qiyan suddenly remembered Fang Wuming telling him that Master and the Master of Xunhua Pavilion were friends. He whispered, his voice muffled, “Master, are you going to flay it and give it to Pavilion Master Qin for dinner? Can you not flay it?”

His small body began to shake, and his voice turned into a sob. “Skinning hurts so much. Master, I am scared.”

Pu Tingsong looked down. Watching the child say he was scared while burrowing into his arms, he felt a sudden, inexplicable softening of his heart. How could he feel soft-hearted toward a puppet? Was he too deep into the act?

Pu Tingsong’s gaze darkened. The little thing in his arms clung to his sleeve, tears the size of beans falling one by one, landing right on the back of his hand.

“But if Master wants it, no matter how scared Qiyan is, I will give it to you.”

Give him what? A living human face?

Pu Tingsong could not help but sigh, his fingers gently touching Jiang Qiyan’s small face. “You would really give it to me? If you do, Qiyan will not have a face to show people anymore.”

“Ugh, no face then, no face,” Jiang Qiyan shook, terrified. But he had to be brave because Master wanted it. He wiped his tears with his sleeve. “If Master wants it, take it. I am not afraid of the pain. Master,” he looked up at him, “I am willing.”

In that moment, seeing the child cry, Pu Tingsong actually felt an urge to comfort him. It was not a superficial comfort or playing the role of a gentle Master, but a genuine desire to soothe this poor little creature.

It was absurd. Utterly absurd. It was beyond reason.

Pu Tingsong pushed the child slightly further from his embrace. “You are quite dirty.” He smiled. “Master only has a few crane patterned cloaks. Are you trying to ruin them?”

Jiang Qiyan fell silent, standing before him with his head bowed. “I am sorry.”

“If it is dirty, it is dirty. It is no big deal. I will help little Qiyan wash his hands. A little extra soap will get them clean.”

A servant brought warm water. Pu Tingsong took a cloth and meticulously wiped the boy’s hands. He cleaned under the fingernails several times and lathered them with fragrant soap six times before finally switching to a dry towel.

It hurt a little from the scrubbing. Master was too obsessed with cleanliness. Jiang Qiyan rubbed the reddened backs of his hands. After a moment’s hesitation, he finally asked the question that had been weighing on his heart.

“Master, can you teach me?”

“Hmm?” Pu Tingsong had just hung the towel back on the wooden rack, smoothing the wrinkles, when he heard this. He leaned down slightly, as if to get closer to hear the child’s question clearly. “Ask.”

“Um, I do not know how to say it.”

“Then speak slowly. Give me time to understand what little Qiyan wants to say.”

“Master said before that when someone approaches another, it is not necessarily with a sincere heart, and sincerity might be betrayed. So, how do I know if the person making friends with me is sincere?”

A sigh from Master reached his ears, and Jiang Qiyan lowered his head even further. Did Master think he was stupid? Did he dislike him because he was not as smart as other children? Like Brother Fang, he was only slightly older, yet he knew so much more, even martial arts, while Jiang Qiyan knew nothing and could not even figure out such a simple problem.

“Did little Qiyan have a disagreement with his new friend?”

“Yes, a little, but we talked it out later. It is just that I still feel uneasy.”

“You still want to play with him, but you are worried your sincerity will be misplaced?”

Jiang Qiyan looked up instantly. How did Master clear up the confusion he had struggled with all afternoon so quickly? So that was what he was conflicted about?

Pu Tingsong observed his expression and sighed. “It seems so. There is a very simple way. I can help little Qiyan test him to see if he is truly being honest with our Qiyan. New Year’s Eve is in half a month.”

Jiang Qiyan looked into his Master’s eyes. They were full of seriousness. There was no disdain or dismissiveness. Master was seriously strategizing for him.

“I will give you both New Year’s money,” Master squatted down to eye level. “I will give you eight gold leaves and him sixteen, but I will only say that I gave you both eight. After New Year’s Eve, Qiyan can go ask him how much money he received. If he says…”

Jiang Qiyan murmured, repeating after him, “If he tells me…”

Pu Tingsong paused to let him speak.

“If he tells me he got eight, it means he knew Master made a mistake and gave him eight extra, yet he kept the mistake for himself. Then he is a dishonest person. He does not want to give up those extra eight leaves, so he is not someone worth befriending.”

“Yes, little Qiyan understands immediately. So smart.” Pu Tingsong reached out his hand, waiting for Jiang Qiyan to place his own on it.

The soft little hand soon settled in his palm. Pu Tingsong chuckled softly and gripped it. “If he truly considers you a friend, he will tell you the truth. Otherwise, he is not worth your effort. As for him, he might act in one of three ways.

“If he tells the truth and asks you to return the extra eight to me, then he is an upright and selfless person. Such a person, little Qiyan can safely befriend.

“If he tells the truth but splits the extra eight into two portions and gives you one, it shows that while he cares for you and thinks of you when there are benefits, his nature is flawed. In the future, he may very well fall from grace for small gains. Of course, it is also possible he simply wants to use you, dragging you down so you share the responsibility. He knows I will not blame you, and if I do not blame you, I naturally will not blame him.

“If he does not tell you the truth and says he only got eight, then he is an extremely selfish person with no moral compass. He does not care if his actions are equivalent to theft and enjoys gloating over his opportunistic successes. Such a person, Qiyan must stay as far away from as possible.”

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