Moonlit Night

Truthfully, spending time with Edward was quite comfortable. Though different from being with Jace—time with Jace felt more like hanging out with a friend from his modern life—Tang Feiliu felt increasingly at ease with Edward.

He sensed Edward’s respect and affirmation. In this era where knowledge was practically primitive, it was nothing short of a groundbreaking miracle that a native-born man like Edward would accept and validate Tang Feiliu’s wild, imagination-defying ideas that challenged beliefs.

Without the Duke of Edward's backing, no matter how many ideas Tang Feiliu had, they would likely remain mere empty talk. He might even have died quietly in this unfamiliar era during some minor outbreak of disease.

Though Tang Feiliu missed his home and modern life, after more than a year, he had gradually begun to feel a sense of belonging to this era. If given the chance, he would naturally wish to return. But since he was already here, and since he presumed he was dead in the modern world, then this hard-won second life deserved to be lived well, not wasted. Not just for himself—since he had arrived, he also wanted to pass on the seeds of civilization and prosperity to the people of this unfamiliar time and space that had accepted him.

Much like Earth, this era saw ancient Asia's population flourish. Villages and towns here housed over five times the population of the Lott Empire, with settlements of over a thousand inhabitants commonplace. In contrast, the Empire of York featured sparse villages. A lord whose domain contained one or two towns of five thousand or more was considered a major noble—often holding a title of count or higher. Yet Edward commanded three cities: York, Milky Hill, and Brulow—each boasting populations nearing ten thousand. This alone attested to his immense wealth and authority.

Yet this still fell short. Edward's wealth was built upon the authority of a great lord, which did not necessarily mean his free men, merchants, and wealthy peasants lived better lives. While they might fare somewhat better than their counterparts in other domains under Edward's relatively generous treatment, their fundamental standard of living remained unchanged. The lowest strata of society often struggled to meet even basic subsistence needs.

Tang Feiliu might not become a universally renowned figure, but he resolved to do whatever he could. While he couldn't match the living standards of ancient Asians from his era, saving even one more life was a worthy endeavor.

Therefore, he earnestly explained to Edward: "Though many call those things unclean, they are actually quite useful. Used properly, they can help wheat yield more... You know, many wheat ears are empty because the soil isn't fertile enough, or pollination isn't sufficient... And peas, and all sorts of crops—each one needs irrigation to bear more fruit, just like knights need training to grow stronger..."

Truth be told, Tang Feiliu wasn't particularly eloquent or skilled at persuasion. He was an avid reader who enjoyed reading, and though he had a steady circle of friends and was genuinely well-liked, he wasn't an outgoing personality. Right now, he was anxious to explain because in this era, people believed that anything grown from the earth was unclean. That's why meat from legged animals like pigs and sheep was cheaper. But swans, chickens, ducks—anything with wings—were seen as noble foods because they could fly, reaching closer to the heavens. In this climate, suggesting using manure to fertilize crops would likely have gotten him kicked off the land by anyone else.

Yet the more Tang Feiliu understood this, the more he wanted to explain it clearly—only to find himself increasingly unable to construct a systematic, coherent logic. His words came out disjointed and scattered, his confidence eroding with every sentence. Just as his anxiety peaked, Edward suddenly halted, patted his back, and murmured softly, "Little Lance, can you still catch your breath?"

"Huh?" Tang Feiliu froze.

He saw Edward looking at him. After a moment, Edward said, "Calm down? Don't be afraid... I won't despise what you say as unclean, because I myself am the most wicked thing in the world."

Tang Feiliu stared blankly at Edward. Before him stood a tall, imposing man clad in a black three-piece suit. To modern eyes, he’d be a walking hormone factory. His dark hair, piercing eyes, and sharp features gave him not only the sculpted handsomeness unique to Westerners but also an air of Asian mystery.

Yet born into this era, before uttering those words with such calm assurance, Tang Feiliu had always believed this man to be the textbook definition of an elite—powerful and utterly in control.

Yet in this moment, Tang Feiliu realized something: Edward might be powerful, radiating overwhelming control and authority, but he was also vulnerable. Raised in a tower since childhood, perhaps he wasn't as indifferent to his past as he appeared.

Tang Feiliu awkwardly stepped forward, embracing Edward gently as if hugging a friend he hadn't seen in ages. He patted Edward's back softly and said, "It's not like that, Your Grace. You're an exceptionally intelligent man, wiser and stronger than all of them."

"Really?" Edward returned the embrace, his arms wrapping around the innocent blond youth. The waist he grasped felt as smooth and supple as cream, and holding it with one hand felt as though it could snap with the slightest pressure—exactly as he had imagined upon their first meeting.

Tang Feiliu's heart felt as soft as water. He gently patted Edward's back, just as the young Master Lance remembered his family comforting one another, continuing to try to soothe the wounded duke. He said earnestly and firmly, "Of course. Time will prove it. York will become the most prosperous place of this era! Really, at least compared to the other territories!"

After all, for a place managed with such a lax approach, raising it to the standards of ancient China would likely seem like a golden land to people of this era, wouldn't it?

After offering his steadfast reassurance, Tang Feiliu's bold spirit faded. Only then did he belatedly realize he might have grown a bit too intimate with His Grace the Duke. Feeling uneasy, he shifted slightly within Edward's embrace and gently nudged the duke's chest with his hand. Edward promptly and compliantly released Tang Feiliu's waist. His expression softened considerably as he murmured softly, " Thank you, Lance. It's the first time anyone has ever said that to me."

"Because it's always been true." Tang Feiliu's momentary awkwardness vanished instantly. He looked up at Edward with a smile, confidently encouraging the suddenly disheartened duke: "Your Grace, I'll do my best. Though winter is approaching, we can get everything ready before the social season begins!"

"I look forward to that day," Edward murmured softly. He naturally took Tang Feiliu's hand and said, "The mountain paths are difficult to navigate. I'll take you to select the site."

"Oh, alright." Tang Feiliu didn't think much of it. By now, a cold wind had picked up. The main building's drainage system was nearly complete, with workers finishing up the final touches—recent renovations at Black Swan Castle meant nearby laborers could enjoy a prosperous New Year. Tang Feiliu's body, however, was already bundled in layers of clothing, making her walk somewhat clumsy. This wasn't the age of paved roads. Falling in muddy ground would make cleaning up a real hassle. Tang Feiliu grasped Edward's dry, powerful hand, feeling the calluses so hard they almost stung.

But Tang Feiliu had no mind for such discomfort. He was too delighted to be led by Edward out of the castle grounds—beyond the Swan Castle lay vast lawns and gardens, spreading out in concentric circles. Just as old butler Dave had said, creating a composting area on such pristine turf would be utterly unsightly.

Tang Feiliu himself had no desire to greet the stench of manure every morning upon stepping outside. If the wind shifted unfavorably, the entire castle would be permeated by the fermenting odor of excrement—a prospect he found utterly repulsive.

Yet they couldn't stray too far from the castle either. Unlike castles seen in later eras, Swan Castle, though adorned with beautifully manicured lawns and gardens at its entrance, was built atop a mountain peak primarily for military defense. Beyond these grounds lay a massive wall, said to have been gradually constructed by successive Dukes of York and now maintained by Edward. The entire structure formed a massive semicircle, enclosing not only gardens and lawns, but also training grounds and ponds. Most crucially, the walls featured bastions designed for troop movement and repelling enemy attacks.

While this structure may sound extravagant and seemingly pointless, much like the Great Wall of China in its day, its immense cost was justified as an effective defensive facility against enemy invasions during specific historical periods.

However, by the time of the late Duke, he had already moved to his residence in York during his twilight years. Nowadays, most nobles preferred the comfort of manor houses over castles. Frankly, as primarily military structures, castles weren't particularly comfortable dwellings—at least not for nobles.

Yet Edward still chose to reside in the castle that imprisoned him. Who knows what his mindset was.

To Tang Feiliu, though, this place was far preferable to York with its population exceeding ten thousand. In the main city, thousands defecated in the streets, and stepping outside meant risking a golden footprint. The castle's population was relatively sparse; with a little care, it was much more manageable.

After much wandering and pausing, they finally found a secluded spot at the castle's lower slope, tucked behind a small apple grove. This location shielded them from shifting winds carrying odors, and the surrounding lush vegetation made it ideal for composting. Tang Feiliu felt a weight lifted, knowing the most pressing issue was partially resolved. Yet the location was too remote—laying pipes that far would be wasteful.

After pondering, he consulted Edward: "Your Grace, we could install a small, enclosed pit at the end of the pipeline, sheltered from the wind. Waste could be promptly transported here, ensuring you experience absolutely no discomfort..."

Before Tang Feiliu could finish, Edward interrupted: "I've already said I'm granting you full authority."

Tang Feiliu nodded solemnly. "Your Grace, rest assured. I will not betray your trust."

Edward ruffled his hair, watching the boy's golden locks shimmer with fine, golden sparks in the sunlight as they scattered beneath his fingers. He murmured softly, "Very well, my little Lance. Work hard."

That night, Edward found a case file placed on his study desk.

He opened it to find the list of "blasphemers" the Templars intended to execute within his jurisdiction this year.

Under the category of sodomy, five names were listed.

Edward paused, then rang the service bell.

Old Dave entered instead of his personal valet, Evans.

"Dave," Edward tapped the file in his hand and murmured softly, "What is this? Those bastards dare to execute people in my domain without my consent?"

"Your Grace," Old Dave gazed at him with gentle eyes, his voice soft. "This is an annual practice. The Temple holds immunity in every domain... You know, every king requires the Temple's affirmation to ascend the throne..."

Edward knew this well. The Templars possessed their own territory—small yet transcending all nations. Their followers spanned the globe, adherents found in nearly every realm. Male-male sodomy was deemed unclean and immoral. The Templars' preachers executed those reported for such acts. This was an annual ritual.

Edward drew a deep, silent breath. He stared at Dave for a long moment, his expression softening from cold resistance. Slowly, he covered his face with both hands and murmured, "...I don't know, Dave. I don't know what's going on either..."

"You're merely lost, my lord..." Old Dave approached, gently stroking Edward's hair. His voice was soft. "I saw you in the castle's corner with young Lance... You're not one to need comforting embraces... Not now, at least. But none of that matters. Young Lance truly is an adorable child, utterly endearing. You wouldn't want him to become a target for others to harm..."

"You're right." Edward lifted his head to look at Old Dave. He knew Old Dave must have felt a strong certainty within himself—that his affection for Little Lance was truly unusual—to bring this matter up with him. Edward murmured softly, "I shouldn't have done this. Even if I don't believe in that damned God, even if I am the devil's spawn, I couldn't desecrate a child... I'm despicable... "

"No, my lord. The winter social season approaches swiftly. You've merely strayed momentarily. You shall have a lady of your own, and lovely children. Your future path lies clear... My lord, you need not believe in gods, nor are you the devil's spawn. You are Lady Johanna's child, the treasure she fought to bring into this world... Her greatest fear in life was for you. On her deathbed, she kept repeating how much she loved you, making me swear to care for you... Do not forget your godmother, Suna, or your aunt, Queen Josephine... If you truly were the devil's child, how could you be bathed in the love of so many?"

Edward slowly released his grip. He lifted his head, looked at Old Dave, and murmured softly, "You're right."

He quickly regained his composure, as if the confusion and fear had been mere illusions. "Dave," he murmured, "you may leave. I wish to rest."

Old Dave bowed slightly and withdrew.

Edward closed his eyes, recalling the first time he'd seen Lance, who resembled a sleeping Christ child. His golden hair spilled across the white silk sheets like sunlight filtering through clouds. He slept with an innocent sweetness, and when he opened his eyes, it was as if the essence of every lake in the world gathered within those expressive orbs.

Having lived so many years, Edward couldn't help but frown the first time he saw this little fellow, glaring at him sternly.

He wanted nothing more than to send the child away immediately.

Perhaps even then, his instincts were warning him that this child, who looked as delicate as a cream puff, might be a formidable problem for him.

He should have trusted his instincts—after all, how many times had they saved him from danger?

Yet today, everything young Lance spoke of stirred Edward's longing. As a lord, he wouldn't abandon someone who could bring him a new chapter. He could no longer drive this child away.

Besides, he couldn't bear to send him away—without the castle's protection, such a frail child might be swallowed by disease or accident the moment he stepped outside.

Edward couldn't fathom what had overtaken him. His eyes had never been drawn to women, let alone another man. How could meeting this self-proclaimed doctor feel like being possessed by a demon?

His thoughts were tangled. In the end, he could only convince himself that perhaps, as Dave had said, it was all an accident, a momentary confusion. These past months had been a period of disorientation. Maybe once the winter balls began, he should seriously seek out a lady who could help him return to normal.

He glanced again at the case file. It detailed how one gentleman convicted of adultery had identified his companion as a demon who tempted him, thereby securing absolution from the Temple.

Edward picked up his quill to write his response, laced with scathing mockery directed at the Temple—he had never shown them any favor since taking office, likely being the worst among all the lords toward them, so this ridicule seemed entirely justified. —and inquired how much money the Templars had taken from this gentleman to pardon such a 'blasphemer' with such blatant disregard for conscience.

Having done all this, the pent-up frustration in Edward's chest finally eased slightly.

He stepped outside and descended the stairs, walking like a ghost through the moonlit night. Edward walked a long way, originally intending to visit a garden he and Lance had passed by earlier that day. The autumn wind blew desolately there, yet chrysanthemums still bloomed. Perhaps bathed in moonlight, it might hold a peculiar beauty, suitable for someone feeling melancholy and lost.

But as he neared the spot, he heard Lance's frantic shrieking—as if someone had pushed him over the edge—accompanied by a rich, sweet fragrance... a honeyed, intense sweetness that instantly brought to mind Lance's very essence. To the Duke, this lad was like a little pastry, constantly exuding sweetness, yet utterly oblivious to it himself.

As he drew nearer, Lance's furious stomping echoed: "Hey, Jess! Stop stealing my milk tea! That's my personal stash! You promised just one sip!"

Edward slowly walked out to see Jess take a big gulp of something before the cup was snatched back by Lance, who was still in his pajamas. Lance nervously inspected it, then, seemingly afraid Jess would grab it again, picked up the cup to drink the remaining portion from the other side—only to be abruptly stopped by an outstretched hand.

"Jace, I told you this is mine..." Tang Feiliu, brimming with righteous indignation, was about to berate the greedy Jace when he looked up and saw His Grace the Duke. Tang Feiliu glanced over and noticed Jace wearing an expression as calm as a chicken, quietly giving him a look that said, "Good luck with that."

"Your Grace..." Tang Feiliu, caught red-handed again, stammered weakly, "Well... the honey and tea... they're mine... Grandpa Dave sent them back to me in my luggage recently..."

Edward looked at him, then glanced at Jace. Tang Feiliu sensed something dangerous about Edward. If he had a tail, he was certain it would be tightly tucked between his legs right now.

He couldn't explain why, but he sensed Edward was angry—and perhaps even a little resentful.

But Tang Feiliu was genuinely innocent this time! He’d simply been so preoccupied with his grand plan that he couldn’t sleep, and had stumbled upon Jess on night patrol downstairs... He hadn’t meant to sneak a snack!

After a long moment, Edward sighed. He took the cup from Tang Feiliu's hand and said, "Go make yourself another one. This one's gone cold."

With that, Tang Feiliu watched helplessly as Edward carried away the remaining milk tea along with the cup.

Tang Feiliu and Jace exchanged glances. Ultimately, considering the Duke seemed to be in a foul mood tonight, one hurried back upstairs to sleep while the other rushed off to resume his patrol.

As night deepened and all fell silent, the moon retreated. Tonight... darkness finally engulfed the land completely.

Author's Note:

The tea was sweet, but Edward's heart was bitter.