Darting left and right, Meng Xizhao almost climbed onto the beams to escape. Finally, he convinced Meng Jiuyu that this matter truly had nothing to do with him.
Meng Jiuyu remained suspicious but eventually set down the rod. “It really wasn’t you?”
Meng Xizhao exhaled in relief, approached, and helped his father sit. “It definitely wasn’t me. I had been planning to visit the palace in a few days to persuade His Majesty to let the Crown Prince handle this duty. I was just figuring out how to convince him… who would have thought someone else beat me to it?”
Meng Jiuyu: “…”
He slowly looked up at his youngest son.
With a swoosh, the rod was back in his hand. “I knew it! You brat have no good intentions!!!”
…
Today, almost everyone from the Secretariat was present. All five family members were there. When Madam Meng heard from a maid that Second Young Master had caused trouble and that her husband was about to punish him, she immediately hurried over, lifting her skirts in alarm. Her heart was racing.
How could Second Young Master’s frail body withstand a beating? A night kneeling in the ancestral hall would have sufficed!
Meng Xizhao: You truly are my mother.
Hearing the news, Madam Meng sprang into action. Meng Xisang also rushed out.
Though the study door had been closed, it could only keep out servants. It could not keep out Madam Meng. She pushed the door open, and the father and son inside froze instantly.
Madam Meng took two quick steps forward, grabbed Meng Xizhao’s clothing to check if he was hurt, then frowned and turned to her husband. “Why were you going to punish Second Young Master?”
Meng Jiuyu: “…”
After a two-second pause, he slammed the rod onto the ground, fuming. “Han Daozhen is sick, and Second Young Master is supposed to go to the Xiongnu to escort the princess. Such a major matter, and he didn’t even tell me!”
Madam Meng was taken aback, and immediately turned to Meng Xizhao for confirmation with her eyes.
Meng Xizhao: “…”
He felt so wrongly accused. He had only just heard about it from his father; the imperial edict was still circulating in the Secretariat and hadn’t reached him yet.
Pausing for a moment, he decided not to undermine his father and nodded, admitting: “Mother, this matter came up suddenly…”
Madam Meng, her usual regal expression a bit dazed, asked, “You’re going to escort the princess? When did you find out you were going?”
Meng Xizhao looked at his father. “Uh… probably yesterday—”
Meng Jiuyu lowered his head, ran his hand through his hair, and gestured vaguely toward the sky.
Meng Xizhao: “…yesterday morning.”
Madam Meng repeated, “Yesterday morning?”
Meng Xizhao blinked and nodded again.
Looking up at him, seeing how composed he seemed, Madam Meng suddenly sneered. She picked up the rod Meng Jiuyu had thrown on the floor and, without warning, swung it toward Meng Xizhao. Luckily, he dodged just in time, hearing the rod whistle through the air.
Meng Xizhao wanted to cry. “Mother, why are you hitting me too?!”
Madam Meng’s voice was stern: “I’m hitting you! Do you think the Xiongnu is a safe place? Such an important matter, and you didn’t inform me or your father. If you had told us earlier, we could have prepared for you. But now, it seems your wings have grown too strong—you don’t know your place. Are you looking to die? Fine, I’ll break your legs today and see how you manage that!”
Meng Xizhao: “…”
Sometimes he simply could not believe the world had a will of its own. Otherwise, how could it be that everyone seemed to have it in for his legs?!
…
They say mothers know their children best. Meng Jiuyu understood Meng Xizhao’s slyness and knew his relationship with the Crown Prince, so he naturally assumed Meng Xizhao volunteered to go to the Xiongnu. Madam Meng, who knew nothing, only needed one glance at Meng Xizhao’s face to realize that he was not afraid—in fact, he seemed eager to go escort the princess to the Xiongnu.
Madam Meng was about to hit her child. Meng Jiuyu froze for a moment, then reacted amid Meng Xizhao’s screams, rushing to restrain his wife. At the same time, Meng Xisang came over. Seeing the chaos inside, he hesitated briefly but instinctively stood in front of his younger brother.
“Mother! Calm down! Second Young Master didn’t do it on purpose!”
The scene looked like an eagle catching chicks. It took considerable effort for Meng Jiuyu to finally drag his furious wife away. Meng Xisang, having exerted himself, was sweating and catching his breath. He turned to Meng Xizhao with a baffled expression. “What have you done this time?”
Meng Xizhao: “…”
What do you mean, ‘again’? Since he had arrived in this world, he hadn’t caused any trouble.
Besides, today’s incident wasn’t even his fault. He replied matter-of-factly: “His Majesty is sending me to the Xiongnu to escort the Chu princess. Mother insists I’ve grown too bold and says I’m looking to die. Big brother, be honest—who would willingly go to die? I don’t want to go, but His Majesty has ordered it, so I have no choice.”
Hearing this, Meng Xisang was first startled, then nodded. “Indeed, if it’s His Majesty’s order, we can only accept our bad luck…”
Then, suddenly, he felt something was off. Slowly turning his head, he asked Meng Xizhao, “I remember that half a month ago, you began training your body. You even had Qingfu take out your bear fur cloak to air it in the sun?”
Meng Xizhao looked at Meng Xisang, blinking rapidly, but remained silent.
Meng Xisang: “…”
His expression instantly turned to exasperation and grief. He repeatedly pointed at Meng Xizhao—this was the prelude to a long lecture. Meng Xizhao, dreading the impending moralizing, quickly cut him off.
“Big brother, I was just preparing for the worst! You don’t understand. My senior, knowing he had to go to the Xiongnu, stared at the walls all day like he was about to be buried, dazed and doing nothing. I worried something might happen to him, and that would fall on me. And now… see? Something really has happened.”
Meng Xizhao felt his explanation was perfectly reasonable, well-supported, and full of emotion. Yet Meng Xisang already knew he was a complete trickster—nothing he said could be trusted.
Meng Xisang silently watched him weave his story.
Seeing his older brother’s expression, Meng Xizhao knew something was wrong, so he continued: “And it’s not just me who was replaced. Even your father-in-law has been removed. Big brother, you can now send letters to the Prince of Liang’s mansion to reassure him. His Majesty has already drafted the decree—he doesn’t need to escort the princess; the Crown Prince will go instead.”
Meng Xisang was taken aback. “The Crown Prince?”
Meng Xizhao nodded. “You didn’t expect it either, did you? Even I was startled. Since when does the heir escort a princess? Honestly, I have no idea why His Majesty would do such a thing.”
Meng Xisang looked at his brother, his expression growing increasingly subtle.
He had to admit—the boy’s acting… was genuinely good!
If Meng Xizhao weren’t so sharp, carefully laying everything out from start to finish, he’d probably be just like everyone else, completely in the dark.
Now, seeing him with that mix of confusion and sly amusement, it was as if he had no acquaintance with the Crown Prince at all.
Meng Xisang felt a pang of grief at how his brother had become like this. Shaking his head, he turned and grabbed a chair to sit down.
But just as his butt touched the seat, he suddenly remembered something. He straightened up so abruptly that he was standing taller than before.
Meng Xizhao froze. He glanced at the chair. “What’s wrong? Is something poking you?”
Meng Xisang: “…………”
You’re the one poking me!
Ah, no wonder he had been wondering why his brother would willingly go to such a distant and dangerous place like the Xiongnu. It was for the Crown Prince! And once they left Yingtian Prefecture, left Daqi altogether, they’d be far from the emperor’s eyes—free to act as they wished, without any restraint.
Now Meng Xisang was on the same wavelength as Meng Jiuyu had been earlier.
They shared the same question:
What’s so special about the Crown Prince that makes you follow him with such fervor?!
Though Meng Xisang imagined all this, in the end he didn’t say a word to Meng Xizhao.
First, because the matter was already settled—the imperial edict was nearly issued. What use would it be to lecture Meng Xizhao now? Would someone daring enough to take such an action listen to a few casual words from his big brother?
Second… Meng Xisang just couldn’t bring himself to say it.
He had always thought his brother a little pitiful. From a young age, he had chased after girls, but no one would let him. By age fourteen, Meng Xisang had already become betrothed to the county lady. His brother hadn’t even found someone willing to give him a hint of encouragement. By the time he reached their family’s position, the concern wasn’t whether he could get a wife—it was whether he could get the right wife.
Before his engagement, Meng Xisang had secretly met with the county lady during the Qiqiao Festival. That meeting had left him very satisfied. While it wasn’t love at first sight, he had a very strong impression of her, and over the years that impression deepened into genuine affection.
Before experiencing love, Meng Xisang hadn’t understood these things. Now, having experienced it, he sincerely felt for Meng Xizhao—what if he lived his whole life without ever meeting someone who made his heart race? What a regret that would be.
So even knowing the other person was the Crown Prince—a man, high-ranking, influential, and complicated—Meng Xisang couldn’t bring himself to tell Meng Xizhao to immediately break away or keep his distance.
Sigh. Well, the cart will find its path once it reaches the mountain. Best to take it step by step.
Meng Xizhao probably never imagined that the family’s biggest romantic brain wasn’t Meng Jiaojiao, nor the overly attentive Meng Jiuyu, but his oldest brother—the one always lecturing on morality and obsessed with bureaucratic ambition.
Whatever Meng Jiuyu had said to Madam Meng, by the next day she no longer insisted on enforcing her will by force. Instead, frowning slightly, she began packing Meng Xizhao’s luggage for the journey to the Xiongnu.
Heavy winter clothing, custom-made, with two layers of fur sewn together to ensure not a breath of wind could get in.
The finest silver-threaded charcoal—if it weren’t for the weight limits of the escort party, Madam Meng would have sent a ton of it.
The Xiongnu had little in the way of delicacies—only beef and mutton. So she packed as many durable snacks as possible, as well as bird’s nest and ginseng, ready to stew a bit whenever needed. This was how she ensured her Second Young Master would return safely.
Watching all this, Meng Xizhao couldn’t help but sidle up to his mother, tugging on her sleeve, and coo, “Mother, you are the best mother in the world~”
Madam Meng felt her heart warm, yet she rolled her eyes. “And you are the most troublesome child in the world.”
Meng Xizhao laughed. “Yes, yes, yes, I’m the most troublesome, but what can I do? Mother still loves me. So… can you love me a little more?”
Madam Meng: “…”
She glanced at him. “What more do you want?”
Meng Xizhao grinned, pulling out a stack of lists from his sleeve. Three full pages, packed with details.
Madam Meng: “…………”
She really shouldn’t have had so many children.
Once the formal imperial edict was issued, Meng Xizhao requested a revised escort list from his father. The personnel changes weren’t significant—just a few replacements for those unexpectedly unable to go, with some added. There were quite a few, like Han Daozhen, feigning illness or truly sick, though most of them didn’t have high enough rank to attract attention like Han Daozhen.
Originally, Han Daozhen was the highest-ranking official on the list. With him removed, the top-ranking official became a Langzhong in the Ministry of Rites.
The Langzhong was a fifth-rank officer. Meng Xizhao had never met him and didn’t know what he looked like. Another familiar name from the sixth-rank Ministry of Rites assistant was Zang He.
After the imperial examinations, aside from riding through town in triumph or catching a fleeting glance at the Qionglin Banquet, the top three candidates didn’t cause much stir. Like the other two hundred or so, they all settled into rotation duties.
Newly minted jinshi served rotations for one to two years. The truly outstanding ones stayed in the capital as court officials. Those of average or lower performance were assigned to the provinces. After three years, they could gradually rise based on achievements.
Of course, the top three of the first rank had more weight than others. They didn’t have to toil like ordinary jinshi. They could enter core positions in the Three Departments and Six Ministries directly. The top scholar, now serving in the Censorate, held a fourth-rank position, attending court every day—a legitimate high-ranking official.
The second-place candidate had gone to the Ministry of Justice, now serving as a Langzhong, a fifth-rank official, patiently enduring the grind.
As for Zang He, the third-place candidate—and chosen partly for his looks—he should have received treatment similar to the second-place candidate, or at least something close, like Meng Xizhao’s sixth-rank position. Instead, he was assigned as a sixth-rank officer and shoved into the princess-escort party. It was hard not to think he had been singled out.
Meng Xizhao propped his cheek with one hand, tapping lightly on the name “Zang He” with the other, and couldn’t help thinking of Xie Yuan, the young man he’d briefly met at the Qionglin Banquet.
He had always kept an eye on Xie Yuan, knowing that like the others, he was now stuck doing copying and clerical work in the Hanlin Academy. Meng Xizhao couldn’t intervene if he was sidelined or ignored; all he could do was hope Xie Yuan would remain safe until he returned from the Xiongnu.
After scanning the list several times to make sure he didn’t recognize anyone else, Meng Xizhao finally stood, calmly leaving the residence to head into the palace to see the emperor.
The last time he had come to the palace, it had been a trap set by the Third Prince. After such a long absence, even the emperor was a little surprised to hear that Meng Xizhao had arrived.
His first thought: “This kid isn’t coming to beg me to revoke the decree, is he?”
The second: “Has he been scared half to death after avoiding me for so long?”
Emperor Tianshou felt a bit irritated. “I haven’t even punished him, yet he dares avoid me—probably hiding something in his heart.”
Before long, the hesitant Meng Xizhao was led in by a eunuch. The moment he saw Emperor Tianshou, he quickened his pace, and with a loud thud, dropped to his knees in front of the emperor.
Then he looked up, eyes shining with admiration, staring as if the emperor were a heroic figure.
“Your Majesty, thank you for your trust! After the previous matters, I thought Your Majesty had already grown tired of me. I didn’t expect Your Majesty would overlook the past and entrust me with such an important mission. I will carry it out faithfully and not disappoint Your Majesty’s expectations!”
Emperor Tianshou: “……”
What? Expectations?
For a moment, he was stunned. But seeing Meng Xizhao’s eyes full of reverence, he felt a faint sense of pride, smiling slightly as he raised a hand. “Alright, rise.”
Meng Xizhao exclaimed softly, immediately obeying, then took a couple of steps forward. Normally, ministers weren’t allowed this close to the emperor unless invited, but Meng Xizhao inched forward little by little, and Emperor Tianshou didn’t think him presumptuous.
When trying to impress someone, you must look them in the eye—and be especially close. If the emperor weren’t special, Meng Xizhao would have already sidled up beside him, holding his hand while talking. For now, since the distance wasn’t enough, he made up for it with expressions.
Meng Xizhao happily said, “These past days, I’ve reflected deeply and dared not come empty-handed. I planned to obtain something from the Left Xianwang of the Xiongnu as a gift for Your Majesty. But Your Majesty trusts me so much that I finally summoned the courage to come to the palace and offer my thanks.”
Emperor Tianshou replied, “Oh? You have a good relationship with the Left Xianwang?”
Meng Xizhao shook his head embarrassedly. “Not exactly. The Left Xianwang is wary of Daqi officials and rarely meets me. I could only work through those around him, treating the captain close to him to a few meals, and then learning some of the Xiongnu’s current situation.”
The emperor’s interest was piqued. “What situation?”
Meng Xizhao glanced around. There were too many people nearby, which made him hesitate. Then he remembered this was the palace—no one here could leak secrets—so he smiled awkwardly. “Your Majesty knows the Jurchens, yes? This past year, they’ve been harassing the Xiongnu pastures, haven’t they?”
Emperor Tianshou didn’t know the details but responded with a deep, inscrutable hum.
Meng Xizhao immediately looked at him with eyes full of admiration and said, “The Jurchens’ harassment has greatly reduced the Xiongnu’s cattle and sheep. Moreover, the eastern border has become increasingly unstable. According to Captain Jin, both the Left Xianwang and the Chanyu are very upset about this and may soon send troops to attack the Jurchens.”
Emperor Tianshou hummed, showing little reaction.
The Xiongnu often fought the Jurchens. Before the Jurchens founded a state, the Xiongnu would occasionally send troops to punish them. Now that the Jurchens had a kingdom, such actions had decreased but weren’t entirely eliminated. Therefore, the emperor wasn’t very concerned.
Meng Xizhao pressed on: “However, the Jurchens have now established a kingdom, and their emperor is resolute. He has said that if the Xiongnu attack, he will mobilize the entire country to annihilate the invaders. So the Xiongnu are cautious and dare not act rashly. But having long dominated the steppe, they can endure short-term setbacks but not long-term ones. If war breaks out, it could be a prolonged conflict.”
Emperor Tianshou’s eyes brightened. “You mean I should send troops to join the Jurchens and subdue the Xiongnu together?”
Meng Xizhao: “……”
Really, Your Majesty, give it a rest! All you think about is war!
He forced a dry laugh. “Your Majesty, this is merely my humble opinion, not to be taken as strategy.”
The emperor shot him a look of mild reproach. “Then why say it at all?”
Meng Xizhao hurriedly replied, “I just feel that there may be opportunities for Daqi to gain a little advantage from this situation.”
The emperor had no patience. “Explain. Don’t keep me in suspense.”
Meng Xizhao nodded. “The tug-of-war between the two nations could drag on, like two families in Daqi disputing the same plot of land. Both are equally strong, neither dares to act first for fear of casualties. Neither backs down, so they stalemate. In this situation, what do they fear most? Not that one side might act, but that a third party might intervene, siding with one family, tipping the balance in their favor.”
Qin Feimang looked up, glancing at Meng Xizhao with interest.
And Meng Xizhao kept talking, his words flowing like a river: “Your Majesty, of course we all know that Daqi is a land of propriety. How could we possibly do anything like taking advantage of others’ misfortune or disturbing peace? But the Xiongnu don’t know that. So we can quietly leak a bit of information, letting them think that perhaps Daqi might help the Jurchens. Imagine how anxious the Xiongnu would be then.”
Emperor Tianshou blinked, feeling a sudden thrill of curiosity. “Go on.”
Meng Xizhao smiled. “Naturally, since Princess Zhao married into the Xiongnu, Daqi and the Xiongnu have maintained peace for nine years. That peace wasn’t easy to come by. And now, with Princess Chu about to marry into the Xiongnu, Daqi doesn’t wish to see border wars flare up again. So this matter is not impossible to negotiate. If the Xiongnu show some sincerity—for example, lowering the horse prices set twenty years ago—Daqi can remain their friendly ally.”
Twenty years ago, Daqi and the Xiongnu were at peace. At that time, a horse had been priced at 200 taels of silver plus five shi of grain—a price set by the benevolent ruler. He had inflated the value to turn an old enemy into a friend, but not let the friend suffer a loss; the price was twice the market rate.
Later, when the benevolent ruler was gone, Emperor Tianshou got angry at the high horse prices, tore up the trade agreement, and planned to subdue the Xiongnu by force. He even led a campaign personally—but that was the end of it.
Zhan Shenyu did win battles, but mostly to relieve personal pride. The Xiongnu never budged on horse prices; they were willing to maintain peace, but not sell cheap. Zhan Shenyu wanted to press on until they were subdued, but the treacherous ministers opposed it. Emperor Tianshou also didn’t want Zhan Shenyu to succeed in a way that would overshadow past failures, so he called him back and accepted the twenty-year-old price.
Nine years later, Tianshou no longer remembered the difficulties of those days. All he remembered was that the horse prices were far too high.
Importing twenty thousand horses a year meant four million taels of silver, plus a hundred thousand shi of grain. Even Daqi, wealthy as it was, couldn’t afford such waste.
The Xiongnu were shameless too—every time they collected payment, they demanded gifts from Emperor Tianshou: silks, brocades, jewels, paintings. It was endlessly annoying.
If Meng Xizhao could get them to lower the horse prices, the emperor felt he could sleep more peacefully at night!
But he didn’t act impulsively; he carefully considered Meng Xizhao’s words, sometimes thinking it might work, sometimes doubting it.
Emperor Tianshou frowned, conflicted. “Are you sure this will make them fall for it?”
Meng Xizhao paused before answering: “I wouldn’t dare claim with certainty that it will work, Your Majesty, but we can try. If it succeeds, we gain without paying a price; if it fails, no harm is done. Even if the Xiongnu detect our intentions, they dare not act rashly—otherwise, the Jurchens would certainly seize the opportunity.”
The emperor nodded repeatedly, finding it reasonable.
This was purely psychological warfare—no resources needed, only Meng Xizhao’s skill. And although the emperor had been led along by him so many times, he had to admit that the youngest son of Meng Jiujiao really was persuasive.
Thinking of the Xiongnu, forced to concede on horse prices while Daqi quietly benefits, the emperor felt a surge of excitement. “Good. Then you go and try it!”
Meng Xizhao quickly added, “Your Majesty, may I request a secret edict? If they agree, I can adjust the escort party, so they won’t think me powerless or unable to make decisions.”
The emperor waved his hand. “Granted!”
But he added, “If they agree, dispatch a messenger to me immediately. If it drags on, delay appropriately until I send a minister more skilled in negotiation to assist you.”
Meng Xizhao bowed gratefully. “Many thanks, Your Majesty!”
In his mind, he thought, Fine, then I won’t send a messenger at all.
Straightening up again, Meng Xizhao asked, “Your Majesty, which general will be escorting the party to the Xiongnu?”
The marriage-escort list had been drafted by Minister Yan, and did not include generals specifically chosen by Chief Military Advisor Geng. But the emperor certainly knew, and as expected, he named a general—an unknown fourth-rank loyal and brave officer.
Meng Xizhao, seizing the emperor’s good mood, asked, “This general seems not very famous. Your Majesty, why not send a more renowned general? That would also intimidate the Xiongnu.”
The emperor thought about it and found some sense in Meng Xizhao’s reasoning. In negotiations, you need leverage.
But who were Daqi’s famous generals now? Only Ding Chun, it seemed.
Ding Chun had just lost a city, so the emperor was reluctant to send him.
Hearing the emperor’s complaint, Meng Xizhao laughed. “Precisely! That makes General Ding perfect. The Xiongnu know he needs to redeem himself for his failure—where better to earn merit than from them?”
The emperor froze for a moment, then burst out laughing. “How did I never realize your schemes are so intricate?”
Meng Xizhao replied confidently, “Your Majesty, I’ve never dealt with the Xiongnu before. Now that I have, I understand why the Central Plains constantly clash with them—they are detestable! Were it not for my weak constitution, I would don armor and fight them myself!”
Emperor Tianshou nodded in agreement. Naturally, if he hadn’t targeted the Xiongnu back then, who else would he have attacked?
Qin Feimang watched the back-and-forth between emperor and minister, their ease with each other like old friends, and couldn’t help smiling a little.
Whether Meng Xizhao truly had ability or was just boastful, they would find out once he returned from the Xiongnu. When he did, Yingtian Prefecture would likely be in for some changes.
Leaving the palace, Meng Xizhao immediately headed to the residence of Duke Wu of the State of Wu. Last time he handled affairs through Li Huai, but this matter was more important, so it was best he went in person.
The heir to Duke Wu of the State of Wu sat in the main hall, looking a bit bewildered.
His nephew hadn’t visited the duke’s residence for half a year, and now, after finally coming, it was to ask for a favor.
The young heir resembled the old duke and carried himself with an imposing air. Just sitting there, anyone would think he was a seasoned general—even though he’d never been to the battlefield.
But when this “general” opened his mouth, he sounded a bit naïve.
“Nephew, what’s your relation to that Zhan Buxiu? Why do you keep pleading for him? You haven’t been here for half a year, haven’t even come to see your grandfather. Stay for a meal today; I’ll tell your sister you’re not going home.”
Meng Xizhao: “…Uncle, I still have business. I’ll visit my grandfather shortly, but for now—can you help me with this matter?”
The heir paused for two seconds.
Meng Xizhao waited anxiously.
The heir laughed heartily. “It’s no big deal! Just move this Zhan fellow, write up a transfer document, and that’s it. Leave it to me; I’ll write it for you right now.”
Meng Xizhao immediately relaxed. He stood and sincerely thanked the heir. “Many thanks, Uncle!”
The heir kept laughing, scratching the back of his head. “By the way, nephew, his name seems familiar… Zhan, you say? Could he be a distant relative of the Zhan family?”
Meng Xizhao smiled as well. “Uncle, I’ll go visit my grandfather now. I won’t eat today. Just send the document to the Administrative Council later. Thank you, Uncle. Goodbye!”
The heir: “…………”
His sister was right—this nephew was becoming increasingly unpredictable.
Leaving the duke’s residence, Meng Xizhao had already exhausted most of his energy for the day. Sitting in the carriage, Qingfu asked, “Sir, shall we head back?”
Meng Xizhao replied lazily, “Back? It’s not finished yet.”
Qingfu frowned. “Then where else do you plan to go?”
Meng Xizhao didn’t answer, instead calculating in his mind. He still needed to stop by the manor to pick up some things, hire a couple of craftsmen, visit the private garden for a drink with Colonel Jin, and not forget the Court of State Ceremonies. With Han Daozhen feigning illness and skipping work, the office would descend into chaos if he didn’t oversee it.
Before leaving, he also planned to drink with Juqu Huijue, to let him know that although Meng Xizhao’s body was in the Xiongnu, his heart remained with Daqi—and that his best friend would always be Yuezhi, not those damn Xiongnu…
Thinking of it all made him tired. He decided to rest for the day and continue tomorrow, since there was still time before departure.
But he didn’t let Qingfu return to the residence just yet. He gave him an address and slowly approached a commoner’s house.
Sitting upright in the carriage, Meng Xizhao pulled from his sleeve a note that had been kept for many days and handed it to Qingfu, instructing him to wait in the alley.
Meng Xizhao lifted a small corner of the curtain. After a cup of tea’s time, a person finally approached and quietly spoke to Qingfu. Qingfu blinked, shook his head, and handed over the note.
Only then did Meng Xizhao lower the curtain, satisfied.
The two of them departed, and the note was delivered to the Crown Prince.
Holding the simple piece of paper, the Crown Prince furrowed his brow. “This is all he sent? Nothing else?”
“No.”
“The sender didn’t show up?”
“No.”
The Crown Prince pursed his lips and lowered his gaze, asking no further questions. The messenger, understanding the hint, left.
Cradling the thin paper, Cui Ye slowly unfolded it, fearing it might contain a phrase like “As you wish, handled separately.” But when fully opened, there were no words—only a drawing.
The drawing was round, with unusual brush strokes—at least, Cui Ye had never seen art like this before.
He stared at it for a long time, unmoving.
Yu Fulan hadn’t intended to peek, but Cui Ye looked at it for so long that he finally glanced over.
At that glance, he nearly knelt.
“…Meng Xizhao has some nerve. How could he draw a pig’s head for you?”
Cui Ye blinked. “A pig’s head?”
Having grown up in the palace, he had never seen a pig in real life. Emperor Tianshou disliked pigs, considering them filthy. Even in sacrifices, only cattle or sheep were used.
Yu Fulan hesitated. “I think so… but real pigs don’t look this… festive.”
If he knew the word “cute,” perhaps that would fit better.
Cui Ye lowered his eyes, noticing that the round little pig was wearing an abstract version of a travel crown. He finally realized—Meng Xizhao had drawn him.
Cui Ye: “……”
He pursed his lips, saying nothing.
Yu Fulan, fearing he might be angry, stood quietly by, waiting tensely. But after a while, Cui Ye unexpectedly let out a laugh.
Patting the little pig, Cui Ye looked at it fondly. “So this is what he likes… truly unique.”
Yu Fulan: “…………”
Really? You can conclude that from this drawing? You two are equally odd, neither can criticize the other.
The Crown Prince did not see Yu Fulan’s slightly strange expression. After appreciating the drawing for a moment, he put the paper away, placing it in the uppermost locked compartment of his study. Anyone unaware might think it was some secret document.
Ever since Meng Xizhao picked up painting, he would doodle from time to time—even in the carriage, he could dip the brush in tea and sketch a rough outline on the carriage floor.
Early in the morning, at the manor, Qingfu turned to help Meng Xizhao out of the carriage. Seeing the sketch, he studied it for a moment. “Is this… a dog?”
Meng Xizhao looked at him approvingly. “Not bad. But to be precise, that’s a dog’s head.”
Qingfu: “…This dog looks kind of silly.”
Meng Xizhao tilted his head in puzzlement. “Really? But I drew it based on how you sketched it.”
Qingfu: “…………”
Meng Xizhao laughed heartily as he got out of the carriage and saw Jin Zhu running toward him. He was in a good mood today and about to call out her name when she came like a gust of wind right up to him.
“Sir! Finally, you’re here! Last night, there were intruders in the manor!”
Meng Xizhao blinked. “Caught them?”
Jin Zhu nodded. “Caught them! They’re locked up in the woodshed right now!”