Futile Devices Scans

That remark sounded both like dredging up old accounts and like a veiled foreshadowing, leaving Yu Gong Zhao Ye—already unsettled—even more adrift. For the rest of the journey back, he kept his mouth shut and obediently played the part of a lump of rice cake, letting himself be kneaded and shaped at will.

When they reached the gate of the Wei family’s old residence, the old servant Wei Rong came out in his outer robe, carrying a lantern to greet them. Seeing Wei Fu personally leading the horse with an unfamiliar man seated on it, his dim old eyes widened in shock. “Young Master, what brings you here so suddenly tonight? And this is…?”

Wei Fu gestured for silence and instructed, “Light the lamps in the west wing, heat some water, and have someone bring in light, warm soup and food from outside.”

Wei Rong murmured his assent and hurried off to make preparations. Wei Fu supported Yu Gong Zhao Ye’s waist as he turned to dismount, then smoothly lifted him down in one motion, holding him securely in his arms.

“Wait…!” Yu Gong Zhao Ye grabbed his shoulder in confusion and said helplessly, “I just can’t see. I can still manage a few steps. At worst, you could carry me on your back. Do you really have to carry me like this?”

“If I carry you on my back and you slip, what then? Besides, Your Highness has a noble body—surely you wouldn’t want to be slung over my shoulder like a sack.” Wei Fu carried him into the courtyard while speaking seriously. “It’s safer this way. You know there’s no one else here—nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Yu Gong Zhao Ye sighed. “I’d rather you carry me like a sack. I never noticed before—you’re quite strong.”

Wei Fu had strikingly handsome features and a gentle disposition, combined with a tall and slender build. He gave the impression of a refined noble young master who indulged in poetry and wine—someone who didn’t trouble himself with labor and might clutch his chest and fall ill every so often.

“Our ancestor, the Duke Zhenguo, was originally granted his title through military merit, but few of his descendants joined the army. My grandfather always found this regrettable, so he hired martial instructors to teach us riding and archery. Not to make us masters, but at least to strengthen our bodies,” Wei Fu explained modestly. “Though I can’t compare to Your Highness’s skills, if I hadn’t entered official service, I might have ended up as a minor officer among the Egret Guards.”

Without the biting night wind from their earlier ride, the faint bitter fragrance of gentian on Wei Fu became even more distinct. Leaning against his shoulder, Yu Gong Zhao Ye felt as though he were holding onto a living, breathing ginseng spirit.

The old residence was quiet and dim. Strangely, the darkness felt safer to him than bright lights. Yu Gong Zhao Ye was not one to struggle unnecessarily; he quickly accepted the situation and even tilted his head slightly toward Wei Fu. “Are you smiling?”

Wei Fu replied innocently, “No.”

Yu Gong Zhao Ye located him by sound and accurately reached out to pinch his cheek. “You’re smiling quite shamelessly.”

Wei Fu: “……”

Now that he couldn’t see, this man had become even bolder—actually touching him like this?

Wei Fu’s unrestrained smile instantly froze, yet the place on his face that had been touched burned as if on fire. He could only be grateful that this reckless brute couldn’t see right now, or the two of them might have been startled into fleeing on the spot.

Suppressing his wandering thoughts, Wei Fu answered steadily, “Your Highness is suffering—I hardly have time to feel distressed. How could I possibly take pleasure in your misfortune?”

Yu Gong Zhao Ye said, “So that’s what this kind of smile is called. I’ve learned something.”

Wei Fu: “…Does that medicine really have no other side effects?”

Yu Gong Zhao Ye: “Such as?”

Wei Fu: “Like speaking in a sarcastic tone, perhaps.”

Both of them felt guilty in their own ways, yet neither yielded verbally. They sparred all the way to the guest room. Wei Fu settled Yu Gong Zhao Ye on the bed, placing a cushion behind him so he could lean back in a half-sitting position, and said considerately, “Tonight, Your Highness will have to make do and stay here. This is a guest room I occasionally use. It’s regularly cleaned, and everything is in order—please rest easy.”

“I’m the one imposing on your residence—how is this an inconvenience?” Yu Gong Zhao Ye said with a sigh. “I’ve troubled you repeatedly. You must be tired of polite formalities—let’s just keep things casual.”

As he spoke, his gaze remained unfocused, drifting without direction. Seeing this, Wei Fu asked, “The room is lit now. Can Your Highness see more clearly? Is this condition caused by the medicine, or an old injury? Should I call a physician?”

The probing question was like a blade of grass poking at a sore spot—not painful, but irritating. Yu Gong Zhao Ye paused slightly, then answered concisely, “I can perceive light, but things are blurred. It’s nothing serious—once the effects wear off, I’ll be fine.”

“Then let’s observe for tonight.” Wei Fu lightly touched the corner of his eye, concern evident. “Aside from the poisoning, are you injured anywhere else?”

Yu Gong Zhao Ye leaned comfortably against the cushion, appearing almost languid, with no trace of distress in his demeanor or bearing. “I’m not made of paper. Don’t be so tense.”

Wei Fu said, “But every time I see Your Highness, you’re either injured, fleeing, or fleeing while injured. It’s hard not to be tense.”

“…,” Yu Gong Zhao Ye said, “What a pleasant way of speaking, Young Master Wei.”

“I’m just stating the facts,” Wei Fu replied with the impartiality of a strict magistrate. “Earlier, Your Highness changed the subject and glossed it over. Now can you be honest—what exactly happened today?”

Yu Gong Zhao Ye disliked long-winded explanations. His earlier exchange with Gu Pingchuan had already exhausted his patience, so he answered casually, “The Ten Aspects Sect set a trap to frame us, but we turned it against them. That’s all.”

Wei Fu offered no comment, simply waiting patiently for him to continue.

Few people could make silence feel so pressing, but under Wei Fu’s steady gaze, Yu Gong Zhao Ye had no choice but to adjust his attitude. He summarized the key points of the incident, believing he had been sufficiently thorough. When he finished, Wei Fu patted his sleeve reassuringly. “I’ll go pour you some tea. Your storytelling is rather dry.”

Yu Gong Zhao Ye almost laughed in irritation. “Do I need to write you a full account titled ‘The Capture of the Ten Aspects Sect’?”

Wei Fu brought over a cup of tea at just the right temperature, guiding his hand to hold it and lifting it gently to his lips. “Even just hearing Your Highness describe it makes my heart tighten. The actual situation must have been far more dangerous. The Ten Aspects Sect rampaged in the streets before, and now plotted to assassinate a royal. Yet in the end, Your Highness subdued them in one stroke. If all those thrilling twists and turns were written into a story, it would surely spread far and wide.”

Yu Gong Zhao Ye’s throat moved as he let out a faint chuckle, unconcerned. “If it truly spread, who knows what the common people would think—but by tomorrow, armies from every nation would be at the gates of Bihan City, demanding my head.”

“It’s a pity the world will never know of Your Highness’s great achievements. I’ll just remember them on your behalf,” Wei Fu said lightly, half in jest. “In that case, Your Highness had better keep a close eye on me—don’t let anyone with ulterior motives snatch me away.”

Yu Gong Zhao Ye’s heart skipped again. At this rate, he thought, he might really need a physician. To conceal it, he raised his teacup and took another sip.

He raised the teacup again as a cover and took another sip.

“Careful.” Wei Fu steadied his hand to keep him from pouring tea into his nose. “If that Gu Pingchuan is really of Yanyuan royal blood and also an elder of the Ten Aspects Sect, will Yanyuan send people to negotiate?”

“‘Gu Pingchuan’ sounds like a fake name modeled after Xiling customs. Since he deliberately concealed his identity, he probably has quite a background.” Seeing the topic shift, Yu Gong Zhao Ye immediately picked it up, speaking more than usual. “My guess is that Yanyuan ordered him to muddy the waters—make Xiling and Longsha distrust each other while they sit back cleanly and watch the tigers fight. But he’s stirred up too much trouble this time. Yanyuan may not protect him.”

“If he hadn’t been greedy and had withdrawn after the first failed assassination, he would’ve had a good chance of escaping unscathed.” Although this incident allowed Wei Fu to grow closer to Yu Gong Zhao Ye, just thinking about that group annoyed him. “Honestly, this ‘turning the plan against them’ setup was rather sloppy. If all their elders are like this, the Ten Aspects Sect’s days are probably numbered.”

“The Egret Guards, if you can uncover his true identity, that would be a major leverage point. Gu Pingchuan understands that better than anyone,” Yu Gong Zhao Ye reminded him. “So you must guard not only against assassination, but also against him taking his own life.”

Wei Fu gave a thoughtful “mm.” After a while of silence, Yu Gong Zhao Ye sighed. “What scheme are you brewing now?”

Wei Fu said hesitantly, “If I had someone disguise themselves as Yanyuan assassins and give him a scare…”

Yu Gong Zhao Ye paused, immediately understanding what he meant. He thought to himself that Gu Pingchuan prided himself on his intelligence, yet after coming to Xiling he had been fooled again and again—clearly fated for such a downfall. Seeing him ignore the suggestion, Wei Fu tugged at his sleeve. “Why aren’t you saying anything? Do you think I’m too vicious?”

Yu Gong Zhao Ye had already mastered the art of smoothing things over. “You didn’t sever his limbs, nor harm his entire family. How could that be called vicious? The best strategy is to conquer the mind rather than the city—I’m secretly impressed by you.”

Unaware that he had a talent for making praise sound like sarcasm, Yu Gong Zhao Ye left Wei Fu’s remaining playful complaints stuck in his throat. After staring at the faint curve of his lips for three breaths, Wei Fu finally convinced himself: a good person doesn’t argue with a sick cat.

Just then, Wei Rong brought in hot water and towels. After setting them down and leaving, Wei Fu rolled up his sleeves and said, “There are no extra servants at home, so I’ll have to overstep and assist Your Highness with changing and washing. Please forgive any shortcomings.”

This struck directly at Yu Gong Zhao Ye’s weak point. His hair stood on end, and despite his weakened limbs, he immediately grabbed Wei Fu’s hand. “Absolutely not. How could I let you do that? I’ll just lie down for a while—it’s unnecessary.”

Wei Fu said patiently, “Your Highness is my savior. Repaying you is only proper—this is nothing. Besides, didn’t you just say we should be more casual?”

“You’ve already repaid me.” Yu Gong Zhao Ye felt that every word carried hidden meaning, yet hesitated to break through that thin layer between them. He tried to deflect vaguely. “Moreover, you are an official of the Xiling court and the future chief minister of Longsha. It would be improper to slight you. I appreciate the thought—go and rest.”

For him to resort to official-sounding language showed how firmly he meant to refuse. Wei Fu fell silent, tactfully withdrawing. The room became so quiet one could hear a pin drop, save for the faint crackle of the candle flame.

“So in Your Highness’s eyes, sharing life and death, fighting side by side, even sneaking over walls to meet in the dead of night—are all merely public duty, with no personal feeling whatsoever.”

The words should have sounded sharp, yet from him they carried no sarcasm—only self-mockery and disappointment overflowing. “A gentleman’s friendship is as light as water. I was presumptuous. My earlier words and behavior were inappropriate—please forgive me.”

He gently pulled his hand away. Yu Gong Zhao Ye’s palm suddenly felt empty; his finger unconsciously pressed against nothing.

He could not see Wei Fu’s expression, and could not tell whether this was a test—or if his refusal had truly hurt him.

Yet if he were honest, if Yu Gong Zhao Ye had only regarded him as an envoy, he would not be here tonight at all. He would not have let Wei Fu notice his condition.

He rarely reflected on himself for others. In his line of work, being soft-hearted or overthinking could be fatal. But everything about Wei Fu defied ordinary logic. For the first time in his life, Yu Gong Zhao Ye encountered someone like this—fate tangled like threads, like dew, like wild grass, like a knotted mess. There was no experience to draw upon. He could only fumble forward—testing, approaching, adjusting—again and again searching for the right way to relate to each other.

He had been too busy wrestling with his own awkward feelings to consider what answer the other person truly wanted. But there was no need to guess—thinking back on Wei Fu’s words and actions, both overt and subtle, it was practically written on his face: why haven’t you recognized me yet?

When no words came to stop him, Wei Fu let out a faint sigh and stepped back from the bed.

Still maintaining polite consideration, he stood a step away and said, his voice inexplicably softer, “Then… I’ll have Wei Rong come attend to Your Highness. This place is humble, but quiet and safe. Please focus on your recovery. If you need anything, just tell him… I won’t… disturb you further.”

The last words sounded especially desolate. Yu Gong Zhao Ye couldn’t see his expression—whether it was embarrassment or something else—but he could hear the soft rustle of fabric as he stepped back, the faint gentian scent fading with him, as though his expectations were fading as well.

Was he really going to let him leave like this—pretending ignorance—and only later, once he figured things out, return as if nothing had happened?

By then… what would remain?

While he thought, his face showed little emotion—only a slight downturn at the corners of his lips, lowered eyes, features cold and striking, carrying an untouchable severity. Wei Fu traced his outline with his gaze, almost greedily, yet held back from staring too obviously. His gaze finally settled on the faintly glowing ends of his hair. Silently counting to three, he turned to leave.

He had barely taken the first step when his sleeve was suddenly tugged tight.

Wei Fu’s breath stopped.

He had to exert all his control to avoid snapping his neck when turning back too quickly.

“Little Egret.”

Yu Gong Zhao Ye held onto his sleeve, apparently recognizing his figure through the blur. Under the candlelight, his pale eyes fixed steadily on him with a predator-like focus.

With that same cold expression, he spoke in a tone that was almost gentle. “I’m sorry.”

Those three words fell like an invisible barrier, shrinking the world to a single point—everything fell silent.

When one cannot see, the sense of time blurs as well. To Yu Gong Zhao Ye, it felt like half a year had passed before the sleeve he held shifted slightly. A long, firm hand turned over, slipped between his fingers, brushed aside the cloth, and clasped his hand tightly—so tightly it almost hurt.

“I thought… you had already forgotten me.”

There was more grievance than joy in his voice. A faint ache rose in Yu Gong Zhao Ye’s chest as he gave a bitter smile. “How could I forget?”

Wei Fu took a deep breath, stubbornly lodging a complaint. “When we first met here, you didn’t recognize me. You even threatened me—treated me like a hostage.”

Yu Gong Zhao Ye said in surprise, “Then why didn’t you say so at the time?”

Wei Fu: “……”

Whoever wants this blockhead can have him.

After a moment, he let out a displeased snort. Yu Gong Zhao Ye tugged him slightly closer—though the force was weak, Wei Fu moved like a hooked fish, sitting beside him.

The scent of gentian returned, clear again. That “ancestor” immediately pressed his advantage. “Then why are you only saying it now?”

“I only confirmed it was you a few days ago. I hadn’t figured out how to acknowledge it,” Yu Gong Zhao Ye said with rare honesty. “But just now, if I didn’t say anything, I was afraid you’d burst into tears and run out, flooding Liuzhi Alley.”

Wei Fu: “……”

He retaliated by pinching Yu Gong Zhao Ye’s palm. “Actually, it’s not your fault. I never told you my real identity, and you didn’t know my appearance or voice—of course you wouldn’t recognize me. I just wanted to see how long it would take you to grow suspicious.”

“All these years, I wanted to see you again. When I heard that Bihua had disbanded, I didn’t know if you were still in Longsha. I could only seize this chance of the diplomatic mission to look for you myself. I didn’t expect you to suddenly fall from the roof that day…”

In the dim light, he could clearly see Yu Gong Zhao Ye’s pale, jade-like profile. The youthful immaturity was gone; his bearing was even more composed than before. Yet the quiet tolerance, the subtle attentiveness when listening, even the way his eyelashes lowered—none of it had changed.

His voice softened into a murmur, as though afraid to shatter the moment.

“Like a dream.”

He had dreamed of seeing him again countless times. Yet now that they had met, he feared it was only a fleeting illusion.

But Yu Gong Zhao Ye seemed born without a sentimental streak. From that heartfelt confession, he picked out the least important detail: “Was it really necessary to emphasize the roof?”

Snap. The moment shattered.

Wei Fu: “……”

“No one in three hundred years before or after will understand Your Highness’s sense of humor. I’m honored to witness it, but honestly, it’s exhausting,” he sighed, gently pushing Yu Gong Zhao Ye’s shoulder. “Lie down while we talk. We’ve already slept together in a cave—surely we don’t need to worry about formalities now?”

Now that everything had been said, the awkwardness should have faded. This time, Yu Gong Zhao Ye did not refuse. Though not used to being helped, he let Wei Fu assist him in removing his outer robe, loosening his hair, and settling into the warm bedding.

Under the dim candlelight, his naturally light hair took on a silk-like sheen. Wei Fu sat by the bed, leaning against the frame, gathering his loose strands like one might carefully stroke the fur of a powerful beast. One hand remained firmly entwined with his, as though otherwise Yu Gong Zhao Ye might not hear him.

Half-lidded, Yu Gong Zhao Ye looked as though he might drift to sleep. “I once thought… the next time I saw you would only be in a dream.”

Wei Fu’s grip tightened. He thought to himself that even an iron tree could bloom—this blockhead had finally managed a tender sentence. But Yu Gong Zhao Ye continued calmly, “That day in the study, and later in the carriage, I could tell you were hinting at something—but I didn’t dare think in that direction.”

A man who could go anywhere in the world and take lives with ease—yet from his mouth came the words “didn’t dare.” Wei Fu asked, “Why not?”

“Because six years ago, the last news I received about you…” He paused slightly, as though carefully choosing his words. “Was that you were already dead.”

Wei Fu: “…What?”

Wei Fu: “What do you mean dead? Who said that? That’s outrageous! Who spread such a rumor?”

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