Chapter 19: The Grape Peeling Incident

A visit to a sick friend naturally called for gifts. The lessons had only been an excuse to tease Su Zhuozhi. They all brought various diversions and delicacies.

One of these was an offering of exceptionally fine agate grapes from the region to the imperial court. Jiang Yangyu’s mother was the Grand Princess, and the Emperor had given her a portion. When she learned that her son was going to the Su manor, she ordered the servants to prepare a full basket to take along. Because Jiang Yangyu often mentioned Su Zhuozhi to her, she knew how much the child disliked taking medicine.

“After bitter medicine, one surely craves something sweet. Let him eat plenty, and if it’s not enough, send more.” Those were the Grand Princess’s exact words.

Jiang Yangyu was always talking about him, and sometimes she almost felt as though she had another young son living in the Su household. But this was not something to be spoken aloud—Madam Su would certainly be displeased to hear it.

Not long after the young master’s friends had left, Wanying took the grapes to wash them and arranged them in a crystal dish. Imperial tribute was naturally the finest selection—each grape was top-grade, plump and round, with a brilliant red hue like shimmering red agate, dazzling to the eye.

Grapes were certainly delicious, but peeling them was troublesome. The little young master naturally would not do it himself; that was Wanying’s duty, as always. The little young master was picky and demanding; if the peel was not done well, it would spoil his appetite. Wanying was meticulous and patient, able to do it perfectly.

But this time, Xie Jue suddenly spoke: “Let me.” He wanted to take over her task.

Wanying frowned, stepped back, and refused without hesitation: “The young master loves these. You can’t ruin them. Unless the young master agrees, I won’t give them to you.”

Xie Jue did not argue with her. He simply turned and went to Su Zhuozhi. “Young master, you still owe me the reward for the pitch-pot game.”

Su Zhuozhi was playing with a Luban lock. He gave an “oh,” recalled it, and looked up to ask, “So have you decided what you want?”

“To peel grapes for you.”

“…???”

Su Zhuozhi was a generous master; he usually granted requests that did not cross the line. He had originally thought Xie Jue would ask for something valuable, or at least a substantial sum of silver. But… peeling grapes? What kind of reward was that?

It reminded him of the time Xie Jue had mistakenly thought that serving him while he soaked his feet was a reward.

“You’d better have meant to say you wanted to taste the agate grapes and just misspoke.” Su Zhuozhi looked speechless.

Xie Jue said, “I didn’t misspeak.”

He didn’t like serving others, but after the medicine-forcing incident, Su Zhuozhi had been resisting his approach. He wanted to use this as a way to break through and continue observing the young master up close.

Su Zhuozhi didn’t know what to say anymore. He shot Xie Jue a look of exasperation, then lowered his head to continue fiddling with the difficult Luban lock assembly.

“Young master, put it here.” Xie Jue pointed to remind him.

“I know! Don’t tell me!” Su Zhuozhi hastily slapped his hand away, annoyed at the interference. Without looking up, he said, “Anyway, I can’t possibly give such an absurdly stingy reward. Think of something else. If you want to peel grapes, go ahead, but if you mess up, you’ll be punished.”

Since the young master had spoken, Wanying had no choice but to place the platter of grapes on the octagonal table in front of Xie Jue and said softly, “Don’t mess it up. If you can’t do it, let me take over.”

Xie Jue said coldly, “No need.”

He washed his hands, sat on a stool beside the little young master, and expressionlessly picked up a grape, peeling off its thin skin. His long fingers were exceptionally agile; in the blink of an eye, he had freed the plump, round pulp intact—translucent and flawless.

He held the pulp out, staring at Su Zhuozhi, as if silently asking, Am I worthy to continue now?

Still holding the wooden pieces of the Luban lock in his hands, Su Zhuozhi was too lazy to wash them. He simply lowered his head and ate directly from Xie Jue’s hand, biting into the grape. The pulp was crisp and sweet, bursting with juice—as delicious as expected.

“I recall this grape makes good wine too. Get a jar and send it to my father later,” he said casually while chewing.

But Xie Jue’s hand froze in midair, forgetting to withdraw. His fingertips curled slightly.

When Su Zhuozhi had bent down to eat the grape held between his fingers, his lips had accidentally brushed against his fingertips. If he had come any closer, his tongue might have licked away the juice residue on his finger pad, leaving a glistening, moist mark.

Such contact stirred a restless irritation in him, kindling a wariness he only felt when facing danger. His instincts were always sharp; otherwise, he would not have survived countless life-threatening crises.

His intuition warned him that Su Zhuozhi was dangerous—best to strike him dead immediately or get as far away as possible.

But it was ridiculous—what threat could a delicate, fragile young master pose to him?

Xie Jue scoffed inwardly, dismissing the thought.

“Why did you stop?” The young master’s puzzled voice broke his train of thought.

Xie Jue resumed moving, continuing to peel grapes one by one, feeding them to Su Zhuozhi’s lips, watching him obediently bow his head and suckle them in.

The juice stained his lips, making them even redder and glossier, as if painted with lip balm.

In the sunlight, Su Zhuozhi’s fair skin and red lips were dazzlingly beautiful.

Xie Jue suddenly realized that he rather enjoyed this feeling—controlling what Su Zhuozhi ate and how he ate it, watching him obediently accept everything he offered. His heart trembled and stirred inexplicably, and he could not help but feel a little addicted.

Su Zhuozhi looked up and found Xie Jue staring straight at him. He thought Xie Jue must be craving a taste too. So when Xie Jue peeled another grape and offered it, he did not open his mouth.

Xie Jue caught his refusal; his eyes darkened slightly, and his fingers moved as if to forcefully feed it into his mouth.

Su Zhuozhi said casually, “You have two.”

Xie Jue was taken aback. He looked down at the grape in his hand, then slowly placed it in his own mouth. As if possessed, he licked his fingertips.

The juice was very sweet.

The red agate grapes were large and plump. After eating over a dozen in a row, Su Zhuozhi found them cloyingly sweet and told Xie Jue to stop.

Just then, Xie Jue happened to peel another and held it out. “One more?”

Su Zhuozhi pursed his lips and shook his head. “No, I can’t eat any more.”

Xie Jue had no choice but to put it in his own mouth, a flicker of barely perceptible regret in his eyes.

Roughly speaking, Xie Jue had been in the Su manor for nearly three months, but in the eyes of the other servants, he remained a very mysterious and vague figure.

Even among the servants, there were different cliques. Qingping and Wanying had their own close friends. Only Xie Jue was an exception—cold-faced and taciturn, he scarcely interacted with anyone except when serving the young master. Drifting outside the crowd, no one really understood him.

At this time, a strange rumor spread among the Su manor servants: Xie Jue was unlucky—be careful, getting close to him would bring disaster upon you too.

In the end, even Su Zhuozhi heard about it. The rumor was about why Xie Jue, despite having a high monthly allowance, was so poor that he couldn’t produce a single copper coin.

The reason was quite bizarre: they said Xie Jue was born under a bad star, inherently unlucky, with extremely poor fortune. Whenever money came into his hands, it would be lost for all sorts of strange reasons—snatched by dogs, carried off by birds, or his money pouch would inexplicably fall into the river.

What’s more, it was said that his martial skill was so formidable precisely because of his bad luck. Walking down the street, he would always run into brawls and become an innocent bystander caught in the crossfire. It was like a rain of arrows falling—most of them would hit him precisely, turning him into a pincushion. Having suffered so many injuries, his defensive and counterattack abilities were naturally forced to improve over time.

Su Zhuozhi heard this and marveled. He even specially called Xie Jue over to test it out of curiosity. He placed a hundred-tael banknote in Xie Jue’s hand to see what would happen.

Sure enough, not long after, a bird suddenly swooped in, snatched the banknote, and flapped away to use it for nest-building.

Su Zhuozhi’s eyes widened in surprise. “Have you always been like this? You can’t hold onto any money at all—how have you survived until now?” he blurted out.

There was no trace of mockery in his tone, only straightforward curiosity.

Xie Jue’s expression did not change. He said flatly, “I just live like this. I won’t die.”

He didn’t really care about it, or rather, he was used to it. Utterly luckless, forsaken by heaven, as if he shouldn’t exist in this world.

Shock, sympathy, wariness, greed, fear—he had seen all kinds of looks. That Su Zhuozhi was now one of them didn’t bother him either.

Xie Jue’s face was cold, his sharply defined jawline set in a straight line.

But at that moment, the young master’s clear, cheerful voice sounded in his ear.

“You’re really a rare one. From now on, stick with me.” Su Zhuozhi’s eyes sparkled, without a trace of gloom. He showed no concern about keeping distance for fear of catching Xie Jue’s bad luck.

He looked at Xie Jue as if he were seeing something novel he had never encountered before—something he wanted to possess.

The young were bold and rebellious, full of defiance—how could they fear such things? Su Zhuozhi was especially confident and proud, not feeling that Xie Jue could affect him at all.

He simply asked, “If you can’t hold money, it’s better to convert your monthly allowance into something else. What do you want?”

Xie Jue was stunned.

Afterwards, Qingping even sidled up to him and whispered, “I told you, the young master is wonderful, especially to us servants. See, he doesn’t dislike you at all, and he even thought of so many ways to help. He’s fully accepted you.”

Though the methods he thought of were more like teasing games.

However, there was one thing Xie Jue had to admit. His bad luck had finally helped him once.

Before, Su Zhuozhi only called on him when he felt like it, treating him as dispensable. But now, Su Zhuozhi had grudgingly placed him in his heart.

After learning that his bed had collapsed due to insect damage, Su Zhuozhi didn’t mind at all and let him sleep on the small couch in the outer room of his own bedchamber.

The distance between them narrowed.

At night, Xie Jue could even fall asleep listening to Su Zhuozhi’s breathing, feeling an indescribable satisfaction in his heart.

Until he discovered a small demon that had slipped through the cracks, creeping slowly like a black coal worm toward Su Zhuozhi’s bedside, extending its thin antennae, trying to climb onto the jade-white toes exposed outside the brocade quilt. To suck fresh, sweet blood essence.

A fierce wind blade shot forth, instantly tearing the demon to shreds. Before it could even let out a dying shriek, it had lost its life.

Xie Jue stood by the bed, surrounded by roiling black mist.

A wisp of demonic energy slipped free from its master’s control, yielding to a deep, intense desire from within, and crept toward the bed. Inch by inch, it slowly coiled around the young master’s slender ankle, as if adorning him with an obsidian anklet. A unique mark, belonging only to him. No one else could covet it.

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