Chapter 59

The Song family had been imperial merchants for generations with deep roots. Aside from savings, their money house also stored valuables for those in need.

As a century-old establishment with ties to the imperial household, as long as its reputation remained intact, stored items would never run into any trouble.

Naturally, this was largely due to the peace and prosperity that Shengjing had enjoyed over the years.

Though it was the middle of the night, out of courtesy to the young master of the Song family and Crown Prince Chengyun, the manager of the money house respectfully invited them inside.

However, because the items had been deposited long ago, locating them required some time.

Wen Besang and Chengyun had no choice but to wait patiently together.

Song Qianfan still looked dejected, yet whenever Wen Besang glanced his way, he would silently pull himself together, forcing an appearance of complete sobriety.

Chengyun probed, "If he fails to go to Gentleman's City to find Xie Niuhong, what will you do?"

"If he wants to, of course he can do it."

Hearing this, a bitter smile crossed Song Qianfan's expression. "When I said I was going to Gentleman's City, my mother threatened me with her life, and my father flew into a rage, subjecting me to family punishment. I couldn't even go see her off when she left."

"You have known your parents for so many years; you surely understand their tempers and dispositions. You must have foreseen these difficulties the moment you agreed to go to Gentleman's City. To push everything onto your parents now simply means that you have genuinely suffered punishment and cowardice has arisen in your heart."

Song Qianfan seemed stunned, subconsciously replying, "You haven't seen what my parents were like at all. I have never seen them look so terrifying. From the time I was little until now, they have never laid a finger on me..."

"A pampered young master of wealth and prestige, the young heir to Great Liang's imperial merchants." Before he could finish, Wen Besang said coldly, "If you stay with Xie Niuhong in the future, it won't be just a finger or two that gets laid on you. Once you actually reach Gentleman's City, I'm afraid you'll have countless unspeakable grievances. Rather than that, why don't you honestly admit that you have failed Xie Niuhong? I will thrash you, write a letter to Xie Niuhong telling her to seek another good match, and be done with it. How about that?"

Song Qianfan's expression shifted. "What do you mean by that?"

"Since you are in such distress, I am naturally helping you resolve your worries."

"You..." Song Qianfan seemed angry. Chengyun intervened, "Ah Sang is speaking up for Xie Niuhong out of concern for her."

With that, he turned back to Wen Besang and said, "He's not in a good state of mind right now, so you should say a little less."

"Why should I say less?" Wen Besang was merciless. "On the Lantern Festival, he made a promise to me face-to-face that he would go to Gentleman's City for Xie Niuhong in the future. Since he failed to do so, I have become his accomplice. Not blowing him straight to smithereens is already showing him immense courtesy."

Song Qianfan's face flickered with pain. After a long moment, he said, "You don't have a sweetheart, nor do you have parents, so naturally you don't understand the dilemma I'm facing right now..."

"Song Qianfan!" Chengyun barked, immediately turning his gaze to Wen Besang. Sure enough, Wen Besang's eyes widened, a look of astonishment in his pupils.

Song Qianfan cast an apologetic glance and opened his mouth to speak, but Wen Besang had already cut in: "You're right, I don't have parents, nor do I have a sweetheart. I am completely unburdened, so naturally I can afford to stand here and talk without feeling any backache. Song Qianfan, if you envy me, I'll gift you a few thunder-fire bombs free of charge to help you commit parricide and matricide. Do you dare take them?"

"..." Song Qianfan turned his face away. Wen Besang suddenly stood up from his chair, two walnuts slipping into his palm. Song Qianfan's pupils contracted, and he leaped up from the chair in a flash, darting behind it. "Right, it's my fault, I spoke wrongly, I'm sorry!"

Another walnut slipped into Wen Besang's other hand as he stepped forward. Chengyun followed closely behind, causing Song Qianfan to retreat even further back.

Wen Besang placed the thunder-fire bombs directly onto the table where Song Qianfan had been sitting. "Four thunder-fire bombs. If you use them properly, your parents are guaranteed to die."

Song Qianfan: "..."

The manager, who was holding the retrieved items as he walked through the door, wore a look of utter astonishment. He immediately looked over at Song Qianfan, who was currently hiding behind a pillar with an expression that said he had endless hardships he couldn't voice.

Wen Besang turned around and was about to take the items when the manager said, "The person who deposited this item left a line of writing, stating that only the person capable of opening this box may take it away."

The wooden box had no keyhole whatsoever anywhere on its body; instead, a circular iron pellet about the size of a finger was embedded right where the keyhole should have been. When poked with a finger, it remained completely motionless.

Shen Yuerong hadn't mentioned this detail. Chengyun frowned, and the manager looked somewhat troubled as he said, "Our money house has its rules, Your Highness..."

Chengyun nodded to show his understanding, and just as he was pondering how to open it, he saw Wen Besang unhook the bead bracelet directly from his wrist. He aligned one of the beads with the circular hole and twisted it slowly. With a crisp click, the box sprang open in response.

The manager let out a sigh of relief, tinged with a trace of curiosity.

However, Wen Besang had already snatched up the box without letting anyone else look at it, and walked straight out.

As he crossed the threshold, he did not forget to tell Song Qianfan, "If those aren't enough, I have more here. Guaranteed to blow your entire Song lineage into fine dust."

Chengyun walked behind him, picking up the thunder-fire bombs from the table.

Song Qianfan emerged from behind the pillar with lingering fear in his eyes, watching their retreating figures vanish one after the other as he muttered, "I really have provoked the God of Thunder..."

Wen Besang climbed into the carriage himself, moving with great agility. By the time Chengyun followed him inside, he had already tossed the box aside, pulled out a leather-bound journal from within, and begun reading with total absorption.

Clearly, Song Qianfan had been completely relegated to the back of his mind.

Regarding Taishu Wendao's journal, Wen Besang felt both a sense of eager anticipation and a reluctance to finish reading it too quickly.

First, he carefully read the line of writing on the first page.

——I long to take refuge in peace and tranquility, can I forever escape the dust and noise of the world?

The aged, heavy handwriting fell across the slightly yellowed pages. Wen Besang could not help but stroke it back and forth, as if traversing the fickle tides of time to gaze upon a family member he had never met.

"So he is Taishu Wendao..." Wen Besang murmured, his tone carrying a trace of curiosity and inquiry. He tilted his head to look at Chengyun, only to find the latter holding the box he had discarded, thoughtfully stroking the circular iron bead embedded inside.

Wen Besang leaned closer to him. Chengyun came back to his senses and asked, "Why aren't you reading anymore?"

In his impression, Wen Besang was always utterly focused on whatever he did. Chengyun had expected him to stare unblinkingly at the journal the entire way back to the crown prince's residence.

"What are you doing?"

"Well," Chengyun teased deliberately, "am I better-looking than Taishu Wendao's journal?"

"You are good-looking."

Wen Besang did not answer which one was better, but his eyes gazed at him without blinking.

"..." He was merely temporarily a little more important than the journal, Gong Chengyun. Have some self-respect.

Chengyun turned his head away and continued fiddling with the box, asking, "What kind of mechanism is this, anyway?"

"Can't you tell?"

He was actually still consciously trying to prolong the conversation between them.

Chengyun let out an "en," gently closed the box without latching it fully, and flipped it open again. "I have a guess, but I'm not sure if it's right."

"Let's hear it."

Chengyun touched the iron sphere with his finger, turning his head. "Is that bracelet on your wrist made of specially treated lodestone?"

Surprised yet unsurprised, Wen Besang replied, "You even know that."

"When I closed the wooden box, I could faintly sense a suction force coming from underneath. But lodestone is hard to find, and turning it into a mechanism is even harder. Where did you get it?"

"My mother left me this bead," Wen Besang said. "When I was little, all of Mother's valuables were kept in boxes with mechanisms like this. I used to ask her how she ever thought of using such a thing for a lock, and she would always brush me off with a casual excuse. Thinking back now, it all makes sense."

After all this commotion, they didn't arrive home until the middle of the night. Wen Besang first tucked the journal safely under his pillow before turning around to tidy up.

Now that the item was safely in his hands, Wen Besang was no longer in a rush, and neither was Chengyun.

Once their hearts settled into comfort, their minds began to wander.

Wen Besang finished his bath first, climbed into bed wearing a cool, thin linen tunic, and stared blankly at the canopy above with no sleepiness in his eyes. His pupils rolled this way and that, while his hands, resting flat against his stomach, tapped in silence.

Soon after, Chengyun also climbed into bed, lying beside him and staring quietly up at the canopy just as he was.

Wen Besang broke the silence first, his voice sounding soft: "I can't sleep."

Chengyun: "Me neither."

Tentatively, Wen Besang suggested, "Why don't we read?"

Without a moment's hesitation, Chengyun replied, "Alright."

Wen Besang immediately sat up straight, and Chengyun rolled over to face him.

Simultaneously, the two of them pulled their respective books out from under their pillows. Chengyun stared at the journal in Wen Besang's hands with a blank expression.

Wen Besang looked at the storybook in Chengyun's hands with a puzzled look.

Subconsciously, Chengyun wanted to hide his book away.

Displaying this thing alongside Taishu Wendao's journal was truly a bit unseemly.

Yet he stubbornly endured the urge.

If he kept things overly hidden and guarded when with Wen Besang, those dreams of his would probably never stand a chance of coming true in this lifetime.

As always, Wen Besang cared more about his own desires: "Let's read mine first."

"But I want to read mine too."

Wen Besang began raising the stakes for his wish: "Mine is more important."

"Mine is also very important."

"Taishu Wendao's notes might help the Thunder-Fire Camp acquire more and deadlier firearms. If we ever have to contend with the Prince of Chu for supremacy, these can all lend you a helping hand."

"This book might bring our relationship a step closer."

Wen Besang thought for a moment and said, "Back when we first met, you always said you were going to accomplish great things in the future, and that you would never let romantic attachments interfere with your grand ambitions..."

"That was the past Gong Chengyun," Chengyun said calmly. "What does that have to do with the me of today?"

"But I want to read it."

Chengyun gazed at him, seemingly figuring something out, and the corners of his lips suddenly curled upward. "Then let's play mora."

Wen Besang nodded and threw out a fist without hesitation.

In the first round, Chengyun won.

As a martial artist with swift hands and eyes, Wen Besang stood no chance of beating him at a game of mora.

Wen Besang stopped his movements. Chengyun glanced at him and said, "Best two out of three."

Wen Besang rallied his spirits, but this time his fist came out noticeably slower, and he won.

For the final round, his expression grew even more cautious. Chengyun tossed out a fist nonchalantly. Wen Besang froze for a second, then immediately broke into a smile: "I won."

"Mmm." Chengyun put his book back and said, "You won. Read yours."

Wen Besang leaned in close to him, letting him hold the journal while resting against his chest. "I'll let you go first next time."

"Alright." Chengyun didn't stand on ceremony with him.

In truth, judging by Wen Besang's usual temperament, there was another approach to the situation just now: the two of them could simply read their own books separately.