The news of the fall into the water did not spread through the streets—Meng Xizhao’s luck had held. Some had seen an official fall into water, but no one recognized him, sparing him gossip and scandal.
Visiting a brothel, however, was impossible to hide, even for a celestial immortal.
Yet few seemed to care.
Even Meng Xizhao’s parents, upon hearing of it, showed little reaction. At most, they sighed lightly—they expected as much.
He was a notorious playboy in Yangtian Prefecture. Previously, his rare attempts at reform had surprised people; now, seeing him revert to old habits seemed normal. Although no longer an ordinary playboy, he was still an official. Were there few officials lingering in brothels? Not at all. The difference was that Meng Xizhao did so brazenly. Even Yan Xiang Gong, in his youth, had a favored companion named Tong Ruyi.
Scholars were naturally flirtatious.
The citizens of Yangtian Prefecture were not shocked. Inspectors at court considered the matter, realizing it could be politically exploitable. But Meng Xizhao’s reputation… it was already so disordered. If a good man suddenly did something bad, people would be shocked. But if a notorious man did something bad… it was like letting a two-year-old sugarcane go to waste—there was no desire to comment.
Hence, neither the Censorate nor the Supervisory Office prepared to act. Yet just when everyone assumed the matter would die down, one morning, a scholar named Yang, serving in the Council of State, stood up indignantly. He reported Meng Xizhao’s actions to the emperor, claiming they tarnished the image of officials in the public eye, disgraced other officials, and brought shame to His Majesty.
Hearing this, the first thought of the officials was to glance at Meng Jiuyu in the second row.
In the first row of the Council, from left to right: First, Grand Tutor Gan; second, Minister Situ, the Left Prime Minister; third, Yan Xiang Gong, Right Prime Minister of the Secretariat; fourth, the sole military officer, the incumbent General of Cavalry.
Meng Jiuyu hadn’t even reached the first row. In the second row, he wasn’t even first—he stood second. The first spot was held by Chief of Staff Geng Wenjin, a proper civil official commanding only military officers. The spot to Meng Jiuyu’s right, normally occupied by the Three Office Commissioner Qiu Suming, was empty due to illness.
All eyes turned to Meng Jiuyu. He quietly raised his head to watch the emperor.
Seeing his youngest son foolishly running to a brothel, he knew this outcome was inevitable.
However, he had not expected the complaint to come from an ordinary scholar.
Meng Jiuyu glanced at the emperor’s expression. The slight frown on the emperor’s brow was not the dark scowl of true anger, but the irritated crease that came with impatience. Instantly, Meng Jiuyu knew exactly how to respond.
With a cold snort, he stepped forward—a clear signal that he had something to say.
“Setting aside what Meng Shaoqing actually did at the Hongchun Brothel, even if he truly spent time there, how does it affect your reputation? Is your image so fragile that a mere rumor could brand you as treacherous or corrupt? You fail to see that if a city wall is sturdy, even siege engines cannot breach it. But if it has already been hollowed out by termites, fractured from within, then even a child’s light kick can bring it crashing down.”
He raised an eyebrow and turned toward the scholar. “Scholar Yang, are you suggesting that all those standing in the Chongzheng Hall are like walls hollowed out by termites?”
Yang: “…That is clearly not what I meant. Minister Meng, do not slander!”
Meng Jiuyu’s eloquence was unmatched. If he were allowed to fully unleash it, a hundred men could not outargue him. Even Situ Xiang Gong, standing before him, looked at Meng Jiuyu’s vibrant, combative demeanor, raised an eyebrow, and then calmly turned away, slipping his hands into his sleeves—and quietly let out a chuckle.
Next to him, Yan Xiang Gong: “…“
He had initially not intended to intervene, but Yang was a standard civil official, and as the head civil minister, he could not simply stand by.
With his authoritative voice, he spoke from the front: “Minister Meng, do not twist concepts. Even the strongest wall, over time, will succumb to constant dripping. It is the duty of those of us who serve His Majesty to identify and root out the scattered termites, preventing them from growing strong and threatening the realm.”
Meng Jiuyu turned back with a laugh, bowing slightly to the Right Prime Minister. “Minister Yan speaks wisely! May I ask, then, do officials entering the brothels of Wazi all count as the empire’s termites?”
Right Prime Minister: “…“
Sensing a trap in the question, he hurriedly added: “Naturally, but past events are not to be pursued. What matters are those occurring now.”
Meng Jiuyu nodded vigorously, feigning full agreement: “Indeed! Like Deputy Minister Wan, who not long ago brought home a concubine—oh, that concubine was remarkable. She opened a secret door outside Baihu Gate, and all the citizens nearby heard of it. Wan, an elderly man, won the affections of many soldiers—a truly astonishing feat.”
Fourth-row Deputy Minister Wan’s head buzzed in disbelief as he looked toward Meng Jiuyu.
Meng Jiuyu continued: “And last year, Minister Liu of the Xuanhui Bureau owed three thousand taels of silver to a brothel on Baihua Street. Their enforcers chased him home for repayment. The citizens were delighted, enjoying extra meals for three days. That brothel was no ordinary place—its backer was none other than Minister Zhuge… No wonder Minister Zhuge remarried this year. I did not see Minister Liu come to offer congratulations—surely harboring secret resentment?”
Third-row Minister Zhuge’s eyes widened. He leapt forward. “No such thing! Your Majesty, do not listen to his lies!”
Sixth-row Minister Liu was humiliated beyond belief. Though a year had passed, he could not escape this public embarrassment. He too leapt forward, kneeling with a thud. “Your Majesty, I swear, I—”
He wanted to protest his innocence, but recalling how the incident had spread across Yangtian Prefecture, he knew protesting was useless. Tearfully, he admitted: “I have already corrected myself!”
Yan Xiang Gong: “…“
The targets of Meng Jiuyu’s verbal onslaught were all protégés of the Right Prime Minister. Of the roughly sixty officials present, at least twenty were his students or relatives. If someone else had attempted this tactic, it might have failed, but Meng Jiuyu had skillfully chosen his marks.
The Right Prime Minister’s beard twitched in anger. He realized that Meng Jiuyu’s intent today was to drag everyone down with him. By confronting scholar Yang, he ensured all would be humiliated, leaving no obedient yes-man to intervene. He regretted stepping forward; it would have been simpler to let Meng Jiuyu vent at the foolish scholar alone.
But regret came too late. If he tried to intervene now, the emperor’s patience had already run out.
With a slap on the dragon chair’s armrest, the emperor bellowed: “What is the meaning of this? Do you take my Chongzheng Hall for a marketplace outside Donghua Gate?!”
His outburst immediately silenced everyone. All returned to their positions, heads bowed.
The emperor, utterly exasperated, continued: “I wake early in a foul mood, yet must listen to such trivial matters! You all gossip like the women in the harem! Each day, you neglect your duties, spying on your colleagues’ private lives. Were the imperial ancestors here, they would have you all executed!”
All officials: “…“
The emperor knew many officials led impure private lives, but he had long ignored them. The affair of Consort Gan was twelve years past, and he was no longer the emperor who forced his ministers to take mistresses.
Truly, no one understood him. What business was it of theirs that Meng Xizhao visited a brothel? He only cared for stimulating or heartfelt gossip, nothing more.
Growing increasingly bored with the assembly, recalling that Meng Xizhao had caused the incident, the emperor swept his sleeve and stood: “Summon Meng Xizhao to the palace! The rest of you, return and reflect on yourselves!”
The Right Prime Minister stood in the first row, saliva nearly flying in the emperor’s direction. As he left, the emperor shot him a spiteful glare. Though Meng Jiuyu was also glared at, the Right Prime Minister felt doubly wronged.
“…”
What on earth was going on here!
He had said, don’t provoke Meng Xizhao, don’t provoke him! A mere Sixth-Rank Shaoqing of the Honglu Temple, barely worth noticing in his eyes, and now—without even meeting Meng Xizhao face to face—he had already been humiliated!
Infuriating!
He glanced at the sparse officials leaving the hall. Grand Scholar Lin hung his head, equally frustrated. Though the emperor had ordered Meng Xizhao to be summoned to the palace, everyone knew the emperor’s temper. If punishment came, it would be formal and public, even attracting a crowd of spectators. Private chastisement might be gentle at worst, causing no real harm.
But this plan had failed…
Grand Scholar Lin helplessly raised his eyes, just in time to meet the Right Prime Minister’s gaze. Immediately, a plea for help crossed his expression, but the Right Prime Minister merely sneered from afar.
At this moment, his thoughts mirrored Meng Jiuyu’s: too many disciples, too many relatives and connections, and now a rogue element had surfaced! He had to cut it off immediately, or who knew what further troubles might arise?
…
By imperial order, the hall guards immediately set out to fetch Meng Xizhao. This time, Grand Secretary Qin was spared the task. Meng Xizhao, sitting comfortably at the Honglu Temple, was suddenly approached by armed guards—both imposing and polite. He blinked, smiled reassuringly at the Honglu Temple attendants, and followed them out.
Outside, Qingfu anxiously stepped forward. Meng Xizhao glanced at him, and Qingfu froze. They hadn’t yet fully developed their usual tacit understanding. Scratching his head, Qingfu guessed, keeping his distance and trailing behind the group.
Entering through Xihua Gate, this was not the usual route for morning court sessions, but Meng Jiuyu had deliberately chosen it to stage a chance encounter with his son.
Meng Xizhao: “…”
Watching his father approach, coughing here, scratching there, subtly passing messages, he couldn’t help but twitch the corner of his mouth.
The hall guards cast suspicious glances, but Meng Xizhao maintained a straight, forward-looking expression. Only when Meng Jiuyu drew near did he nod in recognition, continuing forward.
Meng Jiuyu: “…”
You little rascal, did you understand my signals or not?!
Even though Meng Jiuyu had already been surprised at Meng Xizhao’s intelligence, at a critical moment, he still instinctively treated him as the same foolish son who had once taken twenty servants into a fight and gotten beaten. Sending secret signals seemed almost unnecessary—but now, looking at the situation, Meng Xizhao clearly understood.
After all, aside from that one trip to the brothel, he had been keeping a low profile.
Inside the palace, not long after, they encountered another familiar figure.
Yu Fulan, dressed in black guard attire, wore the East Palace badge at his waist. The four guards accompanying Meng Xizhao saluted him, except the lead, who remained polite but less deferential. Though Yu Fulan was a minor captain in the palace guards, his posting in the East Palace gave his rank slightly more prestige than the usual palace guard commander.
By previous custom, he would serve as a reserve for the palace commander. Once the Crown Prince ascended, this man could be promoted to full palace guard commander or, if the emperor was in a foul mood, a general of the Jinwu Guard. Either way, he was a high-ranking officer, commanding the elite imperial soldiers.
Soldiers were straightforward, unlike the civil officials. They didn’t dodge the Crown Prince and showed little deference to those under him. Yu Fulan nodded to the guards and then regarded Meng Xizhao with unfamiliar eyes.
“This is…”
Meng Xizhao bowed. “I am Meng Xizhao, Shaoqing of the Honglu Temple. Greetings, Captain Yu.”
Yu Fulan: “Oh, you’re the Meng Shaoqing who visited the brothel, huh?”
Meng Xizhao: “…”
Your way of delivering messages is even more blunt than my father’s.
The guards were stunned. They had been sent to fetch someone, but none dared speak so casually. Yu Fulan’s informal style was striking. Then again, it made sense—his interpersonal skills weren’t refined, which was why he remained in the East Palace.
After that single line, Yu Fulan’s task was complete, and he left. Finally, Meng Xizhao could proceed without further interruptions, entering the Kunyu Hall where the emperor awaited. He glanced at the plaque above, noting yet another change of location.
Kunyu Hall was noticeably more open and airy. Upon entering, Meng Xizhao’s eyes widened at the sight behind the emperor—a massive ice sculpture.
It was a real ice mountain, nearly two human heights tall, standing at the far end of the hall, about three meters from where the emperor sat. Its sheer size cooled the entire hall. Meltwater trickled along pre-built channels in the floor, about one foot wide and four inches deep, inlaid with glittering gemstones, creating a dazzling effect.
Meng Xizhao: “…”
The Department of Civil Affairs used ice sparingly, only in the hottest days of summer. Ordinary citizens could barely afford ice, only occasionally buying iced drinks at taverns. And this emperor had not only procured ice but maintained it in such a grand spectacle for many years!
Unlike modern air-conditioning, where closing doors helps, Emperor Tianshou left all four palace doors wide open. The ice melted visibly faster, but attendants watched carefully, adding more ice as needed.
Meng Xizhao could tell the emperor was not in a good mood, and the emperor felt the same toward him.
Stepping forward, the emperor demanded: “I hear you went to the Hongchun Brothel?”
Meng Xizhao lowered his head, but his voice was far from soft. “Yes, Your Majesty, I did go.”
Emperor Tianshou: “Why would you go to such a place?!”
Meng Xizhao lifted his chin slightly, eyes still on the floor, and answered louder than the emperor himself: “Your Majesty, I could not help myself!”
Emperor Tianshou: “…”
That answer left the emperor momentarily dumbfounded.
He laughed in irritation. “You are quite shameless, aren’t you?”
Meng Xizhao: “It is my nature. I am ashamed, yet at the same time… not entirely ashamed.”
Emperor Tianshou: “Oh? Then explain this ‘not entirely ashamed’ of yours.”
Only then did Meng Xizhao raise his eyes, flashing a mischievous grin at the emperor, like a child being scolded by a family member but not taking it to heart at all. “Your Majesty, I know I shouldn’t have gone, but to speak honestly, in my life I can lose many things—yet I cannot lose Your Majesty’s trust, nor the companionship of cherished women.”
The emperor snorted. “You think you can find a cherished companion at such a place?”
Meng Xizhao smiled sheepishly. “One must at least try.”
Taking two steps closer, he leaned in as if sharing a great secret. “Your Majesty, do you know? I’ve always thought men are made of mud, while women are made of water. Men stink; only women are clear and fragrant. How could I not approach them?”
Emperor Tianshou: “Nonsense! Do you imply that even I stink in your eyes?!”
Meng Baoyu gasped. “How could it be? Your Majesty is the true dragon emperor! What mortal man could compare? Please, don’t flatter them so!”
The emperor regarded him strangely. “And your father?”
Meng Xizhao replied with certainty: “The same. He stinks as well.”
Emperor Tianshou: “…And yourself?”
Meng Xizhao raised his eyebrows, puzzled by the question. “Of course I stink too!”
Emperor Tianshou: “…………”
He could see it clearly now: Meng Xizhao’s lust had reached a pathological level.
The rumors were true. His infatuation with women, even after becoming an official, was incurable.
Yet this was not entirely bad. After all, Meng Xizhao was not his son. He did not have to worry about shame, and officials with harmless flaws were actually useful. Those with weaknesses could be managed more easily.
Especially someone like Meng Xizhao—his personality likely repelled other officials. Pure or corrupt, even the greedy or dishonest would avoid him. Without allies, he would cling tightly to the emperor—exactly what the emperor wanted.
After a long gaze, Emperor Tianshou suddenly laughed. “You’ve spoken the truth. Indeed, you are the most utterly foul!”
Meng Xizhao pouted slightly but relented. “Since Your Majesty says so… then I accept it. I am the most foul. May I continue to be so in the future?”
The emperor chuckled. “Look at you. Meng Jiuyu must have headaches over you at home. Fine, since you cannot restrain yourself, just ensure that no one else sees it in future!”
Meng Xizhao immediately flashed a delighted expression and thanked the emperor.
Amid the laughter, he was granted an imperial lunch and also secured superior ice privileges for the Honglu Temple. From now on, no more fans—they could use ice all summer, just like the Six Ministries.
This time, there was no need for imperial orders; Qin Feimang personally escorted Meng Xizhao out and handed over the meal box brought by the palace attendants. Qin Feimang’s half-smile carried amusement. “Meng Shaoqing truly holds favor in the emperor’s heart.”
Meng Xizhao looked embarrassed. “Not at all, I merely relied on luck to earn a few words of praise. Qin Dangan has served Your Majesty for fifteen years—I could never match such favor, even riding a heavenly horse.”
Qin Feimang smiled faintly, but corrected him. “Meng Shaoqing, you are mistaken. I came to serve Your Majesty in the second year of Tianshou—not fifteen years, but fourteen.”
Meng Xizhao blinked in confusion, patting his head. “Ah, see how forgetful I am. My father always said Qin Dangan was close to him; he certainly would not misremember. Now I recall—you were serving at the Shang State Princess’s residence when His Majesty ascended, right?”
Qin Feimang nodded politely.
Meng Xizhao smiled. “What good fortune—to have served the princess first, and now Your Majesty.”
Qin Feimang remembered those days, lowering his gaze before smiling politely. “Meng Shaoqing, you are also fortunate. Your blessings are yet to come.”
Meng Xizhao: “…”
Say, you must have watched Empresses in the Palace, haven’t you?
After that, Qin Feimang departed. Originally, he had intended to escort Meng Xizhao to the palace gate. Now, only a young eunuch from the imperial kitchen remained, awkwardly handing over the food box. Their eyes met, and both felt a slight embarrassment.
…
Soon, the news of Meng Xizhao’s questioning by Emperor Tianshou and his handling of the imperial meal spread.
The Third Prince, furious, smashed two vases.
Consort Lin remained under house arrest. Though the Third Prince was not confined, he dared not roam freely, instead quietly visiting his maternal grandfather’s residence for news. When he finally learned of Meng Xizhao receiving imperial rewards, he nearly suffered a stroke at his young age.
“You didn’t follow my instructions!”
Grand Scholar Lin’s face fell. “Your Highness, I acted precisely as you commanded, yet I have repeatedly reminded you: the emperor does not concern himself with officials visiting courtesans…”
After all, even the emperor indulged himself—who would dare go against him?
Grand Scholar Lin, father of Consort Lin and also a senior minister of the Zizheng Hall, now felt the full weight of misfortune. Deng Qin, that unlucky soul who had suffered Meng Xizhao’s prank with the tattoo, was his own disciple.
Lin felt cursed.
First, his disciple Deng Qin had a hysterical episode right in the busiest part of Yingtian Prefecture, running naked through the streets. Lin had been humiliated for days, barely able to show his face outside. Second, as the chief examiner of the current imperial exams, he faced the trouble of Xie Yuan taking the test while Meng Xizhao refused, leaving him with a splitting headache and sleepless nights. Third, his favored grandson insisted on opposing Meng Xizhao; his poisoning attempt had failed and instead harmed his own daughter’s standing, leaving her hopes of regaining favor in the harem dashed. In the emperor’s palace, being out of favor was equivalent to lifelong confinement.
Now it was even worse: the Right Chancellor held a grudge against him. Right Chancellor’s usual disdain for subordinates acting independently made Lin’s situation even more perilous. His daughter’s prospects were already slim, and now he’d been pushed out of the civil officials’ circle, just as he had been planning to advance next year.
The old man felt like his brain might explode. The Third Prince was oblivious, and even if he noticed, he would not care. Lin fretted like an ant on a hot pan.
“Next month is the coronation ceremony. I have no intention of becoming the Prince of Ning! Meng Xizhao has cost me my fief in Shandong—I will never forgive him!”
Lin had hoped that by exposing Meng Xizhao, the emperor would grow displeased with him, allowing Lin to vent his anger. Perhaps, by interceding, he might salvage some favor. But he knew the emperor was petty and grudges were long; forgiveness was unlikely. His main goal remained: bring Meng Xizhao down.
Yet, what he had considered a sure plan had failed, leaving the Third Prince baffled.
It could not be his father’s foolishness.
It must be Meng Xizhao’s silver tongue, deceiving the emperor!
The Third Prince considered poison again—or, even more drastic measures—sending an assassin to finish Meng Xizhao off. But this was not simple.
Meng Xizhao was an official, always surrounded by attendants. Even at home, the Ministry of Rites maintained over a hundred guards. Discretion would be difficult.
A subtler plan seemed safer—and poison more convenient.
Yet his previous attempt had failed, prompting him to angrily dismiss the court physician responsible for it…
Perhaps another cunning scheme was needed.
The Third Prince pondered, while Grand Scholar Lin watched in despair. If not for the fact that his daughter could bear no more children, he truly would not care about this prince.
But if left unchecked, the prince would act recklessly, and Lin, as his grandfather, would inevitably suffer the consequences. He thought of the Xie family—how the Duke of Fangling had barely left his residence in nearly ten years.
Lin frowned, thinking deeply before suddenly asking, “Your Highness, if we punish Meng Xizhao, will that satisfy your anger?”
The Third Prince did not answer immediately. He still wanted to punish that infuriating Meng Xiang as well—the one who had made the recent meal fiasco even worse. Lin continued to watch him, and the Third Prince finally muttered, “Perhaps.”
Lin exhaled, relieved. He had feared the prince might declare, “I want the entire Meng family destroyed!”
“Your Highness, I heard that at the Qionglin Banquet, Meng Xizhao had made a lewd remark to Xie Yuan.”
The Third Prince’s expression soured. “Who is Xie Yuan?”
Lin: “…Xie Yuan is the eldest son of Xie You, cousin to the Crown Prince.”
The Third Prince’s casual expression suddenly changed; he leaned forward, voice tense with excitement. “Meng Xizhao has connections to the Crown Prince?”
Lin: “…No, he merely teased Xie Yuan.”
The prince ignored the clarification. “Then it’s practically a connection to the Crown Prince!”
Suddenly, he stood, more and more excited, thinking the plan brilliant. How had he not thought of this before? Truly, his grandfather was wise—experience beats youth.
Now, even if Meng Xizhao had never actually teased Xie Yuan, the Third Prince did not care. He had declared a connection, and that was enough.
Laughing aloud, he startled Grand Scholar Lin, who feared the prince had lost his mind.
＊
On the first day of the sixth month, the emperor held the investiture ceremony for the imperial princes. Thanks to his repeated flattery, Meng Xizhao was finally noticed by the emperor and permitted to attend.
He was assigned the very back, craning his neck, unable to see much.
The emperor sat above, clearly visible, with the Crown Prince standing beside him. Meng Xizhao noticed today was the first day of the month, a day he normally would spend quietly at Jiming Temple.
Instead, he stood like a puppet, expressionless, watching the ministers recite the imperial edict.
Left and Right Chancellors and other officials read each decree aloud. Though no longer illiterate, Meng Xizhao’s eyes spun at the flowery language. When the ceremony finally concluded and the audience knelt en masse, Meng Xizhao, lost in thought, was half a beat behind, nearly embarrassing himself.
The Crown Prince’s gaze fell on him briefly, showing a flicker of a smile. When turning elsewhere, the smile vanished as if it had never existed.
After the princes had all paid their respects, the ceremony ended. Meng Xizhao’s knees were bruised from kneeling too vigorously. He lowered his head, hiding his grimace.
Meng Jiuyu hurried over, noticing his odd expression. Pausing briefly, he said: “What’s wrong? Feeling hot? Come, let your father take you home and have your mother make you some iced porridge.”
Meng Xizhao held his knee, glanced ahead, and saw no sign of the Crown Prince. He waved at Meng Jiuyu. “No, Father, I still need to go handle affairs at the Ministry of Rites.”
Meng Jiuyu: “…How are you even busier than me?”
Meng Xizhao replied absentmindedly, “Then maybe you need to reflect a bit.”
Meng Jiuyu: “…………”
Yes, perhaps some reflection was in order. How did he end up with such an unfilial son?
…
Once outside the palace, Meng Xizhao climbed into the carriage, instructing Qingfu to hurry to Helü Gate. Qingfu thought he had urgent business and spurred the horses fast, but as soon as they passed Helü Gate, Meng Xizhao didn’t move. He perched on the edge of the carriage and had Qingfu buy a bowl of cold herbal tea from a nearby stall. Sipping it, he scanned the crowd leaving the city.
Helü Gate was the main route out toward Jiming Mountain. Of course, detours were possible, but Meng Xizhao knew the Crown Prince’s routine monthly retreat was predictable; he would not deviate from the usual path.
Sure enough, after a while, a low-profile carriage emerged, driven by Guard Zhang, accompanied by Yu Fulan on horseback and an unfamiliar attendant from the Eastern Palace.
The group moved with unwavering focus. Meng Xizhao’s heart raced, but he dared not call out, fearing the carriage would be noticed. Instead, he improvised, flipping the bowl of herbal tea over Qingfu’s head.
“Useless thing! It’s so cold, how am I supposed to drink this?!”
Qingfu: “…………”
Wasn’t it you who wanted it extra cold?!
The commotion drew attention, with passersby pointing and murmuring. Meng Xizhao tossed the tea aside, climbed into his carriage, and scolded Qingfu again: “Hurry up and drive!”
Qingfu reluctantly obeyed. He had no idea where to go. Meng Xizhao whispered through the curtain, apologizing: “Once we return to the residence, pick anything you like from my private stores. For now, just head forward; when the crowd thins, take a turn.”
Qingfu felt strange but obeyed. When he looked back, he saw a carriage following not far behind—and the driver was recognizable: the sharp-eyed Guard Zhang.
Qingfu thought: One gift won’t suffice; back at the residence, I’ll pick three!
The carriage maneuvered cautiously. Once the road cleared, Meng Xizhao’s carriage turned, with Guard Zhang following suit. At a secluded grove, the carriage stopped.
Meng Xizhao nimbly climbed out and slipped into the following carriage. Qingfu watched his master’s practiced movements, inexplicably embarrassed. So… unrestrained!
…
Once seated, Meng Xizhao noticed that Cui Ye had changed clothes—now wearing a plain moon-blue robe, far less regal than the crimson crown attire from the palace. The Crown Prince in red had seemed unfamiliar; this simpler version of Cui Ye brought him comfort.
Cui Ye sat there, staring at him without blinking. Meng Xizhao grew tense.
After a long pause, Cui Ye curled his lips in a faint smile. Meng Xizhao, seeing it, smiled too. His body relaxed, and the words slipped out: “Your Highness, red suits you wonderfully today.”
Cui Ye’s smile widened, yet he said nothing, lowering his gaze. He gestured to the seat beside him. “Sit here.”
Meng Xizhao blinked. It seemed improper, but this wasn’t the palace—why worry? He plopped down, utterly unconcerned.
Cui Ye exhaled softly, resting his head on Meng Xizhao’s shoulder. Meng Xizhao stiffened briefly but sensed his unease, forcing himself to relax.
Outside, Guard Zhang and Yu Fulan had quarreled at length, with Zhang prevailing. They decided to resume their journey. Zhang even threatened Qingfu, instructing him to stay put and return two hours later with an empty carriage to meet them.
Meng Xizhao paid no mind to Qingfu’s feelings, his full attention on Cui Ye. The carriage had been moving for some time, yet Meng Xizhao stared blankly ahead. When his reflexes finally kicked in, he whispered, “Your Highness… is the old ailment acting up again?”
Cui Ye closed his eyes, softly replying with a quiet “Hmm” just as Meng Xizhao feared he had fallen asleep.
…