Time flew by in the blink of an eye...

Thành hated using that phrase, but he had to admit—it was true. Once life settled into a routine, the days slipped by too quickly. In no time at all, he had already been in this world for four years.

Đoàn Văn Nhữ got married and was now the father of a son and a daughter. Over the years, he remained in his low-ranking position at the Imperial Academy, showing no ambition for advancement. Lê Soạn continued his studies, occasionally returning home for a few days. Meanwhile, Thành, having mastered literacy, began venturing outside to expand his social circle, dabbling in small trades and business ventures. Though not particularly profitable, these activities kept both his mind and body active while also broadening his connections.

From time to time, the old king summoned him to the palace for chess and idle conversation. His attitude remained neutral, no longer as probing as before. Perhaps, after years of waiting with no sign of pregnancy from Vân Trang, he had finally put his suspicions to rest.

During this period, Thành encountered a few familiar names from Khuynh Dã, but they were mostly young girls around Lê Soạn's age—like Văn Nhữ's younger sister—or individuals with little real power.

Thành knew that once Lê Soạn came of age, the world would no longer be as peaceful as it was now. He refused to stand idly by and watch everything descend into chaos, but he also wasn't sure how knowing trivia like "Mai Thanh has the biggest breasts" or "Bùi Lệ Uyên has five birthmarks on her thigh" would be of any help when the time came.

The only thing he could do to prepare was save up money and plan an escape route. After years of living together in harmony, he hoped Lê Soạn would no longer harbor any intention of killing his brother-in-law, as he had in the original story. More than that, he wished for the boy to be different from the ruthless, bloodthirsty, and cold-hearted version of himself depicted in the novel. Thành still wanted Lê Soạn to become a great hero—only this time, one who was kind and compassionate.

Speaking of Lê Soạn, calling him a "kid" no longer seemed appropriate. At seventeen, he was strong enough to break a buffalo's horn and had grown to match Thành's height—perhaps even taller in time. He remained at the Imperial Academy, rarely coming home, and his temperament had grown increasingly steady and composed.

Last year was a leap year, so the Lunar New Year arrived later than usual.

The customs of celebrating Tết in this world were quite similar to those of his old one. People here also wrapped bánh chưng, cleaned their homes, and arranged five-fruit trays—but everything followed stricter traditions. As spring approached, houses were adorned with colorful decorations, and everyone bustled in and out, busy with preparations. In this world where entertainment was scarce, the lively atmosphere after a long stretch of monotony left Thành feeling unusually excited and cheerful.

But what made him happiest was that Soạn was on break for the holiday and would be staying home until the end of the first lunar month. Over the years, the two had grown incredibly close—perhaps even to the point of being kindred spirits. Soạn was well-mannered, considerate, and thoughtful—nothing like the ruthless tyrant described in the novel.

When Lê Soạn returned home, he brought several small packages as gifts for Madame Thị Diễm. Vân Trang had probably reminded him to do so beforehand. After receiving the gifts, Madame Thị Diễm waved him away, clearly uninterested in engaging in conversation. Stepping out of her room, Soạn let out a quiet sigh of relief and didn't bother acknowledging his sister, who was obviously waiting to ask him questions. Instead, he walked briskly toward the place he most wanted to be.

Out in the yard, Thành was pinning down the mother cat to pick fleas off her fur. At the sound of approaching footsteps, he looked up—just in time to see Soạn hurrying over. The young man had yet to fully mask his emotions, and a bright smile lingered on his lips as he respectfully greeted,

"Brother, I'm home."

Standing against the sunlight, Soạn's tall and sturdy frame exuded both strength and grace. His broad shoulders tapered down to a slim waist. His deep black eyes were clear yet unreadable, his nose sharp, his brows thick. Though his lips curved in a smile, there was a faint melancholy in his expression.

The cat wriggled free from Thành's grasp and darted away. He remained still, suddenly realizing he had just spent several seconds staring blankly at Lê Soạn. A warmth spread across his ears. Clearing his throat, he coughed lightly, as if to compose himself.

Tsk. Lê Soạn can be handsome as hell... but those thin lips? Definitely the mark of a heartbreaker.

Lê Soạn was holding a fabric-wrapped bundle in his hands as he sat down beside Thành.

"How long have you been back?" Thành asked.

"I just got home," Soạn replied, opening the bundle and pulling out a stack of books in various sizes and colors. "Brother, I had someone buy these for me. They're really good."

Ah. This was exactly why Thành considered Lê Soạn his kindred spirit in this world. A few years ago, somehow, the perceptive little brat had figured out that Thành had a passion for reading.

Books were sold widely, but the ones Thành could actually enjoy were rare. Some were too poorly written, while others were far too advanced for him to comprehend. Bookstores didn't provide summaries or categorized lists for easy browsing. At times like these, he missed good old Google from his past life. Back then, whenever he craved a new read, all he had to do was type a few words—"Best erotic novels," "Top 10 epic fantasy books"—and he'd be flooded with options. More than once, he'd considered giving up on reading altogether in this world.

But then, one fine day, Lê Soạn had brought him a brand-new book.

As a student at the Imperial Academy, Soạn was constantly surrounded by scholars and high-ranking noblemen. All he had to do was sit and listen to overhear the names of the latest popular novels. Each time he returned home, he'd buy a selection of books that had been the talk of the town and hand them over to Thành for review. If Thành praised one, Soạn would read it himself. Every month, Thành eagerly awaited Soạn's return, knowing he'd bring new stories.

Happily accepting the books, Thành chatted with Soạn until dusk.

"Oh, right! I got so caught up in our conversation that I forgot to ask—The Palace Examination isn't until after the New Year, right?" Thành asked offhandedly.

"That's right," Soạn confirmed.

Royal family members and high-ranking officials' children in the capital were granted an exemption from the Provincial Examination. Last autumn, Lê Soạn had passed the Metropolitan Examination with just enough marks—not outstanding, but sufficient. However, Thành suspected that Soạn had deliberately held back to avoid drawing attention.

"This year, we should visit as many temples as possible to pray for your success in the exam," Thành suggested.

"I've heard that Linh An Temple, in the western mountains of Xuân Thành, is famous for its spiritual power. The scenery around it is breathtaking, and they're known for their grilled goat specialty. It's a bit far, but if we take a few days for the trip, we can enjoy the journey and relax along the way," Soạn said.

"Then let's go! It's been a while since my mother and Vân Trang have gone out. A family spring trip sounds perfect," Thành agreed cheerfully.

New Year's Eve, the Lunar New Year, and the first few days of the year passed in the blink of an eye. Thành busied himself rushing back and forth, attending social gatherings and paying respects to relatives. By the time he remembered their planned spring excursion, everything had already been prepared.

Madame Thị Diễm, hesitant about traveling long distances, opted out of the trip. So, early one morning, Thành, Vân Trang, and Lê Soạn set off. Thành wasn't one to order servants around, so only a single maid named Lài accompanied them to tend to Vân Trang's needs.

The four of them boarded a boat and drifted along the river southwest. The geography and place names of this world were entirely unfamiliar to Thành. The capital of this country lay in the south, blessed with a mild climate and relatively free from natural disasters like storms and floods.

Since this was a leisurely spring outing, they traveled at a slow pace. The boat was quite large, though it had only a single open cabin without private rooms. Still, there was enough space to arrange rows of tables and chairs. Most of the passengers were young noblemen from the capital accompanied by their families. The entire morning was spent reciting poetry, painting, and discussing literature—an atmosphere of refined elegance.

Thành didn't mind the lively crowd. In fact, he was thoroughly enjoying himself. It wasn't often he had the chance to go on a trip like this and relax on a boat.

He and Soạn spent the entire morning playing chess and chatting. Meanwhile, Vân Trang sat quietly beside Thành, delicately embroidering a handkerchief.

As noon approached, she seemed a bit restless and asked for permission to go to the bow of the boat to enjoy the breeze and take in the scenery.

"Go ahead," Thành agreed with a smile. "But be careful—don't stand too close to the edge." Then, turning to Lài, he added, "Lài, the boat rocks quite a bit. Make sure to hold onto her properly."

"Yes," Vân Trang replied obediently before pulling Lài's hand and stepping outside.

Thành was so engrossed in his conversation with Soạn that he completely lost track of time. When he finally thought to check, he realized that Vân Trang had been gone for quite a while. Feeling a bit uneasy, he turned to look toward the bow of the boat.

She was still there, standing with her head slightly bowed, speaking softly to a young nobleman. Her fair, slender fingers twisted together, then loosened, only to repeat the motion again.

The breeze was gentle, the river stretched endlessly beneath the sky, and the scene before him was like something out of a painting—a talented young gentleman and a beautiful maiden meeting by chance, drawn together by the poetic atmosphere of spring.

For a moment, Thành simply stared.

Vân Trang had turned twenty this year. She was undeniably beautiful—gentle, well-mannered, and considerate. Yet, in the four years they had spent together, he had never once felt anything romantic toward her. To him, she was like a younger sister—someone to protect and care for. And from the way she treated him, it was clear she saw him as an older brother rather than a husband.

Thành pondered for a while.

On paper, Vân Trang was married to him, but in reality, their marriage existed in name only. Because of the complicated circumstances, he couldn't simply divorce her and find someone better for her. Staying in the Trương household offered her some level of security, but at the same time, it also meant she was trapped—unable to freely pursue love during the prime of her youth.

And then...

Thành's gaze shifted toward Lê Soạn.

Over the years, he had treated both Soạn and Vân Trang as family. Surely, they wouldn't be so desperate or hopeless as to develop feelings for each other. But that nagging doubt remained.

In the novel, was it really incest?

Or had it just been a baseless rumor?

If their supposed love had been written as something sincere and unwavering, perhaps Thành could have accepted it—perhaps he would have even given them his blessing. But after reading that scene of Vân Trang, he couldn't shake the feeling that Lê Soạn had never truly cared for her.

To him, she had been nothing more than an outlet for his desires.

And the worst part?

After staying by his side for thousands of chapters, as Lê Soạn continued expanding his harem, Vân Trang was left behind—never to be touched again.

Thành didn't want Vân Trang to end up married to someone who didn't truly love her.

As for Lê Soạn...

Lê Soạn was his good boy—the little sapling he had carefully nurtured over the years. Thành was certain that this precious wonderful kid would one day grow into the ideal lover—faithful, devoted, the kind of man who gave his heart to only one person for a lifetime.

While Thành was lost in thought, Vân Trang had already returned to her seat.

"Who was that you were speaking with?" he asked casually.

"I... it was... a young noble from the Trần family on Bắc Street," she murmured. "He helped me pick up my handkerchief when I dropped it."

"I see." Thành chuckled, his gaze teasing as he looked at her. He knew he couldn't divorce her right now—it was too risky for both her and the family. But if she happened to experience a little romance in the meantime... Well, Thành was more than willing to sacrify his non-existant reputation as a husband if it meant she could enjoy the sweetness of young love.

Vân Trang wasn't sure what he was thinking, but her cheeks flushed red. She quickly lowered her gaze, pretending to inspect her newly embroidered handkerchief.

Lê Soạn watched in silence. Without a word, he picked up his teacup, swirled the cold liquid inside, then poured it over the side of the boat into the river.

That night, the boat docked, and the four of them disembarked to find an inn for the night, planning to continue their journey in the morning.

Lê Soạn was no longer a child. As close as they were, Thành still wanted to give him his own space. And besides, everyone already knew that he and Vân Trang didn't share a room. Without much thought, he rented three separate rooms.

Once everything was settled, the two girls quietly entered their room to rest.

Thành lay awake that night, staring at the ceiling, replaying the events of the day in his mind. Even if he tacitly allowed it, Vân Trang might not dare to take the leap unless he explicitly gave her the green light. And even if she did, he needed to educate her about contraception—so long as that old emperor was still alive, they couldn't afford any slip-ups.

If he waited too long, the lovebirds might never meet each others again. As someone who couldn't resist meddling in other people's business, Thành decided—tonight, he would have a proper conversation with his nominal wife and clear things up.

He glanced at Vân Trang's room. As expected, the light was still on. Night owl habits were hard to break. Thành got up and walked over, knocking lightly on the door.

Lài peeked out, her expression slightly surprised to see him.

"Step out for a moment. I need to talk to her alone."

Without hesitation, Lài obeyed, slipping out and closing the door behind her.

Inside, Vân Trang was seated, balancing a book on her lap while carefully embroidering a handkerchief. When she saw Thành enter, she startled, jolting upright so suddenly that she knocked over her sewing box. Thành's gaze flickered over the spilled thread and needles. If she had been born in the modern world, she'd probably be one of those DIY craft enthusiasts, staying up late embroidering cross-stitch patterns. Or maybe she'd be the type to lose sleep binge-reading BL novels.

She seemed flustered by his sudden appearance at this hour. As she stepped forward, intending to ask why he was here, the hem of her long skirt caught under her foot.

She tripped.

Thành reacted instinctively, catching her before she could fall.

He had saved her from face-planting, but now their position was... compromising.

For a fleeting moment, their eyes met.

Before Thành could fully react, Vân Trang suddenly pushed him away. Even as a grown man with considerable strength, he staggered slightly from the unexpected force.

But what surprised him even more was that she didn't even check if he had fallen. Instead, she immediately knelt down and bowed three times.

"The kindness you have shown me and my brother is deeper than the ocean and heavier than a mountain. No matter how many lifetimes I live, I will never be able to repay this debt. In my next life, I vow to become an ox or a horse to serve you in return... However..."

Her delicate shoulders trembled. Thành could tell that, for a proper lady like her, the next words were incredibly difficult to say. He quickly raised a hand to stop her.

"There's no need to say more. You're misunderstanding. I didn't come here because—"

"The matter of... marital obligations—please forgive me, but I cannot fulfill them," Vân Trang interrupted, her voice unwavering.

The room fell into complete silence.

Even though Thành understood that she had misread the situation, her words still stung.

Her response had been firm, clear, and decisive—almost as if she had rehearsed it countless times before.

Thành wanted to help her up, but he hesitated, unwilling to touch her. He had never felt this awkward in his life.

"Please, stand up. You've misunderstood. You know I... I have no interest in women," Thành stammered, grasping for the first excuse that came to mind. But in truth, over the past few years, he had never once acted inappropriately toward Vân Trang. He had lived honestly, just as he had in his past life—a 28-year-old virgin who enjoyed reading romance novels but had never sought out courtesans or indulged in any questionable affairs.

Vân Trang remained kneeling, motionless, as if still unconvinced.

"I came here tonight because... because I saw how happy you were talking to that young master Trần this morning. It made me realize—you're still so young, yet because of me, you've been forced to live like a widow. That's not right. So perhaps..."

"I am wholeheartedly devoted to Buddhism. I vow to keep this body pure for life." Vân Trang cut him off.

This wasn't good.

Thành realized he had misspoken.

A married woman in this feudal society—except under very rare circumstances—would never entertain the idea of engaging in affairs that would earn her the scorn of the world. Even if her husband himself permitted it...

"I'm sorry. Vân Trang... I'm sorry. I only meant well... I didn't think it through..."

By the time Thành, overwhelmed with guilt, left the room, Vân Trang remained kneeling in the same position, motionless, without uttering another word.

That entire night, Thành couldn't sleep.

All he had wanted was for Vân Trang to have a better life, to find love of her own. He never imagined that in trying to give her freedom, he had instead wounded her pride.

The next morning, Thành woke up with dark circles under his eyes. The four of them headed back to the dock to continue their journey.

Strangely enough, Vân Trang looked as fresh and composed as usual. She neither avoided Thành nor made things awkward for him.

On the other hand, Lê Soạn seemed a bit dispirited.

"Did you have trouble sleeping last night?" Thành asked.

"Yes, brother. I guess I'm not used to the place."

"Yeah, same here."

When the boat reached the dock, people flocked together in groups, making their way to the temple for worship. They climbed the mountain, prayed, and performed their rituals, which took up the entire day. By the time they were done, the sky had already begun to darken.

Lê Soạn quickly found an inn. After dinner, Thành instructed everyone to rest, planning to go sightseeing and enjoy the festival the next day before heading back.

This time, Thành still rented three rooms. Though he had trouble falling asleep at first, still feeling uneasy about the events of the previous night, he eventually drifted off.

At midnight, Thanh suddenly felt something pressing down on his chest. He opened his eyes, and everything around him was dark. The thing lying on top of him was warm and soft to the touch, breathing heavily.

"Master, I'm so cold."

It was Lài!

Thành jolted awake in fear. Lài had her hair down, wearing only the upper piece of undergarment and nothing below, rubbing back and forth on his body. This year, she turned 19. Though her face wasn't particularly beautiful, she had everything a woman should have. Under the dim light of the oil lamp, Thành could see her rosy cheeks and passionate eyes.

For some reason, the scene that was like a wet dream of so many young men made Thanh nauseous. He used just enough force to push her away, shouting softly:"What are you doing?!!"

Lài shamelessly clung to Thành, refusing to let go, whispering, "Master... Master... Madam Vân Trang kicked me out of the room again. I'm so cold. Please let me stay in your room." Clearly, she was asking to "stay" in the most innocent sense, yet her actions were anything but—there was no attempt to hide her true intentions.

Over the years, Thành had grown accustomed to the flirtatious glances and deliberate attempts of the maids to seduce him. Though Trương Văn Thành was completely uninterested in women, in the olden days, such concepts were not well understood, and nothing could deter the maids from their dreams of "rising through the ranks overnight." However, back at home, there was still the notoriously strict Madam Thị Diễm keeping everything in check, so none of them dared to cross the line and climb into his bed. Perhaps Lài saw tonight as a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and decided to take her chances.

"I had to sleep outside all last night. If I have to do it again tonight, I might not survive. Please, Master. Let me stay."

Lài had successfully proven that there existed creatures in this world even more persistent than leeches. Thành was beyond frustrated. Finally, he shoved her back onto the bed and threw a blanket over her.

"Fine! You win! Just stay here. I'm going outside."

Thành irritably opened the door and stepped out. Before leaving, he turned back and warned her through gritted teeth, "If you dare follow me, you'd better be ready to pack your things and leave tomorrow."

The inn had a large courtyard with a few sets of bamboo tables and chairs. Thành planned to brew a strong pot of tea and stay up for the rest of the night.

He thought he would be alone, but as he stepped outside, he noticed a faint flickering light.

Sitting next to the dim glow was Lê Soạn.

His white undershirt was loosely draped over his shoulders, the buttons undone. His long hair, usually neatly tied up or wrapped in a turban, was now left to flow freely down his back...

Lê Soạn looked a little unkempt, a little weary. He still had that tall, dignified figure, but tonight, his silhouette seemed strangely lonely.

A wave of inexplicable sympathy swelled in Thành's chest.

"Still can't sleep?"

Hearing Thành's voice, Lê Soạn's face turned slightly red. He hurriedly fastened his shirt, stammering,

"You too?"

"Yeah," Thành chuckled. "Still not used to the place."

He looked up at the sky. It wasn't a full moon night, yet the moon was already quite round and bright.

"The moon looks beautiful."

"Yes."

The quiet surroundings made them instinctively lower their voices.

"Well, since we're both awake, I'll brew some tea. Let's sit together for a while."

"Yes, brother."

By the time Thành returned with the teapot, Lê Soạn had tidied himself up. His hair was neatly tied again, restoring his usual composed and upright demeanor. For some reason, Thành suddenly felt an inexplicable sense of loss.

They sat together, slowly chatting about everything and nothing, just like always. The night was so still that the only sound they could hear was each other's voices.

Though Lê Soạn was never a talkative person, tonight, he was even quieter than usual. He mostly listened to Thành speak, nodding occasionally, offering small smiles. His clear, lake-like eyes were fixed on Thành—watching him as if he were the entire world.

Thành could sense that something was weighing on his mind.

"Tết wouldn't be the same without peach blossoms," Thành mused. "But they don't grow around here."

"I've never seen peach blossoms in person before."

"You'd have to go further north, somewhere colder," Thành said, recalling past New Years spent at the orphanage. His heart tightened slightly. "They're a soft red-pink color. Seeing them in the lingering chill of early spring makes you feel warmer."

"Yes..." Lê Soạn lowered his gaze, as if lost in thought.

Now and then, their conversation would lapse into silence. Not an awkward silence, nor one caused by running out of things to say, but a silence that was comfortable, peaceful.

Thành felt much more at ease now. Seeing that Lê Soạn seemed a bit better but still somewhat melancholic, he decided to ask directly.

"Something on your mind?"

Lê Soạn didn't look surprised. He simply smiled.

"You think so?"

"Yeah. Is it about school? Family? Are you worried about your sister? Or did my mother say something again?"

The younger man just shook his head and smiled, giving no answer.

Thành continued,

"Whatever it is, just tell me. Don't keep it bottled up—it's bad for your health.

Soạn, you don't have to hold back with me.

I care about you. I'll always look out for you."

Lê Soạn turned to face him, staring intently. For a split second, Thành saw a ripple of emotion flicker through those deep, dark eyes.

The moon tonight, though not yet full, was still breathtaking.

Before Thành could process what was happening, those pale, seemingly unfaithful lips had already pressed against his own.

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Side Story:
Soạn (older): *lies on Thành's chest, rubbing back and forth*
Thành: *suffocates, ded*