Guide of the Sichuan Tang Clan C26

Chapter 26

Meeting Cheongwoo was always nerve-racking.

The servants here were different from those attending Mujin’s quarters. They neither looked down on Eunmyeong nor fawned over him; instead, they treated him with an even, impersonal courtesy. Thanks to that, once permission was granted, he was able to go see Cheongwoo immediately.

‘Still… I really don’t like this.’

They were unfailingly polite and impeccably neat, yet they didn’t feel like people at all. The faint smiles fixed on their faces never changed, not once, the entire way to Cheongwoo.

‘I’d rather deal with people whose thoughts are written all over their faces.’

As Eunmyeong followed behind with that thought, the servants stopped before a door. It was not Cheongwoo’s usual residence.

“This way.”

With a soft creak, the door opened, and the guests who had arrived earlier all turned to look at Eunmyeong.

“My son?”

Among them was Namya. Seeing his child after some time, Namya’s eyes widened.

The elders were seated in a circle around a round table. Cheongwoo occupied the center. Facing him, Eunmyeong clasped his fists in salute and bowed his head.

“I pay my respects to the Clan Head.”

“Yes. You’ve come at just the right time.”

Cheongwoo’s eyes curved into crescents. His warm welcome only made Eunmyeong more uneasy. He wanted to go home. Having slept here several times already, it felt strangely familiar; he found himself wanting to bolt straight for Mujin’s quarters. As Eunmyeong’s eyes darted about, Cheongwoo gestured lightly.

“Hm. We should have you sit somewhere.”

“……”

“You’re an unexpected guest, so there’s no seat prepared.”

There were five empty chairs. One beside Namya, one diagonally across from Cheongwoo—there were clearly vacant spots. Question marks surfaced on the elders’ faces.

“There are plenty of seats, though…?”

“What a predicament. I can’t very well leave a valued guest standing.”

“Clan Head?”

“How troublesome.”

Despite Eunmyeong’s protest, Cheongwoo rubbed his chin, looking genuinely conflicted. Hm. He let out another low hum.

“In that case, you’ll have to sit on my lap.”

Eunmyeong’s eyes flew wide open. He sucked in a sharp breath, and as if that reaction was exactly what he’d hoped for, Cheongwoo’s smile deepened.

Today, Cheongwoo was dressed lightly. With no outer robe, only a single layer of inner garments, his physique stood out all the more starkly. Beneath the table, Eunmyeong saw Cheongwoo slowly spread his legs.

Trousers showed beneath the inner robe. The fabric stretched tight around his thighs, as if about to burst. Flushing, Eunmyeong hurriedly turned his head away.

‘Save me, Father.’

He sent a silent plea to Namya, but before the Clan Head, Namya was nothing more than another elder.

‘We’re done for, my son.’

Resisting the urge to click his tongue, Namya shook his head.

Damn it. Even Namya had abandoned him; Eunmyeong had no one left to rely on. But there was no way he could sit on those thighs. When Eunmyeong stole a quick glance at Cheongwoo’s waistband, Cheongwoo burst into laughter.

Eunmyeong could be brazen with Mujin, with Jeongho, with other martial artists—but for some reason, he couldn’t do the same in front of Cheongwoo. Perhaps it was because he still remembered having his schemes pierced so cleanly before; no matter what he thought, it felt as though Cheongwoo would see right through him.

‘And those eyes…’

They were pitch-black, snake-like eyes. Similar to Mujin’s, yet bearing a weight of years Mujin lacked.

‘I can’t speak carelessly when he looks at me like that.’

Eunmyeong swallowed hard.

“How could I dare sit on the Clan Head’s lap? Th-that would go against propriety.”

“What propriety?”

“What… well, um—”

Caught off guard, Eunmyeong wracked his brain. He tried to recall every rule of decorum from martial arts novels, but none explicitly said one must not sit on the Clan Head’s lap.

‘Of course not—what kind of Clan Head like you even exists in those novels?!’

Suppressing the urge to tear at his hair, Eunmyeong continued.

“Anyway, it violates… some sort of rule.”

“Does it?”

“Yes. I’ll just sit over there.”

He pointed to the chair beside Namya. Taking the hint, Namya quietly pulled the chair back. Watching the desperate father-and-son maneuver, Cheongwoo propped his chin on one arm.

“How strange. There shouldn’t be a single rule in Sichuan that I don’t know.”

His gaze slowly shifted to Namya.

“Unless the elder made one up?”

“…Now that I look again, there really isn’t a seat, Eunmyeong.”

With a screech, Namya shoved the chair back in. Damn it. Eunmyeong met Cheongwoo’s relaxed gaze once more.

“If the lap truly won’t do, there are other options.”

Cheongwoo pointed to the floor with his toe.

“You could sit beneath my knees.”

“……”

“Or between them. Ah—kneeling politely would be nice too.”

His gentle voice filled the room. When his brow lifted as if urging an answer, Eunmyeong squeezed his eyes shut. The intent was unmistakable—this was blatant teasing.

‘Kneeling… between his legs…’

For just a fleeting instant, Eunmyeong imagined it: kneeling there, seeing solid thighs first, then the heavy presence between them asserting itself.

If he somehow tore his gaze away, he’d see the inner robe. His face would redden more with every inch his eyes rose, heat inevitably following. And above it all, Cheongwoo would be watching, clearly amused.

The dizzying image was enough. Eunmyeong made his decision.

“I’ll just sit on your lap.”

“A wise choice.”

Cheongwoo’s lips twisted into a villainous grin. As Eunmyeong shuffled closer, trousers stretched smooth without a single wrinkle came into view.

‘What kind of muscles are these…’

It was like solid stone packed beneath the fabric. Every breath Cheongwoo took made the muscles ripple. They were even larger than Eunmyeong had imagined.

“They say you should test even a stone bridge before crossing it.”

Cheongwoo tapped his thigh with a fingertip.

“Care to test it once?”

“That would violate propriety too!”

Before he could be teased further, Eunmyeong squeezed his eyes shut and dropped onto Cheongwoo’s thigh. It was hard as a stone bed rated five stars.

The moment he sat, a thick arm wrapped around his waist, adjusting his posture. Cheongwoo guided Eunmyeong so he could lean his head against his chest, securing him comfortably.

It was disturbingly comfortable. Feeling the elders’ shocked stares, Eunmyeong muttered,

“The chair is way too hard.”

“Oh dear. That can’t be helped.”

“If my butt goes flat from sitting here, what then?”

“Well…”

Cheongwoo shifted his thigh playfully. Eunmyeong’s body lifted slightly.

“Shall I still call you pretty then?”

How could this man say such things without batting an eye? Pulling his face away from Cheongwoo’s chest, Eunmyeong looked up at him.

“You know there’s no one else who calls me pretty besides you, Clan Head.”

“Then their eyes must all be blinded by poison.”

“Or maybe you’re the one with something wrong.”

Cheongwoo’s fingertip pressed lightly against Eunmyeong’s lips.

“Quiet.”

As Cheongwoo turned his head back, the elders who had been watching their feather-ruffling display cleared their throats awkwardly.

‘You said it wasn’t a love triangle…’

It wasn’t just Mujin and Jeongho who had their eyes on Eunmyeong. He wished it were merely his imagination, but even the meeting in the rear garden now seemed intentional on Cheongwoo’s part.

Just as Namya was about to clutch his head in despair, one of the elders spoke up. It was Goju, the elder responsible for information from the Central Plains.

“Ahem. We’ve received word from Mount Hua.”

“Mount Hua?”

“Yes.”

At the mention of Mount Hua, Eunmyeong’s head turned as well. Mount Hua—the sect that had expelled Do Seowon.

Perhaps conscious of Eunmyeong’s presence as an outsider, Goju glanced at him briefly before continuing.

“They are inquiring about the progress regarding ‘that person.’ How the matter is being handled.”

“Wasn’t it left entirely to us? It’s not something Mount Hua should concern itself with.”

“Even if he was expelled—ah, ahem. Still, a sect member is a sect member. It’s understandable they want clarity.”

Trying his best to appear uninterested, Eunmyeong fiddled with the teacup before him. A thin band of gold circled the rim where lips would touch.

It was a cup only the Clan Head was permitted to use, yet its appearance barely registered with Eunmyeong.

‘There’s only one expelled person.’

Do Seowon. This was clearly about him. By luck, Eunmyeong might glean more information. As he sat quietly, holding his breath, Cheongwoo’s chest leaned closer.

Soon, a plate piled with sweets was placed in front of Eunmyeong—the same confections Cheongwoo had personally fed him before.

“Wasn’t this entrusted to the Young Master?”

Goju stared blankly as every sweet on the table was pushed toward Eunmyeong, momentarily forgetting Cheongwoo’s question.

“Goju?”

“…Yes. Still, dragging it out too long isn’t ideal. The longer it takes, the longer his periods of lost sanity will be.”

“That’s for us to decide.”

As the one-sidedly tense discussion continued, Eunmyeong cautiously glanced upward. Was this really okay? His eyes, filled with worry and unease, met Cheongwoo’s, and Cheongwoo smiled softly.

“My, my. We’ve gone and discussed heavy matters in front of a child again.”

“A child…?”

When Goju cluelessly echoed the word, a kick struck under the table. It was Namya’s foot.

“Agh!”

Namya glared at Goju.

“What are you doing? We’re in the middle of an important discussion!”

Don’t you know what’s important right now, damn it. Just like his wife always said, the Tang Clan—himself included—was hopelessly tactless.

As Goju shot him an indignant look, Namya mouthed silently,

‘Get lost.’

‘What?’

‘I said get lost.’

Goju blinked, utterly dumbfounded.