The Crown Prince did not stay long at the Meng residence. After spending about fifteen minutes with Meng Xizhao in his courtyard, he departed with his guards, casting a brief, gentle glance at the guests before leaving.
All the attendees lowered their heads and bowed in respect. Once he was gone, the room erupted once more into a flurry of chatter.
Madame Meng, still outside entertaining the distinguished ladies, clenched her fists.
Her eldest son’s only wedding day had been entirely upstaged by a Crown Prince of unknown intent.
Does he even understand manners?!
…
Furrowing her brow, she forced these rebellious thoughts down and looked around. Seeing Meng Xizhao had not emerged, she instructed Xue Jing to summon him: “Go call Second Young Master. So many guests are outside; if he does not come to greet them, what kind of host is that?”
Xue Jing hurried off, letting out an “Ah!” as she went.
Meng Xizhao, sitting in his room lost in thought, snapped out of it upon hearing the call. “Understood. I’ll go right away.”
This bustle continued until the middle of the second watch.
Finally, all the guests had departed, and the relatives returned home satisfied. Meng Xiang and the county lord’s daughter naturally enjoyed their wedding night, while everyone else, exhausted, dispersed to their respective homes.
Early the next morning, with the first light of dawn, Meng Xizhao was to set out. Madame Meng reminded him to rest early and conserve his energy.
Meng Xizhao agreed obediently enough, but once he lay down, his eyes stayed wide open, brighter than searchlights.
He rested one arm under his head, while the other unconsciously touched the jade pendant resting over his heart. The pendant, warm from being close to his body, seemed to radiate a gentle heat.
Meng Xizhao couldn’t help but recall how, before, he had asked his elder brother about Cui Ye—whether the Crown Prince’s interest in him was driven by control, or if he regarded Meng Xizhao as half family.
Now, reflecting on it, he felt utterly worthless.
…
Not only had Cui Ye treated him as half a family member—he had seemingly taken him in as his entire family. Otherwise, why would he gift him a talisman symbolizing early reunion?
It made sense, really. The Crown Prince came from a vast and complex family, yet he himself had almost no family. His ties to the Xie family, though affectionate, could not be expressed fully. Friends were even more uncertain; how could one discern sincerity from pretense? Only Meng Xizhao, with his notorious reputation and previously clumsy behavior, could, from the very first meeting, spark the Crown Prince’s interest. Gradually, they had grown closer.
Those with less to lose naturally value what little they possess more acutely. Meng Xizhao, with his complete family and rich social life, had failed to fully consider the Crown Prince’s perspective—and worse, had even taken offense at what now seemed inexplicable.
Meng Xizhao: I really deserve this.
…
In the quiet night, suddenly, Meng Xizhao turned over.
Staring at the near-complete darkness of the room, he spent a long time thinking.
About an hour later, he rose silently, not lighting a lamp, and groped his way to the small side chamber in the east wing.
This was Jin Zhu’s room, the closest private space to him. Others, like Qing Fu, typically slept on long couches in the outer hall, without proper rooms of their own.
Meng Xizhao tiptoed to Jin Zhu’s bedside and saw her sleeping soundly. Hesitating, he didn’t know whether to wake her.
But Jin Zhu, sensing something amiss in her sleep, opened her eyes and met the bent figure of Meng Xizhao inspecting whether she was in deep slumber.
Jin Zhu: “……”
Meng Xizhao: “……”
After a moment, Jin Zhu pulled the blanket around herself and sat up. “I know you did not come to assign me as your concubine. So… may I ask what you want me to do at this late hour?”
Meng Xizhao: “……”
What do you mean ‘again’? It makes me sound like I’m always exploiting you.
After a brief silence, he sat on the edge of her bed, shamelessly smiling: “Since you’re awake, I won’t be polite. I need you to go to the southern suburban estate and summon Teng Kangning. Tomorrow morning, I will bring him along to assume his post.”
Jin Zhu: “……”
Regret surged. She really shouldn’t have told him the truth. If she had said less, she wouldn’t be saddled with this exhausting task now.
Asking Jin Zhu was unavoidable—she was the only one who knew Teng Kangning’s background, that he wasn’t just a regular physician but also a labor reform prisoner.
Teng Kangning was unlucky. Just as he was sleeping soundly, Meng Xizhao’s senior maid had dragged him out of bed, dressed him in official attire without explanation, and said he was to accompany them to Longxing Prefecture.
Teng Kangning: “……”
It was one thing to go to the Xiongnu, but why Longxing Prefecture? That’s all our own people!
Reluctantly, under Jin Zhu’s threatening glare—thirty miles through the night, she bared her teeth and warned him that if he refused, she’d cut off his supply of medicinal herbs, leaving him to experiment on air—Teng Kangning had no choice but to comply.
The next morning, Qing Fu noticed the extra person in the party but said nothing, and Meng Xizhao also didn’t comment.
Before the hour of Mao, the entire family rose early to see Meng Xizhao off.
Even the newlywed county lord’s daughter had dressed in formal coiffure, standing beside Meng Xiang, giving a polite nod to her uncle-in-law: “Uncle, safe travels.”
Her appearance was as noble as her husband’s, yet her height surpassed most women of the time—a full one meter seventy-something. Had Meng Xiang not inherited his tall genes, she might have outshone him.
Seeing the noble lady lower herself in greeting, Meng Xizhao hastened to support her, breaking the ritual: “Sister-in-law, just call me ‘Second Young Master,’ like you do my brother. When I’m away, please help look after our parents.”
The county lord’s daughter, who rarely went out and had only heard of Meng Xizhao’s changing reputation over the past year, now saw it firsthand. She laughed softly, like a lotus blossoming: “Alright, Second Young Master, rest assured. With me and your brother keeping an eye at home, nothing will go wrong.”
Madame Meng watched her daughter-in-law integrate so naturally, without shyness, and felt comforted. But when she looked at Meng Xizhao, her comfort turned to bittersweetness.
“Enough talking. If we continue, the day will be here before we know it. Let’s go—leave early and return early.”
Meng Xizhao finally bid farewell to his parents, while Meng Xiang brought the horse over to escort him from the city.
This journey was his alone; no one else accompanied him.
Originally, Meng Xizhao had planned for everyone to ride horseback, day and night, but with Teng Kangning added to the group—and all the extra luggage—they needed a cart.
The cart, however, wasn’t for Meng Xizhao. Teng Kangning and Shi Dazhuang occupied it.
One of them didn’t know how to ride at all, the other had some training but still fared little better than a complete novice. Together, they made the perfect pair for a cart ride.
Yingtian Prefecture was always lively, but between the hours of Mao and Chen, the city would briefly quiet down, as if it were closing its eyes for a moment before greeting the next morning.
They left the city without a word, until Meng Xiang finally tugged his reins and said to Meng Xizhao, “Out there, be careful. Remember, so many people in Yingtian are waiting for your return.”
Meng Xizhao smiled. “Big brother, you’ve said that so many times already. I know—don’t worry. I’ll come back safe and sound.”
Meng Xiang opened his mouth to say more but ultimately didn’t. “Alright… let’s go. I’ll watch you leave.”
Meng Xizhao nodded, turned, nudged his horse lightly, and the animal trotted off with him into the distance.
The others followed, and far behind, he saw his younger brother glance back, pause briefly, and wave. Though the angle was slightly off, Meng Xiang’s excitement was evident as he raised his arm to wave.
At the same time, above him, on the city wall, a tall and straight figure stood silently. He didn’t wave, simply watching the tiny black dot move farther away.
Once it disappeared from sight, he lowered his gaze and said to Yu Fulan behind him, “Let’s go back.”
Yu Fulan obeyed, descending the stairs with him, though he couldn’t help glancing back, puzzled.
Strange…
Why didn’t he tell Meng Xizhao he was here to see him off? If Meng Xizhao hadn’t looked back and noticed the Crown Prince, they might have completely missed each other.
He couldn’t make sense of it.
Though the party had added a cart, the plan for fast travel remained unchanged.
Anyone who’s ridden a horse knows that to move in sync with it is crucial; otherwise, the ride is jarring enough to make you throw up even what you’d swallowed as a child.
Meng Xizhao rode at the front, flanked by Jin Zhu and Zitong, each on horseback. Behind, Qing Fu drove the cart, whipping his horse nearly to the breaking point to keep pace.
This made the cart ride torturous for Teng Kangning and Shi Dazhuang, who sat on opposite sides, gripping the boards like Spider-Man, not daring to relax.
A single slip and they would tumble together—potentially leading to an awkward closeness.
Shi Dazhuang, being married, was adamant about avoiding any physical contact, even accidentally.
…
After a morning of riding, they stopped for a meal, water, and a rest. As soon as the cart halted, the two men stumbled out. Shi Dazhuang immediately collapsed into the grass and vomited, while Teng Kangning shakily pulled a pill from his sleeve and swallowed it, gradually looking more composed.
Qing Fu started a fire; Jin Zhu and Zitong made tea. For lunch, they ate the dry rations they had brought, as cooking on the spot would waste precious time. Sleep and nourishment were the real necessities.
Meng Xizhao, having eaten, leaned against a tree and dozed. He hadn’t slept a wink the previous night and needed the rest to survive the next stretch.
Shi Dazhuang, having vomited, didn’t dare complain, fearing their displeasure. He cautiously approached Teng Kangning during the break.
“Are you a physician?” he asked.
Although they’d been traveling together, this was their first conversation.
Teng Kangning glanced at him and nodded.
Shi Dazhuang nearly cried. “Thank goodness! Please save me, doctor! This cart is unbearable. If this continues, I don’t think I’ll survive to Longxing Prefecture.”
Teng Kangning also shuddered at the memory. Even his medical skill couldn’t protect against this kind of physical jolting.
Meng Xizhao’s earlier instructions suggested they would rest only briefly at noon and then ride through the night, stopping at a nearby town the next morning to eat and feed the horses. The thought of enduring such jolting overnight made Teng Kangning’s face pale.
After thinking for a moment, he turned to Shi Dazhuang. “I have a pill that can spare us from this constant jostling.”
Shi Dazhuang blinked, amazed. “There’s such a thing?!”
Teng Kangning nodded. “It does have some side effects.”
Nothing could be worse than your insides being shaken to pieces, Shi Dazhuang reasoned. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not afraid. Please, doctor, give me one.”
Seeing his eagerness, Teng Kangning smiled. “Very well. For our shared suffering, I won’t charge you.”
He handed Shi Dazhuang a black pill. “Take it after getting back in the cart. It works better then.”
Shi Dazhuang thanked him repeatedly and carefully stored the pill.
When Meng Xizhao awoke from his nap, they resumed their journey. Once back in the cart, Shi Dazhuang and Teng Kangning exchanged looks before swallowing the pills.
…
Meng Xizhao could have ridden straight through the night, but none of them were accustomed to such rapid travel. Exhaustion set in, and eventually they came across an official relay station. Meng Xizhao decided to stop for two hours, waiting for dawn before continuing.
Jin Zhu and the others agreed, and Qing Fu parked the cart in the back courtyard. After dismounting, he called out twice, but there was no answer from inside.
When no one responded, Qing Fu’s heart skipped a beat, and he immediately lifted the curtain.
A closer look revealed the source of the silence: the physician and the agricultural expert inside had completely knocked themselves out, piled on top of each other like human blocks.
Qing Fu screamed in shock, and Meng Xizhao, hearing this, widened his eyes in surprise.
At the cart, no matter how much he shook the two men, they didn’t move. In this remote, desolate place, there was no physician to help, and he didn’t dare touch the drugs Teng Kangning had brought. With no other option, Meng Xizhao grabbed Shi Dazhuang by the collar, raised his right hand, and delivered a series of slaps.
Smack, smack, smack, smack!
After four strikes, Shi Dazhuang finally woke up in pain.
Seeing this worked, Qing Fu quickly copied the action with Teng Kangning, and only then did they fully understand the situation.
To avoid enduring the road’s jolting, Teng Kangning had given himself and Shi Dazhuang a concentrated dose of sleeping medicine, planning to sleep through the entire journey.
Meng Xizhao: “…………”
Qing Fu: “…………”
Why didn’t you say so earlier! You almost scared us to death!
…
In this chaotic scene, they drew ever closer to Longxing Prefecture.
To reach Longxing Prefecture, they first needed to pass through Jiangzhou, which meant crossing the Xunyang River by boat.
There were no large boats at the riverbank, and their group couldn’t all board at once. At the very least, the cart Qing Fu drove would have to wait for the next boat.
But such matters were minor. Unlike the trip to the Xiongnu, Meng Xizhao now had Jin Zhu with him, who knew of his fear of water. Once on the boat, she would stick close, afraid he might somehow fall in.
The Xunyang River is part of the Yangtze; falling in could be fatal even with the boatmen around.
Yet Meng Xizhao didn’t show fear.
He was, of course, still a little nervous, but whenever that happened, he touched the jade pendant at his chest, feeling the crescent shape, and recalled how Cui Ye had silently held his hand before. That memory eased his fear.
He only felt a touch of homesickness.
It seemed that anyone venturing alone onto the Xunyang River would feel a pang of being far from home.
Lost in thought, Meng Xizhao smiled to himself, causing Jin Zhu to regard him with a very peculiar expression.
When will this husband stop laughing to himself for no reason…
After crossing the river, they had about sixty li left to reach Longxing Prefecture.
Since they had traveled along official roads through Jiangzhou, they hadn’t really seen the city. Now, approaching the outskirts of Longxing Prefecture, Meng Xizhao frowned at the patchwork of black and yellow earth.
The black patches were burn marks, though whether caused by gunpowder or military action, he couldn’t tell.
The fields outside, once cultivated, were now in disarray, and not a single person was in sight.
It was February 11th—one day later than their originally planned arrival.
By the end of January, northern Yingtian Prefecture had already started plowing and sowing. Longxing Prefecture, further south, should have sown even earlier, yet there was no sign of activity.
Even Shi Dazhuang, who had just disembarked, shook his head. “At this point, still not planting? How will the people of Longxing Prefecture survive the year?”
Meng Xizhao thought, They’ll make do.
Even if they were sent out to plant now, would they dare? Who knew if the Nanzhao might strike again?
He spurred the horses and headed for the city gate.
The gatehouse that had been destroyed had been cleared, but the new gatehouse hadn’t been built. Even the gate itself was a rough patchwork of boards, looking shabby and makeshift.
Standing outside the gate, Meng Xizhao fell silent at the sight of this crude structure, something he’d expect to see only in a bandit’s hideout.
The patrolling soldiers had been suspiciously eyeing him for some time. If he didn’t act soon, he might be detained. He pulled out his appointment letter and the government-issued fish bag, proving his identity. Upon learning he was the newly appointed magistrate, the soldiers quickly let him pass.
Meng Xizhao was puzzled that Xie Yuan and Yin Liu hadn’t come to meet him. At that moment, a gate officer pulled him aside with grim news:
Xie Tongzhi, the previous magistrate, had been beaten by the citizens of Longxing Prefecture shortly after taking office and was still bedridden.
Meng Xizhao: “…………”
What?!
Without the magistrate present, Longxing Prefecture was in chaos. Xie Yuan, recovering from his injuries, couldn’t leave the government offices, so he continued to operate from his bed.
When he learned of Meng Xizhao’s arrival, he wanted to personally greet him but was stopped by Yin Liu, saying the new magistrate would see him first.
As expected, Meng Xizhao soon arrived, briskly striding forward, followed by a small entourage of ministry officials. They immediately began complaining, saying the local populace was unruly, disobedient, and causing disturbances. They hinted that Meng Xizhao should punish Xie Yuan first, then the citizens.
Crossing the threshold, Meng Xizhao finally reached Xie Yuan, but the officials continued to chatter. Meng Xizhao turned sharply. “Enough! You all have so many ideas—shouldn’t the magistrate be taking care of things for you?!”
He then removed his fish bag and shoved it into the hands of the loudest official. “Here, you take this. From now on, if I don’t serve as magistrate, you can. Why are you all standing around? Call Magistrate Wang!”
The others fell silent.
The official named Wang was startled and tried to refuse, but Meng Xizhao wouldn’t relent, forcing the bag into his hands. Finally, Wang, with tears streaming down his face, admitted his mistake. “I was wrong, sir—please spare me!”
Meng Xizhao saw him nearly dropping to his knees and let out a sarcastic, drawling laugh: “No, no—you mustn’t call me ‘Your Excellency.’ I can’t bear it. Look at how you were jumping up and down just now, practically trying to open my mouth and speak for me! And even now, you still call me ‘Your Excellency’? Ha! I should be calling you Excellency, right, Magistrate Wang?”
Wang, a mere clerk in the Longxing Prefecture office—barely ranking among the top five there—couldn’t dare respond. Sweat poured down his face as he repeatedly apologized, cursing himself silently: This former playboy… still has that rogue’s edge!
Which official would speak like this? Only a street thug would be so petty, giving no face at all!
But he had no choice. With this former playboy now his direct superior, he could only endure. As for becoming the magistrate’s confidant, rallying support, isolating Xie Yuan, and turning Longxing Prefecture into his own safe haven… forget it. With a magistrate like this, simply avoiding isolation would be lucky enough.
Wang continued bowing and apologizing. The others, seeing Meng Xizhao fold his arms in silence, quickly followed suit. Meng Xizhao snorted and finally dismissed them all.
Once they left, the group exchanged glances and let out bitter smiles.
“Governor Meng is… formidable,” one murmured.
From now on, life here would only grow tougher.
After everyone left, Meng Xizhao turned back toward Xie Yuan, who was leaning against the wall, now looking utterly impressed.
With these few people, each scheming in their own way—especially Wang, a thoroughly petty man—Xie Yuan had been able to assert himself a little while standing. But once he fell ill, Wang could have easily run the office into chaos. Even fully healthy, Xie Yuan couldn’t make Wang show such a dejected expression. Truly… evil begets its own measures.
…Cough, maybe that metaphor isn’t quite right.
Meng Xizhao sat down beside him, frowning. “What exactly happened?”
Xie Yuan sighed. “Everything was fine. Five days ago, I went to check the city’s grain stores. A young man shouted at me before I could enter, demanding that I open the granaries to help the starving people. Not knowing the exact amount of grain, I didn’t respond and only told him to wait a bit longer.”
“By the time I left the granary, I don’t know how long he had been waiting. Then he struck me with a stick. My attendants were flustered and didn’t act immediately. By the time they caught him, this is what happened to me.”
Meng Xizhao’s brow furrowed. “Attendants? Which ones were with you?”
Xie Yuan’s face flushed. He realized he hadn’t thought it through: “Some new attendants I recruited, all local to Longxing Prefecture. I thought taking them out with me might win some goodwill from the people.”
Meng Xizhao: “…………”
The intention was good.
Just the timing was all wrong.
The people, still fearful from the remnants of Nanzhao’s raids and suffering from a poor harvest, were hungry. At a moment like this, who cares where your attendants are from? All they could see were the granaries—and an officialdom refusing to feed them.
In hindsight, the beating seemed understandable, but Meng Xizhao figured it best to check on the young man himself. “Is he still in the jail?”
Xie Yuan nodded. “I locked him up until you arrived, so you could make the final decision.”
Meng Xizhao nodded. “Fine. Leave it to me.”
Xie Yuan, recalling how Meng Xizhao had just scolded Wang, warned: “Sir, the people are desperate and may act rashly. Please, don’t be too harsh.”
Meng Xizhao glanced at him oddly. “I understand.”
After a pause, he asked, “In the past half-month, have you noticed the flaws in this city?”
Xie Yuan smiled bitterly. “Anyone could see. Longxing Prefecture lacks grain, lacks money, lacks capable people—every deficiency is fatal. The populace doesn’t trust officials, and the atmosphere grows tenser each day. I heard that today, some daring people tried to seize grain, but were arrested by the soldiers. Taking government grain is a capital offense, but these people are truly desperate… What should we do?”
Meng Xizhao pondered. “The state has its laws, and the household has its rules. If it’s a capital offense, they stay in jail until judgment after the autumn harvest.”
Xie Yuan straightened instinctively, surprised. He had expected Meng Xizhao to show some leniency, but he spoke as uncompromisingly as any official.
“But the people—” Xie Yuan began.
Meng Xizhao interrupted: “Don’t worry. We serve His Majesty. No matter where we go, all is under the emperor’s domain.”
Xie Yuan looked at him blankly, not understanding.
Meng Xizhao pursed his lips and, seeing he still didn’t get it, said plainly: “In a couple of months, at the right time, I’ll submit a report to His Majesty about the situation here. He is merciful and will surely pardon their death sentences. Then the people will be grateful, His Majesty pleased, and we can all rest easy.”
Xie Yuan sat stunned for a long moment, then finally nodded in realization. He asked again, “But Governor Meng, can you really persuade His Majesty?”
Meng Xizhao nodded. “As long as the right time, place, and conditions come together, absolutely.”
Xie Yuan: “…………”
He understood that.
The problem is… how to bring those right conditions together?
Ah well, one step at a time, he thought. “Very well. Let’s keep them locked up for now, a few months at least,” Xie Yuan sighed.
Meng Xizhao suddenly turned to him. “Who said they had to be locked up for months?”
Xie Yuan stammered: “…Sir, didn’t you say that?”
Meng Xizhao shook his head. “I said they’d be confined, yes—but I never said for months. Look at how destitute this city is! Keeping them locked up for so long would be pointless. There’s too much to be done. At most, a few days, then I want them out doing labor.”
Xie Yuan blinked. “Sir… what labor do you have in mind for them?”
Meng Xizhao hummed. “I haven’t decided yet. Didn’t you check the granaries before? How long will the city’s remaining stores last?”
Xie Yuan eyed him carefully, as if measuring his mental fortitude. Judging it adequate, he spoke truthfully. “If everything is rationed strictly—only two meals a day for everyone—the stores will last the city twenty days.”
And that was already careful planning, with everyone eating only half-full portions.
The Nanzhao people had been ruthless: they took every harvested grain back with them, leaving nothing behind. Even the previously stored granary supplies were carted away in trips. Only the most remote fields, which they hadn’t managed to collect in time, were left. Had it not been for the disaster that wiped out half the population, these reserves wouldn’t have lasted twenty days.
Meng Xizhao knew conditions were harsh here, but he hadn’t realized they were this bad. He had assumed too much.
In his previous life, living in a world where food and clothing were never scarce, even if national stores were depleted, there would still be enough for three years. And in Yingtian Prefecture, the situation was even more extreme—residents could live off stored grain for over a decade without going hungry, even if the city were under siege, as long as no one inside betrayed it.
…
With the city in such a state, why hadn’t the court sent relief grain?!
Meng Xizhao almost asked aloud, then remembered: the army had departed at the start of the year, consuming supplies constantly. This year, they also needed to purchase many cattle and sheep from the Xiongnu. The Ministry of Revenue was keeping a tight hold on the grain, fearing requests for aid.
And the eastern Hebei route… that area also needed disaster relief…
As for Yingtian Prefecture’s reserves, forget it. Unless the emperor himself was blind to the situation, Meng Xizhao would never touch that grain to feed people elsewhere.
He fell silent for a long moment. “If we can survive the next two months, the city’s situation should improve considerably.”
Xie Yuan remained silent. Indeed—the question was, how could they survive these two months?
Meng Xizhao sighed. “No choice… we’ll have to buy grain from surrounding areas. Have the attendants form teams to purchase supplies.”
Xie Yuan watched him silently. “But Sir… the office has no funds.”
Meng Xizhao’s calm facade finally cracked. “Not a single coin left?”
Xie Yuan shook his head. “There’s still some, but all pooled together, barely over a thousand taels of silver. A few antique paintings and calligraphy left by the previous prefect… even converting them to grain wouldn’t cover much.”
Meng Xizhao: “…………”
His composed expression finally broke. He realized this would be a hellish start.
But it couldn’t truly be hell!
He stared at Xie Yuan, mouth agape. Xie Yuan simply waited quietly.
After a long while, Meng Xizhao closed his mouth. He no longer asked questions but looked aside, frowning as he thought. “At this point, it seems there’s no other way.”
Xie Yuan blinked, uncertain of his meaning.
Suddenly, Meng Xizhao turned to him. “Who in this office knows Longxing Prefecture best—and is particularly ambitious for promotion and wealth?”
Xie Yuan: “…………”
He hesitated, then gave Meng Xizhao a name. Meng Xizhao memorized it and rose to leave, but before walking off, he said: “Take care of your recovery. Tomorrow, I’ll order all the granaries in the city to open and distribute grain. There will be a lot to handle in the days ahead, so get better quickly.”
Xie Yuan watched Meng Xizhao’s retreating figure. At the mention of “a lot to handle,” a chill ran through him, and he shivered involuntarily.
Once outside, Meng Xizhao immediately went to find the person Xie Yuan had named.
His name was Jia Renliang, a clerk in the office. During Nanzhao’s invasion, he had returned home to care for his sick mother, thus avoiding the disaster. After his mother passed away and Ding Chun reopened the city gates, he returned to the office.
Seeing Meng Xizhao, Jia Renliang beamed obsequiously. Meng Xizhao smiled back. “Do you know who I am?”
Jia Renliang: “You are Governor Meng! Your Excellency, I salute you!”
He knelt, preparing to kowtow.
Meng Xizhao waved him off. “…Enough. I don’t like people kneeling.”
Hearing this, Jia Renliang scrambled to his feet obediently. Quick as a flash.
Meng Xizhao’s satisfaction deepened. “Do you know who my father is?”
Jia Renliang blinked and answered with even greater enthusiasm: “Yes, I know! He is a Minister of the Council!”
Meng Xizhao smiled faintly. “Exactly. So I will eventually return to Yingtian Prefecture. Right now, I need a capable assistant. If you work diligently for me, I’ll bring you along and secure you an official position there.”
Jia Renliang gaped, then burst with joy and bowed repeatedly. “Thank you, Governor! Thank you! Please, command me as you wish—I’ll serve you loyally, even to the point of giving my life!”
Meng Xizhao nodded. “First, tell me—what temples and monasteries are in this city?”
Jia Renliang hesitated. “There are many, Sir. Which type do you mean?”
Meng Xizhao: “The poor, run-down ones, yet unexpectedly popular.”
Jia Renliang: “……”
He thought for a moment, then said, “There really are a few, though in the past two years, most people haven’t gone out much, and their popularity has gradually faded.”
Meng Xizhao waved a hand dismissively. “That doesn’t matter. As long as the foundation is there, it’s enough. Now tell me—among these few, are there any Taoist priests or monks who look especially ethereal, someone who gives off the feeling that they are no ordinary person?”
Jia Renliang froze. “Ah?”
What kind of request was this?
Meng Xizhao wasn’t done. “This Taoist or master… ideally, he still has some attachment to the mundane world. Specifically, he wants fame—he’s obsessed with it, almost to the point of madness. Does such a person exist?”
Jia Renliang: “…………”
He stared at Meng Xizhao, stunned, only slowly realizing that he wasn’t joking—he was serious. After blinking a few times, Jia Renliang went through his mental list and suddenly his eyes lit up. “Yes! Sir, there really is one!”