Changxi crouched in front of Wen Tian, his face twisted in conflicted thought as he mulled over the suggestion.
But he was a man of one-track thinking—never good with twists and turns. After fretting for a long while, he suddenly slapped his thigh.
Since they’d captured the wrong person, why not just let him go before the boss got back?
He could beat up the others and threaten them into silence—then pretend nothing had ever happened!
Changxi felt deeply that this was a brilliant, pain-free idea. So he stood up and began untying Wen Tian’s ropes, gruffly warning, “Don’t make a sound. I’ll sneak you off the mountain in a bit.”
Delighted, Wen Tian nodded obediently and stayed still to let him work.
Neither of them noticed the two people entering the room.
Chu Xiangtian had just returned from closing a deal outside. The moment he stepped in, he saw Changxi bent over with his backside stuck out, fiddling with something by the pillar.
Changxi was big and burly, completely blocking Wen Tian from view.
“Changxi, what the hell are you doing?” Chu Xiangtian narrowed his eyes and gave him a swift kick.
Caught off guard, Changxi stumbled forward, crashing his chest right into Wen Tian’s nose. Wen Tian cried out in pain, tears instantly streaming down his face.
Only then did Chu Xiangtian notice there was someone tied to the post.
Flustered, Changxi scrambled to his feet, eyes darting with guilt. “B-Boss, you’re back already?”
Chu Xiangtian’s gaze landed on Wen Tian. He tipped his chin. “Who is this?”
Changxi cast a guilty glance at the tear-streaked Wen Tian and stammered, then suddenly had a stroke of inspiration.
“I picked him up on the road! You said you liked men, didn’t you? So I brought him back for you!”
As he spoke, he gestured toward Wen Tian.
“Look at that face, that waist, those legs… heh.”
Chu Xiangtian raised an eyebrow, his gaze trailing along Wen Tian’s body, stroking his chin. “Not bad.”
Wen Tian, who had just been sold out: Changxi’s headbutt had left him dazed, pain buzzing in his skull.
With tears still blurring his eyes, he vaguely caught the gist of their conversation. Furious, he looked up to protest—only to meet Chu Xiangtian’s dark, unreadable gaze.
Chu Xiangtian studied him with amusement, stepping forward and pinching his chin, eyes narrowing as he examined him. “You really are a beauty…”
The grip on his chin was strong, making Wen Tian’s eyes turn even redder.
He choked out, “I’m not Jiao Changxian. You’ve got the wrong person…”
Chu Xiangtian clicked his tongue, releasing him with a frown.
“No need to cry, I’m not going to eat you.”
Then he turned to Changxi.
“Didn’t you say you picked him up on the road?”
Changxi, who had been slowly inching toward the door, froze. He hunched his shoulders like a scolded dog.
“I did! Just… just at the foot of the mountain!”
Zhou Chuanqing, who had been silent until now, chuckled and came to his rescue.
“Enough, stop making things up. The boss and I just got back from Sifang Town.”
“The young master of the Wen family was kidnapped by bandits from West Mountain. The whole town’s in an uproar.”
“The Wens have already reported it to the authorities and are working out a rescue plan. The boss and I heard the rumors and came back early.”
Chu Xiangtian kicked Changxi again, then sat down grandly in the tiger-skin chair, fingers drumming on his knee.
“Speak. What happened?”
Seeing the boss didn’t seem ready to beat him senseless, Changxi breathed a sigh of relief and told the full story. By the end, he looked quite aggrieved.
“I was just trying to get revenge for Xiao Qiao. Who knew I’d grab the wrong guy…”
“When will you ever grow a brain?” Chu Xiangtian gave up on hoping. He waved him off.
“Go find Xiao Qiao. The firewood for this month and next is all yours.”
Firewood duty. But hearing it wasn’t a beating, Changxi lit up and dashed off with a cheerful “Thanks, Boss!”
Leaving Wen Tian alone with the other two.
Sniffling, Wen Tian awkwardly craned his neck to look at Chu Xiangtian.
“You’ve got the wrong guy. Can you let me go home now?”
Chu Xiangtian couldn’t help laughing. He walked up and looked down at him, amused.
“Since you’re already here, why not stay a few days as our guest? Not just anyone gets the honor of visiting West Mountain Fortress.”
Wen Tian: Who the hell wants to visit a bandit den as a guest?!
“How much ransom do you want?” he asked seriously.
“Send word to my family. My mother will send someone with the money.”
Realizing this man wasn’t as easy to manipulate as Changxi, Wen Tian decided to cut to the point.
Chu Xiangtian tsked.
“What do we need ransom for? We don’t rob honest folks. I just happen to like your face and thought I’d keep you around for a few days.”
Wen Tian’s eyes widened in disbelief. This guy’s insane!
Chu Xiangtian personally untied the ropes. His hand paused slightly as it brushed Wen Tian’s delicate ankle, then he turned to Zhou Chuanqing.
“Find our young master a place to stay. Don’t be rude.”
Zhou Chuanqing, handsome and always smiling, gave a polite nod.
“Come with me, please.”
Wen Tian didn’t want to go, but knew better than to resist. Rubbing his bruised wrist, he quietly followed.
The place they’d been in was the main hall. Outside it stood a watchtower, and Wen Tian spotted figures pacing atop it.
Behind the hall lay the living quarters, which looked surprisingly… ordinary.
Two rows of neat houses lined a flat road, with trees planted at each doorway. Laundry fluttered from the branches.
Zhou Chuanqing stopped at the third tree and knocked.
“Xiao Qiao, are you in?”
A soft voice answered. The girl they’d seen earlier stepped out.
“Yes, Strategist?”
“The boss wants to host Young Master Wen as a guest for a few days. Set up a room for him—don’t let him go unattended.”
Xiao Qiao looked Wen Tian up and down with a flicker of confusion but said nothing.
“Understood. I’ll take care of it.”
“The place is simple,” Zhou Chuanqing added courteously.
“If you need anything, just ask her.” Then, saying he had other tasks, he left Wen Tian with Xiao Qiao.
It really did feel like he was a guest, not a hostage.
Wen Tian stood there, baffled.
Xiao Qiao welcomed him in. The house was small but clean. The central room had a shrine to Guan Gong and an old Eight Immortals table.
Two bedrooms sat on either side. Xiao Qiao opened the one on the left.
“You’ll stay here. I just aired out the bedding two days ago.”
Wen Tian discreetly studied her, silently wondering whether he could overpower her and escape.
She noticed nothing and kept tidying.
“Have you eaten lunch yet, Young Master Wen? If not, you can eat with us later.”
Wen Tian rubbed his stomach and nodded honestly.
“Not yet.”
She looked at him with a softened expression.
“Alright. I’ll call you when it’s time.”
She hoisted a wooden chest easily. It was almost the size of the Eight Immortals table—but she lifted it like it was nothing.
Wen Tian swallowed and stepped aside, quietly abandoning any half-baked escape plans.
At lunchtime, she did come to fetch him.
Meals were communal in the West Mountain Fortress. The kitchen and dining hall were in a large house to the right of the main hall.
Smoke curled lazily from the chimney.
The entire village was headed that way. As Wen Tian walked past, every single person glanced at him with curiosity.
No wonder. Outsiders were rare here, and Wen Tian’s striking red robes and refined looks made him hard to ignore.
The hall was filled with long tables. Everyone queued with bowls for food.
Xiao Qiao took Wen Tian to a seat, then cut to the front of the line to get their meals—two meat dishes and a vegetable.
Wen Tian looked at the heaping bowl and thought, Not bad for a bandit den.
After thanking her, he picked up his chopsticks and began eating slowly. Since he couldn’t leave yet, he might as well keep up his strength in case a chance to escape came along.
Chu Xiangtian entered and immediately spotted him.
In red silk at a rough wooden table, Wen Tian’s pale, slender fingers gripped the dark chopsticks. Even without speaking, he stood out like a flame in a cave.
Especially with that noble air—so out of place among bandits.
“Is the food to your taste, Young Master Wen?” Chu Xiangtian strolled over and sat across from him, eyes sharp.
Wen Tian paused, put down his chopsticks, and met his gaze coolly.
“It’s fine.”
Chu Xiangtian smiled. His eyes dropped to Wen Tian’s lips, then he suddenly reached out and wiped something away.
Wen Tian flinched back but couldn’t avoid the touch. That rough finger brushed his lips briefly—but enough to make his skin crawl. He glared.
“What are you doing?!”
“You had oil on your lips,” Chu Xiangtian said innocently, showing him his thumb—slick with oil.
Wen Tian flushed with anger. He could tell the man was messing with him. And remembering what Changxi had said about his preferences, he grew even more wary.
“I can wipe my own mouth. No need for your help, Chief Chu.”
Chu Xiangtian laughed, watching the indignant young noble puff up like a startled bunny.
“Alright, alright.” He clicked his tongue regretfully and waved him off.
Wen Tian clutched his bowl and sat as far away as possible. Chu Xiangtian said nothing more and ate silently.
Despite his speed, he ate gracefully, every movement elegant and refined. Wen Tian shot him a sideways glance.
Noticing, Chu Xiangtian raised a brow.
“What? Need to watch me eat before you can?”
“…No.” Just as Wen Tian started thinking the man might have some class, he opened his mouth and ruined it. Scowling, Wen Tian said nothing more and finished his meal.
Chu Xiangtian didn’t push further. Once Wen Tian finished, he left.
Finally free from that intense gaze, Wen Tian exhaled and made his way back.
He walked slowly, observing everything. The village was ringed with thick logs and sharpened bamboo—no way he could climb that. He needed another plan.
That afternoon, he sat under the tree outside Xiao Qiao’s home.
The villagers were all busy—men were nowhere to be seen, women were washing, weaving, making baskets. Even the children were helping. Wen Tian, oddly, was the most idle person here.
No one watched him closely. He wandered freely and walked half the perimeter, discovering the village was larger than he thought.
Beyond the outer fence lay fields, and the missing men were all working there.
Honestly, it didn’t feel like a bandit hideout at all. More like a normal, peaceful village.
Wen Tian returned with a sigh and sat down again, wondering how his family was faring. His mother and sister were probably frantic by now.
After dinner, he went to rest early. Shedding the heavy ceremonial robe, he lay down in his underclothes.
The moment his back touched the bed, a sharp pain shot through him. He jerked up, wincing, and carefully peeled off his shirt to look.
A large bruise had blossomed along his side, dark and angry. He ran his fingers over it and winced. That must have come from when Changxi slammed into him earlier.
It hadn’t hurt much during the day—but now it throbbed.
Sucking in a breath, he dressed again and went to ask Xiao Qiao for medicinal wine.
She offered to take a look at the injury, but Wen Tian, too embarrassed to let a girl see, declined politely. She just handed him the wine.
Back in his room, Wen Tian stripped and tried to examine the bruise using a small bronze mirror. His back, especially around the shoulder blade, was black and purple.
Just then—“The wine’s here,” Chu Xiangtian said, pushing the door open—only to freeze as his eyes landed on Wen Tian’s bareback.
He paused, gaze locked. Wen Tian’s skin was even fairer than his face, glowing under the candlelight. His chest bore two soft pink buds, and even his belly button was strangely… pretty.
Startled, Wen Tian quickly pulled the robe up around his waist, his face flushing.
“Why didn’t you knock?!”
Chu Xiangtian raised a brow. “It’s my place. Why would I knock?”
Wen Tian: …!
Furious but unable to yell at him, Wen Tian put on his outer robe too.
“So why are you here so late, Chief Chu?”
“Xiao Qiao said you were hurt. I came to check,” Chu Xiangtian said, placing the wine on the table.
“Take off your shirt. Let me see.”