Faraway Wanderers Novel (English Translation)

Eavesdrop

Chapter 55.

Traversing the bridle path along the grassy plains by the Yiluo River; though the verdant garden remained evergreen, the passers-by grow old.[1] In the legends, a myriad of songstresses from Yan Zhao played their shengs in melodious harmony on the golden terraces. The wind rose from the east of Luoyang, and drifted past the west.[2]

The neverending cries of the troubled commoners, like cuckoo calls, had ceased. A man, with wine by his side, succumbed to the long haze of drink.

At the site of the eastern capital, its splendor was long past. There were a few thin horses on the state road[3], ambling leisurely.

The two men were both of slender and elegant build, but one of them vaguely had a sickly pallor to his countenance. A wine flask hung at his waist, though he was in no hurry to drink; he merely held it in hand, swirling it occasionally. When he took a sip, he held it in his mouth for a while to savour it, before swallowing it slowly, his thoughts inscrutable to the onlooker. A simple and honest-looking youth followed behind them.

This was none other than Zhou Zishu and his company, who had just exited Shuzhong.  

Watching from the side, Wen Kexing discovered that this person took one sip after another, and in a short amount of time, had reached the bottom of such a large flask. He could not stop himself from reaching out just as Zhou Zishu tipped it into his mouth again, restraining his forearm, and said, “Isn’t that about enough, drunkard?”  

Zhou Zishu cast a sideway glance at him, switched the wine flask to his other hand, and said, “You’re sticking your nose into so much of my business. Are you my wife?”

Wen Kexing stretched out a hand to grab his flask, and said with a serious expression still, “We’ve even had intimate, skin-on-skin contact. Are you planning to abandon me now after you’ve toyed with me?”

Zhou Zishu countered his moves as they came, smiling as he replied, “I’m afraid that you will be widowed.”

Without caring that Zhang Chengling was still present, Wen Kexing continued shamelessly, “That’s fine, because anyway, at present, you let me look and touch, but not do--I lie awake every night, widowed even though you’re alive.”  

Zhou Zishu’s hand slipped, and the flask was nicked by Wen Kexing.

Zhang Chengling tagged along closely behind them, head lowered. He wanted to burrow himself into a crack in the ground.

Seizing his flask, Wen Kexing took a large swig from it, slanted a gaze at Zhou Zishu and smiled, saying, “The wine can’t be considered good wine, but the taste is truly...quite good, quite good.”

Zhou Zishu looked at him woodenly for a moment, then abruptly spurred the horse to move closer to him, and spoke right next to his ear, “Is this because my wife is unsated, and lonely at night? This husband has treated you poorly. Tonight, wash up and wait for me. I’ll call on you for sure…”

Lost in his fantasies as he listened, Wen Kexing’s hand closed around empty air--the wine flask had been nicked right back.

Mimicking his actions, Zhou Zishu slanted a glance at him. The corners of his eyes were slightly long and narrow, but when his gaze drifted over, there was not one trace of bewitchment to it; instead, it had a sense of lively mischief. Smugly, he raised that wine flask and swirled it a few times in Wen Kexing’s direction, then took a large swig in satisfaction.

However, he suddenly felt something small and hard slide into his mouth. Pausing in alarm, Zhou Zishu spat that thing out, and nearly leapt from the horse’s back--it was a small chunk of walnut!