Guide of the Sichuan Tang Clan C13

Chapter 13

In an instant, Cheongwoo leaned in so close that his face nearly brushed Eunmyeong’s. His chin was caught, leaving him no chance to recoil, and his eyes flew open wide.

Too close!

From the long sweep of Cheongwoo’s lashes to the pitch-black depths of his irises, every detail of his features came into view. His gaze roamed swiftly across Eunmyeong’s face, taking in every corner.

“It doesn’t seem like you’re hurt…”

He murmured slowly as he turned Eunmyeong’s head. At that angle, it looked strangely like they were about to kiss.

Th—this insane…

The thought alone nearly drove Eunmyeong mad. The memories he had buried deep within himself for the past week began to creep back up, one by one.

He tried to maintain a composed expression, but the flush rising from his neck gave him away. The sight of his gradually reddening face—like blossoms blooming upon a field of white snow—made Cheongwoo grin.

“Aha.”

“…”

“Is it lovesickness?”

With a smug smile, Cheongwoo released his chin.

This lunatic. Eunmyeong was just about to snap back when Mujin cut in before he could speak.

“Is it true that you entrusted my treatment to this man, Lord?”

Unlike Eunmyeong, who had collapsed carelessly to the ground, Mujin knelt properly and fixed his eyes on Cheongwoo.

Cheongwoo nodded as if nothing were amiss.

“Yes. You’re in no condition to recover on your own.”

“That is not so. Even without him…”

Mujin’s gaze shifted toward Eunmyeong.

“I can recuperate by myself without Tang Eunmyeong. Retract your order.”

“Order?”

Cheongwoo let out a derisive snort as he handed over a cup. It was an unmistakable expression of mockery, as though he had just heard the world’s most ridiculous claim.

“You’re hardly in a position to refuse treatment over something as petty as an order.”

“…My lord.”

“If not for Eunmyeong, you wouldn’t have even woken up. And returning to your former body? You could forget about that.”

“…”

“If you have a mouth, answer me. Can you truly regain your former martial prowess? And even if you could—could you dare claim Eunmyeong played no part in that?”

Even Eunmyeong winced at the harshness of those words. They were meant to praise his efforts, yet something about them made him uneasy, and he shut his mouth. As the saying went—sometimes the one who defends you is more frightening than the one who attacks. He had no desire to further provoke Mujin, who already avoided him as if he were the plague.

If it was going to be like this, he wished they would just talk privately.

As Eunmyeong grew increasingly uncomfortable and glanced anxiously at Mujin, Cheongwoo placed a bowl of candied treats before him.

“From now on, you will continue accompanying Eunmyeong.”

“…What?”

Eunmyeong, who had been silently listening, blinked. Yes, he had been the one to request permission to treat Mujin, but the next thing Cheongwoo said was something he had never anticipated. He pointed at himself, puzzled.

“You mean… the young master and I will be traveling together?”

“Yes. We need to learn the extent of your abilities as well…”

Cheongwoo picked up one of the sweets stacked high in the dish, then brought it toward Eunmyeong’s lips. A faint rustle sounded between his fingers.

“But more importantly—because you want to treat him.”

“…”

“And you’ll help with my treatment too, won’t you? Once you get rid of that.”

The moment his mouth parted, the sweet was slipped inside. Sugar dust melted across his tongue. It was sickeningly sweet—sweet enough to rot teeth—but Cheongwoo’s words were sweeter still.

Eunmyeong stared at him with trembling eyes, and Cheongwoo’s lips curved upward.

“Chew, little one.”

He gently pressed Eunmyeong’s cheek. Wherever he pushed, the skin puffed adorably.

“Like this. Chew.”

“A–ah… agh…?”

Eunmyeong stammered through a muffled sound. Little one? He hadn’t heard that title since he first arrived at the Center.

“Yes, you.”

“A kid? A baby?”

“Mhm.”

Cheongwoo answered calmly—his expression implying the question was unnecessary. Eunmyeong was the one thrown off.

He stopped chewing altogether and stared blankly. Cheongwoo brushed away the sugar dust that had fallen along his chin. Eunmyeong grabbed his hand in a fluster.

“I—I…”

“Yes?”

“By any chance… my… no—how old am I?”

In the original novel, Tang Eunmyeong had been the most irrelevant of extras. He hadn’t even died of qi deviation—he had simply died during the Demon Sect War without so much as a footnote. Had he been a supporting character, he would’ve at least died dramatically after gathering his inner power.

Either fortunate or unfortunate, Eunmyeong was so unimportant that even his age had never been mentioned. He had lived only long enough to call Mujin “young lord” and Cheongwoo “lord,” then disappeared.

And yet he calls me a kid?!

As Eunmyeong fell into panic, Cheongwoo delivered his verdict.

“You’re the same age as Jeongho.”

“…”

“Jeongho is twenty this year, isn’t he?”

His vision darkened. Twenty. He couldn’t even remember what he had been doing back then. The number felt distant—unreachable.

He had worked as a guide from an early age, so he had certainly been running all over the place, calming espers and extinguishing disasters. Always watching them nervously, wondering who would cause trouble next.

And now he was twenty again. Should he be grateful for returning to youth? Or should he be devastated at being treated like a child?

“Twenty… twenty? You’ve got to be—”

“Mind your language and eat your sweet.”

While Eunmyeong spiraled in thought, Cheongwoo placed another sweet in his mouth. Eunmyeong chewed like a baby bird, obedient and wide-eyed. For someone who never blinked when eating whatever was offered, he was strangely adorable.

Very unlike someone from the Tang clan, where poison flowed like water. Perhaps it was because his father had kept him sheltered at home. Cheongwoo brushed the sugar off Eunmyeong’s robe.

“Live together starting today. We never know when my inner power might run amok. I’ll have another bedding prepared in my quarters.”

His tone was as light as if he were remarking on fallen leaves outside, yet the words struck like a bolt of lightning. Mujin, who had been sitting silently, stood at once.

Even if the order came from the clan head, he couldn’t accept it. Mujin cast a cold glance over Eunmyeong and spoke.

“I cannot obey.”

“Young master.”

“Please withdraw your command, my lord.”

That frigid gaze struck him. Eunmyeong felt as though the emotionless face might draw a blade on him at any moment, and he looked away.

I worked so hard to save you…

Do you really hate me that much?

The thought stung with a hint of injustice. Eunmyeong raised his head, eyes wide.

Mujin still stood by the door, staring straight at him. He seemed even colder than before, sending a shiver down Eunmyeong’s spine.

Well… I mean… people are allowed to dislike others…

He was just about to lower his head in surrender when Cheongwoo’s arm wrapped around his shoulder. He stroked Eunmyeong’s arm reassuringly before lifting his gaze to Mujin.

“Are you saying you intend to defy me?”

His voice had dropped. It was a tone Eunmyeong had never heard—not in the interrogation hall, not in the room earlier. Startled, Eunmyeong looked at him.

“In the Sichuan Tang Clan, if you will not obey the clan head’s command, the only choice is to leave.”

“…”

“Is that what you want?”

The air grew unbearably heavy. Neither man looked away. Mujin stood at the doorway; Cheongwoo sat firmly with Eunmyeong in his hold.

Cheongwoo was like an unmoving mountain. Broad-shouldered, steady, and unyielding as he stared up at Mujin with a proud, domineering gaze.

After a long moment, it was Mujin who broke first.

He bowed his head and stepped out of the room. Only then did the suffocating atmosphere dissipate, and Eunmyeong let out a shaky breath.

“And I’m supposedly the kid…”

“So?”

“Respect your baby, will you? Fighting in front of a child is terrible for their emotional health.”

Once his mood eased, his body relaxed as well. Eunmyeong leaned back, supporting himself with his hands.

“If you two fight one more time, this whole place is going to fall apart.”

“If the clan is so fragile, it deserves to collapse.”

Cheongwoo replied calmly, unfazed by Eunmyeong sprawling on the floor. He reached for the teapot behind him.

It was a tea he had specifically instructed a servant to prepare for Eunmyeong—brewed from dried fruit pulp, leaving a gentle sweetness rather than bitterness. When he poured the pale yellow tea into the cup, Eunmyeong—still jittery—spoke up.

“Are you sure this is okay?”

“What is?”

“He’s still the young master. Isn’t it risky to push him this far? There must be other ways besides keeping him close.”

Instead of answering, Cheongwoo handed him the cup. Eunmyeong didn’t take it and only stared at it, so Cheongwoo placed it directly into his hands.

Does he seriously think I’m a toddler?

He kept trying to feed him, and Eunmyeong wanted to protest that he could drink by himself. But saying so would only make him seem even more childish, so he bit back the words.

But then why did you kiss a “kid”…

The memory surged suddenly, making Eunmyeong clamp his mouth shut. Cheongwoo, who had been watching him, leaned back against the wall with a weary air.

His entire presence slackened in an instant. When he removed the hairpin holding his hair up, the tied locks fell loosely down his back. The sight of his long hair cascading like flowing water over his sturdy neck made Eunmyeong freeze mid-breath.

Propping his chin loosely on one hand, Cheongwoo whispered:

“I wish you were curious about something else instead.”

“…”

“For example—why I didn’t show my face until now… or whether I might need your ability.”

The question pierced straight through him. Eunmyeong’s gaze darted, lost and shaken.

“N–not really curious…”

“Not even about why I kissed you so deeply?”

Cheongwoo’s hand approached—slowly, unhurriedly—as if giving him full permission to refuse, should he truly want to.

“It could have ended with a simple kiss.”

At last, his fingertips touched Eunmyeong’s lips.