Two grand carriages rolled into Sifang Town, one after the other.
The East Street was never short on foot traffic.
Pedestrians and roadside vendors alike paused to gawk at the carriages making their slow way down the center of the road, whispering among themselves in hushed tones of curiosity.
The first carriage was instantly recognizable—anyone in town could tell it belonged to the Wen family. But it was the second carriage that sparked endless speculation.
Especially the man driving it—he had the fierce, menacing air of someone you didn’t want to cross. His presence alone sent a chill down people’s spines.
Word of the Wen family’s young master being kidnapped was still the hottest gossip in town.
Ever since the government troops pulled out that very morning, rumors had spread like wildfire, each version wilder than the last.
The conversation between Chu Xiangtian and Fu Youqin had been overheard and twisted beyond recognition.
A simple “The young master and I hit it off” had been warped into: “The bandit chief from West Mountain has fallen for Young Master Wen and plans to keep him as his bride.”
In Da Chu, where the southern winds brought more liberal customs, it wasn’t unheard of for nobles to keep male companions.
Among commoners, sworn brotherhoods and same-sex companionships were not uncommon either. So this particular rumor, scandalous as it sounded, still carried a ring of plausibility.
The carriage turned off East Street and entered Fuxi Lane. Townsfolk who had followed it with their eyes now gathered more closely.
Someone in the crowd suddenly blurted out, “That’s the bandit chief from West Mountain driving the carriage!”
That one line was like tossing a stone into a calm lake—ripples exploded in every direction.
“I knew that man didn’t look like an ordinary coachman.”
“A bandit chief! No wonder he looked so terrifying!”
“So the rumors are true? The bandit and the young master of the Wen family are actually…?”
The murmurs turned into an uproar.
“Of course it’s true! Why else would the bandits agree to release him? The Wen family must’ve promised him in marriage. Think about it—why else would the chief come back to town with him?”
It was a theory that, while completely baseless, made perfect sense to everyone listening. Approval swept through the crowd like wildfire.
But not all were entertained. Some sighed and shook their heads.
“Poor Young Master Wen… Such a delicate boy, and now he’s been ruined by a bandit…”
Inside the carriage, Wen Tian could vaguely hear the murmuring outside. His face flushed red—half with shame, half with fury.
By the time the carriage came to a stop in front of the Wen residence, he was seething.
When Chu Xiangtian reached out to help him down, he brushed him off and insisted on being supported by Daifu instead, hobbling out at a snail’s pace.
Chu Xiangtian retracted his hand, not entirely sure why Wen Tian was so angry. But watching the little master sulk was unexpectedly amusing. Even when he was mad, he looked charming.
At the gates of the Wen manor, a brazier burned to ward off evil. Wen Bolai and Wen Shuyue stood waiting with a group of servants.
Fu Youqin stepped down from the other carriage. When she saw Wen Tian’s injured leg, her face twisted with worry. She immediately called for someone to carry him in.
“I’ll do it,” Chu Xiangtian offered, crouching down to give the boy a lift.
But Wen Tian, still fuming from the rumors and emboldened by being back on home turf, waved him off with a scowl.
“Laifu,” he called to a tall servant, “carry me.”
Then, turning to Chu Xiangtian with barely concealed disdain, he said coolly, “Thank you for escorting me home, Master Chu. I’m injured and unable to see you out. Please take care on your way.”
Polite words. But his expression said, “Get lost—I never want to see you again.”
Chu Xiangtian raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. This little prince really knew how to put on a show.
“Since I’m already in town for some business,” he said deliberately, “might I trouble your esteemed household for a place to rest?”
Wen Tian’s brows shot up.
“Absolutely not. Daifu, show him out!”
He didn’t even glance back as he ordered Laifu to carry him through the gate, utterly ignoring the man beside him.
Chu Xiangtian stroked his chin and let out a click of the tongue.
Who would’ve thought this delicate little creature, who had been as obedient as a rabbit in the mountains, would turn so bold the moment he returned to his burrow?
Fu Youqin, noticing his gaze lingering on Wen Tian, stepped forward with a long wooden box.
“Thank you for your great assistance. Our family is busy today and won’t be able to send you off properly. Please accept this small token of appreciation.”
Chu Xiangtian raised an eyebrow at the box, which was no larger than a forearm but surprisingly heavy. Judging by the weight, it was likely filled with silver.
He placed it atop the Wen family’s carriage without a second thought.
“There’s no need, Madam Wen. The young master and I are friends. Helping him was merely a small favor between friends.”
Fu Youqin’s smile faltered for the briefest moment. Clearly, she hadn’t expected him to be so shameless.
She suppressed the irritation rising on her face and said coolly, “Tian’er is still young. He’s not someone worthy of such affection from a bandit chief.”
“If silver feels too vulgar,” she added after a pause, “we have a small estate near the West Mountain with a pleasant environment. Consider it a thank-you gift.”
Chu Xiangtian could easily see that she was trying to draw a clear line between them. He smiled, but didn’t accept the offer.
Then, after a moment’s pause, he cupped his hands politely and asked, “Madam, might I have a word in private?”
“There’s no need to talk to this bandit,” Wen Bolai snapped, stepping forward at last.
He had grown more and more resentful over the past few days. After Wen Tian’s abduction, Fu Youqin had argued with him constantly.
She hadn’t spoken to him kindly since, and even their daughter had started acting cold toward him.
His pride and temper had been simmering for days—and now, the sight of his wife exchanging pleasantries with a bandit was the final straw.
A respectable household, reduced to consorting with criminals. He could already imagine the whispers that would spread through town.
All the reputation he’d built over the years—gone in an instant. His face burned with humiliation.
Chu Xiangtian glanced at him with cold indifference. Just one look made Wen Bolai’s blood freeze. He involuntarily took a step back.
Chu Xiangtian let out a soft scoff and turned to Fu Youqin.
“You’re quite the woman, Madam Wen.”
Fu Youqin’s expression remained unchanged.
“If you have something to say, say it.”
“Not here,” he said with a smile.
“Too many ears.”
After a brief moment of hesitation, she dismissed the servants and followed him behind one of the carriages, letting its bulk block them from view.
From his waist, Chu Xiangtian produced a rectangular gold token and showed it to her.
“I’m on official business,” he said quietly.
“I’ll need to stay here a few days.”
The token was solid gold, engraved with swirling cloud motifs and the bold characters for “Ministry of War.”
On the back, in tiny, precise script, were the words: Order of the Deputy Minister of War, Pingchu Province.
Fu Youqin’s eyes narrowed. It was either real—or an extremely bold forgery. But falsifying a government official’s seal was a capital crime. No one in their right mind would hand over a fake.
Which meant… it had to be genuine.
She sighed softly.
“Then Young Master Chu may stay in the guest wing.”
When the two reemerged from behind the carriage, Wen Bolai had already disappeared. Only Wen Shuyue and the servants remained, waiting silently.
“Wen Ji,” she called. “Arrange for Master Chu to stay in the guest courtyard. He’ll be lodging with us for a few days.”
Wen Ji, the steward, looked surprised but quickly stepped forward and bowed.
“Please, this way, Master Chu.”