Chapter 20: The Magistrate's Son

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Yan Kuang was neither new to saving lives nor to having someone insist on following him. In the past, he feared that his identity might bring trouble to others. Although times had changed, it seemed even worse now than before.

Back then, at least he had a respectable status—fine clothes, sumptuous meals, a generous salary, and social standing. Danger existed, but as long as he kept a low profile, he could remain safe.

But now, he was utterly penniless, with no subordinates left. Those who wanted him dead could probably form a chain and march around the entire capital.

Yan Kuang fell silent for a moment before speaking: “Cheng Ru Yi—”

“Stop right there, Lord Yan,” Cheng Ru Yi interrupted immediately. “I know what you want to say… Your identity is sensitive, and you have many enemies. Those who want to kill you could line up from the Garrison Office all the way to the South City Gate. You’re barely managing on your own, so bringing me along would only be a huge burden… Hmm, but considering my feelings, you’re probably going to say it’s for my own good, not wanting to drag me into this mess, right?”

Cheng Ru Yi shrugged, showing a look of indifference.

Yan Kuang frowned, unable to refute him. “So, what then?”

Cheng Ru Yi rolled up his sleeves, raising his eyes seriously. “Yan Kuang, you know I didn’t want to live. Now, I have no name, no status in this world, no skills—except this face, the rest of me is covered in scars.”

Yan Kuang was momentarily stunned, about to speak when Cheng Ru Yi cut in again. “I’m not going to haunt you like a restless ghost. But I don’t know what to do or where to go, so I just drift like a lost soul. If you want to leave, go ahead. Tomorrow morning, I’ll return to the city gate and beg for food again. Just don’t bother me.”

Yan Kuang fell silent, his gaze fixed on him. Cheng Ru Yi felt uneasy under that stare and quickly said, “Lord Yan, what’s wrong? Do I look disfigured?”

Yan Kuang wanted to knock him out and leave, but reconsidered. Cheng Ru Yi’s words were true. His own situation was awkward, and being alone might not be any better than having him around.

He had saved him but then left him behind carelessly—he had indeed been thoughtless.

After some thought, Yan Kuang said, “Fine. I need someone to handle my affairs after I die. Come with me. When I die, all my money and belongings will be yours.”

“Sounds like a good deal… It’s a deal,” Cheng Ru Yi smiled and raised his hand, slapping it in front of Yan Kuang.

Yan Kuang didn’t understand and hesitated until Cheng Ru Yi grabbed his sleeve with his other hand. “Words aren’t enough. We need to seal it with a slap.”

Yan Kuang caught on, flipping his hand to slap three times with him. Cheng Ru Yi nodded in satisfaction.

Cheng Ru Yi quipped, “Very well. As my lord commands, your humble servant awaits your orders.”

Yan Kuang glanced at him, then couldn’t help but laugh. He thought to himself, this literate, wordy scholar—did he really expect to command him?

Seeing Yan Kuang’s normally somber face smile was rare, Cheng Ru Yi curiously tilted his head and asked, “Lord Yan, what are you laughing at?”

Yan Kuang quickly wiped away his smile and grumbled, “Not laughing,” before turning to put away his sword.

Cheng Ru Yi grabbed his sleeve, refusing to let go. “You clearly smiled! Admit it—was it because of me?”

Yan Kuang countered, “What, are you interrogating me?”

“Lord Yan, you flatter me. How could I dare—”

Suddenly, Cheng Ru Yi felt a tight grip on his wrist. Yan Kuang turned back and caught his hand. Cheng Ru Yi’s teasing eyes faltered when they met Yan Kuang’s.

Yet the man pressed closer, breaking the safe distance Cheng Ru Yi had maintained.

“Interrogation isn’t done this way.”

Yan Kuang gently lifted his wrist and pressed it against his chest. “First, you can’t be afraid. Second, if you’re going to tug on something, it should be the collar—not the sleeve.”

“I understand—”

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Cheng Ru Yi quickly pulled his hand back like a startled bird, then turned to the bed, kicked off his shoes, and pulled the blanket over himself.

“Understood... good night.”

After saying that, he turned away, leaving only his back to Yan Kuang.

“Good,” Yan Kuang responded, even obligingly extinguishing the lamp for him.

As darkness fell, Cheng Ru Yi closed his eyes but wanted to curse Yan Kuang in his heart. Yet he couldn’t find the words or the place to start. Lying on the soft bed, sleep promptly claimed him.

Half asleep and half awake, Cheng Ru Yi sensed Yan Kuang slipping into bed beside him. He didn’t want to admit it but had to confess… he felt safer sleeping next to him.

For many years before, he had to outwit death in his dreams. Now, with the King of Hell by his side, the spirits dared not approach.

He slept soundly until dawn, stretching with satisfaction.

“Lord Yan…?” Cheng Ru Yi reached out and patted beside him, only to find Yan Kuang gone, though the sword still hung by the bedside.

Getting up, Cheng Ru Yi noticed an oiled paper package on the table, weighed down by a note. He pulled out the note, which read simply:

“Do not wander off.”

Cheng Ru Yi scoffed, “These characters… I could dip a shrimp in ink and write better blindfolded than this.”

Unwrapping the paper, he found five warm steamed buns inside. Hastily, he tore one open—meat-filled.

He took a big bite, murmuring, “Even his buns come from Wang Lou’s. Quite generous.”

Glancing outside the door, he sighed, “He must have embezzled quite a bit over the years…”

…

Yan Kuang took a letter and headed alone toward the South Wine Alley.

That morning, after buying the buns, the shopkeeper stopped him to hand over the letter. Yan Kuang had no intention of paying it any mind until he saw the Han family seal on the envelope.

After much hesitation, he opened it. Inside was only four characters: “South Wine Alley.”

In the capital, every street and alley had its own character and function—tailors, fabric shops, jewelers, apothecaries, stables, restaurants, and so forth. The Wine Alleys were divided into North and South. The northern Wine Alley thrived, supplying nearly all the city’s alcohol, while the southern alley had long been deserted and sparsely populated.

It was the favored meeting spot for the city’s idle hooligans to settle scores or conduct shady business.

Yan Kuang wondered why Han Shaozhen had summoned him to such a place. As he stepped into the alley, a sudden noise behind him—chaotic footsteps, uneven and disorderly.

Ahead, a figure stood with hands behind his back, blocking the way as he strode arrogantly from a side shop.

Yan Kuang was surprised but quickly understood and his expression turned cold.

“Master Han.”

The young man blocking the path squinted and smiled. “Brother, the first time is unfamiliar, the second time is familiar. We’ve met before, so why act so distant now?”

The boy was about sixteen or seventeen, bearing a slight resemblance to Yan Kuang’s bone structure, his features decent but his demeanor haughty. He stepped forward, flicking open a golden folding fan with a bone frame. His luxurious silk robe gleamed under the midday sun, dazzling Yan Kuang’s eyes. The jingling of fragrant pouches, jade rings, and gold and silver ornaments at his waist accompanied each subtle movement.

Yan Kuang frowned. “It seems Lord Han has lifted your house arrest.”

He avoided looking directly at the ostentatiously adorned youth and turned his head. “However… using the Han family seal without permission will probably get you confined again immediately.”

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Han’s face fell at Yan Kuang’s words, his expression uneasy. He cleared his throat, attempting to keep up appearances. “You… you don’t have to use my father against me. I’m not afraid!”

“Master Han,” Yan Kuang’s usual aloofness now tinged with helplessness, “I will say this once more: Lord Han and I are not father and son. Please, Master Han, stop this pointless entanglement.”

Han waved his fan, tilting his head with feigned skepticism. “Is that so? But he’s been too good to you…”

Mentioning this, Han’s face filled with resentment, beginning to complain: “He’s treated you a hundred, even a thousand times better than me, his own son! Whatever delicious food, fun toys, or useful things he gets, the first thing he does is send them to you at the Garrison Office…”

“You say you’re not his illegitimate son. Do you expect me to believe that? He treats me like a fool, and you think I’m a fool too!”

Yan Kuang: “…”

Yan Kuang fell silent for a moment, looking at him with a complex expression before turning away. “Master Han, rest assured. I have resigned from my post and will leave the capital today. From now on, I will have nothing to do with Lord Han.”

Han nodded, his tone rising. “Yeah! I know, I know…”

“If there’s nothing else, I’ll take my leave.”

With that, Yan Kuang strode off.

“Hey! Don’t go!”

Han hurriedly reached out to grab him. As Yan Kuang turned, a crisp crack sounded—

Han howled in pain.

His accompanying servant rushed forward with others, catching the staggering, wailing Han and comforting him in a flurry of voices.

Yan Kuang slapped his forehead, helplessly glancing at his right hand. He thought: Damn it. Years of constant danger have made me accustomed to defending myself whenever someone lunges at me…

Han, clutching his broken wrist, wept bitterly. “It hurts! My hand is broken… I have the imperial exams and martial tests coming up…”

The servant hurried to soothe him. “Young master, you’re here; your hand is still intact!”

“Oh… that’s good to hear.” Han looked at his arm and gradually stopped choking back tears.

Yan Kuang swallowed his words of sympathy and walked toward Han, extending his hand again.

Han took a fearful step back. “Yan Kuang! You living hellspawn! Are you trying to tear me apart with your own hands?”

“What?! Yan Kuang??”

“The Yan Kuang from the Garrison Office…?”

“What… he’s the King of Hell!?”

Han’s words stirred a storm. The gathered ruffians panicked, trembling in their legs. Upon hearing they faced the infamous “Living King of Hell,” some fled immediately. The rest hesitated, unwilling to approach and retreating instead.

Yan Kuang said to Han, “I’ll set things right for you—”

“Run? What are you afraid of? I’m Master Han Shaozhen’s son! You all! You’re not allowed to retreat!”

Before Yan Kuang could finish saying “bone,” Han grabbed the nearest ruffian and shoved him forward forcefully. “You! Why the hell are you retreating? Get him! Get him down! I have questions for him!”

The crowd hesitated, unwilling to move. Han stomped furiously and shouted, “Attack! I’ll reward each of you with a gold bar later! If you don’t, I’ll take this man’s life myself!”

“Wait—” Yan Kuang didn’t want to hurt anyone, but with a large crowd rushing at him with bared teeth, he couldn’t stand still. Just as he was about to act, a familiar voice sounded behind him—