Chapter 133: Candle Flame
Luo Nianqiu was tall and handsome, with a certain air of chivalry—likely a result of his military background. Sitting down, he straightened his back like a soldier.
Cao Yunzhao, having come to Shu to assume his post and thus closer to Sichuan, stood and introduced him: “Everyone, this is Luo Nianqiu, General Luo.” He gestured toward Lord Bai Jiu, smiling. “The three of us studied together in the capital. Our families were on friendly terms. Since I’m assigned to Meishan, my family worried about the long journey and specially asked General Luo to accompany me. Unexpectedly, we encountered the incident in Sichuan along the way.”
The Sichuan salt merchants present expressed their gratitude in chorus.
Luo Nianqiu stood and said, “I am a blunt man, so I’ll speak plainly. The bandits on Yunmeng Mountain are not ordinary robbers; they are deserters fleeing from the war in Yicheng. They occupy this area as a staging ground, and more deserters will arrive from Yicheng. I have orders from the military. Now that we’ve encountered them, we won’t stand idly by. I will station troops at Yunmeng, resolve the situation in Sichuan, and return to the Rongcheng command afterward.”
Hearing this, the previously anxious salt merchants gradually calmed down.
Someone asked about the timeline. Luo Nianqiu replied, “Do not worry. I have coordinated with Yicheng’s martial law. This is only to guard against small groups of fleeing soldiers. At most, in half a month, you will be safe.”
Xie Siquan glanced at Xu Jun. After Xu Jun subtly nodded, Xie Siquan rose to toast: “On behalf of the people of Sichuan City, I raise a cup to General Luo. Should you need anything—money, supplies—we will fully support you.”
Hearing this, the surrounding salt merchants stood as well, echoing, “We of Sichuan will fully support the general!”
Luo Nianqiu picked up the cup, drank it in one go, and showed the empty bottom. He made no show of it—efficient and straightforward.
The Sichuan merchants relaxed. They had enough money and supplies, but they didn’t want to be treated like fat sheep under a bandit’s knife.
Xu Jun sipped slowly, sitting beside Xie Siquan, quietly observing Luo Nianqiu. Today, stationed at the gorge entrance, Xu Jun had witnessed Luo Nianqiu’s discipline firsthand. Though young, he commanded troops strictly—unlike anyone Xu Jun had seen before—and was someone worth befriending.
Luo Nianqiu, a disciple of Mr. Huang, had come to Zhuandou Village, had a few drinks, and then went specifically to meet Huang Mingyou.
Huang Mingyou was at the neighboring table with familiar faces: He Dongting accompanied him, and nearby sat Bai Mingyu and Xie Jing, the atmosphere much livelier.
Respectfully, Luo Nianqiu personally poured wine for his mentor and spoke a few words.
Xie Jing glanced behind, subconsciously expecting Lord Bai Jiu.
Luo Nianqiu looked at him briefly and poured a cup of wine for Xie Jing. “He and Cao Er are handling social matters behind. Don’t worry—they haven’t drunk much.”
Xie Jing held the cup and whispered thanks.
Luo Nianqiu found Xie Jing interesting—sharp and perceptive, with a clear mind. No wonder Lord Bai Jiu personally requested troops to guard the city. Though Luo Nianqiu’s outward mission was to escort Mr. Huang and Cao Yunzhao, it was truly because Lord Bai Jiu had asked in person, a favor from the Northern Bai family worth a fortune.
He glanced at Xie Jing, lingering slightly on his face. He was indeed strikingly handsome, more so than anyone Luo Nianqiu had met before. Lord Bai Jiu’s appeal on his behalf made perfect sense.
Luo Nianqiu drank slightly, then excused himself.
In the corridor, he met Lord Bai Jiu and Cao Yunzhao coming over. He spoke: “Bai Jiu, I need to talk with you.”
Cao Yunzhao, a little drunk, looked at them suspiciously. “About what?”
Luo Nianqiu said, “About military and political affairs in Meishan, local taxes, and county governance. You might want to stay and hear this.”
Hearing this, Cao Yunzhao groaned. “All this while clearing bandits, and now more? The commanders in Yicheng fought fiercely. Why does Meishan need this too? Just hearing it gives me a headache.”
Luo Nianqiu: “You’ll need it when you arrive.”
Cao Yunzhao, annoyed, said, “I don’t want to get involved in all this scheming. I just want to do something real—build a library, a newspaper. On the ship back, I translated many books, planning to print them and give to schools. At least it’s some contribution to enlightening the people.”
Luo Nianqiu merely smiled, saying nothing further.
Lord Bai Jiu offered a few words in agreement, giving Cao Yunzhao some face.
Cao Yunzhao, still holding a romantic patriotism, least enjoyed Luo Nianqiu’s pragmatism. He waved dismissively: “You talk, I’ll listen when we reach Meishan in a few days. For now, I’ll join Mr. Huang; it’s been years, and I miss him.” With that, he strode ahead into the private room.
The Zhuandou inn had high ceilings, and the corridor beside it had rough wooden railings, with no windows.
Luo Nianqiu took out a cigarette case, tapped one out, and offered it to Lord Bai Jiu. “One?”
Lord Bai Jiu declined. “No.”
“Still unwell?”
“Old ailment.”
Luo Nianqiu twirled the cigarette between his fingers without lighting it. After a pause, he asked, “How is Bai Junrui? I heard he was shot twice in the Northern lands.”
Lord Bai Jiu replied, “Thanks, he’s improving after the telegram a few days ago.”
Luo Nianqiu said, “I know several Western doctors. The Pingdao Benevolence Hospital has good medical care. I can call to arrange for him to recuperate there—it’ll be better for him.”
Lord Bai Jiu shook his head. “My cousin cares for the North; he probably won’t leave.”
Luo Nianqiu leaned on the railing, frowning in thought. After a while, he sighed. “Typical of him. The Bai family are all stubborn.”
In the side room, discussions of poetry and literature could be heard. Mr. Huang and Cao Yunzhao dipped chopsticks in wine, tapping cups and plates, singing. Cao Yunzhao’s face glowed red. Forgetting scholarly decorum, he rolled up his sleeves, wore his glasses upside down on the back of his head, clapping and laughing.
Luo Nianqiu watched for a moment. “Cao Yunzhao is still as naive as when we studied together. After all these years, he hasn’t changed.”
Lord Bai Jiu chuckled. “There always needs to be some innocent hearts.”
“True. His singing is off-key, but his words are better than his song—there’s no one else like him.”
They laughed, recalling old times.
After a while, Luo Nianqiu said, “People haven’t changed, but the world has. The North is just the beginning. I’ve received orders to prepare the southwestern rear next.”
Lord Bai Jiu asked, “War?”
Luo Nianqiu: “Uncertain. Preparing ahead is wise.”
Lord Bai Jiu nodded, thanking him.
Luo Nianqiu donned his military cap, brim low, concealing his gaze. In the lamplight, Lord Bai Jiu could only see his cold jawline. Luo Nianqiu said, “If you see Bai Junrui, tell him this: We lived and ate together at military school for three years. My assessment of him remains unchanged. In chaotic times, his talent for defending a city is insufficient for great responsibility… frankly, the North cannot be defended by him alone.”
Though blunt, Luo Nianqiu spoke plainly, not intending insult, then nodded and left.
He stationed his troops and returned under the cover of night, not lingering in Zhuandou.
Cao Yunzhao, drunk, continued discussing poetry with Mr. Huang, refusing to leave. Huang Mingyou, older but with a Wei-Jin elegance, picked up thin bamboo brushes, dipped them in ink, and wrote freely. Cao Yunzhao’s witty words flowed continuously. Mr. Huang, half-drunk, splashed ink, the calligraphy flying like dragons and phoenixes—free and unrestrained.
Lord Bai Jiu left Bai Mingyu to watch over them and returned to his bedroom.
Xie Jing, as the host, led the way, carrying a lamp.
Lord Bai Jiu followed, watching Xie Jing place the lamp on the table. The flickering light highlighted the soft beauty of his face. The plain silver earring at his ear glimmered gently. During the day, Xie Jing had been sharp, but now he seemed softer, eyes lowered, trimming the wick and brightening the flame.
“Master, there’s a bathtub behind the screen. I’ve filled it with hot water. You can soak to relax.”
“Good.”
Lord Bai Jiu stood behind the screen, unfastening his own clothes. Footsteps approached, and Xie Jing said, “During the months you were away, I’ve managed on my own—you don’t need to be waited on…” Suddenly, a soft sound of clothing dropping came—two light rustles—and a white undergarment fell at his feet, the one Xie Jing wore closest to his skin. After that, he was bare.
Lord Bai Jiu’s gaze traveled from his bare ankles upward, resting on his face.
Xie Jing approached, standing on tiptoe to undo the remaining buttons for him. “I’m used to doing these things. From now on, let me handle them.”
Lord Bai Jiu’s Adam’s apple moved slightly, his eyes fixed, unable to look away.
Xie Jing dipped half a hand into the bathtub to test the water, and lightly laughed: “Master, shall I stay with you?”
Lord Bai Jiu leaned forward, kissing him, saying nothing further.
The wooden tub was large enough for both. The water level was high, so even slight movements caused ripples.
Xie Jing’s arm was still injured. Sitting partially on Lord Bai Jiu, he raised his arm, biting his lip to suppress sounds.
When struggling, he braced an elbow on Lord Bai Jiu’s shoulder, whispering for mercy.
…
After a long while, it quieted.
Lord Bai Jiu carried him out. Cleaned, Xie Jing was flushed, hiding his face in Lord Bai Jiu’s chest.
Lord Bai Jiu chuckled, pinching his chin and lightly scratching him. “Shy now? Earlier, you were so bold, clinging to me and saying anything.”
Xie Jing muttered, “Too big.” Lord Bai Jiu laughed and teasingly asked again, “What was that? I didn’t hear.”
Xie Jing bit the sheets, leaving a small mark, but was too reluctant to stop and licked the spot.
Wrapped in a thin blanket, Lord Bai Jiu held him with one hand while the other stroked his earlobe, thumb brushing the silver earring. Xie Jing dodged slightly.
Lord Bai Jiu asked, “Does it hurt?”
Xie Jing shook his head, whispering, “It’s ticklish.”
Lord Bai Jiu chuckled, pressing slightly harder.
Xie Jing’s sensitive ears could not bear it, trying to retreat. “Master, ticklish, stop…”
Lord Bai Jiu held him close, whispering at his ear: “It’s not ticklish, it’s pleasure. Let me teach you.”
His ear burned as if melting.
Xie Jing turned his head, gripping the sheets, knuckles white, biting his lips to stifle the muffled moan.
The candle flickered and burst with a small flame, finally burning down low and extinguishing.
The room was dark. Only muffled, indistinct sounds remained—blurring the line between pain and bliss.
