Chapter 5: The Back-Throwing Game

The attendant bustled back and forth, setting down the bronze pots and arrows.

Just as the game was about to commence, Kong Zhonglin, who had been chatting idly with the surrounding gentry youths, suddenly proposed, “A few days ago, I heard that the pot-throwing game had some new variations. Shall we try them this time?”

“What new variations?” others asked, their curiosity piqued.

Kong Zhonglin, however, played coy, feigning mystery, which prompted the crowd to clamor, urging him to speak quickly. He then smiled and said, “Back-throwing…”

The young men looked disappointed and bored. “What’s new about that? We’ve played that countless times already.”

“I haven’t finished yet. We won’t be throwing ourselves; instead, we’ll pick a servant to throw.”

“Have a servant throw the pots?”

The youths exchanged glances. After a moment’s thought, they understood. It was akin to horse racing or cockfighting; they wouldn’t participate directly, but the entertainment would be just as rich.

Compared to the dull, ordinary way of playing, these spirited young masters naturally wanted to try something different.

“That sounds rather interesting. Yangyu, Zhuozhi, do you want to play?”

Jiang Yangyu turned to the person beside him. “Do you want to play?”

Before Su Zhuozhi could even speak, the questioner laughed. “Look at my memory, I should have just asked Zhuozhi.”

Everyone knew that Jiang Yangyu doted on Su Zhuozhi as if he were his own younger brother. Kong Zhonglin had painstakingly tried to integrate into their circle, having prepared and spoken many flattering words in advance, only just managing to attract their attention.

Yet, in less than a moment, their focus had all returned to Su Zhuozhi.

Kong Zhonglin gritted his teeth, his eyes filled with resentment. He truly couldn’t comprehend it. Wasn’t he just the son of a lowly merchant? Why was he standing with gentry youths? Why did he receive such special treatment from the Duke’s heir?

Su Zhuozhi’s peripheral vision caught Kong Zhonglin, and he broke into a bright, joyful smile. “Of course, I want to play! Let’s see who has the best luck and emerges as the final winner.”

Everyone began selecting their servants. Pot-throwing required skill and experience; even when looking directly at the pot, one might not hit it, let alone when throwing backward.

One either needed exceptional skill or incredibly good luck.

Su Zhuozhi clapped Xie Jue’s shoulder. “You’ll throw for me. Be serious; don’t lose and embarrass me. There’ll be a reward if you win.”

Receiving no response, Su Zhuozhi leaned closer, his clear, distinct eyes entering Xie Jue’s field of vision. They held an innocent, unworldly purity, easily seen through.

“Did you hear me? If you embarrass me, you won’t stay in Jade Orchid Hall.”

Xie Jue’s eyes darkened slightly, and he nodded. “Yes, Young Master.”

After casually appointing an attendant to act as the scorekeeper, the pot-throwing began.

Back-throwing was incredibly difficult. Most arrows thrown either hit the ground directly or, if lucky enough to touch the pot, would simply bounce off.

The young masters watched, a mix of tension and sighs, doubting that any winner would emerge, fearing they would all lose together.

“It hit!”

Kong Zhonglin’s servant hit the pot’s mouth, earning ten tallies first. Under the astonished gazes of the crowd, Kong Zhonglin thoroughly enjoyed the attention, humbly stating, “Just a stroke of luck.”

The next turn was Xie Jue’s.

He was expressionless, unlike others who cautiously gripped their arrows, hesitating on how to throw. He simply picked up an arrow and tossed it out casually. Yet, it hit.

“Through the ear! The very first arrow went through the ear!”

“Does he have eyes in the back of his head? And it’s a first through the ear, earning twenty tallies.”

Kong Zhonglin’s expression abruptly changed.

This was only the beginning.

Xie Jue continued to hit, his arrows effortlessly soaring straight through the pot’s ears, incredibly steady, as simple as eating and drinking.

Ye Huahui couldn’t help but lean towards Su Zhuozhi and ask, “Where did you find this bodyguard? Was he specially trained for pot-throwing? Does he have some secret manual?”

Su Zhuozhi, slightly tipsy from the wine, responded a little slower than usual. He said languidly, “I… I don’t know. This is the first time I’ve seen him throw pots.”

“And you dared to let him play? You’re a bold gambler, you are.” Ye Huahui crossed his legs, swaying them back and forth, and said excitedly, “I don’t think this is even his full strength. Let him throw two arrows.”

The attendant responsible for handing arrows froze for a moment, then quickly offered another arrow.

Xie Jue didn’t take it. Instead, he turned his head to look at Su Zhuozhi, his gaze indifferent, seemingly awaiting his master’s command. Ye Huahui had no right to order him.

It was then that he noticed Su Zhuozhi’s flushed cheeks, his eyes a little hazy, as he lazily yawned, propping his chin with one hand, staring at him absentmindedly.

Their eyes met, and Su Zhuozhi looked somewhat confused, tilting his head. “Why are you looking at me?”

His slightly tipsy voice was soft and gentle, almost like a whine.

Xie Jue paused, then countered, “Does Young Master wish to see me throw two arrows?”

Su Zhuozhi found the pot-throwing quite exciting, his interest piqued. He blinked, then nodded without hesitation. “Yes.”

He couldn’t quite explain why, but he had a feeling Xie Jue would succeed. Perhaps it was the effortless way he had thrown the previous arrows.

Sure enough, two arrows flew from Xie Jue’s hand, carving graceful, powerful arcs in the air before accurately landing in the left and right pot ears.

Another fifteen tallies.

The scorekeeper recorded it, shouting loudly, even more excited than Xie Jue, the participant himself.

The young masters present couldn’t help but applaud, exclaiming their approval. Although they weren’t the ones winning, they weren’t overly fixated on victory; the most important thing was to have fun. The sole exception was Kong Zhonglin, standing at the back, his face ashen and ugly. His attendant caught a glimpse and couldn’t help but flinch, betraying a hint of fear.

Others occasionally hit the pot, but clearly not as skillfully as Xie Jue, who achieved a perfect score, an undisputed winner.

Ye Huahui tugged at Su Zhuozhi, his eyes gleaming as he said excitedly, “Lend me that bodyguard for a few days; I want to learn his pot-throwing technique.”

“No.” Su Zhuozhi slapped his hand away, refusing decisively.

“Hey, that’s not fair! He’s just a servant. If you wanted one of mine, I’d give him to you outright. Do you even consider me a brother?” Ye Huahui complained, accusing him of disloyalty.

Kong Zhonglin seized the opportunity, saying playfully, “Perhaps this bodyguard isn’t just any ordinary servant to Zhuozhi.”

Among the noble families in the capital, while they appeared dignified and proper on the surface, secretly pursuing thrills and playing with men was not uncommon.

Ye Huahui was surprised and was about to ask.

Su Zhuozhi’s eyes suddenly turned cold, and he glared at Kong Zhonglin without courtesy. “I’m talking to him, why are you interrupting? Did I give you permission to speak?”

Kong Zhonglin hadn’t expected a merchant’s son to dare to show him such disdain. His face flushed red and white with anger, and he cursed viciously, “Su Zhuozhi, who do you think you are? Don’t be so arrogant…”

Before he could finish, Su Zhuozhi cut him off with a look of disgust, stating bluntly, “Shut up. I don’t want to hear you talk. I dislike you.”

He even covered his ears, acting utterly childish.

Jiang Yangyu couldn’t help but chuckle. ” ‘I dislike you,’ haha, Zhuozhi, are you a child?”

The others also burst into laughter. Meng Yuanzhou reached out to pinch Su Zhuozhi’s face, teasing, “Zhuo’er, you can’t be drunk from just that little bit of wine, can you? You’re no good.”

Upon hearing this, Su Zhuozhi immediately bristled. How could a man be told he was ‘no good’? He flung his sleeve and retorted, “Nonsense! You’re the one who’s no good!”

“Hahaha, don’t argue, you two. Just fight it out and see who’s truly no good.”

The crowd, eager for drama, couldn’t resist teasing Su Zhuozhi further. They gathered around, some holding up two fingers and asking him how many there were, others taking the chance to coax him into calling them ‘brother’ and making him say ‘I’m a fool’ three times.

The commotion pushed Kong Zhonglin to the side, his face dark as a pot bottom, unnoticed by anyone. Gong Cheng, who had brought him, offered a word of comfort. “He’s drunk; he’s not intentionally targeting you. Don’t take it to heart.”

After saying that, he too joined the ranks of those teasing the drunkard.

Su Zhuozhi impatiently pushed them away. “I’m not drunk! Are you looking for a beating?”

He truly felt that his mind was clear, just a little dizzy, his face a little hot, and his limbs somewhat weak, not as agile as usual. He wouldn’t be foolish enough to fall for their tricks. He still remembered he had won that pile of treasures on the table.

“Xie Jue, come here,” Su Zhuozhi commanded.

Xie Jue stood a good distance away, watching their antics with an indifferent gaze, like a spectator at a farce. He offered no response.

Su Zhuozhi frowned and continued to call out, “Xie Jue, Xie Jue, Xie Jue.”

The elongated syllables of his voice were soft and pliable, like a cat meowing for dried fish, though he believed himself to be very cold and imposing.

“Xie Jue? Who’s that?” Jiang Yangyu and the others didn’t know. An attendant nearby quickly nudged Xie Jue, urging, “Your master is calling you, hurry up!”

Xie Jue cast a faint glance, and the attendant flinched, quickly retracting his hand as if it would be chopped off if he waited any longer.

Xie Jue walked through the noble youths and approached Su Zhuozhi.

“Too slow!” Su Zhuozhi complained. This was precisely why he refused to lend Xie Jue to Ye Huahui; this bodyguard was simply too dull and slow-witted, sure to annoy people and get himself punished.

Everyone watched as Su Zhuozhi ordered his personal bodyguard to retrieve the prizes from the table.

Su Zhuozhi’s eyes curved into crescents, and he smiled, showing off proudly. “I won! You’re all my defeated opponents.”

“Well, well, taking advantage and still gloating. My fists are itching.”

“Hehe, you’re just jealous of me. If you want them, win them back next time. Though, it’ll probably be me winning again.” Su Zhuozhi raised an eyebrow, shaking his head, appearing even more irritating.

Jiang Yangyu nudged his elbow. “That’s enough, or they’ll gang up on you later, and I won’t help you.”

They bickered playfully, laughing and teasing each other.

Once Su Zhuozhi had shown off enough, he handed his winnings to Xie Jue, telling him to take them out. When Xie Jue returned, he was stopped in the corridor.

Kong Zhonglin raised his chin, imperiously ordering, “You, go get me some refreshments.”

Xie Jue’s eyes suddenly darkened.

Previously, when Su Zhuozhi had repeatedly ordered him around with a young master’s air, he felt nothing particular. Strangely, however, the face before him, performing a similar act, filled him with an extreme aversion and irritation, making him want to kill.

Kong Zhonglin had his own servants but deliberately called Xie Jue, clearly because he had been slighted by Su Zhuozhi and wanted to vent his frustration by humiliating his bodyguard. Xie Jue’s indifferent attitude greatly angered him, his features twisting as he cursed, “Can’t you hear me?! A servant of a lowly merchant, daring to show me attitude! Do you know who my father is? Do you know who my sister is?! Hmph, if you kneel now and beg for mercy, I might just let you off the hook.”

“Alright, as you wish.”

Xie Jue chuckled softly, taking a step forward with his long legs, his indifferent gaze piercing. *If you still have eyes to see me kneel, that is.*

Kong Zhonglin smiled, satisfied. “Smart of you.”

But just as Xie Jue was about to do something, a slender figure suddenly appeared, blocking his path, and a clear, slightly cold voice rang out.

“You intend to harm my man?”

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