Golden Stage Chapter 15

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Shout-out to Leah and Fuu for all the ko-fis~ thank you, thank you~]

Yan Xiaohan had long since left the Estate when Fu Shen woke in the morrow. Their parting on bad terms last night was sensed to some unknown degree by the servants; it's abnormally silent today, as they feared one careless b.u.mp would set off his foul temper.

The review of Fu Shen's dream of old and remembrance of many past events left him contrarily not thinking that their dispute last night was any sort of big deal. Every person has their own ambitions, and he cannot demand that everyone follows ‘the correct path' like him. Furthermore, he's well aware of Yan Xiaohan's behavior where being kindhearted and honest was out of the question, but he was never as utterly cold and callous as he claimed himself to be.

Visitors came to the Marquis of Jing Ning's Estate in and endless flow today. Following the wake of Fu Shen's kneeling tall before the palace gates, the joint imperial admonishment of the six seated Imperial Censors, and the Duke of Ying's taking a leave of absence due to illness, there's an immeasurable amount of people in the capital wanting to see how this farce would end. Xiao Xun is, as he should be, bad at directly conveying Fu Shen's made-up gibberish, so he can only vaguely dance around it as ‘the Marquis is recuperating within Sir Yan's Estate'. However, that wording really let peoples' imaginations run wild; the more well-informed did a bit of asking around, heard that the Ministry of Rites was preparing a wedding between the two, and then knew that the Yan-Fu marriage ties were going to be firmly soldered into place.

In comparison, the Yan Estate is much more quiet. One reason being that Yan Xiaohan is still in Court and he blocked every attempt to try and get details, and the other that the Flying Dragon Guard has too much notoriety, making the amount of folks who were willing to a.s.sociate with him quite limited. Fu Shen is flexible by nature and spends his leisurely time in the Estate in comfort, thinking that this place was a hundred times better than his own weed-infested Marquis Estate. He had delightful, pretty maidservants, three varying square meals a day, and a million different kinds of snacks. Apart from having to hold his nose as he downed the bitter medicinal soup Shen Yi'ce concocted, everything was practically perfect.

Evening having released him from his duties, Yan Xiaohan heard Fu Shen sigh from within the room the moment he entered the courtyard. “…He Tiao's works are invaluable now, and there's so many that want a scroll of his but will never get one, yet he hangs it up so w.i.l.l.y-nilly… does your master understand what he's looking at?”

Since his arrival, the atmosphere of the Estate has been a bit insufficiently stable. A maid's tinkling laughter, not unlike a silver bell, floated out of the half-closed window. Yan Xiaohan stopped in his tracks, focusing in on that dainty sound. A sudden feeling that was steady yet disgruntled emitted from his heart.

His thoughts to himself were unreasonably incensing: the one who brings you medicine and water is obviously me, so the one who's accompanying you to appreciate art and drink tea should also be me. Why do you talk and joke around with those girls, yet with me, you're stingy with even your smiles?

He wanted to take another step forward, but it was like his feet were nailed to the ground. His dark state of mind swiftly cooling down, Yan Xiaohan mulled over the feelings he'd had just then one more through. As if he was vainly chewing on a handful of ice shards, he smiled with half-sourness, yet no bitterness, and asked himself something from the bottom of his heart. “Yeah. Why me?”

This step is one that he can't take, anyhow. He felt like a snail with a smashed sh.e.l.l, as after making a bad situation worse last night, he currently no longer has the support of a calm and collected suit of armor to face Fu Shen with.

Thinking as such, he turned himself around and retraced his steps back out the courtyard. Against expectations, a maid within the room had unusually sharp ears, glancing outside at the sound of departing footsteps just in time to catch who was currently walking. “Master has returned.”

The crowd hurriedly opened the door to welcome him in. Fu Shen turned his head away from the bookshelf, goji-jujube tea held in his hand and a smile in his eyes that had not yet dissipated, as if it had been intentionally maintained for him. “You're back,” he greeted.

Yan Xiaohan, having not received the cold face within his expectations, was in a daze. Fu Shen noticed his complexion was off. “What's wrong?” he asked with concern. “Did something happen?”

He turned to speak to the maids. “All of you go on and have the kitchen prepare dinner. I'm going to have a few words with your Master.”

That att.i.tude and posture was honestly like he was another lord of this Estate. Yan Xiaohan had never previously envisioned what kind of missus he'd take in the future – being a lonely old man all his life might have not been an impossibility – but this scene before him flowed as naturally and smoothly as if it were a stone rubbing of his heart's desire, surprisingly filling in the missing piece of his fantasies.

He was reluctant to think any more deeply about that, straightening out his emotions as he sat down opposite to Fu Shen. “The Ministry of Rites divined the wedding day to be the twelfth of February [1], the Flower Festival. As I see it, with the marriage decree having just been issued, if you go the Emperor and say that you want to return to Northern Yan, he'll definitely have one refute for every point you make. It would to be better to wait until the end of the year comes for you to form a full list of reasons, and make it clear that since you're on the eve of getting married, you have an earnest desire to return to Yan Prefecture to let your fellow soldiers know, and also to commemorate your father and uncles. If you set off in January and return to the capital in February, the Emperor will very likely permit it.”

Fu Shen pondered it for but a moment, nodding. “That makes sense. Go ahead, then.”

He had a flash of awareness that, ever since he started staying with Yan Xiaohan, the number of times he's said ‘go ahead' has taken a steep incline. It's an absolutely odd feeling; he didn't have any dissatisfaction with being deprived of decision-making power, but actually felt very freed of the burden. The reason for this was, if he was in his place, he would quite likely make the same decisions.

What's even rarer is that these decisions that Fu Shen can pick no faults out of are inevitably fully advantageous and without any harm to him. Yan Xiaohan is an ‘outsider' – for him to give thought to putting himself in his place would be incidental if done once or twice, but coming one after the other like this is a very deeply hidden intent to be considerate.

It feels pretty good to not have to worry about oneself. Fu Shen gave a faint, mental sigh. Were anyone to treat him with sincerity, he'd probably spoil them rotten.

The two's proper business done and over with, no further words were exchanged, and they sunk into a wave of awkward silence. A long time later, Fu Shen was the first to provoke a discussion. “You didn't look right just then. What's going on?”

Yan Xiaohan sat within a round-backed chair, back ramrod straight. “It's nothing,” he said with a shake of his head.

Fu Shen believes him to be devious, yet with all his sharp wit, guessing at Mister Yan's thoughts was like grasping a needle on the ocean's floor. [2] “Did you not sleep well, or… are you still mad about what happened last night?”

Yan Xiaohan's brows twitched and he looked to be a little surprised, but he didn't make a sound.

Fu Shen saw right through it. What came out of the man's mouth was ‘it's nothing', but what was written all over his face was ‘it's not nothing and I'm not going to say anything, come b.u.t.ter me up now'.

You're the spoiled one, he thought to himself.

His lips continued to ask things, however. “You really are mad? Because I made you get out yesterday?”

Yan Xiaohan huffed out of his nose with what greatly seemed like disdain.

Fu Shen resisted smiling, putting on a face of ‘since you've requested it of me, I will take on the difficult job of b.u.t.tering you up'. “I was wrong, I shouldn't have told you to get out. You're a magnanimous gentleman, so don't lower yourself to my level, hm?”

Yan Xiaohan looked at him intensely, his stare giving Fu Shen gooseb.u.mps as he boldly braced himself meeting it. A short moment later, Yan Xiaohan abruptly looked away, giving off a pfft as he began to laugh.

Fu Shen secretly sighed in relief, lifting a hand to feel at the bottom of his ear, which had gotten a bit hot.

He pondered this mystery: Am I sick? Why not just let him be mad and forget about it?

Yan Xiaohan didn't stop laughing for a very long time, the mock-tenderness Fu Shen had having already vanished into thin air by then. He shot him a glance, voice cool. “It's fine this time, but can you not throw fake little tantrums?”

Yan Xiaohan cupped his hand towards him. “Very well. Thank you for being so considerate, Marquis,” he said serenely.

Fu Shen sneered, turning his wheelchair around and going out the door. “How old are you? You have no shame.”

That night, the reconciled pair once again congregated in the same bedroom. It's not for business; it's just Yan Xiaohan's custom to give him a look over before bed. These days, Fu Shen's changings of clothes, was.h.i.+ngs, comings, goings, sitting ups, and laying downs were all personally aided by Yan Xiaohan. The sole exception was taking medicine due to him not being in the Estate during the daytime, and he wasn't personally observing its taking sans the first few days. A quarter of an hour before bedtime, a maid brought the medicine over just as Yan Xiaohan happened to be sent off to find a book from the study by Fu Shen. At the time of his return, Fu Shen was leaning on the headboard, and the medicine bowl on the table was already emptied.

Yan Xiaohan got a general sense that something was wrong here. He took the book to Fu Shen, giving a suspect look to the bowl. Fu Shen took note. “What are you looking at?” he asked casually.

Yan Xiaohan turned towards him, eyes skimming over the other's face as a dragonfly would skim over water. “Something's wrong.”

“Hm?”

“You drank your medicine?”

“I did. The bowl's there.” Fu Shen pointed it out.

“Lies and more lies.” Yan Xiaohan was extraordinarily angry. “Shall I get you a mirror to take a gander at your reflection? Your lips are completely dry! You drank it? What did you use to drink it with, your ears? Eyes? Do I need to get you medicine to fix your head?!”

“……”

It's all over. Being a crook isn't all fun and games, and he's been caught red-handed.

Yan Xiaohan took one look at his dumbstruck appearance and knew that this absolutely wasn't the first time he'd done this. He made an agitated circle around the room, ultimately kicking over a porcelain spittoon at the side of the bed. Lowering his head, he now had caught both the thief and his plunder.

Fu Shen sat on the bed compliantly, with the very earnest bearing of a man who's pleading guilty and being sentenced to death.

Yan Xiaohan pointed at him, barely managing to press down his irritation to go out and order people to decoct another bowl of medicine. Going back into the room and shutting the door, his face was dark. “Tell me. When did you start?”

Fu Shen gave a number of forced laughs. “Don't get mad. My windchill's fine now, it doesn't matter that much whether I take it or not…”

“‘Doesn't matter'?” Yan Xiaohan coldly shot back. “Who told you that you didn't need to take it? Shen Yi'ce, or me?”

“……”

It can be seen that he was working very hard to exercise patience and not have a falling out with him, all of his consideration for his health visible on the surface, yet Yan Xiaohan was unable to calm himself from the disgraceful matter of discovering the other's shortcoming and continued to jabber without pause. “You're relying on your youth to waste your health away – are you not thinking about what you'll do after you get older? How many wounds do you have that you don't even keep track of? If you don't treat the windchill properly, you might fall to another rooted sickness, and then you'll learn your lesson too late!”

Fu Shen's head hurt from his chattering. One aspect of his personality is that of a headstrong dictator, and no one has dared scold him like this for many years – it was originally he who was in the wrong, but what Yan Xiaohan is saying has instead incited his contrarianism. “Fine, you're just going on and on. You don't need to be so anxious, I certainly won't have you keep watch at the threshold like a widowed fiancé– sst!” [3]

Yan Xiaohan's hand was like lightning, clamping down on his chin. “Don't talk like that!” he bellowed.

He was truly enraged, the enormous force from his hand making Fu Shen feel like his jaw was about to be crushed. It was because of this, though, that he finally saw the flits of fear and pain in Yan Xiaohan's eyes.

His heart unexpectedly softened up.

Fu Shen is one who cannot be forced, but can be persuaded. It is particularly easier to break through his core's defenses when a consistently tenacious person occasionally displays a thread of weakness.

Besides, he was the one at fault.

He raised a hand to grasp Yan Xiaohan's right one that was muzzling him, lightly patting it a few times in a placating way. “Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I was wrong, alright?”

Yan Xiaohan's hand laxed, yet Fu Shen did not let go, continuing to weakly grip itin the palm of his own with a senseless kind of inseperable tenderness.

He lowered his eyes, the fire in his heart being mostly extinguished.

Yan Xiaohan let out a long sigh. “You infuriate me.”

Fu Shen hurriedly admitted his mistake and apologized, repeatedly a.s.suring that it was merely a momentary lapse in judgment on his part, and in the future he definitely will not be acting before he thinks. At the end of it all, he couldn't help but smile and shake his head. “What's happened today? All you've done is gotten real mad.”

Yan Xiaohan is still stern-faced, yet there's tiny upward arcs at the corners of his eyes. “The devil walks within the world,” he a.s.sessed crisply.

Having a careful think about it, ever since returning to the capital, the situation has taken a turn for the worst. The ambush and a.s.sa.s.sination, the plots and conspiracies, the Emperor's marriage sanction… which one of those does not make one feel worry deep within their heart, tossing and turning restlessly at night? Why is it that there's some meaningless, trifling happenings now, with two grown men playing house like small children, quarreling and then making up?

Shouldn't they be panicking in their free time?

The iron-boned Fu Shen and deep-thinking Yan Xiaohan appear to be a mighty storm bearing down from all directions to the outside world. Back underneath the same room, they turn out to be ordinary people just like anyone else, able to feel every emotion there is.

All because this is ‘home'.

The translator says: I refused to go to bed until I cranked this chapter out. I've been up 20 hours so far but I don't care.

[1] Ancient China went off lunar months as opposed to solar months, and they don't have special names for months. It's literally just ‘month #2' and such. For brevity/consistency's sake, I'll be using Gregorian terms, but I would like to point out that lunar years have less days in their months, thus the date for the Flower Festival on a solar calendar would actually be the 15th.
{2] 海底针 – means something difficult to grasp. Of important note is that the original, full idiom is 女人心海底针 – A maiden's thoughts are difficult to grasp.
[3] 望门寡 – “widow gazing at the threshold” refers to an engaged couple where the man dies before they actually get married (and cross the threshold). 守 is added to the beginning, making it “widow(er) keeping watch at the threshold”.