"If you are going to assassinate me, could you at least make it quick and clean so I don’t have to deal with another painful transmigration loading screen?" Wen Yu squeaked, his voice cracking into a high-pitched, pathetic tremor as he spun around on his knees, clutching the heavy wooden scroll case against his chest like a flimsy shield.
The long shadow stretched across the dusty floorboards as the tall figure stepped out of the gloomy archway and directly into the pale shaft of sunlight filtering through the high paper-screened window.
"Assassinate my own consort?" Supreme General Xie Yan repeated in a low, quiet voice, his eyebrows arching upward as a slow, dangerous curve touched his lips. He leaned casually against the tall rosewood doorframe, tossing a narrow brass scroll-case from his left hand to his right. "I assure you, Consort Wen, if I desired your death, I would not waste time lurking in dusty archival corridors like a common thief."
Wen Yu let out a long, ragged gasp of air, his knees giving out entirely as he slumped back onto his heels against the low stool.
[IT’S JUST HIM!] Wen Yu screamed in absolute, high-octane mental chaos, his internal monologue exploding straight into Xie Yan’s head like a thousand firecrackers going off inside a metal trash can. [Oh thank the modern gods of publishing, my heart just did a complete gymnastics routine! Why does he have to walk around his own house looking like a shadowy assassin from a dark fantasy novel?! And why is his voice always so raspy when he steps out of dark corners?! My lifespan just decreased by five entire years!]
Xie Yan bit the inside of his cheek hard to suppress the low, rumbling laugh threatening to burst out of his throat. He smoothed down his dark leather tunic, taking three slow, deliberate steps into the quiet room, his heavy boots making no sound against the worn floorboards.
"I... I greet the General," Wen Yu stammered out loud, frantically scrambling into his delicate, submissive posture while trying to kick the treasonous supply ledgers behind his back with his heels. He fluttered his eyelashes in wide-eyed, fragile panic. "This humble one was merely... taking a peaceful morning stroll to clear my mind after the Grand Tutor’s rigorous lesson."
Xie Yan stopped directly in front of him, looking down at the scattered parchment scrolls on the floor and then directly into Wen Yu’s wide, terrified eyes.
"A peaceful stroll," Xie Yan repeated softly, his low voice dripping with quiet, intoxicating irony as he squatted down until he was at eye level with the younger man. He reached out, his long, calloused fingers gently picking up one of the open ledgers Wen Yu had been reading. "I did not realize that a simple, provincial scullery maid possessed the academic training to cross-reference central treasury grain allocations against northern border intake logs."
Wen Yu froze, the blood draining entirely from his face until he looked paler than the parchment scrolls spread out across his knees.
[ABORT MISSION! ABORT MISSION!] Wen Yu’s mind went into a full-blown emergency system failure, his editor brain wildly calculating a dozen different ways to spin the situation. [He saw the ledgers! He saw that I was looking at the altered supply receipts! How am I supposed to explain that a background omega servant who supposedly only knows how to scrub floorboards can analyze complex military supply line vulnerabilities like a seasoned auditor?! If I tell him the truth, he’ll think I’m an imperial spy sent by Marquis Vane!]
"I... I was only looking at the pretty calligraphy, General!" Wen Yu squeaked out, pitching his voice into an ultra-fragile, breathy register that sounded so profoundly fake even he wanted to cringe at himself. "The red ink stamps looked so... so decorative! I have always admired fine brushwork, even if my foolish, uneducated eyes cannot comprehend the grand meaning behind the characters!"
Xie Yan lowered the scroll, his dark eyes sparkling with intense, wicked amusement as he listened to the sheer, unhinged panic broadcasting live from his spouse’s mind. He tilted his head slightly, his gaze locking onto the exact spot where Marquis Vane’s silver-serpent crest was stamped on the document.
"Is that so?" Xie Yan asked, his tone deceptively smooth. "So you were not looking at the gap between the three thousand winter coats dispatched from the capital and the twelve hundred recorded at the border fortress?"
Wen Yu’s jaw dropped by a fraction of an inch before he violently slammed his mouth shut again.
[HE KNEW?!] Wen Yu shrieked internally, his mental persona violently pulling out its hair in frustration. [He already knew about the missing winter coats?! Wait, no... if he knew, why hasn’t he executed Marquis Vane for high treason yet?! Don’t tell me this is one of those frustrating webnovel tropes where the brilliant main lead knows about the conspiracy but has to pretend to be oblivious for fifty Chapters while gathering evidence?!]
"I... I do not know what winter coats the General is referring to," Wen Yu whimpered softly out loud, casting his eyes down demurely while his hands trembled against his knees. "I only... I only wanted to make myself useful to your noble household."
Xie Yan paused, his hand pausing on the edge of the leather ledger. "Useful?"
"Yes, General," Wen Yu murmured, letting out a small, quiet sigh as he allowed a tiny sliver of his real, exhausted voice to bleed through his fragile act. "I know everyone in the capital views me as a useless, low-born maid who got lucky by entering your estate. The Imperial Consort looks down on me, Marquis Vane tries to ruin my clothes, and even the estate servants whisper behind my back. I thought... I thought if I could learn how your household operates, if I could understand your burdens even just a little bit, I wouldn’t be such a pathetic burden to you."
The quiet archive room fell into a deep, heavy silence. The cool morning air rustled the paper screens high above, sending a gentle shower of golden dust motes floating down around them.
Xie Yan stared at the young man sitting before him. The general’s heart, usually as cold and unyielding as northern iron, gave a strange, painful thud against his ribs. He could hear the chaotic, messy stream of Wen Yu’s internal monologue softening, replaced by a genuine, vulnerable warmth that was entirely free of deception or performance.
[I mean, it’s true,] Wen Yu admitted silently to himself, his internal voice floating softly through their telepathic bond like a gentle breeze. [I might be stuck in this crazy BL novel universe, but Xie Yan is actually a good guy. He protected me from Vane’s wine trick, he didn’t let that awful tutor touch me, and he gave me his own fur cloak on the balcony. The least I can do as his official spouse is make sure he doesn’t get stabbed in the back by a corruption plot.]
Xie Yan reached out, his warm, heavy palm resting gently against the top of Wen Yu’s head, his long fingers carefully smoothing down a stray lock of soft hair.
"You are not a burden, Wen Yu," Xie Yan said, his low, rumbling voice dropping all remaining traces of teasing irony, filled with a deep, intoxicating sincerity that made Wen Yu’s breath hitch. "And you do not need to prove your worth to anyone in this estate—least of all to me."
Wen Yu raised his head in genuine surprise, his dark eyes locking onto the general’s intense, warm gaze. A sudden, scalding blush erupted across his cheeks, spreading quickly to the tips of his delicate ears.
[Oh no,] Wen Yu’s mind squeaked out in a small, flustered murmur. [Why is he looking at me like that again?! That gaze is entirely too soft for a warlord who commands three hundred thousand troops! My heart is doing that dangerous double-thud thing again! If he keeps speaking to me in that gentle, low register, my modern defenses are going to collapse entirely!]
Xie Yan slowly pulled his hand back, though his thumb brushed against the shell of Wen Yu’s warm ear before he let go. He smoothly gathered the scattered supply ledgers off the floor, rolling them up and placing them back inside the wooden chest with practiced ease.
"However," Xie Yan added, rising to his full height and extending a large, calloused hand toward the younger man to help him up, "your analytical skills are far too sharp to waste on dusty floorboards. Since you are so interested in military supply logistics, you shall accompany me to the western study after lunch."
Wen Yu stared at the extended hand, then up at Xie Yan’s face, wide-eyed with shock. "To... to your private study, General?"
"Indeed," Xie Yan smirked, his dark eyes shining with quiet, profound satisfaction as he pulled Wen Yu effortlessly to his feet. "If Marquis Vane and his faction are attempting to starve my northern garrison, I believe my brilliant consort is uniquely qualified to help me draft their court indictment."