Chapter 12: Unexpected Rain and a Powerful Bodyguard

As evening approached, Su Zhuozhi and his companions were leaving Seven-Bend Mountain to return to the manor when the sky suddenly darkened, and rain began to fall.

The rain fell in a gentle patter, a misty drizzle. Raindrops, like pearls from a broken string, continuously tapped against the leaves and branches, creating a rather evocative melody.

Su Zhuozhi, however, was in no mood to appreciate it. He detested rain and certainly didn’t want to delay his return home. While the temple offered lodging, its accommodations were rather simple, far from comfortable.

“This rain doesn’t look like it’ll stop anytime soon. It might even get heavier later, so let’s depart quickly,” Jiang Yangyu remarked, frowning as he glanced at the gray, misty sky. Since the Duke’s Residence was very close to the Grand Secretariat’s Manor, Jiang Yangyu had already boarded Meng Yuanzhou’s carriage to save Su Zhuozhi from taking a detour, not forgetting to add a word of caution.

“Remember to drink ginger tea when you get back, so you don’t catch a chill.”

Su Zhuozhi nodded. “You two as well.”

Having departed under clear, bright skies, no one had anticipated the sudden change in weather, and consequently, no one had brought an umbrella. There was a short distance from the temple entrance to the carriages.

The temple had provided a few paper umbrellas for pilgrims in case of unexpected needs, but their number was limited. The young novice monks handed one to each young master.

Thus, Su Zhuozhi’s umbrella was taken by Xie Jue, who diligently fulfilled his duty as a subordinate, holding it for the young master.

It was not one of the expensive umbrellas typically used by high-ranking noble families. Its surface was small, devoid of elaborate and delicate bird-and-flower paintings or misty ink washes. It was simply adorned with a cluster of green bamboo.

Sharing the umbrella, the two inevitably felt cramped.

The rain threads drifted with the wind, pattering against the umbrella’s surface before sliding down the edge and dripping onto the young master’s shoulder. It instantly soaked through his clothing, sending a chill deep into his bones.

Su Zhuozhi shivered involuntarily.

Xie Jue’s distinctively jointed hand gripped the umbrella handle, his expression placid as he gazed ahead. Holding an umbrella was truly unfamiliar to him. He feared neither wind nor rain and had no habit of looking after others.

It wasn’t until he felt the slight trembling beside him that he remembered how fragile this young master was, like a meticulously pampered flower from a noble house, unable to withstand the slightest hint of wind or rain, easily wilting with trembling petals.

Xie Jue lowered his gaze. Indeed, the young master’s face had already turned somewhat pale.

He seemed incredibly delicate.

He tilted the paper umbrella further towards Su Zhuozhi, completely enveloping him beneath it, with the umbrella surface extending even further on his side, preventing any rain from intruding.

Even so, his shoes and the hem of his robe were still getting wet.

Su Zhuozhi frowned in displeasure, his lips tightly pressed, and quickened his pace. He yearned to return to the carriage sooner, to wrap himself in a small blanket, clutching a warm hand warmer.

Xie Jue noticed his urgency. “Young Master, be careful; the path is slippery,” he said leisurely.

No sooner had he spoken than Su Zhuozhi, with unfortunate timing, slipped. Unable to control his body, he tumbled forward.

Xie Jue swiftly reached out, wrapping an arm around Su Zhuozhi’s waist and pulling him into an embrace.

Su Zhuozhi’s pupils constricted in shock, his heart pounding wildly.

They were on a stone staircase, and his upper body was pitched forward, suspended in mid-air, held entirely by that strong arm around his waist. Otherwise, he would surely have rolled down the stairs like a ball.

He swallowed, fear gripping him, then cautiously glanced around. He silently retreated a step, his legs feeling a little weak, as if a bottomless abyss lay before him.

“Young Master, it’s safer to walk slowly,” Xie Jue coolly reminded him, retracting his hand.

Su Zhuozhi nodded. “…Oh.”

He was uncharacteristically docile, not retorting as usual.

Xie Jue was slightly surprised and gave him another look.

“Let’s go,” Su Zhuozhi said, his voice faint.

Xie Jue dutifully held the umbrella and continued forward. Then, he felt a gentle tug on his robe—someone had clutched his clothes. His steps paused almost imperceptibly, then he continued down the next stair as if nothing had happened.

Due to the recent mishap, Su Zhuozhi had become much more cautious. He took each step firmly before daring to take the next, his hand instinctively gripping the person beside him to avoid another fall.

He held onto Xie Jue’s sleeve all the way until they reached the carriage, only releasing it when he impatiently darted inside.

Xie Jue folded the paper umbrella and followed him into the carriage. He saw Su Zhuozhi had already removed his wet shoes, socks, and outer robe, now curled into a ball under a blanket, cradling a cup of hot tea.

He took small sips, a contented and relaxed expression gracing his face. As the warmth enveloped him, his slightly pale complexion slowly regained some color.

After a day of activity, drowsiness swept over him with the rocking motion of the carriage. Su Zhuozhi didn’t resist, hugging the blanket, leaning his head against a soft pillow, and closing his eyes to sleep.

His long eyelashes fluttered, casting small shadows beneath his eyelids. With a delicate nose, vermilion lips, and skin fairer than snow, the fluffy blanket nestled beside his cheeks, obscuring most of his face and making it appear even smaller. He slept peacefully and comfortably, completely devoid of the haughty arrogance he displayed when awake, quiet and obedient like a painting of a beauty in slumber.

After a while, Su Zhuozhi unconsciously stirred. Beneath the blanket, a slender, fair foot peeked out, its toes and heel a faint pink, seemingly glowing with a translucent radiance in the dim carriage.

Xie Jue’s gaze locked onto it, staring intently for a moment. Suddenly, he reached out and pulled the blanket over, covering the foot.

When Su Zhuozhi next opened his eyes, he was woken by noise. He let out a soft groan, his voice hoarse with sleep, and half-opened his eyes, looking around in confusion.

He was still in the carriage, but it wasn’t moving. Had they arrived home?

Su Zhuozhi propped himself up with one hand, leaning forward to pull open the window to look out. Just then, Xie Jue pulled the door open and leaned into the carriage, their eyes meeting unexpectedly.

Both men froze.

Xie Jue was thoroughly drenched, his clothes clinging to his body, accentuating his broad shoulders and narrow waist. The muscles on his arm, gripping the door, rippled. His hair was also wet, black strands plastered to his forehead, half-obscuring his eyes, which were deep and dark, gazing intently at the person inside the carriage, without any attempt to conceal his stare.

Water droplets streamed down the side of his face and jaw, over his long neck, and disappeared into his collar. Following the path of the water, Su Zhuozhi noticed a small, inconspicuous mole on Xie Jue’s neck, cleverly placed, which trembled slightly as his prominent Adam’s apple moved.

Su Zhuozhi vaguely felt that the Xie Jue before him seemed different from his usual demeanor. Yet, he couldn’t pinpoint the exact difference. He could only say it felt like a bewitching spirit or ghost from a folk tale—a very dangerous sensation.

As he observed Xie Jue, Xie Jue was also observing him.

The young master, curled in the blanket, looked up, revealing a flushed face hazy with sleep, and a slender, fair neck, fragile and unaware. He gazed at the man who entered with a confused yet dependent expression.

After a moment of distraction, Xie Jue quickly regained his composure, his voice low. “Young Master has woken?”

“…Mm,” Su Zhuozhi mumbled in response, his gaze drifting past Xie Jue’s shoulder to the tumultuous, dark clouds outside, where lightning flashed and thunder rumbled. “The rain has gotten heavier?”

“Yes,” Xie Jue calmly reported. “The road is muddy, and the carriage wheel has sunk into a rut. I intend to push the carriage out, so I came to wake the Young Master to prevent any fright.”

With the heavy rain, the soil in the countryside became wet, making such incidents inevitable. Su Zhuozhi had encountered this before, so he wasn’t alarmed.

Wind-driven rain lashed into the carriage. Su Zhuozhi clutched his small blanket, covering his neck and chin. “Then go quickly, and be careful.”

“There might be some significant movement shortly. Young Master, please hold on tight and don’t fall.”

Xie Jue was about to disembark but paused, turned back to offer this reminder, then quickly closed the door and left.

Before long, Su Zhuozhi felt the carriage sway, as if it had been forcefully lifted, briefly suspended, then lurched forward and settled back onto the ground.

Su Zhuozhi gripped a protruding jade ruyi carving on the carriage wall, steadying himself. In truth, the swaying wasn’t severe; it was less jarring than when the carriage traveled at high speed.

Outside the carriage, startled exclamations erupted.

“Such incredible strength!”

“How can it be just one person…”

“My heavens…”

Xie Jue lifted the carriage by himself?! Su Zhuozhi imagined the scene, utterly astonished. In a way, this new bodyguard was truly a treasure, constantly revealing one astonishing ability after another.

Having such a person as a personal bodyguard seemed quite good, didn’t it? After all, he had initially wanted to dismiss him because he disliked being restrained and watched. If Xie Jue didn’t hinder his freedom to play and enjoy himself, keeping him might not be such a bad idea.

As he pondered this, a servant’s voice suddenly came from outside the carriage, respectfully asking, “Young Master, we found someone lying unconscious ahead. How should we handle them?”

Unconscious in the countryside during a heavy rainstorm? Leaving them might lead to drowning, he thought. Su Zhuozhi didn’t hesitate, directly stating, “Bring them back to the manor with us.”

The servant acknowledged and promptly complied. However, after they lifted the person, they discovered that the sword by the unconscious man’s hand was extremely heavy, far heavier than expected.

Two sturdy stable boys strained until their faces turned red, yet they couldn’t lift it. “This is truly strange. What is this broken sword made of?”

The servant, panting, was forced to ask Xie Jue for help, as everyone had just witnessed him lift the carriage with one hand. If even he couldn’t lift the sword, no one present would be able to.

Xie Jue walked through the rain, his gaze coldly fixed on the unconscious man. “Young Master said to save him?”

For some reason, the stable boy shivered uncontrollably upon hearing this, perhaps it was just the heavy rain and the cold. He stammered, “Yes.”

Xie Jue said nothing, simply bent down and effortlessly picked up the heavy sword from the ground, as if it were a light, fluttering leaf. The servants were stunned; they had just exerted every ounce of their strength. Had they not tried it themselves, they might have thought the others were merely feigning inability.

After picking up the sword, Xie Jue casually tossed it beside the unconscious man, then turned and walked towards Su Zhuozhi’s carriage, opening the door and stepping inside.

Su Zhuozhi was no longer asleep, merely curled in his blanket, holding a hand warmer and sitting cross-legged. Hearing the movement, he looked over.

Xie Jue paused at the carriage door, not entering immediately. He remembered the young master’s delicate nature and his love for cleanliness; being drenched in rain and mud as he was, he would surely be deemed dirty and ordered out of the carriage. Rather than being driven out, he thought it better to leave on his own.

But before he could move, Su Zhuozhi spoke first, urging him, “Are you foolish? Hurry inside; the rain is drifting in, and it’s so cold.”

Xie Jue immediately stepped inside, pulled the door shut, turned the crank handle, and deftly locked the door, sealing out all the wind and rain.

He had expected the young master to be disgusted, and indeed, Su Zhuozhi looked at him with a frown. However, the primary concern wasn’t just the dirt, though he naturally disliked that too—muddy water was constantly dripping from Xie Jue’s pant legs, making the carpet filthy. But at this moment, he was more focused on something else:

“There’s a clean handkerchief in the compartment below. Take it out and dry your hair. And quickly change out of your wet clothes, lest you catch a cold.”

Xie Jue’s usually cool expression softened. “…Young Master’s clothes?”

Su Zhuozhi nodded as if it were obvious. “Yes.” Besides his own, whose clothes could possibly be in the carriage?

Xie Jue pursed his lips, then bent down to retrieve a dry cloth and a robe. Without a shred of hesitation, he stripped off his soaked garments and changed into the fresh ones.

As both were men, Su Zhuozhi felt no embarrassment. However, upon seeing the other’s distinctly muscled, powerful physique, a pang of envy arose within him.

He reached out and touched his own soft midsection, thinking that having some muscle might be quite good. Perhaps he should try exercising a bit?

Xie Jue’s senses were acute; he didn’t need to turn his head to know someone was watching him, and staring intently at that. He lowered his gaze, but Su Zhuozhi didn’t shy away. He even reached out and poked Xie Jue’s taut abdominal muscles, asking frankly and directly, “How long does it take to develop these?”

The light touch of his fingertips was like a feather, yet Xie Jue’s reaction was more akin to being sharply stabbed. He stiffened abruptly, his waist and abdomen tightening rigidly.

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