The Third Prince had no intention of waiting for his father to finish, so he left without hesitation.
Meng Xizhao, however, waited on the first floor for a full two hours.
Sitting at the chess table, he passed the time by idly moving the pieces about without any real pattern. Jin Zhu stood outside for a while before coming in to inform him, “My lord, it is already the third watch of the night.”
Only then did Meng Xizhao push the chessboard aside. It seemed the emperor would not be coming out tonight.
At such a critical moment he certainly could not go to sleep, but slipping away quietly for a short while would not be a problem.
So he left Jin Zhu behind to keep watch over the situation and returned to the Administration Office himself to send word to his parents.
Meng Xizhao had not returned home for dinner. When they asked the maid Zitong who attended him, she said he was busy with matters at the wine house, so the Meng couple did not worry too much. But when night came, just before going to bed, Madam Meng sent someone to ask whether Second Young Master had returned yet.
The answer she received was still that he had not come back.
Madam Meng immediately could no longer sit still.
Madam Meng’s second son had always been the most obedient. He had never once stayed out all night. Could something have happened to him?
Fortunately, Meng Xizhao returned just at that moment. Otherwise, his mother would already have mobilized people to go out searching for him.
When Meng Xizhao walked in, Meng Jiuyu was draped in an outer robe, comforting his wife. The moment he saw his son return, Meng Jiuyu first felt an immense wave of relief—then immediately grew angry.
“Why are you only coming back now? Could you not even send someone to report home?”
Back at Bu Xun Tian, Meng Xizhao had been afraid the emperor might summon him at any moment, so he had not eaten a thing. Now he was nearly starving. He grabbed some pastries that had been sitting on the table for quite a while and stuffed them straight into his mouth without caring about the taste.
“It was urgent. How would I have had time to worry about that?”
Meng Jiuyu frowned. “What do you mean? Did something happen at that wine house of yours?”
He had known from the beginning that this business venture of his second son was unreliable. See? It had only been a few days, and someone was already smashing up the place. What was the Prefect of Ying Tian doing anyway? Tomorrow he would submit a memorial to impeach him.
While chewing the pastries, Meng Xizhao gave his father a smug little snort.
Meng Jiuyu exchanged a glance with his wife. They both had the strange feeling that their son seemed rather arrogant.
Madam Meng asked in confusion, “Second Son, what exactly happened?”
Since his mother had spoken, Meng Xizhao stopped keeping them in suspense. He dusted off his sleeves and said in a breezy tone,
“Nothing major happened. It’s just that His Majesty came to my wine house, listened to some music for a while, and now… he’s resting there.”
Madam Meng merely felt her mind buzz for a moment, but Meng Jiuyu’s reaction was far greater.
He shot to his feet.
“What did you say?!”
Meng Xizhao’s ears nearly went deaf from the shout. “Father, it’s the middle of the night. Aren’t you afraid you’ll wake up elder brother and Jiaojiao?”
Meng Jiuyu pointed at his nose, trembling with anger. “You still know how to care about your siblings! Something this huge, and you did not tell me at all! Do you think the emperor is easy to serve? With that reckless mouth of yours, if you offend His Majesty, our entire family will suffer for it!”
Inside, Meng Xizhao gave a silent ho.
So the old man was not an absolutely loyal subject after all. The way he spoke, he was practically calling the emperor narrow-minded by name.
Meng Xizhao continued munching on the pastries.
“But I did not offend His Majesty. He even said I was quite good. He said it twice.”
Meng Jiuyu’s furious expression froze.
“…Really?”
Meng Xizhao smiled. “Of course it’s true. The Third Highness and Lord Qin can both testify.”
Meng Jiuyu’s expression became even more complicated.
“The Third Highness went too?”
In the palace, the Third Prince had always looked down on him, finding fault with him at every turn. Surely he would not make things difficult for his son?
Thinking this, Meng Jiuyu asked directly. Meng Xizhao made a show of recalling the scene, then shook his head.
“I do not know. Anyway, His Majesty likes me. That is what matters.”
Meng Jiuyu felt conflicted.
His son was right—other people did not matter. As long as the emperor liked him, everything would be fine. That had always been Meng Jiuyu’s guiding principle as an official.
But hearing those words come out of his son’s mouth left him with an indescribable feeling.
Meng Jiuyu was well aware of his own reputation. His life would probably remain like this forever. Clearing his name was utterly impossible. If people did not dig up his ancestral graves in anger, that would already be fortunate.
But as a parent, one always hoped the best for one’s children.
The eldest son, Meng Xi’ang, was clever. Meng Jiuyu hoped he would become a capable minister and avoid following his father’s crooked path.
As for the second son, Meng Xizhao—he had once hoped that he too might accomplish something. But Meng Xizhao’s earlier behavior had given him no such opportunity. Gradually, he had abandoned the idea. Like his wife, he had simply wished for the boy to live happily every day.
Now that faint hope seemed to be sprouting again.
Yet Meng Jiuyu suddenly realized his son might have gone a little… crooked.
What respectable young man would say, “As long as the emperor likes me, that is enough”? That was clearly the creed of flatterers and sycophants!
…
But it was already too late to say such things now.
Meng Jiuyu originally intended to accompany Meng Xizhao back to Bu Xun Tian so he could watch over him and prevent him from saying something wrong. Meng Xizhao absolutely refused.
After all, if the emperor had wanted Meng Jiuyu there, he would have said so already. Since he had not mentioned it, that meant he did not want too many people to know. If Meng Xizhao simply went home and dragged his father back along, the emperor might think he had a loose tongue. How would he carry out the next step of his plan then?
Since Meng Xizhao refused, Meng Jiuyu could not force him. He could only give him a long series of personal experiences about serving before the throne. Whether he pleased the emperor was secondary—the important thing was this:
Under no circumstances must he offend the emperor.
Meng Xizhao agreed to everything he said.
Before he left, Madam Meng brought out a new cloak and personally tied it around Meng Xizhao’s shoulders. Meng Xizhao craned his neck slightly—and also glanced at his father beside him.
He grinned.
“Father, if tomorrow I ask His Majesty for an official position, do you think he will give it to me?”
Meng Jiuyu: “…………”
He raised his hand as if to strike him, but once the hand was lifted, it did not fall.
“You little scoundrel! Behave yourself! Do not you dare bring up such a thing!”
Meng Xizhao stuck out his tongue at him, then turned and slipped away before his father’s palm could actually land.
Meng Jiuyu glared furiously at his son’s retreating back. After steadying his breath, he turned around and discovered his wife staring at him.
“…I was only trying to scare him.”
Madam Meng rolled her eyes and went back into the room.
Meng Jiuyu: “……”
＊
After returning to Bu Xun Tian, Meng Xizhao removed his cloak and sat back down at the chess table.
Jin Zhu walked over and informed him, “Yin Liu has already returned.”
Meng Xizhao asked, “How did the task go?”
Jin Zhu smiled.
“By tomorrow morning, everyone in Ying Tian Prefecture will know about your night of passion with Courtesan Sang.”
Hearing this, Meng Xizhao could not help but smile as well.
“I am afraid many people will soon hate me to the bone.”
Jin Zhu felt a little heartache. Her young master was tarnishing his own reputation, yet he had no choice…
Wait.
Her young master did not seem to have much of a reputation to begin with.
Jin Zhu’s expression froze.
It was all because her young master had been behaving so normally lately that she had actually begun to feel sorry for him over something this trivial.
At dawn, the Third Prince returned once more. Seeing Meng Xizhao still seated there, his face immediately twisted into one of disgust.
Meng Xizhao, however, looked back at him, barely restraining a smile.
In the book, the sons of Emperor Tianshou were scarcely mentioned. Aside from Crown Prince Cui Ye, whose appearances were ample in the later chapters, the others were basically background figures. Meng Xizhao knew that one of these princes had brought trouble upon his family, but he didn’t know which one. Thanks to Zhan Buxiu’s reminder, he had narrowed his suspicion to the Third Prince.
He had initially assumed this prince was quite cunning, but seeing him now, it seemed he was just… ordinary.
The Third Prince had been secretly undermining the Department of Censors. He thought, much like his grandfather, that since the emperor lacked popular support and was being dragged down by Meng Jiuyu’s reputation as a treacherous minister, removing him would secure the Cui family’s claim to the throne. Moreover, the prince had no sense of reality. He assumed the Crown Prince lacked the emperor’s favor and that his other brothers were less capable than him. So why couldn’t he become crown prince?
Any discerning person would know that even if the emperor changed the heir, it would only be to the Sixth Prince, born of Consort Gan. Yet he believed his chances were high. Where there is a crouching dragon, there is surely a young phoenix. This “phoenix” was the Fifth Prince, who was also vying for the throne. Naturally, the two were at odds. With past grudges against his father and the potential alliance with the Fifth Prince, the Third Prince, like a dimwitted bird, focused all his efforts on the Department of Censors.
Meng Xizhao tidied up the scattered chess pieces, stood, and offered a slight smile toward the Third Prince, who was some twenty feet away.
Third Prince: Bad luck!
…
By the hour of Chen, the emperor finally descended. Sang Fanyu did not accompany him. Seeing this, Meng Xizhao immediately stepped forward, eager to make his presence known.
The emperor had slept well the night before. Waking up to the warmth and softness in his embrace, his mood was excellent. Seeing Meng Xizhao, he smiled. “Your wine house is truly interesting.”
Then he asked, “Why did you name it Bu Xun Tian?”
Meng Xizhao had prepared his answer long ago. He straightened his back, exuding confidence, and boldly replied: “Because this house belongs only in heaven; it is seldom sought in the mortal world.”
The emperor laughed heartily.
The Third Prince remained clueless, because his father was also oblivious. With the state in such disorder, he still thought of himself as a wise ruler in both civil and military affairs, his confidence swollen beyond measure.
Thus, Meng Xizhao’s words did not offend him; instead, they inspired a sense of admiration. “Young people should be like this,” he thought. “In my day…”
In even better spirits, the emperor glanced at Meng Xizhao’s youthfully crowned head and asked, “I remember—you are studying at the Imperial Academy?”
Meng Xizhao: “……”
“Your Majesty, it is actually my elder brother who studies at the Imperial Academy. I, as a child, preferred amusements and paid little heed to scholarly pursuits, thus neglecting my studies.”
See? I’m not stupid; I just didn’t study properly. I’m still capable!
The emperor misremembered at first, slightly puzzled. After recalling, he finally said, “Ah, yes. Your elder brother is Meng Xi’ang. I recall his literary talent; he is a remarkable young man. Last spring’s examination, I had wished to read his work, but your eldest passed away, causing a few years’ delay. This year, he should be taking the exam, correct?”
Meng Xizhao replied with utmost respect, a touch of genuine emotion in his tone: “Yes, Your Majesty. On behalf of my elder brother, I thank Your Majesty for your concern. I do not conceal the truth—he has never set aside his studies in recent years, diligently working hard even to the point of delaying marriage. I believe this year, he will present a composition to fully satisfy Your Majesty.”
Meng Xi’ang had been betrothed but unmarried. The delay had nothing to do with the civil service examinations. Four years ago, their grandfather died, and he observed a three-year mourning period. After two years, the fiancée’s grandmother passed, requiring another three years. Now at twenty-one, with the fiancée nineteen, both families were anxious. Next year, once mourning concluded, the marriage would finally proceed.
Thus, Meng Xizhao skillfully created an information gap, putting the emperor at ease.
It seemed the Meng family had promising successors: a scholarly elder and a clever second son. Indeed, the emperor thought, “Even the children are so capable.”
Sending Meng Xizhao to take the civil service exams seemed impractical, but a talented young man like him would be a loss if left idle. “Your elder brother, after passing, should serve me. But you remain without official post. This is unsightly. Very well, enroll at the National Academy nominally. After your graduation, I shall find a position for you.”
After a month of diligent effort, Meng Xizhao had been waiting for exactly this moment. His excitement showed plainly on his face. “Thank you, Your Majesty. My brother and I shall do our utmost to ease Your Majesty’s burdens!”
The Third Prince, watching him, could practically see smoke rising from his nostrils.
Once the emperor’s party departed, Meng Xizhao waved to have Bu Xun Tian reopen for business. He then went to the third floor, settled into his private chamber, and poured himself a cup of tea.
Jin Zhu pressed her lips together in a smile. “Congratulations, Young Master. You have achieved your wish.”
Meng Xizhao felt pleased, yet knew it was not the time to show it fully. “We’ve walked ninety paces out of a hundred. The last ten are the most critical.”
After a moment’s thought, he pounded the table decisively. “Let’s go. Find another wine house and have a proper meal!”
Meng Xizhao strolled through Baihua Street and picked a similarly grand wine house. Upon entering, he requested a private chamber facing the street—on the second floor.
Being on the second floor and facing the street, nearly every passerby could see a young master dining there, accompanied by a strikingly beautiful maid. Clearly, a person of wealth and influence.
Meng Xizhao completely ignored the street crowd, instructing Jin Zhu to order all the specialty dishes of the house. He only took two bites of each dish, sampling everything. After finishing, he was full.
Wiping his mouth, he nodded. “Not bad. Delicious. Summon the innkeeper.”
Jinzhu went out to summon someone, and the innkeeper quickly came upstairs, a fawning smile on his face. “Second Young Master, have you enjoyed your meal?”
Meng Xizhao raised an eyebrow. “You know me?”
“Why, of course! In Yingtian Prefecture, which wine house doesn’t know Second Young Master? Even if I couldn’t recognize my own wife, I’d surely recognize you.”
Meng Xizhao: “……”
After a brief pause, he laughed lightly. “Though you might be trying to flatter me… I do love to hear that. This private chamber is now reserved for me; in the future, no one else may use it.”
With that, Jinzhu stepped forward gracefully, producing a gold ingot from her sleeve and handing it to the innkeeper. Overjoyed, the innkeeper repeatedly promised to keep the room pristine—not even a mosquito would be allowed in.
＊
Before leaving, Meng Xizhao packed a few dishes he found particularly delicious to bring home for his family.
Back at home, neither Meng Jiuyu nor Meng Jiaojiao was there. Madam Meng was reviewing the household accounts. Meng Xizhao burst in, calling out, “Mother, where’s my eldest brother? I have good news! Quickly fetch him!”
Madam Meng glanced at him reproachfully. “Your brother is studying diligently these days. Don’t disturb him carelessly.”
“How is this ‘carelessly’? I truly have good news!”
Though suspicious, she sent someone to fetch Meng Xi’ang. The elder brother, buried in books and utterly exasperated, perked up immediately at the mention of good news and hurried over, a smile breaking across his face.
“Second Brother, what’s the news? Did your wine house earn a lot again?”
Meng Xizhao smiled mysteriously. “Not quite. This good news isn’t just for me—it’s for you too.”
Meng Xi’ang frowned in confusion, sat opposite him, and picked up the tea Jinzhu had poured. “What is it exactly?”
Meng Xizhao grinned mischievously. “Today, His Majesty was in high spirits. He asked me to enroll at the National Academy. After graduation, he will find me a position.”
Both Madam Meng and Meng Xi’ang froze, then burst into joy. “This means the emperor is very fond of you! Wonderful! When your father returns, we’ll hold a banquet to celebrate!”
Meng Xi’ang nodded. “It’s indeed good news, but Second Brother… how does this concern me?”
Meng Xizhao let out an “oh” and elaborated: “You don’t know. Today I discovered that His Majesty doesn’t even remember your face—he mistook me for you. How could that be? Since you’ll one day take the imperial exams and serve Father in the Six Ministries, I spoke on your behalf before the emperor, mentioning your diligence. He was deeply moved and promised that after you take the exam, he would carefully review your papers.”
Meng Xi’ang: “…………”
His smile froze, and the hand holding his tea began to tremble.
Seeing this, Meng Xizhao, feigning concern, steadied his brother’s hand. “Elder Brother, have you been writing so much your hand is shaking?”
Meng Xi’ang, inwardly indignant, pulled his hand back abruptly.
Go away!
I don’t have a brother like you!
You… you’re trying to ruin me!
Shaken to the core, he set down his cup and wordlessly retreated to his room to cry.
Watching him go, Madam Meng looked puzzled. “Why is he like this? Is it the pressure of the emperor reviewing his exam?”
Meng Xizhao nodded solemnly. “It must be. Don’t worry, Mother. I’ll take good care of Elder Brother during this period.”
Madam Meng, touched, looked at him fondly. “Second Brother has grown up.”
Thus, Meng Xizhao began attending carefully to his elder brother. Under his attention, Meng Xi’ang’s stress worsened, even showing early signs of hair loss.
＊
Though Emperor Tianshou had been cheerful that day, he quickly forgot about Sang Fanyu, Bu Xun Tian, and Meng Xizhao. Perhaps “forgot” isn’t accurate—he simply hadn’t formally registered them in his mind. After all, flattery was plentiful; even Meng Xizhao could only leave a faint impression.
Yet within two days, that impression deepened once more.
The cause: someone accused Meng Jiuyu of poor parenting, claiming his son openly consorted with a courtesan, and that their tryst had become widely known. To support the claim, the accuser confidently cited the exact date Meng Xizhao and Sang Fanyu spent together. When asked, Meng Xizhao shamelessly confirmed it, showing not an ounce of embarrassment.
Meng Jiuyu had endured many rebukes from censors about his son, but this was the first time the reason was genuine—something between his son and a woman.
He puzzled over it. Wasn’t his son a hopeless romantic? Though he enjoyed admiring beautiful women, when it came to actual intimacy, he would become so flustered he’d faint—precisely why the couple had never arranged a marriage for him. They had always wanted to cure this “condition” first. Could it be… he’s finally cured?
Just as Meng Jiuyu pondered this, he noticed the emperor’s slightly guilty expression.
“……”
Ah, so my son is taking the blame for you!
His first reaction was anger, then his eyes shifted, and he knelt.
“Your servant has failed to properly teach my son. I beg Your Majesty’s pardon!”
The entire court: “……”
You… just admitted it???
Before, upon hearing anyone speak ill of your son, you were ready to transform into a fighting mother hen!
Even the accuser froze, confused at how compliant he was today.
The emperor, sitting upright on the dragon throne, waved a hand in a composed manner. “Jiuyu, rise. Your son is merely mischievous; this is no sin. Moreover, the desires of flesh and beauty are natural—even sages have said so. Why must you treat a young lad so harshly?”
When the emperor spoke, no one dared to voice disagreement, and the matter passed over lightly. Only Cui Ye, seated in the chair to the emperor’s side, quietly furrowed his brow.
＊
After court, the emperor inquired about the rumors outside, and Qin Feimang hastened to report the truth.
“Indeed, as Censor Jiang stated, people now believe Second Young Master Meng has become Sang Fanyu’s frequent guest. It’s said that every other day, Second Young Master brings Head Clerk Sang to Bu Xuntian, letting her stay the night there, while he returns home to rest.”
The emperor felt a warm satisfaction: “This young man knows how to handle matters well.”
Qin Feimang agreed. The emperor hadn’t mentioned wanting to see Sang Fanyu again, but Meng Xizhao had already anticipated everything and acted with perfect propriety. Whether or not the emperor wanted a repeat, he could see the thoughtfulness behind it.
Initially, the emperor considered granting him a sixth-rank honorary post with a salary, but now he thought better of it. Meng Xizhao was talented—and, more importantly, particularly understanding of him. Sixth rank was too low.
Perhaps a full sixth-rank position with actual duties?
The emperor hesitated. The graduation from the National Academy occurred just a few days before the spring imperial exams, a regulation from previous dynasties. Its purpose was to give these children of officials, who had not taken the exams, some advantage, preventing them from being compared unfavorably with true graduates.
But legitimate graduates were never pleased. Since the rule’s introduction, nobles and commoners had been in competition. As soon as the academy graduates and took office, the regular officials would find any minor violation to report, nagging the emperor relentlessly.
Emperor Tianshou, though willful, was only so for himself. Meng Xizhao had only taken the heat once on his behalf, enduring some lesson in humility from the commoner bureaucrats—it hardly seemed worth it.
Irritated, the emperor grew lazy, not wanting to deliberate further. He considered summoning a singing girl to entertain himself, when suddenly he recalled the immortal music he had heard at Bu Xuntian.
“That tune was delightful. Go fetch Meng Xizhao and bring the performers who sang that day to the palace,” he instructed Qin Feimang.
Qin Feimang bowed. “Your Majesty, three days ago, Second Young Master Meng already presented the two performers to the palace. He even said the male singer is ugly; if Your Majesty dislikes him, he may continue singing behind the scenes so as not to disturb Your Majesty’s mood.”
Emperor Tianshou straightened in his seat.
This boy…
Truly understands me!
Enough, no more hesitation. Full sixth-rank it shall be. If anyone dares to find fault, I’ll see if they can be as thoughtful in all matters as Meng Xizhao!
＊
Nearby, the Third Prince, who had been trying to ingratiate himself with the emperor, saw the emperor’s particular approval of Meng Xizhao and ground his teeth in envy.
Another one rising purely by flattery!
He even shot Qin Feimang a glare.
You’re no good either, colluding with the Meng family!
Qin Feimang remained calm, as if seeing nothing. Without the dust whisk in hand, he pinched the sleeve of his other arm.
Well, Meng Xizhao may excel at flattery, but he is following the path of a civil official—not competing with a eunuch like me. Officials return home at night; unless Meng Xizhao castrates himself, there’s no threat.
Besides, having received Meng Jiuyu’s service for over a decade, what’s wrong with now receiving a bit from his son? After all, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
＊
At the Censorate, Meng Xizhao stared at the ledgers in tears.
The recently fattened wallet had thinned again…
Qin Feimang was ruthless; a single action and three thousand taels vanished! With such income, could he even spend it all?
No choice, he must expand revenue. If this continued, he wouldn’t have enough to cover expenses.
He hired beautiful women as attendants and brought in a new batch of singing performers. Whenever the emperor visited, he’d take a few of his best singers. Without replenishment, Bu Xuntian would soon have to suspend its musical performances.
Meng Xizhao’s head ached from accounting. Jinzhu, watching, looked puzzled. “If you’re short on funds, why not ask your mother?”
Meng Xizhao didn’t even look up. “Mother has no money.”
Jinzhu blinked. “……Sir, do you forget? When Madam Meng married, she took all of the Dowager Grand Duke’s wife’s dowry. She was the sole daughter of the former duchess, and her private treasury was astonishing. For her wedding, the Grand Duke and heir also prepared one hundred eighty-eight boxes of dowry. That splendor—many still remember it today.”
Meng Xizhao’s eyes widened.
According to Great Qi law, women had no inheritance rights in the family, but their dowry was personally theirs. Even the husband had no claim.
Thus, many families, to show their affection, prepared dowries worth half the household estate—so the in-laws would know the daughter was well-provided for.
Because of this, wealthy widows were in high demand. Even if they had been married six times, as long as they were rich, suitors would still flock.
Meng Xizhao’s jaw dropped.
How could I have forgotten? Seeing Father seemingly without much wealth, I thought our family barely broke even. It turns out the truly rich one is Mother!
He dashed over to knead and massage his mother’s back and shoulders. Madam Meng enjoyed it a moment, then pinched his chin, making him look at her.
“Speak—how much silver do you need this time?”
Meng Xizhao, moved to tears, thought: Mother, to be your son is truly a blessing I earned in a past life!