Meng Xizhao lingered stubbornly at the Jiangzhou yamen, nearly driving Prefect Wan to distraction.
The urgent imperial edict first rushed to Longxing Prefecture, only to find it had missed him. It then hurriedly turned around and raced to Jiangzhou, finally managing to locate the elusive Prefect Meng.
The palace guard delivering the message: “…………”
This Prefect Meng is far too troublesome!
Little did he know, that was exactly how Prefect Wan felt as well.
…
Although the most beautiful Madam Su had already met with misfortune and been taken by the Nanzhao, Meng Xizhao was still unwilling to give up. He insisted on going in person to see whether any other overlooked beauties remained.
But when he actually arrived, he realized he had been overthinking.
Forget beauties—there were barely any women left at all.
Prefect Wan was wary of Ding Chun and Zhan Buxiu, but he was also wary of Meng Xizhao. He guarded against the former out of fear they might seize military power and usurp his authority as prefect; he guarded against the latter because he feared this newly favored official might nitpick faults, compile a list of them, and report everything to the emperor.
Thus, when Meng Xizhao went to Sinners’ Village, Prefect Wan accompanied him.
After they returned, Wan muttered under his breath, “I already told you—it is full of the families of convicted officials. They spend their days quarrying stone and struggling to survive. Their faces are battered by wind and sun—no matter how delicate they once were, now they are all dark and weathered.”
Meng Xizhao thought to himself that he knew this. Skin damaged by hardship could still be restored with proper care later.
But the Nanzhao were like locusts—wherever they passed, not a single young woman was left behind. Whether pretty or not, they took them all.
As a result, Sinners’ Village was now filled mostly with the elderly and the weak. There were barely any able-bodied people left—either they had been killed or taken away to serve as breeding stock for Nanzhao women.
Thinking of this, Meng Xizhao grew puzzled again.
Even if every country had its own customs… Nanzhao was not some mythical land of women. They lived on the same continent, and regardless of whether women held higher or lower status, it was still fundamentally a patriarchal society.
In such a society, women were generally subordinate to men. Even if Nanzhao men were not seizing women, why would Nanzhao women be the ones coming out to capture men?
And besides… not that Meng Xizhao wanted to disparage his own people, but the men of Great Qi were, frankly, of rather questionable quality.
Farmers were illiterate and by twenty already looked forty from sun exposure. Scholars could neither carry nor lift, full of lofty ambitions but frail as paper—regardless of their learning, they had certainly inherited all the worst traits of pedantic bookworms. Laborers were much like farmers, perhaps slightly literate, but indoctrinated from birth with rigid hierarchies, so timid they lacked even the courage of a spider.
It was not that there were no exceptional men—but they were exceedingly rare. If the Nanzhao were selectively capturing only the best, Meng Xizhao would not have thought much of it. But their indiscriminate approach made it strange.
After all, Nanzhao was not like the Xiongnu. Their land was not vast grasslands requiring slave labor. And the fact that they returned the captives after a time showed that they were deeply xenophobic, unwilling to let foreigners compete for resources within their borders.
They were not capturing people for labor—they were feeding them, housing them for free for a year or two, having them produce children, and then sending them back.
No matter how he looked at it, it made no sense.
He had a guess, but it felt far-fetched.
Mainly… he did not think the Nanzhao were clever enough to come up with something so insidious.
Realizing that wild speculation was pointless—especially since the war between the two nations had already dragged on so long, leaving no room for diplomacy—he dismissed the thought. At this point, there was only one possible end to the conflict:
One side would completely subdue the other.
Shaking his head, Meng Xizhao stopped dwelling on it and turned to Prefect Wan. “Fine. Since no suitable daughters of official families can be found, then women from the pleasure quarters will do. I trouble you, Prefect Wan, to find a few more for me. Not the two from before—their looks were far too poor.”
Prefect Wan: “…………”
What else could he say? He could only comply.
But Meng Xizhao was truly impossible to please. No matter what kind of women Wan sent over, Meng Xizhao would take one look, declare them unattractive, send them away, and then order him to keep searching.
In just two days, Prefect Wan’s already precarious hairline had receded even further…
When the imperial edict arrived, Prefect Wan felt both excited and uneasy.
He personally escorted Meng Xizhao out of the city. Standing at the gates, Wan forced a smile, yet his drooping eyelids made him look as though he might cry. Torn between emotions, he gazed at Meng Xizhao with great expectation, placing all his hopes on him.
“Prefect Meng, when you stand before His Majesty, please put in a good word for me!”
Meng Xizhao readily agreed. “No problem. Although my time here has been rather dry, you are a good prefect. I certainly will not just stand by and watch you be demoted again.”
Prefect Wan: “…………”
Who said I am going to be demoted?! His Majesty has not even spoken yet!
He looked at Meng Xizhao as though staring at something terrifying. Meng Xizhao, however, patted his shoulder and said in an old-fashioned, patronizing tone, “Do not be afraid. We are colleagues and neighbors, after all, and I quite appreciate you. If someone else were in your position, many of my ideas would not be so easily carried out. That would be a loss for Jiangzhou—and an even greater loss for Longxing Prefecture. So rest assured, I will make sure you keep your prefect’s hat.”
Prefect Wan silently studied him, feeling that he was being duped.
But he could not be certain. After all, he was not the one favored by the emperor. In the end, he sighed inwardly—so long as he could keep his current position, that was enough.
He quickly cupped his hands and bowed. “Then I thank you, Lord Meng. Please set out at once—do not keep His Majesty waiting.”
Meng Xizhao nodded. But before mounting his horse, he stepped closer and asked, “About the matter of mutual exchange between the two prefectures…”
Prefect Wan: “…………”
Mutual exchange of what? Even without going to Longxing Prefecture, I know you have nothing there!
But after a long pause, he could only nod bitterly. “Very well. If Longxing Prefecture has needs in the future, Jiangzhou will certainly lend its support.”
Only then did Meng Xizhao smile. “Then I thank you on behalf of the people of Longxing Prefecture. In truth, we lack nothing now—except merchants willing to come do business.”
With that, he mounted his horse in one smooth motion, then turned back and urged, “Prefect Wan, you should return quickly. Do not let me delay your important duties.”
Prefect Wan: “…………”
Fuming, he turned on his heel and went back into the city—to carry out the “important duties” Meng Xizhao had just assigned him.
The journey from Jiangzhou to Yingtian Prefecture took only a day and a half. For Meng Xizhao, however, the greatest convenience was not the time saved, but that he did not have to cross the Xunyang River again.
During this crossing, he was nothing like before—no longer spirited or filled with determination. His fear of water seemed to be creeping back.
Meng Xizhao had dismissed the four yamen runners. This trip back to Yingtian was only to report; in a few days, he would have to return again. Whether he brought people along or not made little difference.
He set out with only Qingfu, along with the palace guard who had delivered the edict. The three rode in silence.
The Xunyang River flowed beside them. It was dusk now, the water dyed orange, shimmering with silver light. Meng Xizhao looked at it for a moment, then suddenly raised his hand and touched the pendant at his chest.
“Reunion… reunion.”
Back then, for the sake of those two words, he had disrupted his own plans, driven himself like a man possessed, racking his brain for ways to speed things up and return to Yingtian Prefecture as quickly as possible—so as not to fail the weight those words carried in his heart.
But now, he felt it had all been unnecessary.
He had thought he was repaying kindness—but in truth, he had rushed headlong into digging his own pit.
When he arrived in Yingtian, what should he do?
Should he go see the Crown Prince—or not?
If he saw him, he feared every emotion would be written plainly across his face. If he did not see him, that too would be as good as writing everything on his face.
Meng Xizhao: “…………”
Troublesome.
Meanwhile, in Yingtian Prefecture—
Meng Jiuyu informed the family that Meng Xizhao was about to return. Madam Meng had already heard the news and only smiled faintly, while Meng Xi’ang and Meng Jiaojiao were far more excited.
Meng Xi’ang said, “Why is Erlang coming back so soon? Could it be he has rendered great merit and His Majesty has summoned him early?”
Meng Jiuyu paused. “Or perhaps he has caused great trouble.”
Meng Xi’ang: “……”
Meng Jiaojiao did not think so much. She was simply delighted. “Oh, you all should have more faith in Second Brother. Even if he causes trouble, he can clean up the mess himself. Father, how long will Second Brother stay this time?”
How could Meng Jiuyu know? He could only guess. “Perhaps two or three days. If His Majesty has not dismissed him, he is still the prefect of Longxing, and he will certainly have to return to take charge.”
Hearing it would only be two or three days, Meng Jiaojiao immediately pouted. “So short… But is there not that vice prefect in Longxing? Before Second Brother went, he was the one managing things. Why not let him handle it a few more days? That way Second Brother could rest at home a little longer.”
Madam Meng corrected her, “Jiaojiao, matters in officialdom are not as simple as you think. If Erlang stays away too long, that vice prefect may end up consolidating all authority for himself.”
Cui Yongning—the County Lady—sat beside Meng Xi’ang. She pressed her lips into a smile and said to Meng Jiaojiao, “Jiaojiao trusts Erlang and believes he is very capable, so she did not think of that, is that right?”
Meng Jiaojiao had been slightly embarrassed, but upon hearing this, she immediately lifted her chin proudly. “Exactly! Sister-in-law understands me best. Mother, that is exactly what I meant.”
Madam Meng: “……”
She gave you a way out, and you really took it.
But she did not say it outright. She was not the kind of matriarch who insisted on suppressing the younger generation or controlling everything herself. On the contrary, she thought far ahead—if the County Lady and Jiaojiao got along well, then in the future Jiaojiao would not grow distant from her natal family. And when she and her husband were gone, she would not have to worry about Jiaojiao lacking a female elder who could guide and restrain her.
Thinking of this, Madam Meng could not help but feel a little wistful.
After all, there was no relying on Erlang—she could only place all her hopes on this daughter-in-law…
Meng Jiuyu, for his part, was somewhat oblivious to the affairs within the household. He did not wish to interfere—and there was nothing to interfere with. Everything was harmonious, so what was there to manage?
What concerned him most now was why Meng Xizhao had suddenly been summoned back.
In recent days, His Majesty had once again suspended court sessions. He did not even wish to see his ministers, instead spending all his time in the inner palace, amusing himself with Consort Yin, whom he had only recently favored. At present, the only person who could approach him was Qin, the Grand Attendant.
Whenever His Majesty was truly enraged, he became like this—refusing to see anyone, completely indulging himself, immersing in what he loved most: nights of endless revelry.
…
It was already no small thing that Qin Feimang had informed him of his son’s return. Meng Jiuyu had wanted to inquire further, but Qin Feimang was extremely cautious at such a time. He avoided contact with court officials altogether and simply had a young eunuch turn Meng Jiuyu away.
Still, from this very attitude, Meng Jiuyu understood something—this matter was probably not directly related to his son. At the very least, his son would not suffer misfortune because of it.
With that, Meng Jiuyu calmed down. When his son was about to arrive, he even personally went outside the city to receive him.
Because he went, the Crown Prince—who had already composed himself and was preparing to leave—quietly withdrew the foot he had just stepped over the threshold upon hearing the news.
…
As they neared Yingtian Prefecture, Meng Xizhao nervously looked ahead. He feared that Cui Ye might come to find him. After all, Cui Ye was the kind of person who would travel hundreds of miles just to see him once—it was hardly impossible for him to come personally to receive him.
But when he reached the city gates, he saw that someone was indeed waiting.
Only, it was his father.
Meng Xizhao dismounted and walked silently up to him.
Meng Jiuyu looked at his son with excitement. Though it had only been two months, he had missed him dearly.
As Meng Xizhao approached, Meng Jiuyu stepped forward as well. But when they met, the smile on his face suddenly faltered. “Why do you not look very happy?”
Meng Xizhao: “…No, I am happy.”
Meng Jiuyu: “…………”
Happy, my foot. Your lips are practically pouting enough to hang an oil jug from.
Meng Jiuyu did not think his son disliked seeing him. Instead, he assumed it had to do with the sudden summons. With palace guards nearby, he did not dare ask questions. He merely patted Meng Xizhao on the shoulder and got into the carriage with him.
Since the emperor had ordered him to return immediately, Meng Xizhao could not go home first—he had to enter the palace at once.
Meng Jiuyu wanted to accompany him, but Meng Xizhao shook his head. “Father, you should not go. If you are there, it will affect my performance.”
Meng Jiuyu: “…………”
You have just come back and you are already asking to be beaten, is that it?!
Holding back his temper—after all, they had not seen each other for nearly two months—Meng Jiuyu could not bring himself to strike him. He could only sternly warn, “His Majesty is in great anger right now. Once you enter the palace, act with utmost caution!”
Meng Xizhao acknowledged him. When the carriage reached the palace gates, he jumped down and left. Meng Jiuyu watched his retreating figure; the anger he had felt just moments ago sank heavily into something else.
He knew that scenes like this would happen many more times in the future.
He was getting old, and his position had already solidified. At his level, promotion required waiting for someone above to die.
If Yan Shunying wished to rise further, he would have to outlive Grand Tutor Gan. And if Meng Jiuyu wished to rise, he would first have to outlive Yan Shunying.
High rank and great power did not only bring convenience—it also came with many constraints.
He would never be as bold as Erlang. He was timid. And so, situations where Erlang charged ahead into danger while he could only stand behind and worry would likely become more and more frequent.
But what father could bear to watch his son walk into peril again and again?
In the end, it was his own inadequacy. If he had not made so many political enemies, if he had at least built some goodwill among the common people, why would Erlang have to push himself so desperately upward?
At times, Erlang’s actions even gave him the illusion that the Meng family was running out of time.
Perhaps it was not an illusion. Otherwise, with Erlang’s intelligence, why would he suddenly abandon a life of comfort and idleness to strive forward so urgently?
Watching Meng Xizhao’s figure disappear into the depths of the palace, Meng Jiuyu’s brows gradually furrowed, his thoughts shifting again and again.
…
After entering the palace, Meng Xizhao had expected to be summoned immediately. From his father’s words, he already knew the Tianshou Emperor was furious.
Who would have thought—the attendant went in to report his arrival, and that report alone took half an hour.
Meng Xizhao: “…”
He was so bored he nearly fell asleep before the emperor finally appeared—his clothes disheveled, a dragon robe carelessly draped over him.
At the sight of this, Meng Xizhao instantly snapped awake.
Out of sheer discomfort.
For a moment, his vision even seemed to darken, and he had the exact same thought Xie Yuan had once had:
No one wants to know what you were just doing!
Please—just treat me like an outsider from now on!
This, however, was a misunderstanding. The Tianshou Emperor did not regard him as an insider—he simply did not regard his officials as equals.
To him, all under heaven were his servants. Before servants, was there any need to mind one’s appearance?
…
The Tianshou Emperor took his seat and looked Meng Xizhao over twice. “Meng Qing, your trip to Longxing Prefecture does not seem to have changed you much.”
Meng Xizhao: “……”
Was this implying he had done nothing?
If he had done nothing, Longxing Prefecture would already belong to someone else by now.
After a full year in office, Meng Xizhao had adjusted his persona with time. He no longer wept at every turn. Instead, he gave a wry smile. “When I first arrived, even my official robes hung loosely on me. It was Vice Prefect Xie who reminded me—if even the prefect looks gaunt and frail, how could the people believe that Longxing has any hope? Only then did I force myself to eat more, making sure I would not lose any more weight.”
The Tianshou Emperor had not expected such an explanation. He paused, then nodded. “You did well.”
Meng Xizhao cupped his hands and smiled with visible gratitude, the kind that comes only after being acknowledged. “Many thanks for Your Majesty’s praise. I will certainly continue to do my utmost.”
The emperor waved his hand. Under normal circumstances, he might have further praised Meng Xizhao’s conduct—working without demanding money or provisions—but he had been holding in his anger for days. What concerned him most now was the matter of someone colluding with Nanzhao to plot rebellion.
He had summoned Meng Xizhao precisely to ask for details.
Hearing this, Meng Xizhao did not hesitate. He immediately presented a version he had carefully refined—embellished and sharpened after much thought.
By the time he left, Guan Yousan had already been cut to pieces. The only person who could have refuted him was Guan Yousan—and now even that was impossible. Not even the Nanzhao emperor, the supposed “injured party,” could argue otherwise. After all, the Tianshou Emperor would never believe him.
With no one left to testify, Meng Xizhao had even arranged for Sun Houquan to establish a backstory—ten years of friendship, secret cooperation.
In other words, Guan Yousan had deceived even his own subordinates. The only ones who knew the truth were himself and Sun Houquan.
And now… Sun Houquan was dead as well.
So naturally, as the one who had personally “interrogated” Sun Houquan, Meng Xizhao could say whatever he pleased.
With nothing but his words, he painted Guan Yousan as the greatest villain under heaven. Once he had thoroughly stirred the emperor’s emotions, only then did he begin to speak of the Nanzhao.
The Nanzhao agent who had contacted Guan Yousan—Guan himself did not know his identity. Only that he was a man of ordinary appearance. When he arrived, he brought large sums of gold and silver. Guan Yousan had built his power on that wealth, and all the methods of incitement had been taught by this man as well—the goal being to throw Great Qi into chaos.
It was largely the same as what he had written in his memorial, only now with additional details designed to provoke anger.
Very quickly, the Tianshou Emperor erupted.
Whenever he grew angry, everyone had to kneel. Meng Xizhao knelt too—but quite happily.
After all, the angrier the emperor became, the greater his own merit.
He waited patiently. Sure enough, after the emperor had vented his fury, he remembered him.
“Meng Xizhao, you have done well. Nanzhao has never abandoned its ambition to destroy Great Qi. You have resolved a major threat for me.”
Meng Xizhao quickly bowed deeper. “Your Majesty overpraises me. To share Your Majesty’s burdens is only my duty.”
The emperor shook his head. “Even so, I must reward you.”
As he spoke, he began to consider what reward would be appropriate.
Promotion… no, that would not do. Meng Xizhao had only been prefect for two months—it would be against protocol to promote him again so soon.
Perhaps grant him something?
But what?
For once, the Tianshou Emperor intended to be considerate and was about to bestow a beauty upon him. However, before he could speak, Meng Xizhao suddenly cut in:
“Your Majesty, I do not dare accept a reward.”
The emperor was taken aback. “Why not?”
Meng Xizhao sighed. “Your Majesty, over the past year, I have attracted too much attention.”
He began listing them one by one: “First, I presented tribute to Your Majesty. Then I escorted the marriage alliance to the Xiongnu, securing benefits for Great Qi. After Your Majesty promoted me three ranks, many already grew dissatisfied. Later, I went to Longxing Prefecture, pacified the people, revitalized agriculture, and now uncovered Nanzhao’s plot. Each matter draws attention. Among the officials at court, there are those broad-minded—but also those narrow-hearted.”
He paused briefly before continuing, “Of course, being narrow-minded does not mean one is not a capable official. But among a hundred men, there are a hundred temperaments. As I serve Your Majesty, I must also consider Your Majesty’s position. If I am rewarded again, I fear some may be displeased.”
Qin Feimang: “…………”
Lord Meng, this subtle poisoning—you truly have the makings of a treacherous minister.
On the surface, he sounded humble. But listening closely, he had spent the first half recounting his own achievements, reminding the emperor of his merits. In the latter half, he claimed to be thinking of the emperor, but in reality he was preemptively warning him: I am about to be targeted—and it is all for your sake, so you must shield me.
And yet he delivered it with such righteous dignity. Moreover, because he was saying truths no other official would dare voice, the emperor actually took it to heart.
The emperor mused, “Indeed. The officials these days—minds narrower than the tip of a needle.”
Meng Xizhao gave him a look that said you truly understand me, though inwardly he scoffed.
You really have the nerve to call others narrow-minded.
The emperor looked at him again. “In that case, I would be wronging you.”
Meng Xizhao immediately replied with solemn sincerity, “Everything is for Your Majesty. If Your Majesty prospers, then your servant prospers.”
The emperor smiled faintly. He was just about to offer him some vague future promise when Meng Xizhao, looking slightly embarrassed, spoke again:
“However, Your Majesty… I do have one reward I wish to request.”
Now in a better mood, the emperor knew Meng Xizhao was not the greedy type. Since he had already declined a reward, this request was likely modest.
So he said kindly, “What reward? Speak freely.”
Meng Xizhao smiled gratefully and quickly said, “Your Majesty, my elder brother will be graduating from the Imperial Academy this month.”
The emperor paused—only now recalling that unfortunate fellow, Meng Xi’ang.
And at the same time, he remembered the words he himself had spoken a year ago—
“I will compensate him.”
The Tianshou Emperor: “…………”
“Tsk—if Meng Xizhao had not reminded me, I would have nearly forgotten.”
Yet Meng Xizhao behaved as though he had truly forgotten that remark. He humbly addressed the Tianshou Emperor:
“Your Majesty, ever since my elder brother was poisoned, his health has never fully recovered. And as he has only recently married, he and my sister-in-law, the County Lady of Shouguang, are living in perfect harmony. Therefore, I wish to request a reward—that my elder brother be allowed to remain in Yingtian Prefecture. Our parents are already advanced in age; if both my brother and I were to leave, there would be no one by their side to care for them. I would not be at ease.”
Meng Xizhao spoke with great pathos—conveniently omitting the existence of Meng Jiaojiao.
On one hand, in this era, daughters were not considered proper caregivers for their parents; once married, they were expected to serve their husbands’ families. On the other hand, as long as Meng Jiaojiao remained unmarried, Meng Xizhao would not dare remind the emperor that such a young lady even existed in his household.
Though the likelihood of the Tianshou Emperor taking an interest in Meng Jiaojiao was slim, she was undeniably beautiful. If the emperor were to notice her and learn of her, then Meng Xizhao would be left with only two options to save her—rebellion or regicide.
And at present, neither option was viable.
Meng Xizhao lowered his head, waiting for the emperor’s response.
After letting his gaze drift for a moment, the Tianshou Emperor gave a light cough. “As a son, this is how one ought to be. Very well—considering your merits, I grant this request. Your elder brother has indeed been delayed. In that case, when you return, ask him where he wishes to take up a post. So long as it is not a forbidden appointment, I will permit it.”
Good heavens, Meng Xizhao thought. Even I did not receive such generous words back then.
It seemed using Nanzhao as leverage worked quite well—under normal circumstances, the emperor would not be this magnanimous.
Meng Xizhao immediately expressed his gratitude, his face lighting up with genuine delight. The emperor, however, felt a trace of guilt. After all, this “compensation” should have been granted long ago, yet only now was it being given under the guise of a reward.
Wanting to make it up to him further, the emperor bestowed a jade ruyi upon Meng Xizhao before he left. He also added that when Meng Xizhao returned, he would assign five hundred elite imperial guards to accompany him back to Longxing Prefecture.
Meng Xizhao was stunned. He almost said it was unnecessary—he had encountered no danger along the way. But the emperor explained that these five hundred men were not for his personal protection, but to safeguard Longxing Prefecture. If Nanzhao forces could reach Jiangzhou, they could certainly reach Longxing as well. These troops were to root out spies within the city.
Meng Xizhao: “…………”
He had to admit, he was shocked.
Because—for once—the Tianshou Emperor’s decision was actually wise.
That was… highly uncharacteristic.
…
Truly worthy of being the emperor’s lifelong nemesis—Zhen Anluo had managed to provoke even a once-in-a-millennium foolish ruler into occasional clarity.
After reporting his work and receiving his rewards, Meng Xizhao left the palace.
Given how much he had rushed about recently, even the emperor felt it would be excessive to send him back immediately. Thus, he granted Meng Xizhao one extra day in Yingtian Prefecture, ordering him to depart for Longxing the following morning.
Meng Xizhao returned home. After greeting his family, he mentioned the favor he had secured for Meng Xi’ang.
Meng Xi’ang was stunned on the spot.
Meng Xizhao, however, was exhausted. Among family, there was no need for formal thanks. He simply smiled at his brother and went off to sleep.
He slept soundly—but Meng Xi’ang could not sleep that night.
That evening, he sat at the bedside in deep thought. Cui Yongning loosened her hair and quietly sat beside him, keeping him company.
After about a quarter of an hour, Meng Xi’ang finally looked up at her. “Ningniang, Erlang has always been unwilling to let me take an external post. He mentioned it in his letters as well. Do you think… he only seized the opportunity this time to give me this reward? Or had he planned it all along—going through all this trouble just to keep me in Yingtian, so I could do what I truly want?”
Cui Yongning was not particularly familiar with Meng Xizhao—they had only met twice. But in recent days, she had read his letters with Meng Xi’ang and heard many of his past deeds from her mother-in-law and sister-in-law.
Hearing this question, she pressed her lips together slightly. “My husband, does the answer truly matter? No matter what, Erlang used his own merits to secure a better future for you.”
Meng Xi’ang fell silent.
Sensing his heavy mood, Cui Yongning did not disturb him. After a while, when she felt he had calmed somewhat, she asked, “Then have you decided what post you want? Father is currently a participant in government, but one day he will step down. After that, it will be you brothers supporting one another. You must consider this carefully.”
Meng Xi’ang sighed. “I know.”
“Erlang has treated me so well—I cannot disappoint him.”
A question mark practically appeared over Cui Yongning’s head. How could simply choosing a post disappoint Meng Xizhao?
Seeing her expression, Meng Xi’ang knew exactly what she was thinking. But some things—even to his wife—he could not say.
Of course it would disappoint him. The future of the realm would belong to the Crown Prince. If he continued taking bribes, it would be no different from stealing from the Crown Prince. Erlang would be caught in the middle—how difficult that would be.
So this corrupt path… he could not continue.
It pained him a little—after all, he truly loved making money. But thinking of his devoted younger brother, Meng Xi’ang forcibly suppressed that regret.
He pondered long and hard about what he could do instead.
Suddenly, his eyes lit up.
Of course—he could become a censor.
If he did not take bribes, he could instead watch others and see whether they did. In that way, the treasury would grow full. And if the treasury was full, then by extension, was that not the same as protecting his own family’s wealth?
Ah—he was truly brilliant!