Meng Xizhao suddenly realized he might have missed some information.
The panic gradually faded from his face. Blinking, he raised a hand to try to make Meng Xisong release him. “Big brother… big brother, let go first. I’m not going anywhere. If you keep holding me like this and Mother sees it, what will she think?”
Meng Xisong, a proper son of a high-ranking family, was both proud and extremely filial.
Hearing Meng Xizhao invoke Madam Meng, he actually loosened his grip.
Meng Xizhao tidied his crumpled clothes, paused, and finally asked, “Big brother, where exactly do you think I spent the night yesterday?”
Meng Xisong: “……”
Why are you even asking me that now?!
He pressed his lips tightly, glanced at Jin Zhu, and didn’t answer. His look clearly said: You know where you went, I’m not going to say it!
Meng Xizhao: “…Big brother, you really misunderstood me. I didn’t tell the truth because I didn’t want Father and Mother to be too angry. Actually, I didn’t go to Bu Xiantian at all. I spent the night at the Xie residence. I was with Xie family’s second son on a painting boat, having drinks and discussing matters, and by accident, I fell into the river.”
Meng Xisong had no immediate reaction. Jin Zhu, however, widened her eyes in shock. “How could that happen? Are you alright, Lang Jun?!”
Meng Xizhao waved her off. “Look at me, rosy and healthy—do I look hurt? I stayed at the Xie residence because I was fine. Big brother, you know how Father and Mother are. If they knew I was with Xie’s second son when this happened, even if it had nothing to do with Xie Er, they’d hold the Xie family accountable—and that’s the Xie family!”
Meng Xizhao lowered his voice and made a rather grimacing expression.
Jin Zhu: “……”
Having spent the most time with him, she could tell immediately that the truth was not as he had said.
Meng Xisong, however, didn’t know him that well. He froze for a moment, then carefully recalled how many people with the surname Xie were in Yingtian Prefecture. When it clicked, he widened his eyes. “How did you get involved with them?!”
Meng Xizhao called out, aggrieved, “I didn’t want to! Xie Er came to find me himself. He’s a distinguished guest of Bu Xiantian. At first, I didn’t even know who he was. When he arrived, I realized his identity. What could I do? I couldn’t just turn him away, so I had to deal with it temporarily.”
Meng Xisong opened his mouth, about to say, Why couldn’t you turn him away?! That family was like a plague—any involvement with them brought trouble, of course they should be avoided!
But then he thought again. The Xie family had been suppressed due to the emperor’s whim. If the emperor ever changed his mind, and the Xie family rose again, wouldn’t it spell disaster for their own family?
Although that possibility was less than 0.001%, any chance at all required caution.
Meng Xisong closed his mouth, then nodded repeatedly. “Er Lang did the right thing… This matter must not reach Father and Mother. Father’s career has risen higher over the years, and he relies heavily on the emperor’s favor. He absolutely cannot be dragged into the Xie family’s mess…”
The emperor’s love for his true consort was matched only by his hatred for his first wife. Yet while he hated her, his actions remained unpredictable. Logically, if he despised Empress Xie so much, he should have had her maternal family completely eradicated, or exiled three thousand li to the bitterly cold northwest, leaving them to keep the Yue Zhi or Xiongnu company. They wouldn’t last three years there before joining Empress Xie in the afterlife.
But he did nothing of the sort. Not only did he allow them to live comfortably in Yingtian Prefecture under his nose, he would occasionally drag them out to torment them for sport.
Meng Xisong’s description was not exaggerated—the Xie family was truly like a plague. Favor them, and the emperor disapproved; mistreat them, and the emperor still disapproved. Just being associated with the Xie name put a target on your head.
This was why, in the recent imperial examinations, the chief examiner didn’t simply fail Xie Yuan outright, instead relegating him to the bottom of the second tier. Even the examiner couldn’t gauge the emperor’s mood. Failing Xie Yuan directly might draw the emperor’s attention, so it was safer to let him pass for now—later, when the emperor inquired, the examiner would have an explanation.
Meng Xisong had never imagined that his younger brother’s nocturnal absence was tied to such matters. He had long forgotten why he’d been angry before, now replaced entirely by relief and awe. “I misjudged you, Er Lang. You’ve truly matured a great deal…”
Meng Xizhao nodded, feeling a quiet satisfaction. Naturally, he had always considered himself the most mature one in the family.
…
Ever since he stopped worrying about the imperial exams and attended the Guozi Institute, Meng Xisong’s middling knowledge suddenly became unrivaled, effortlessly surpassing everyone else. Confidence surged, and his long-suppressed intellect finally caught up.
Meng Xisong turned to him seriously. “Er Lang, did anyone else see what happened?”
Meng Xizhao hesitated. “I’m not sure. I fell in so fast, it all happened in a flash… but probably some passerby saw it.”
That was why he had chosen to tell Meng Xisong the truth. Yesterday, he had been in official robes for dinner, and the citizens of Yingtian Prefecture were notoriously gossipy. He could only hope they hadn’t noticed exactly who fell in. If they had… at least Meng Xisong could help block some of the fallout when their parents inevitably exploded in anger.
Living in Yingtian Prefecture was a double-edged sword. On one hand, life was comfortable and luxurious; on the other, the smallest incident could spread across the entire city overnight.
Well, you couldn’t stop gossip like you could stop the tides. The only hope was that it didn’t reach their parents’ ears.
Meng Xisong, thinking along the same lines, immediately planned the follow-up measures. Then he suddenly grasped Meng Xizhao’s shoulders firmly.
“Er Lang!”
Meng Xizhao froze. Haven’t you already calmed down?
Though he was no longer angry, Meng Xisong remained solemn. “I know you’re in your prime now, and the emperor values you. But you absolutely, absolutely, absolutely must not associate with the Xie family!”
Meng Xizhao thought: Too late… not just the Xie family, I’ve even had multiple meals with the Crown Prince at the same table.
After a moment’s thought, he replied, “I’ll try.”
Meng Xisong: “Not try—must!”
Feeling that a few words couldn’t sway his elder brother, Meng Xizhao impatiently shrugged off his hands. “I understand, big brother. There’s a saying: ‘Wealth is sought amid danger.’ Even if I avoid the Xie family, I won’t have many peaceful days ahead. Risk always comes with opportunity. Don’t be so timid! Honestly, with your caution, it feels less like a county lady marrying into our house and more like you marrying into a prince’s mansion.”
Meng Xisong: “…………”
The brat even teased his big brother…
Even at twenty-one, Meng Xisong remained an untouched, delicate flower. Meng Jiu Yu and Madam Li harmonized like a well-tuned zither. When Meng Jiu Yu was chosen as the third in the imperial exams, the late emperor had intended to marry his favorite princess to him. But he arrived a step too late. At a banquet in the Qionglin Hall, Duke Wu, on the princess’s behalf, searched among the scholars for a suitable husband—tall, handsome, highly educated, and with modest means to allow her to dominate.
Seeing Meng Jiu Yu’s fresh, youthful face, Duke Wu nearly cried and asked if he had a fiancée. Meng Jiu Yu, proud and ambitious, had refused to stay, still hoping to marry a princess directly without twenty years of struggle.
When Duke Wu showed him the princess’s miniature portrait secretly, Meng Jiu Yu relented, becoming the Duke’s son-in-law. On their wedding night, the lady removed her veil to reveal a face far more beautiful than the miniature. Afterwards, in front of their three children, Meng Jiu Yu would often reminisce that day brought him more joy than any imperial exam victory.
Meng Xizhao had only been in this timeline a short while, but Meng Xisong had already told him the story twice. Meng Xizhao merely twitched his lips and continued eating, while Meng Xisong listened seriously each time, with a look of longing.
Though he had been engaged to the county lady for seven years, having seen her only seven times, Meng Xisong already treated her as his true lady, guarding her virtue as was proper.
Once, Meng Xizhao passed by his brother’s study and saw him writing, “May I find someone with a heart to share, and live to grow old together.” When the county lady had discovered he had been poisoned, she had sent a maid with remedies. Meng Xisong, seeing him recite the verse with a lewd expression, secretly mocked him: such a little virgin.
…
By teasing the county lady, Meng Xizhao successfully embarrassed Meng Xisong into covering his face in a rush of red, then sat down and called Jin Zhu over.
Jin Zhu, who had been playing the role of a wooden doll until now, relaxed considerably once the eldest prince left. She approached Meng Xizhao, waiting for his instructions.
Meng Xizhao waved to her.
Jinzhu bent down slightly.
Meng Xizhao asked in a very low voice, “Am I really… hopeless with women?”
Jinzhu paused, speechless.
Meng Xizhao still looked puzzled. “I think I’m fine, though.”
Though he hadn’t had the chance to put it to the test, he had been living in this body for several months without encountering any obvious difficulties. If there had been a problem, shouldn’t he have noticed it by now?
Jinzhu remained silent for a moment, then chose her words carefully. “Young Master, it’s not that you’re incapable… but when you interact with women, your emotions are somewhat… unstable. In my humble opinion, sir, you’re still very young. Youth comes with quick tempers, and once the temper flares, you tend to overdo things, so many matters become overwhelming…”
Meng Xizhao: “…………”
In other words… he still can’t do it!
A look of horror spread across Meng Xizhao’s face. Choosing to remain single was one thing, but discovering he had a problem in this area was another entirely.
Suddenly, he recalled something. Before falling into the water, he had been utterly terrified, frozen stiff. Only when Nian Xian’er touched his hand did he suddenly feel a tightness in his chest, shortness of breath, almost fainting. He had panicked, jumped up, and ran—only to step straight into the river. At the time, he thought it was just a fear of water, but now it seemed there was more to it.
Meng Xizhao’s expression went blank.
He suddenly sat up straight and looked at Jinzhu. “Tell me the truth—what was I like with women before?!”
…
Jinzhu and Yinliu were now Meng Xizhao’s left and right arms. Whatever he did, good or bad, they were in it with him. There was no need to maintain appearances in front of them.
Jinzhu already knew that Meng Xizhao’s memory problems weren’t just about recognizing people—he forgot many things—but he wasn’t worried she’d reveal them. After all, once he had entrusted Wu Bu Tian to her, their fates were bound together. If Meng Xizhao thrived, she thrived; if he suffered, she wouldn’t fare well either.
From Jinzhu, he learned of his previous “glorious deeds”: foaming at the mouth from drinking a ceremonial cup, fainting from a touch to the thigh, nearly dying from the excitement of finally finding someone who didn’t reject him—only to almost perish at the point of undressing.
Meng Xizhao curled into his blanket, utterly disheartened.
He had mocked Meng Xiang before, but it turned out he was also a virgin! And a shameful one at that. Meng Xiang at least preserved himself for love—what was he doing? Was this the author’s malice?
It was clear the original author despised Meng Xizhao, making him infatuated yet never successful, ensuring that the original Meng Xizhao had truly died in vain. Even if Zhan Buxiu hadn’t intervened, he could never act on his feelings and might have ruined himself by stubbornly trying.
He had always thought the monk named Mingyuan meant he would die without understanding life. But apparently, he had overestimated—it meant he would never even understand why he had to die…
Lying there, a sudden surge of determination ignited in Meng Xizhao.
With a sharp motion, he threw off the blanket and did a perfect roll to sit upright. “No! I will cure myself!!!”
It was already the middle of the night. Outside, Qingfu, hearing the commotion, asked Jinzhu in confusion, “Sister Jinzhu, what illness does the young master want to cure?”
Jinzhu: “……”
Previously, Meng Xizhao had sought doctors for hidden ailments, taking some medicine and calling it a day. But this time, he didn’t look for any doctors—he started looking for people.
As a modern-minded individual, Meng Xizhao’s first reaction wasn’t to treat his body—he aimed to fix his mind.
Psychological issues required psychological methods. Step one: desensitization therapy!
He reached out his hand. “Touch my hand.”
Jinzhu: “……”
She didn’t move. Meng Xizhao turned and offered his hand to Yinliu.
Yinliu: “……”
She refused as well. Unable to force them, he finally turned to Qingfu. “You do it!”
Qingfu: “……”
Absolutely not!
Meng Jiao Jiao passed by and saw this scene. She twitched her lips, speechless, and walked away.
Back in her courtyard, her maid quietly asked, “Miss, are we still going to the Yongjin Pavilion today?”
Meng Jiao Jiao snapped, “Going? Didn’t you see Second Brother get angry at me yesterday? Hmph, that little lady of the Zhan family—let’s see what kind of celestial being she is, forcing my Second Brother to make me meet her.”
A hint of mischief flashed in her eyes. “Stop standing there—prepare the sedan chair!”
The maid, not daring to disobey, bowed and went to prepare it.
Among the Meng family, the one who enjoyed herself most was Meng Jiao Jiao.
Meng Xizhao always traveled by carriage, but she insisted on traveling in a lavish sedan chair unless accompanied. Though petite and light, the sedan chair itself was heavy. Whenever Meng Xizhao saw it, he frowned.
In the Great Qi dynasty, strict regulations governed sedan travel. Officials below fourth rank couldn’t ride sedan chairs, second rank officials couldn’t ride chairs carried by more than six men… but for the common folk, it didn’t matter. Very few could afford a chair anyway, and the rule was mostly symbolic, meant to curb officials’ extravagance. Enforcement was lax, and in practice, no one controlled the grand gardens either.
In short, nowadays traveling by sedan chair had become almost the exclusive privilege of officials’ families, wealthy merchants, and courtesans. Meng Xizhao, though not particularly approving, didn’t bother to intervene—after all, compared with Meng Jiao Jiao’s other antics, this was trivial.
Even if trivial, Meng Jiao Jiao wanted to use it to tease Meng Xizhao.
Yes… this was Meng Jiao Jiao’s way of handling things. She wasn’t exceptionally clever, but she wasn’t foolish either. If she wanted to annoy someone, she had plenty of means. Meng Xizhao forbade her from bullying Zhan Hui? Fine, then she would target her in every subtle way. The noblewomen of the inner city could be driven home in tears, and Zhan Hui, a girl from a declining family in the outer city, would feel intimidated just by seeing the maids around her. Without even lifting a finger herself, Meng Jiao Jiao could provoke a reaction that would make Zhan Hui wish she could tear her handkerchief in frustration.
Meng Jiao Jiao delighted in this thought, almost able to imagine how ashamed Zhan Hui would feel when confronted by her dazzling appearance.
Following the directions she had been given, Meng Jiao Jiao got out of the sedan chair. Glancing at the dilapidated gate, she wrinkled her nose in disgust and covered it with a handkerchief. She looked at her maid, who immediately stepped forward to knock.
Coincidentally, Zhan Buxiu had come home today to retrieve the military manuals left by his father, intending to take them out for training. Hearing the knock, he opened the door in one swift motion, dressed sharply in his uniform.
The heavy wooden gate, weighing several hundred pounds, swung open as easily as paper in his hands. Normally cold-faced, Zhan Buxiu’s expression carried a hint of sternness from years of dealing with few visitors being genuinely welcome, giving his face an almost lethal edge.
The maid shivered at once, and Meng Jiao Jiao, covering her nose, shivered even more.
Though she had grown up surrounded by pampered young men, some frailer than herself, she had never before encountered anyone whose gaze alone carried such killing intent.
Meng Jiao Jiao: “…………”
Sniff.
Zhan Buxiu showed no mercy. His instincts were sharp—he immediately sensed her disdain, contempt, and now fear. Frowning, he asked, “Who are you?”
The maid froze in terror. Meng Jiao Jiao felt an urge to turn and run, but remembered her identity and mission. “I… I am Jiao Jiao. My second brother sent me to visit… your young lady.”
Carefully, she peeked inside. “Is she… there?”
If not… I’ll run away. This person is terrifying!
Surprised that Meng Xizhao’s sister had arrived so quickly, Zhan Buxiu paused, then finally stepped aside. “She’s here. You may enter.”
He started to turn away, but then realized that wasn’t proper etiquette for a host. Stiffly, he blocked her way again. “There’s nothing of note at home. Please excuse the lack of hospitality.”
Though he said “please excuse,” combined with his grim expression, it sounded more like, you’d better excuse it, or else…
Meng Jiao Jiao: “……”
Frozen, she dared not raise her eyes and only nodded. Even after Zhan Buxiu left, she hadn’t fully recovered.
The next day, Zhan Hui had spent the night considering Meng Xizhao’s request for her to befriend his sister. She imagined all sorts of motives, even suspecting Meng Xizhao might be using his sister to control their household.
Hearing the commotion, she went out, only to find at the door a stiff, expressionless young lady. The girl’s appearance was almost comparable to her own—but that blank expression…
Well, she seemed even less clever than the foolish girl next door.
Zhan Hui stepped over the threshold. Unsure why the girl didn’t enter, she softly asked, “Would you like to come in for some tea?”
Meng Jiao Jiao’s frozen gaze flickered. Seeing the pretty, gentle Zhan Hui, she sniffled. “You’re Zhan Hui?”
Zhan Hui nodded. “Yes.”
Tears suddenly spilled from Meng Jiao Jiao’s eyes. “How can you have such a fierce brother! He’s terrifying! Has my second brother been spoiling you? What could the two of you do together? Surely you’re not out robbing houses together!”
Zhan Hui: “…My elder brother is the Deputy Commander of the Imperial Guards. If anyone tried to rob, they’d run the moment they saw him.”
Meng Jiao Jiao nodded in resignation. “I believe that. I almost ran myself.”
Zhan Hui: “…Clearly, she’s seriously frightened.” She found it hard to believe her brother was that scary.
Not wanting to leave her outside, she asked again if she wanted tea. Meng Jiao Jiao, fearing Zhan Buxiu might return, hurriedly nodded, wiped her tears, and rushed inside.
Meng Xizhao had no idea that Zhan Buxiu could scare his sister to tears.
Thinking back, it made sense: the first time he met Zhan Buxiu, he had been so scared his legs went weak. Without sheer determination, he might have ended up performing a dramatic kneel right then and there.
While his sister drank calming tea with Zhan Hui, he went out to test the triggers of his illness.
The household was utterly exhausted by his antics. Everyone touched his hand with blank, resigned expressions, but no one could trigger his episodes.
Unable to figure it out, Meng Xizhao went out in search of another assistant.
The scene at Sang Fanyu had transformed drastically; anything he took from there now was worth more than the Tang Dynasty paintings Fu Jicai had once gifted her.
Sitting there, Meng Xizhao reflected: the emperor’s gifts to his beloved were indeed generous. Meanwhile, he struggled to please him, only to end up with a purple-gold fish pouch that couldn’t even be hung on his father’s waist.
He wanted gold and silver, he wanted antiques and paintings!
Sang Fanyu personally prepared a few small dishes and brought them to Meng Xizhao to taste. While he ate, she recounted everything she had heard recently, every detail. She covered everything, big and small, since she didn’t know which piece of information would be useful to Meng Xizhao.
Meng Xizhao had already warned her: she could listen, but she must not ask questions. Her status was different from the imperial consorts. A consort could feign ignorance, asking a naïve question or two, and the emperor might become suspicious but at most would stop favoring her. But she was only a sect leader. Even half a sentence could touch the emperor’s sensitive nerves. If he displeased the emperor, it wouldn’t just be “no more visits”—the emperor might simply order Qin Da Guan to have Sang Fanyu buried…
Of course, Meng Xizhao’s warning was slightly exaggerated. Sang Fanyu didn’t have a powerful background, but her reputation exceeded that of the consorts. The posts and tributes kept coming in. If the emperor wanted to act against her, he would have to consider whether it would result in a public scandal.
With her current fame, almost on par with legendary women like Liang Hongyu or Hong Fu Nu, any misstep on her part would taint the emperor’s reputation. Even the slightest incident could make people remember him only as “the emperor who killed his concubine/lover.”
Meng Xizhao exaggerated to encourage caution, and also to prepare her for the day the emperor no longer visited, so she wouldn’t feel too abandoned.
Frankly, Meng Xizhao was shocked that the emperor had kept his interest for so long. He had expected at most three or four visits before the emperor lost interest.
Perhaps Sang Fanyu’s difference from the palace consorts kept the emperor intrigued, but no one could predict how long this novelty would last. She was not like Gan Guifei, who could maintain his attention indefinitely.
Fortunately, Sang Fanyu was level-headed. Her feelings toward the emperor were simple: fear. Lying beside him and hearing his occasional startling remarks made her deeply realize that this man was indeed an emperor—a man who didn’t consider others as human beings.
“…Whenever he mentions Consort Lin, his expression darkens, yet he enjoys speaking of her, saying how she weeps in the palace daily and seems satisfied by it.”
Meng Xizhao nodded; the emperor was indeed petty.
“Minister Situ wants to retire and return home, but he refuses, calling Minister Situ old and cunning, trying to manipulate him. I think he might retaliate against Minister Situ.”
Meng Xizhao: “…Dealing with an emperor like this is exhausting.”
“Oh, and one more thing. He said that military chess is very interesting and asked how Second Young Master came up with it. Did you tell me in advance?” Sang Fanyu replied no; though he admired her, he never shared his plans, and she did not dare inquire.
Meng Xizhao: “…Petty and suspicious, dammit. Were it not for the crown prince having no real foundation, I really would…”
Sang Fanyu racked her brain and recalled another matter: “He said the Princess of Chu is only two years younger than me. Among all his children, she is the most gifted and skilled in poetry. He also said, if I could enter the palace and meet her, it would be wonderful.”
At last, Meng Xizhao heard something useful. His eyes suddenly brightened. Seeing him, Sang Fanyu leaned slightly closer. “Second Young Master, is something wrong?”
Meng Xizhao blinked and smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry. What His Majesty said has nothing to do with you. How could he genuinely wish for you to enter the palace? Even a flood of officials’ spit couldn’t overwhelm him. He learned his lesson from the former empress affair. He failed with Gan Guifei, and he will fail with you too.”
Sang Fanyu smiled. “Second Young Master, hearing you say that makes me sad.”
Yet her sorrow was light; the more she interacted with the emperor, the more she understood the difficulty of being a consort. Even if she envied them at first, now it was only their family background or virtue, not their status.
Since Meng Xizhao had reassured her, she grew curious: “Then why do you care so much about this matter?”
Meng Xizhao hummed. “Because this conversation revealed something to me.”
Sang Fanyu asked curiously, “What is it?”
He shook his head. “I can’t say yet.”
Though Sang Fanyu was practically becoming his female agent, some things were better left unknown. If she knew, she might inadvertently reveal emotions when dealing with the emperor, possibly derailing future plans.
That could never happen. He had prepared everything; he only lacked the east wind!
Seeing him unwilling to speak, Sang Fanyu smiled knowingly. In her eyes, whatever Meng Xizhao did was for her own good. Countless instances had proven that he treated her as a person; he would not harm her, and that was enough.
After finishing the recent intelligence, Sang Fanyu expected Meng Xizhao to leave, preparing to see him off. But he waved his hand. “Wait, I need you to help me with something.”
Sang Fanyu sat up immediately, her expression loyal and devoted. “I will follow your orders, Second Young Master, without question.”
Meng Xizhao nodded. “Good. Now, touch my hand.”
Sang Fanyu: “???”
……
As it turned out… Sang Fanyu couldn’t do it either.
In the end, she looked utterly perplexed. Yes, she regarded Meng Xizhao as her master and patron, but she had no improper feelings for him. She admired great scholars, those well-versed in history, those who shared her passion for collecting relics and antiques—not him.
Meng Xizhao—recently freed from illiteracy, utterly ignorant even of how many kingdoms existed in Central China three centuries ago, and completely devoid of any artistic sensibility—actually pointed at the bronze gui she had just acquired, a ritual vessel for royalty from the Spring and Autumn period, and remarked, “Why is this basin so big…”
Even though she had tried her best to stir some affection in him, upon hearing that comment, her heart went completely still.
It was impossible—truly impossible.
Facing Sang Fanyu’s expression of guilt and pity, Meng Xizhao walked out of the courtyard in a daze.
Jinzhu, seeing him so determined, could not understand: “Young Master, isn’t it good that you didn’t have an episode? Every time you do, it frightens Madam, the Master, and all of us servants terribly.”
Meng Xizhao sighed. “You don’t understand.”
It was like having a knife hanging over one’s head—a massive weakness. If someone discovered it and found a way to exploit it, he would be ruined.
He had thought that no longer being infatuated would solve everything, yet his body still had this flaw, compounded by the lingering fear of water…
He now had two fatal weaknesses; either one alone could be deadly.
The fear of water was understandable—any river could trigger his panic. The issue was this residual infatuation effect, which seemed utterly erratic.
Perhaps it only manifested with people he knew well, with whom he interacted regularly. With strangers, like Nian Xian’er, it triggered instantly.
Standing in front of Sang Fanyu’s gate, Meng Xizhao pondered for a moment, then slammed his palm decisively: “I’ve decided! Today, we’re going to the brothel!”
Jinzhu: “…………”
She felt like falling to her knees. Did he truly enjoy courting disaster?
Yet when Meng Xizhao made a decision, it was never Jinzhu’s place to intervene. He turned his steps toward Baihua Street, and at the first establishment where scantily clad women came out to lure clients, he stopped. The women, sensing opportunity, smiled and beckoned. Meng Xizhao let them brush against him—nothing happened.
Frowning, he simply walked inside.
Meanwhile, in the Eastern Palace, Cui Ye, dressed in the crown prince’s formal attire, stood behind the long writing desk, calmly practicing calligraphy.
Yu Fulan entered, hesitant to speak.
Cui Ye looked up. “Well? In the capital, are there any rumors about Meng Xizhao falling into the water?”
Yu Fulan: “…No rumors of him falling in.”
Cui Ye noticed a hidden meaning in his tone and frowned. “Could there be other rumors?”
Yu Fulan hesitated. “Reporting to Your Highness… not rumors exactly, but many people have seen it. On his day off, Meng Shaoqing openly entered the Hongchun Brothel, ordering over twenty girls at once, which delighted the brothel’s manager immensely.”
Cui Ye: “…………”
He stared at Yu Fulan in silence. Yu Fulan looked awkward, knowing he didn’t have the courage to lie. After a long pause, Cui Ye lowered his head, preparing to continue his writing.
But his heart would not settle. After only three strokes of the character “荒” (wasteland), he threw the brush aside and turned to leave.
Only after Cui Ye had gone did Yu Fulan dare to glance at the rice paper. On the wide sheet was just the character “艸” (grass).
Yu Fulan: “…He didn’t finish?”