Chapter 0122: Flower-Picking Thief Lacking Martial Morality, Xie Chengze Truly Resembles a Dog

On a dark and windy night, perfect for clandestine encounters.

Er Dangjia, concerned about his wife’s delicate health and worried the brothers’ drinking might disturb her, had arranged for her to stay in an exceptionally secluded and clean wooden cabin.

Little did he know this would conveniently accommodate a certain “flower-picking thief.”

The side window creaked open a crack. Slender, distinct fingers gripped the horizontal bar at the windowsill, lifting it gently. A pair of long legs clad in black boots soundlessly entered the room, revealing a tall, straight figure illuminated by the mountain moonlight streaming in—clear and bright under the luminous moon.

The candle inside had been extinguished. Shen Yuan quietly closed the window and moved silently to the heated kang bed.

The kang was warm and cozy. Xie Chengze was curled up under the quilt, only his head visible. His phoenix eyes were narrowed as if lost in dreams, his dark, thick lashes trembling slightly, tempting one to tease them.

Shen Yuan stood with his hands behind his back, looking down at the young man’s peaceful “sleeping face,” and said softly, “Stop pretending. I know you’re awake.”

The young man on the kang remained motionless, his breathing growing even steadier—so steady it aroused suspicion.

Shen Yuan raised an eyebrow slightly, bringing his hand from behind his back. In his palm, he held a handful of snow he had somehow gathered, and with lightning speed, he stuffed it into the young man’s neck.

“Damn it!”

Xie Chengze jolted from the cold, his eyes flying wide open as he scrambled out from under the quilt, frantically brushing the snow off his neck. “You scoundrel! You have no martial morality!”

Shen Yuan brushed the snow off his hands and said leisurely, “Your Highness knew I was coming yet still pretended to sleep. Clearly, your intentions are hard to decipher.”

“How was I supposed to know when you’d show up? What if you were being perverse and decided to come at dawn? I couldn’t wait up all night for you!” Xie Chengze argued, though his reasoning was flawed.

“Your skill in shifting blame is truly remarkable,” Shen Yuan scoffed, then sat down, handing over a handkerchief. “Why has Your Highness come? Could it be that as soon as you heard of my disappearance, you immediately requested to leave Jingcheng and rushed to Liaozhou without rest to rescue me?”

There was a hint of teasing in the man’s smile, as if mocking someone’s unnecessary worry. Xie Chengze secretly regretted not riding a donkey instead of a horse on his journey.

At least then, when Shen Yuan asked, he could righteously deny rushing without rest—claiming he came without the donkey stopping.

Pouting, Xie Chengze took the handkerchief and wiped the melted snow from his neck. “If you insist on thinking that, then so be it. After all, I care for my subjects like my own children, especially one who once swore that if he lost to me, he’d call me ‘Father.'”

Shen Yuan: …

Sharp-tongued and cunning.

“What about the craftsmen now?” Xie Chengze asked. “You stayed here to rescue them, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but not only for that.” Shen Yuan glanced at Xie Chengze, noticing his puzzled expression, and his eyes flickered briefly.

He said casually, “Does Your Highness remember where Consort Hua’s hometown is?”

Consort Hua?

Wasn’t that the original host’s mother?

Xie Chengze pursed his lips, racking his brains to recall.

In the original book, Consort Hua made few appearances, being deceased and mostly living through others’ recollections. She was known for her straightforward and bold personality, wielding an exceptional whip. Even among the palace consorts, she was both loved and resented.

As for her hometown…

Such a detailed piece of information, he truly couldn’t remember.

But Shen Yuan bringing it up at this moment and place suggested a connection. Could it be… “Liaozhou?”

His questioning tone deepened the intensity in Shen Yuan’s eyes, who looked down at Xie Chengze with profound meaning.

While investigating Consort Hua, though Shen Yuan hadn’t uncovered her true cause of death, he knew that the Second Prince had shared a loving mother-son bond with her in his childhood. Before marrying into the palace, Consort Hua had been a martial artist in the jianghu and often took the young Second Prince out of the palace to broaden his horizons, which undoubtedly included her hometown, Liaozhou.

Though Consort Hua’s parents had passed away, her martial arts master resided in Liaozhou. After saving Wuhen and Wuji, she sent them to Liaozhou to train in martial arts. Therefore, whether from visiting Liaozhou as a child or having Wuhen and Wuji constantly by his side, Xie Chengze shouldn’t have been unaware of Consort Hua’s hometown.

At the very least, the Xie Chengze of his past life wouldn’t have been ignorant of it.

Shen Yuan lifted his head and sighed, “Your Highness is mistaken. It was Shangjing.”

“Ah!” Xie Chengze slapped his palm, feigning sudden realization. “Now I remember! It was indeed Shangjing. Those two places are quite close—I must have mixed them up.”

“…” Shen Yuan gazed deeply at Xie Chengze. “Your Highness, I was testing you just now. Consort Hua’s hometown is Liaozhou.”

Xie Chengze: …

Xie Chengze: Damn it! I let my guard down!

“You tricked me?” Xie Chengze, somewhat defenseless, decided to throw caution to the wind. “Fine! I’m an unfilial son who forgot his own mother’s hometown! So what!”

Shen Yuan sighed again. “Of course, it’s not a matter of ‘so what.’ But if Your Highness had a strained relationship with the Consort, it might be difficult to win over these mountain bandits.”

Xie Chengze snapped his head toward him. “What do you mean by that?”

Shen Yuan glanced at him and deliberately mused, “Does Your Highness truly wish to know?”

“Of course!” Xie Chengze excitedly shifted closer, sitting beside him, and even generously pulled the warm, incense-scented quilt over Shen Yuan. Like a child huddled under blankets listening to ghost stories late at night, he asked expectantly, “Hurry up and tell me, I’m listening!”

“But I don’t trust Your Highness enough to say.” Shen Yuan shook his head.

The smile on Xie Chengze’s face stiffened slightly. “Stop joking.”

“I’m not joking.” Shen Yuan pushed the quilt aside and fixed a profound gaze on the young man. “In what way has Your Highness earned my trust?”

The man’s serious expression showed no pretense, as if he genuinely distrusted this Second Prince, hence his frank admission of reservation.

Yet such words were like a depth charge, striking the young man’s sore spot. For a moment, Xie Chengze’s ears rang with shock, a surge of anger rising to his heart. His tone turned sharp. “Shen Yuan, are you messing with me?”

Xie Chengze abruptly sprang up from the kang, gripping the collar of Shen Yuan’s robe near his neck and glaring down at him furiously. “I rushed nonstop from the capital to Liaozhou—my ass is practically numb from the ride! To find you, I even disguised myself as a woman and risked being captured into this Qianjin Zhai, not even sure if you were here! And now you say you don’t trust me?”

His eyes reddened with anger, the exhaustion and grievances from days of rushing erupting at this moment. It was as if someone had viciously poked his weak spot, leaving him helpless and unbearably sad. “Then do you trust the Crown Prince? Since you trust him so much, why haven’t we seen your precious Crown Prince coming to rescue you! Instead, it’s me—this good-for-nothing, ruthless, untrustworthy Second Prince—who came to save you!”

Just one day—just one more day and he could have obtained his passport to find his parents. Yet he had been struck dead on the street. The wild joy he felt upon regaining consciousness was matched only by the utter despair of discovering the face in the mirror wasn’t his own.

He knew all too clearly how corrupt and filthy the court was, how impoverished and suffering the common people were. The antagonists eyed the throne covetously, believing the son of a beggar unworthy of such supreme power. The righteous factions pointed fingers at him, insisting someone without a drop of royal blood had no right to strut arrogantly in the imperial court.

Both his life and his position hung by a thread.

He feared Emperor Jian and the Crown Prince’s “indulgence” would vanish once they discovered he wasn’t the true Second Prince. He feared Wuhen Wuji’s “loyalty” would turn to betrayal upon learning his true identity. He feared his own inadequacies might get him killed by the antagonists before Shen Yuan even had the chance. He also dreaded this backward dynasty’s gradual collapse, leaving him drifting alone in this foreign world with no path back home.

He had repeatedly screened this world for trustworthy individuals, ultimately settling on Shen Yuan—the righteous, loyal protagonist who would never betray his master and had often urged the original host to mend his ways.

When he discovered Shen Yuan was a reincarnator, his joy knew no bounds, for it meant only the two of them were special in this world, potential kindred spirits.

Though transmigration and reincarnation differed, he felt he had finally found a companion and yearned for Shen Yuan’s trust. He cautiously probed and felt his way, hoping Shen Yuan would stand by his side, even fearing something might happen to Shen Yuan, leaving him alone to face this unfamiliar world.

This was a reader’s instinctive reliance on the story’s protagonist during moments of desperate uncertainty.

Thus, when he heard Shen Yuan say he didn’t trust him, Xie Chengze felt not only helpless but also profoundly afraid and lost.

The reincarnated Shen Yuan had one flaw: his past experiences made him trust only the Crown Prince, not Xie Chengze. Even though Xie Chengze differed greatly from the original, even though Shen Yuan had noticed the discrepancies, he still refused to extend trust, maintaining their relationship of mutual restraint and utilization without breaking the ice.

So Xie Chengze didn’t dare place complete trust either, fearing one misstep would plunge him into eternal damnation.

Shen Yuan had the Crown Prince, the Shen family, and an emperor eager to promote him—he could afford to gamble recklessly. But Xie Chengze had nothing. He could only gamble once, and he was betting with his very life.

The more Xie Chengze thought about it, the more aggrieved he felt. After his outburst, he burrowed back under the covers, turning his back to Shen Yuan to face the wall in silence, thinking he was truly like a dog chasing rats—meddling in others’ business.

He worried about the other’s safety, but the other might not need his concern at all.

Xie Chengze, you really are like a dog.