Slag Shou Cultivating Manual Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Sharing Wine Under the Moon

In the evening, still immersed in the joy of Zhen Pu Yang’s success in the literary competition, He Lang extended a warm invitation to him to come to his residence and taste his culinary skills.

Zhen Pu Yang’s emotions were quite peculiar. Even he himself wasn’t as joyful as this. How could this person be so elated, with his eyes shining brightly? He didn’t want to look, yet he couldn’t help but look.

He Lang’s invitation was a bit inappropriate; the sky was already growing dark, and if Zhen Pu Yang went to his residence, he wouldn’t be able to return to the palace.

He Lang looked up at the gradually darkening sky and suggested, “If you don’t mind, Your Highness, you can rest at my humble abode for the night.”

“Mind… I don’t mind!” Zhen Pu Yang didn’t expect Teacher He to be so enthusiastic. Surprised and a bit flustered, he loudly retorted.

However, in the following few seconds of mutual astonishment, his voice became more subdued, and he waved his hand.

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In consideration of his feelings, Zhen Pu Yang decided to pick up his chopsticks.

Perhaps due to hunger, after taking a bite, Zhen Pu Yang’s appetite seemed to surge. He silently and attentively devoured the dishes.

Under his focused gaze, an extra bowl of rice appeared.

However, as far as he knew, He Lang came from a respectable background and had always been a scholarly gentleman focused on reading and writing. How could he be skilled in cooking?

Zhen Pu Yang’s chewing slowed down, and he stopped his chopsticks, lost in thought.

Observing this, He Lang let out a self-deprecating sigh. “My culinary skills shouldn’t be so terrible that they’re difficult for the prince to swallow, should they?”

Zhen Pu Yang immediately took a big mouthful of food and asked, “This Prince is just wondering how Master developed cooking skills.”

“…?!” This answer nearly made Zhen Pu Yang bite his own tongue. It was truly the last thing he had expected.

Even his birth mother, who held a high position, possessed delicate jade-like hands and would never engage in such tasks for him. Yet, this man was so casual…

Zhen Pu Yang frowned, feeling a mix of unease and sweet satisfaction. He readily spoke, gifting He Lang the precious rare steed he had won in the literary competition that day.

He Lang couldn’t help but chuckle at this impulsive gesture. “It’s just returning the favor,” Zhen Pu Yang shot him a sidelong glance, clearing his plate of food.

Given the late hour, Zhen Pu Yang retired to the guest quarters at He Lang’s residence for the night. He enjoyed a restful sleep, not stirring until the sun had risen high in the sky.

Learning of Zhen Pu Yang’s morning grumpiness, no one dared to interrupt his slumber except for He Lang. He paid no mind, not bothering to knock as he entered the room, calling out to the still-sleeping prince. Yet, there was no response.

Zhen Pu Yang’s sleeping countenance appeared a touch tender, tranquil, and surprisingly well-behaved – a far cry from his usual arrogant and confrontational self, the young man who regarded others with disdain.

Unable to bring himself to rudely pull back the covers, He Lang opted for a playful approach instead. He pinched Zhen Pu Yang’s nose gently, waiting for him to awaken on his own.

Soon, Zhen Pu Yang’s eyes flickered open, his face flushed with anger. He was about to erupt in fury when he recognized the intruder through bleary eyes. Inexplicably, his anger dissipated in an instant.

Several maidservants deftly approached, offering basins of water and towels for the half-asleep, half-awake little demon king with shadowed eyes to freshen up.

Zhen Pu Yang sat up in silence, allowing He Lang to tie up his hair.

A maidservant holding a jade comb approached, casting a quick glance at the Imperial tutor. She hurried over to assist, only to be rudely pushed aside by him.

Originally, Zhen Pu Yang was in a bad mood upon waking up, and his words were not taken seriously. This only exacerbated his irritation, causing his temper to flare even further.

While the impertinent maidservant swallowed her retort under He Lang’s gaze, his muttered insults continued, “This Prince wants Teacher to tie his hair. Are you all deaf? Hurry up and leave, you’re bothering us so early in the morning!”

The two vexed parties fled in disarray.

Although He Lang wanted to remind His Highness that it was no longer early in the morning, he conceded to his wishes. He dispersed the attendants, picking up a jade comb in an attempt to assist.

His usual hairstyle was simple, and his skill wasn’t particularly refined. After just a short while of assisting His Highness, several strands of his delicate hair fell to the ground.

He Lang’s heart skipped a beat, and he hesitantly withdrew his hand.

He remembered that Zhen Pu Yang had nearly strangled a maidservant in the past over the issue of hair styling, a clear indicator of how much he cherished his hair.

After much hesitation, He Lang set down the comb and abandoned his efforts. “I lack the skill. I should call for a maidservant.”

Such a small refusal yet managed to anger His Highness again.

With a stern expression, Zhen Pu Yang snatched the jade comb from He Lang’s hand and threw it to the ground, where it shattered into pieces.

“I won’t let you comb it!”

This furious roar caused a headache for He Lang. He paused, then reached for another wooden comb, carefully taking hold of Zhen Pu Yang’s hair.

However, Zhen Pu Yang’s face still remained contorted in anger. He shifted his body, forcefully yanking back his own hair, indicating his unwillingness to cooperate.

He Lang gritted his teeth, feeling his patience wane under Zhen Pu Yang’s obstinacy. He considered reprimanding him but then convinced himself to ignore the provocations, persevering in meticulously untangling and arranging his hair.

To avoid tugging at His Highness’s hair, he executed his movements as gently as possible.

Clearly, Zhen Pu Yang found this quite soothing. His scalp tingled slightly, each strand of hair held and fastened with precision by his teacher’s hand. The furrowed brow of his initially tense expression gradually relaxed.

After pacifying this little deity, He Lang reluctantly helped him change his clothes. Only then did Zhen Pu Yang appear satisfied, willing to leave and return to the palace.

On that very day, the news of the young prince gifting his teacher the steed bestowed upon him by the Emperor spread like wildfire.

Such treatment was far from commonplace, serving as evidence of the esteemed place the Imperial tutor held in the Seventh Prince’s heart.

To others, He Lang was perceived as a skillful instructor and the young prince as magnanimous. Little did they know that their interactions were far from frictionless.

For instance, during their regular lessons, whenever He Lang touched upon matters involving emperors and governance, Zhen Pu Yang’s demeanor grew inexplicably tense.

“The way of an emperor also involves the art of balance—”

Impatiently, Zhen Pu Yang cut him off. He had never intended to vie for that position. Why was his teacher so naturally imparting this knowledge to him in advance?

“The ink on the paper hasn’t even dried yet. This prince isn’t the most likely candidate to become an emperor.”

If that was He Lang’s aim, then wouldn’t it be quicker to teach the future emperor, the crown prince, directly?

Seeing his stern expression, He Lang hesitated, his urgency causing his true intentions to surface, inadvertently irking His Highness.

Seeing that the situation was turning unfavorable, He Lang immediately changed the subject, his tone shifting, and invited Zhen Pu Yang to share a drink later in the evening.

Thinking about how it had been a while since he last had a drink, Zhen Pu Yang readily agreed.

As evening faded, moonlight climbed onto the tips of willow branches, and the sky darkened, taking on a deep hue.

The moon’s light was cold and beautiful, but as the temperature-less silver radiance spilled over, it inevitably evoked a sense of loneliness.

At this moment, the person beside him, sharing the drink, was his sole companion.

Originally, He Lang intended to bring a cask of green plum wine, but Zhen Pu Yang found such spirits uninteresting to drink. In the end, he brought his own cask of aged wine.

The wine was sharp upon the first sip. He Lang felt his mouth fill with its pungent aroma, wishing to forcefully smack his lips, diluting the stimulating taste.

Turning to Zhen Pu Yang, who managed to down a cup without flinching, he regarded him with a smile that was not quite a smile.

He Lang lifted his wine cup nonchalantly, took a small sip, and enjoyed the moonlit night on his own.

Ignored by He Lang, Zhen Pu Yang felt a slight annoyance, akin to a child being overlooked. “What’s so captivating about the moon? Does the moon possess even half of this prince’s elegance?”

Even though he was the one who invited him, he had assumed He Lang had some ulterior motive. Yet, He Lang was acting so indifferent, leaving him to drink alone?

Gazing at the Imperial tutor lost in contemplation of the moon, his figure ethereal, his silhouette outlined by the silver glow, he seemed devoid of desire or want, just as adrift as him.

Observing him, Zhen Pu Yang’s heart gradually calmed. He turned his head slightly. “What is Teacher aiming for?”

Why treat him so well? Sometimes like a precious gem, other times like a fleeting shadow. Why consider his welfare at every turn, disregarding his own wishes, pushing him onto a path of authority and rivalry?

This kind of Imperial tutor was unfamiliar to him. He wanted to keep him at arm’s length, a hint of resistance within him stemmed from a fear of this unprecedented danger.

Why, despite knowing this person’s intention to place him in an uncomfortable position, did he find himself involuntarily drawn closer, as if under the spell of a bewitching potion?

After each retort and misdeed, he couldn’t help but anticipate his scolding, along with those eyes that sparkled with annoyance, fixed solely upon him.

He refused to admit that he enjoyed the warmth of the Imperial tutor’s indulgence and his gentle leniency. Because he was always afraid. Afraid that it might be a deadly poison, a potion that would drown him, one he couldn’t resist drinking to quench his thirst.

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