Wen Tian thought he was joking at first. Only after confirming several times did he realize Chu Xiangtian really meant it—he only wanted one room.
A bit embarrassed, Wen Tian lowered his eyes. “I asked Daifu to clean out the guest room. But that’s hardly a proper thank-you.
There’s an estate near the western mountains under my name—consider it a gift in return.”
He paused, and seeing Chu Xiangtian still smiling, looking as easygoing as ever, he tried to persuade him gently.
“Being a bandit can’t last forever. From what I’ve seen, the people in your camp aren’t ruthless criminals. Why not take them to the estate and start a new life?”
The more he said it, the more sense it made.
Chu Xiangtian hadn’t interrupted, so Wen Tian gathered his courage and continued coaxing the bandit leader—whose expression was growing increasingly complex—toward the path of virtue.
“There’s over a hundred mu of farmland next to the estate, and I’ve heard the harvests are decent every year. It should be enough to support everyone from your camp.”
He ended his pitch sincerely:
“It’s not easy being a bandit these days. Didn’t you say the imperial envoy is already in town? If a suppression campaign starts, it’ll be dangerous.”
He was like a small animal cautiously poking its head out from the mouth of a cave—first testing the air with one paw, then inching out further when it seemed safe.
Chu Xiangtian quietly observed his expression. Watching this little rabbit completely let down his guard and come hopping right up to him made it impossible to say no.
He reached out and ruffled Wen Tian’s hair. This time, Wen Tian didn’t flinch. He just sat there obediently, looking up at him with those soft, dewy eyes—completely disarming.
So obedient.
“Alright,” Chu Xiangtian said, pulling his hand back with a soft tsk of regret at the lingering fuzziness on his palm. But he agreed without hesitation.
His quick agreement caught Wen Tian off guard. He blinked at him, wide-eyed.
“But…” Chu Xiangtian leaned back lazily, his lips curving into a slow smile, eyes glinting with mischief.
“Once we move down there, I won’t have a place to stay anymore. I’ll need to crash at your place for a while.”
Wen Tian didn’t even think to refuse. Chu Xiangtian had given him hope when he’d been at his lowest, and whatever grudges had once been tallied in his mental ledger were now wiped clean.
If anything, his goodwill had grown.
In Wen Tian’s heart, Chu Xiangtian—the notorious bandit leader—had become a good person. A benefactor.
Wen Tian had always drawn lines around people in his life. The ones he trusted were inside the circle. Everyone else stayed out.
Chu Xiangtian had once stood far, far beyond that line—but now, he had been moved into the inner circle.
From now on, he was one of them. And if one of them wanted to live in his courtyard, for however long?
That was fine.
Seeing how soft and easygoing Wen Tian looked, Chu Xiangtian couldn’t help but push his luck a little further, playfully probing, “So I can stay as long as I want?”
Wen Tian nodded, eyes wide and obedient—nothing like the sharp-tongued boy who used to glare at the slightest provocation.
Chu Xiangtian was thrilled, but didn’t let it show. He leaned in just slightly, closing the distance.
“Then I’ll graciously accept.”
He was so close that Wen Tian could feel his warm breath. He blinked and, belatedly, inched away a little.
Chu Xiangtian raised an eyebrow, then casually adjusted his posture, pulling back just enough to make the space feel comfortable again.
With the pressure gone, Wen Tian visibly relaxed. He poured Chu Xiangtian a cup of tea, then curled up with a book.
Chu Xiangtian quietly watched him from the side.
The more he looked, the more he found this little young master irresistibly adorable—like a precious treasure he wanted to scoop up and hold tight.
Maybe even tuck away somewhere and raise him with care.
Too bad this treasure could run and bite.
Tapping his fingers thoughtfully on his knee, Chu Xiangtian’s gaze turned a shade wolfish as it landed on the blissfully unaware Wen Tian.
***
Wen Boli finally got the meeting he wanted with the Prefect of Nanming County.
Zhao Renhua was a man nearing fifty, known for his sharp eye in spotting talent and his fondness for recommending capable men. And Wen Boli?
He just happened to need someone like that.
The two hit it off instantly. Zhao Renhua admired Wen Boli’s intellect, and after a pleasant conversation, even invited him to stay for a meal.
Wen Boli had brought Bai Ruihe along—she was close with the prefect’s wife. The atmosphere during the meal was warm and full of laughter.
Afterward, as the four sat together sipping tea, the prefect’s wife “casually” remarked, “Lord Wen is truly blessed to have such a virtuous wife as Lady Ruihe.”
Bai Ruihe lowered her head shyly, casting a demure glance toward Wen Boli.
Wen Boli smiled.
“She’s been an immense help to me. It’s just a shame I can’t give her a proper title.”
Zhao Renhua was surprised.
“She isn’t your legal wife?”
A trace of bitterness crossed Wen Boli’s face.
“I’ve always treated Ruihe as such, but unfortunately, there’s a shrew back home with powerful family ties. I haven’t been able to divorce her, no matter what I try.”
“Outrageous!” Zhao Renhua slammed his cup down.
“I can’t believe something like that is happening under my jurisdiction!”
Wen Boli quickly smoothed things over with a flattering smile.
“You’re busy with the affairs of state—how could you possibly know about the little troubles of a backwater town like ours?”
“I’ve tolerated this long enough. Just a few days ago, I finally wrote a divorce letter. But the woman clings to the family business I’ve built and refuses to leave.”
Zhao Renhua’s expression turned stern.
“Such a woman should be thrown out!”
Wen Boli feigned reluctance.
“I’m just a simple businessman. If only…”
“Don’t worry about it!” Zhao Renhua clapped him on the shoulder.
“I’ll take care of it. Throw her out, and marry Lady Bai properly. She suits you far better.”
Bai Ruihe beamed, eyes full of affection as she glanced at Wen Boli, then shyly lowered her gaze again, revealing just a glimpse of her pale, slender neck.
The meal ended with everyone in high spirits. Wen Boli had gotten exactly what he wanted. That very night, he and Bai Ruihe rushed back to Sifang Town.
Before they left, Zhao Renhua gave him a recommendation letter and a sealed document clearly outlining the supposed reasons for the divorce—with the prefect’s personal seal.
Wen Boli patted the envelope tucked in his chest and imagined the moment he’d throw Fu Youqin out of the house. A cold smile crept onto his face.
***
The next day, Daifu prepared the eastern guest room, and Chu Xiangtian moved in.
It was close to Wen Tian’s main house, and everything inside—from furniture to fabric—was modeled after Wen Tian’s own use.
Chu Xiangtian thought back to that rickety bamboo cot he’d slept on in the beginning and couldn’t help but sigh. The little young master had really not liked him back then.
He wandered around the room with his hands behind his back, spotting fine silk clothes in the wardrobe. His smile deepened as he turned and headed to the study.
Now that the danger had passed, Wen Tian had buried himself in books again. If you ever wanted to find him, the study was always the right place.
Chu Xiangtian quietly pushed open the door. Wen Tian sat upright, holding a brush and taking notes with laser focus.
Sitting across from him, Chu Xiangtian watched for a moment, then suddenly said, “Want me to find you a teacher?”
Wen Tian was much more familiar with him now. Without looking up, he replied, “You know any scholars?”
It wasn’t that he looked down on him, but it was hard to imagine bandits and scholars in the same sentence.
Chu Xiangtian’s mouth twitched.
“You’ll see. How about a third-place honor graduate from the imperial exam?”
Wen Tian instinctively assumed he was bluffing. But then again, aside from the teasing, Chu Xiangtian rarely lied.
So this time, he didn’t question it. He just nodded obediently.
Too cute.
Chu Xiangtian stood, ruffled his hair again, and headed off to drag Zhou Chuanqing down from the mountain to give the young master a few lessons.
The guy was a ranking scholar—at least good enough to help Wen Tian qualify as a juren (provincial-level scholar).
But no sooner had Chu Xiangtian left than Wen Boli arrived with a group of people.
He brought Bai Ruihe, her son, and two fierce-looking government soldiers. Now that he had the prefect’s backing, even the county magistrate treated him politely and had sent these guards to assist.
Gone was the defeated man who had slunk away. Wen Boli now stood at the Wen estate gate, arrogant as ever.
The gatekeeper had been warned by the steward not to let the master in without clearance.
“Sir, please wait while I announce your arrival.”
“When did I need permission to enter my own home?” Wen Boli snapped, brushing past the servant.
Just then, Wen Ji and two other servants stepped in to block him.
“Sir, Madam isn’t home. Please wait in the main hall.”
“This is how you treat the master of the house? Who’s in charge here?!”
Wen Ji stood still, head bowed, respectful but unmoving.
The soldiers, seeing an opportunity to curry favor, cracked their knuckles and stepped forward.
“Who dares?” came a sharp voice.
Wen Tian had arrived, followed by four or five strong servants. They quickly surrounded the guards and Wen Boli. The tables turned instantly.
Wen Ji, relieved, whispered to Wen Tian that Madam Fu was already on her way back.
Facing Wen Boli squarely, Wen Tian didn’t bother with pleasantries anymore.
“Here to pack your things? I had them prepared for you.”
“You ungrateful brat!” Wen Boli shouted, trembling with rage.
“Do you even recognize me as your father?”
Wen Tian replied calmly, “You don’t see me as a son. So I don’t see you as a father.”
Outnumbered, Wen Boli could only fume and retreat to the hall.
There, Fu Youqin finally arrived and took her place beside her son. Calm and composed, she sipped tea and asked, “Are you here to deliver the divorce papers?”
Wen Boli’s face twitched. He slammed down a sealed document.
“No, but if you’ll sign this letter of divorce, I’ll forget the past.”
Fu Youqin stared at him like he’d lost his mind. Then she smiled, picked up the paper—and ripped it to shreds.
“You’re the live-in son-in-law. What gives you the right to divorce me?” She sipped her tea again.
“If anything, I’m the one divorcing you.”
Wen Boli flushed with humiliation. Quietly, he asked the guards if they could bring more men.
The guards, having lost face earlier, were eager to redeem themselves. One slipped out to fetch reinforcements.
Fu Youqin noticed and signaled to Wen Ji, who quickly followed.
Inside, tensions escalated. Both sides waited for the next move.
Meanwhile, Chu Xiangtian was returning on horseback with Zhou Chuanqing when they spotted a unit of armed soldiers rushing toward the Wen estate.
“What are those idiots up to now?” Chu Xiangtian grumbled.
But this wasn’t the battlefield, so he couldn’t just charge in with swords swinging… or so he thought.
“I heard the Prefect has been arrested. If the timetable’s right, Sifang Town is next.”
Chu Xiangtian nodded, spurred his horse, and galloped toward the estate.
Maybe telling the young master early would earn him another reward.
But when they arrived, the place was surrounded.
Chu Xiangtian’s eyes narrowed. Without dismounting, he kicked his horse hard—hoofbeats thundered as he charged straight into the manor.
Guards who tried to stop him were knocked flying.
Zhou Chuanqing wanted to follow, but thought better of it and rode off to notify their allies.
Inside, Chu Xiangtian dismounted and stormed through the corridor. Two sides were in a standoff.
Wen Tian stood at the front, shoulder to shoulder with Fu Youqin, servants behind them. The guards had them outnumbered two to one.
A wave of fury surged in Chu Xiangtian. He strode forward, radiating menace. Anyone who tried to block him went down with a scream.
Once he reached Wen Tian, he dropped the act. The sharpness melted from his eyes as he looked down at him gently.
“You okay?” he asked, soft and low.
He’d only been gone a little while—and someone had dared to bully his little rabbit.
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