HCAW 12

Chapter 12 – Ample Bosom, Plump Hips

Chu Kuang thrashed about only briefly before going limp, as if all the bones had been drawn from his body. He collapsed unconscious. Already injured, his outburst had drained him of much of his remaining strength. Once they had laid him back on the couch, everyone finally breathed a sigh of relief.

Qin Jiao gave Zheng Deli a strange look and said, “Young Master Zheng, who would’ve thought you were a beast in gentleman’s clothing—into tongue-wrestling with men. That guy probably hates you because you assaulted him, and that’s why he bit you!”

Zheng Deli, fearing Chu Kuang might be faking unconsciousness and would kill him the moment he revealed his identity, stammered, “I… I…”

Fang Jingyu silently picked up the chain and bound Chu Kuang’s hands and feet to the legs of the couch. Only then did he speak: “Ah-Li, I know you’re not that kind of person.”

Zheng Deli felt a surge of relief, like a drowning man grabbing hold of a straw. He turned to look at Fang Jingyu.

“You don’t even dare hold a girl’s hand. If you really did that sort of thing, your father would break all three of your legs,” Fang Jingyu said, patting Zheng Deli’s shoulder and motioning for him to speak in private. “Be honest—were you threatened by him?”

Zheng Deli followed him aside. That question sent a shiver down his spine. When he looked up, he met Fang Jingyu’s gaze directly—those eyes were like snow on Cold Spring Mountain, as if they could wash one’s soul clean. He calmed down and nodded.

“You saw him in Zui Chun Garden?” Fang Jingyu continued.

“I did. He looked like one of the courtesans there, but his behavior was odd.”

“What kind of odd? And why were you at Zui Chun Garden?”

“He was incredibly strong—like a trained fighter. Also… he said Yu Ji Guard was his enemy.”

Zheng Deli hesitated for a moment but finally let it slip. Fang Jingyu’s expression sharpened—this slave really was the same assassin he had encountered at Zui Chun Garden! After some more fumbling, Zheng Deli at last explained how Young Master Tao had mistreated Xiao Feng, and he had gone to Zui Chun Garden seeking revenge. Fang Jingyu nodded after hearing this.

“That Young Master Tao deserves to be exiled. But this isn’t something you should handle—I’ll make the arrest myself.”

“But… but the Tao family’s powerful…” Zheng Deli’s voice dwindled to a whisper. The Tao household was an elite lineage, with ancestors who held high ranks. Currently, the Tao family patriarch was the Xian Mountain Mohe Guard, ranked seventh among the Xian Mountain Guards. Even Fang Jingyu’s father, the Langgan Guard, held a lower rank. No matter how you looked at it, Fang Jingyu was under Tao’s shadow.

“What’s there to fear? I arrest by the laws of Penglai, not by anyone’s status.”

Hearing this, the heavy stone on Zheng Deli’s heart finally lifted. Fang Jingyu was always like this—a steadfast wall, seemingly cold and distant, yet giving a sense of true reliability. Zheng Deli scratched his head and looked at the man on the couch. “Then… what are you going to do with him? Take him back to the office?”

“You don’t look like you want him turned in,” Fang Jingyu suddenly said.

Truly sharp-eyed and meticulous. Zheng Deli chuckled awkwardly, drenched in sweat. “It’s just… I did confess my thoughts about killing Young Master Tao to him. If he blurts something weird during the hearing, I’ll be dragged into it too…”

“You haven’t done anything. A clear conscience fears no shadow. What reason would the Xian Mountain has to arrest you? Besides, Qin Jiao and I are both officers too—we’ll protect you.”

Fang Jingyu crossed his arms. “That’s what I’d say publicly. But in private, I don’t want to turn him in either.” His gaze briefly skimmed over the man on the couch.

“Why not?”

“Because he’s shrouded in mystery. There’s too much I don’t know yet. If I hand him over now, they’ll brand him as the assassin who targeted Yu Ji Guard and behead him at Zhenhai Pass. That would get me ten taels in reward—but I have a gut feeling he’s worth much more than that.” Fang Jingyu’s voice was cold.

Zheng Deli understood and his eyes lit up. He whispered excitedly, “Right, right! What if he’s the ‘King Yama’ himself? If he really is that devil, turning him in could be worth a thousand taels!”

Fang Jingyu looked thoughtful at those words.

Zheng Deli asked, “Should we tell Miss Qin?”

They glanced into the room. Qin Jiao was hunched over by the couch, scribbling down characters while occasionally sneaking peeks at the unconscious Chu Kuang. Her eyelids drooped like they’d been glued shut, and soon she was napping right there at the bedside. The firelight from the brazier illuminated her cheek, fair and round like a ripened plum.

Fang Jingyu was silent for a moment, then shook his head. “No.”

“Why not?”

“She can’t keep a secret. One slip, and she might tip someone off,” Fang Jingyu said as he slowly walked back to the couch. He stared down at the sleeping Chu Kuang, his eyes frosty. “I want to lure this man out… slowly.”

———

Chu Kuang felt like he was walking alone in the dark.

The further he went, the hotter it got. His cheeks burned like they were being scorched by the sun, itchy and stinging.

He opened his eyes and saw wooden beams overhead. Shifting his gaze, he spotted a brazier where date branches crackled and hissed in the flames. This was a small but clean room. A cypress table stood at the front, holding a tablet, fruit offerings, and three sticks of incense.

Chu Kuang looked around, climbed off the couch, and prowled about the room for a while. Suddenly, he heard light footsteps outside the door. In a flash, he darted back to the couch and carefully pulled the covers over himself.

A tall, pine-like figure opened the wooden partition and stood silently, staring at him.

After a moment, Fang Jingyu said, “You’re awake.”

Chu Kuang started snoring loudly and mumbled incoherently, “Some people look awake… but they’re still sleeping.”

“Feigning sleep won’t help. I want to have a proper talk with you.”

After a long while, Chu Kuang finally spoke, his voice hoarse. “Talk about what?”

When he had fainted earlier, Fang Jingyu had studied his face carefully. Quiet, he looked striking and refined—if cleaned up, he might even pass for a young gentleman. But the moment his eyes opened, the sharp glint of that double pupil shattered all that grace.

“I’m Fang Jingyu, second son of the Fang family of the Langgan Guard, and an official of Xian Mountain in Penglai,” Fang Jingyu said, approaching and sitting upright on the mat before the bed with calm composure. “And you are?”

Chu Kuang flipped upright, legs crossed with arrogant swagger. “I’m your grand—”

“I asked for your name.”

Fang Jingyu cut him off coldly, and Chu Kuang involuntarily shuddered. The black-robed youth’s gaze doused him like a bucket of ice water—bone-chilling. He pursed his lips for a while before muttering, “Chu Kuang. My name’s Chu Kuang.”

“Fitting name,” Fang Jingyu remarked coolly. Chu Kuang seemed subdued by his presence and sat hunched on the bed like a frost-wilted stalk of grain. Fang Jingyu continued, “I’ve seen you before.” There wasn’t the slightest hint of doubt in his tone.

Chu Kuang’s eyes widened. Slowly, he looked up, the inky depths of his pupils reflecting Fang Jingyu’s image. He smacked his lips a few times as if tasting something unspoken, and finally squeezed out a few stiff words: “You? Seen me?”

“At Zui Chun Garden, wasn’t it? The assassin who tried to kill Yu Ji Guard,” Fang Jingyu said.

The moment the words left his mouth, the air in the room seemed to freeze.

Chu Kuang stared at him quietly, but in the darkness of his pupils there flashed the cold light of blades.

After a pause, Chu Kuang tried to argue. “Tch, what Yu Ji Guard? I don’t know anyone by that name!”

“Spare me the slick talk. You know what you did, and so do I. In short, I don’t care to argue with you. Let’s be blunt: I believe you’re a dangerous criminal, but I don’t know your background yet. So until I figure out your trail, you’re staying by my side at all times.”

Chu Kuang’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head. What kind of joke was this? Keeping a fugitive leashed to a Xian Mountain officer—it was like tossing a mouse into a tiger’s den and expecting it to dance around. Enraged, he snapped, “Bullshit! Who the hell do you think you are, keeping me locked in this hole? Let me go!”

“Because I hold your slave deed,” Fang Jingyu replied coolly, pulling out a folded paper. Chu Kuang immediately sprang up like a wound-up spring, lunging for his hand. “That was forced! It doesn’t count! You didn’t register me with the authorities—this is illegal private slavery!”

“Why register it? I am the authority.”

Chu Kuang had just leapt halfway off the bed when the chain around his neck yanked him back, choking off his breath. He bared his teeth, panting, and looked down to see that his wrists and ankles were bound fast by chains. After gnawing at them for a while and nearly breaking his teeth, he realized bitterly: he had just escaped the tiger pit of Zui Chun Garden, only to fall into a wolf’s den.

Fang Jingyu said, “Don’t bother struggling. I swapped your chains for ones forged of blacksteel. This time, no carpenter’s axe will break through them.”

Seeing resistance was futile, Chu Kuang let the chain drop with a scowl, though he clearly hadn’t given up. He climbed off the bed, and Fang Jingyu eyed him warily, ready for a sneak attack. But Chu Kuang moved like a silent leopard, approaching with quiet precision—then sank his teeth into Fang Jingyu’s belt.

“What are you doing?!” Fang Jingyu exclaimed, shoving him away, only to see Chu Kuang spin and start rubbing up against him. Chu Kuang said, “So, what’s it gonna take for you to let me go? You want me to earn dirty money for you, suck your balls, or sleep with you?”

Fang Jingyu pushed him back. Though his face was like ice-sculpted jade, his voice carried the sting of smoldering fury. “Do I look like someone who sleeps with men? I’m not interested in your body.”

“Really not interested?”

“Not even a speck of interest.”

“How about this—we fight. If I win, you let me go!”

“Why would I fight you? I don’t fight dogs.”

Fang Jingyu replied icily, though his eyes flickered. He had just noticed Chu Kuang’s chest bulging under his robe, and a suspicious bulge in his trousers as well. Chu Kuang caught his gaze and grinned smugly, baring his teeth. “Didn’t you say you weren’t interested? Look at you—leering like a horny monkey, trying to strip me with your eyes!”

“What’s this?” Fang Jingyu reached for his chest.

“This is my ample bosom and plump hips.”

Fang Jingyu yanked open his robe—clatter, clatter—golden kumquats and crabapples rolled across the floor. He looked up at the altar in the room, where more than half of the offerings had vanished. Only a few gnawed fruits remained, pits exposed. His elder brother Fang Minsheng’s memorial tablet had tipped over, a fruit peel hanging off it.

Chu Kuang grinned wickedly and scrambled on the floor to gather the fruit, stuffing them back into his robe. “You tore off my ample bosom!”

Suddenly, the room seemed to chill with a blast of icy wind. Fang Jingyu seized Chu Kuang’s wrist, his voice cold.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to fight me?”

His gaze was like cold dew in autumn, sharp and biting.

“Fine. Let’s fight.”