After his thoughts scattered, Meng Xizhao looked up and noticed that Cui Ye had, at some point, turned his gaze away, quietly watching the brightly lit street outside.
People came and went, and no matter who left, it didn’t dim the bustling life of Baihua Street. They sat upstairs, away from the clamor, but those twinkling lights outside could never be blocked.
Cui Ye’s expression was calm, his dark eyes serene. There was no sadness from a subtle rejection, no anxiety from unreciprocated feelings.
Compared to him, Meng Xizhao was the one completely flustered.
After a moment, Meng Xizhao felt a strange realization.
Even without romantic experience, he’d never been completely naive. No matter how brilliant a person, once love enters the picture, their intelligence can plummet as dramatically as a plane running out of fuel. Even the steadiest mind becomes erratic, tangled up like a twisted pastry.
Yet… why was he the only one struggling, while Cui Ye remained composed as always?
Could it be that he had misunderstood all along?
Meng Xizhao suspiciously watched Cui Ye, who, upon noticing his gaze, casually turned back with a smile and asked, “What’s wrong?”
Meng Xizhao: ………
He was a “fake” ancient man—he didn’t like restraint, subtlety, or guessing games.
He pressed his lips together, thinking that even if he had misunderstood and it would be humiliating, he didn’t want to keep exchanging secret signals. Better to be straightforward.
After a pause, he spoke: “Your Highness, it’s better if you don’t go to Longxing Mansion anymore.”
Cui Ye considered him, letting out a soft hum, seemingly pondering. After two seconds, he nodded.
Unexpectedly agreeing, Meng Xizhao was momentarily stunned, a confusing mix of emotions rising. Then he heard Cui Ye continue:
“Traveling to Longxing Mansion every month is indeed far, and it’s easy to be noticed. Instead, let’s compromise: Er-lang can come see me. I’ll have a house bought in Yangzhou. On the first of each month, I’ll take a few days away under the pretense of temple visits. If Er-lang has time, he comes to see me; if not, it doesn’t matter.”
Meng Xizhao: ………
Did you even consider how problematic that sounds?
How is this different from sneaking off to a private residence?!
He stared at Cui Ye in silence, his mind reeling. Finally, he mustered courage and spoke bluntly:
“Your Highness, I don’t like men.”
Cui Ye’s expression froze for a moment.
Meng Xizhao kept looking at him, resolute, but only he knew how his heart was racing the moment those words left his mouth. Every muscle was tense, and even his normally calm stomach twisted uncomfortably in reaction.
…This isn’t right. He’s the one rejecting someone, so why does my body feel like I’m the one being rejected?
Meng Xizhao truly didn’t understand why he was reacting so strongly, but he had no time to analyze it. He kept his eyes on Cui Ye, worried that the prince couldn’t handle such blunt honesty.
But Cui Ye was far calmer than him.
Even hearing such words, he only paused briefly, then smiled lightly. “I understand.”
“Er-lang’s reputation precedes him. How could I not know?”
This time it was Meng Xizhao’s turn to be stunned. “Then you…”
Cui Ye’s expression softened slightly. His eyelids lowered, and the curve of his lips relaxed.
“What the heart desires isn’t something I can control. Just like that day, I clearly didn’t want you to see these rash impulses, but I couldn’t restrain myself. Er-lang painted an ideal so beautiful, better than anything I ever dared to dream of. In that moment of impulse, I acted recklessly.”
Meng Xizhao: ………
He lowered his head, cheeks faintly burning.
Recalling it himself didn’t feel so bad, but hearing Cui Ye speak of it so openly made his entire body uneasy.
Before he could find words, Cui Ye seemed to open a floodgate, continuing: “I know I shouldn’t have acted that way. Er-lang is a good young man. My behavior toward you—light and improper—was excessive.”
The single-minded pride Meng Xizhao had been clinging to was instantly triggered by the word improper. He shot up, ready to protest—that’s not improper! Call it whatever you want, just not improper!
But Cui Ye spoke faster than him: “Yet I do not regret it. I only regret that, out of cowardice, I did not linger longer.”
Meng Xizhao: ………
He stared at Cui Ye numbly.
You have the nerve to call yourself cowardly…?
If cowardice could hear your words, it would be utterly ashamed.
Meng Xizhao realized he could no longer claim to be shameless—this title clearly belonged to the Crown Prince.
He had forgotten what he was going to say, pressed his lips together, and let out a desolate sigh. “Your Highness, the people you interact with… are still too few.”
At this, Cui Ye’s expression shifted subtly.
Meng Xizhao didn’t look at him, continuing with a faint sigh: “Men plowing, women weaving, yin and yang in harmony… forget it. I won’t speak such things. Whether good men or good women, it doesn’t affect your future achievements. But as the Crown Prince, having… this preference—well, it will inevitably invite criticism in the future.”
Cui Ye stopped smiling. He fixed his gaze on Meng Xizhao, curious about what he had been leading up to.
Seeing Cui Ye’s expression, Meng Xizhao tensed, but still boldly continued: “I only hope, in the future, Your Highness will not favor a certain man exclusively, nor cause too much stir. Actually, the ministers’ expectations are not high—so long as the line continues, minor indulgences, harmless as they may be, I believe everyone could turn a blind eye.”
After finishing, Meng Xizhao sat with composed restraint, resisting the urge to look away. A long while passed without a word from Cui Ye. He blinked, then turned his head back—and saw Cui Ye staring at him coldly.
His face, usually pale, looked even more so, lips darkened; without a smile, he appeared almost ghostly.
Meng Xizhao: ………
He felt like a squirrel excitedly reaching for nuts, suddenly realizing it was being watched by a hawk.
His body stiffened, hair standing on end. But Meng Xizhao had a habit: when facing situations he couldn’t handle, he never retreated. He forced himself to stare back boldly.
The result? He became even more frightened, while Cui Ye thought him even bolder.
…
Cui Ye studied his stiff, helpless posture for a long while, then smiled faintly—a smile that was both beautiful and made one want to bolt instantly.
He spoke slowly: “Er-lang, rest assured. That day will never come.”
Meng Xizhao: “…Never favor another man?”
Cui Ye: “Never have descendants.”
Silence fell. Meng Xizhao studied Cui Ye, words caught in his throat.
Truthfully, he didn’t believe it.
Not that he doubted Cui Ye’s sincerity—after all, they had spent so much time together. Cui Ye falling for him was unexpected, yet in hindsight, entirely reasonable.
What he didn’t believe was that Cui Ye’s current heart could last a lifetime.
No descendants—could one really say that so casually? Emperor Tianshou was willful and chaotic, surely the epitome of the first “unworthy ruler.” Yet if Cui Ye refused to take a consort or bear children, he would surpass even Tianshou, becoming the most disliked monarch of all Great Qi, a cautionary example for generations of feudal rulers.
Only someone with the grandiosity of a teenager would say, “I will resist the world for you.” Normal people can barely resist the opposition of their own family.
Meng Xizhao’s face betrayed every thought, and Cui Ye saw that. He knew Meng Xizhao didn’t fully believe him, but there was nothing he could prove.
After all, besides time, no one could witness it for him.
With a light sigh, Cui Ye asked: “Er-lang, you once said you did not wish to marry, that you only wanted to live your life alone. Does that still hold true?”
Meng Xizhao: “……”
He glanced at him, and Meng Xianong nodded.
Cui Ye asked again: “Then what about what you once said—that you wanted to retire from official duties, that I would abdicate, and the two of us would live freely in the mountains, like leisurely wealthy gentlemen? Does that still hold?”
Meng Xizhao hesitated for a moment before replying, “It still holds, but what I meant was that we would be friends, not…”
Not… spouses!
Cui Ye understood his unspoken words and let out a gentle, lingering laugh. “What I seek is nothing more than mutual friendship as well.”
Meng Xizhao was completely stunned.
Cui Ye lowered his gaze, his voice calm yet firm, each word striking Meng Xizhao’s heart: “Er-lang, you still have a long journey ahead. How could I bear to see you burdened with the blame and slander of schemers? Let me shoulder that alone. After all, it is a path I must walk, a far-reaching one. You only need to stay by my side; I dare not ask for more.”
Meng Xizhao stared at him in shock, unable to speak for a long time.
＊
Meng Xizhao couldn’t recall exactly when he had left.
He only remembered that he had numbly climbed into the carriage. When he came to, he was already back at the Administration Office.
He missed dinner, and in the quiet of the night, he ate nothing. Reaching into his pocket, he only pulled out the sugar crisps that still carried his own body warmth.
He stared at the crisps for a long while, but didn’t eat a single one, instead placing them carefully into his travel bag to bring along the next day.
He silently packed his things, but his movements slowed. At one point, he froze, then suddenly looked up at the night outside.
It was the second watch, not too late.
……
Meng Xianong was finishing his graduation essay, and the county lady hadn’t yet retired for the night, poring over account books. Even when still at the Wang residence, she often helped her mother manage household affairs, though the Wang estate was far smaller than Lady Meng’s…
No wonder many elders said the Duke of Wu had extraordinary luck. His primary wife was the only daughter of the Yue Dynasty’s Commandery Princess, herself the daughter of the Grand Princess. By the dynasty’s end, heirs had dwindled and succession was rapid; the Grand Princess, living so long, was honored with each new emperor, accumulating immense wealth over the years.
Her inheritance passed to her daughter, then to her granddaughter, and despite some loss over generations, a camel is still larger than a horse. By the time it reached Lady Meng, enough remained to rival a kingdom.
Cui Yongning dared not speak this aloud, but she thought it quietly to herself.
Fortunately, the Duke of Wu had retired completely after the previous emperor’s accession. Otherwise, if the current emperor knew of the daughter’s wealth, he would have elevated her mother to consort status. Fortunately, he didn’t, otherwise her husband would not exist.
……
As the couple busied themselves with their respective tasks, a maid entered to report that the Second Young Master had arrived, wishing to speak with the First Young Master.
Meng Xianong was moved: “Er-lang, there’s no need. Go to bed early to rest for tomorrow; the conversation can wait. I had planned to send you out of the city tomorrow and take the opportunity to advise you properly along the way.”
The county lady: “…………”
They were in the middle of a tender moment, whispering behind closed doors. Meng Xianong often remarked that his younger brother was obedient and attentive whenever he disciplined him.
Though the county lady hadn’t spent much time with Meng Xizhao yet, she felt that her husband might have some misunderstanding about the Second Young Master.
Meng Xianong left the room with a benevolent expression. The county lady went back to her account books.
The April night breeze was cool, but tempered with warmth. Sitting in the courtyard, she didn’t fear illness.
Meng Xianong asked: “Er-lang, why have you come to see your elder brother? Whatever it is, speak freely; there’s no need to hold back in front of me.”
Meng Xizhao: “…………”
Initially, he wanted to speak, but hearing these words, he found himself reluctant.
Yet besides Meng Xianong, there seemed to be no one else he could talk to. After a long silence, he carefully asked: “Elder brother, how is your relationship with sister-in-law now?”
Meng Xianong’s cheeks flushed slightly. “Why do you ask?”
Meng Xizhao: “…Just tell me.”
If it were an outsider, he might have been evasive, but for his brother, he spoke honestly: “Respectful and harmonious, husband leads, wife follows.”
Meng Xizhao felt as though he had been fed a mouthful of sugar. Slightly overwhelmed, he still remained seated: “Brother, I ask—if your marriage had not gone smoothly, if sister-in-law had not married you, and could never marry you, what would you do?”
Meng Xianong looked at him, finding the question odd. “Why such a hypothetical?”
Meng Xizhao: “…Just imagine it so.”
Meng Xianong tried to follow the scenario, but halfway through, he stopped. “Why would she never marry me? We were betrothed; how could she not marry me?”
Meng Xizhao: “…Just assume it. For instance, if Father were targeted, killed, and our family disgraced, exiled to Jincheng, sister-in-law could not marry you.”
Meng Xianong: “…………”
Isn’t this hypothetical a bit… specific?
He thought for a moment, then said: “In that case, indeed she could not marry me. I couldn’t let her suffer with me.”
Pausing, he continued: “Then I would personally dissolve our engagement. Any future marriage would be unrelated. Jincheng is harsh—dangerous. I may not live long anyway. Perhaps it’s for the best, sparing us both from longing and suffering.”
Meng Xizhao: “……”
He realized his question had gone off-topic. Their situations were different—Meng Xianong and the county lady were mutually in love, so asking him was pointless.
Meng Xizhao considered explaining his own circumstances directly, but feared startling Meng Xianong, so after a brief hesitation, he decided to leave.
At that moment, Meng Xianong stopped him. “Wait. Why would you ask me such a hypothetical? Has something happened outside?”
Meng Xizhao replied flatly, “Nothing. I just suddenly thought of it.”
Meng Xianong didn’t believe him. “Even sudden thoughts have a trigger. You asked me: if my marriage to Ning-niang hadn’t gone smoothly…”
He froze, surprised. “You… you’ve already thought about marriage?”
Wasn’t he still upset earlier today? And now he was thinking about marriage? And… who would marry whom? Surely not you and the Crown Prince?!
Meng Xizhao cast him a glance. “I was only giving an example. There’s no marriage involved.”
Meng Xianong relaxed a little, but seeing Meng Xizhao unlike his usual melancholy, he felt some concern.
Why did he have to bring the Crown Prince into this? Was dealing with royalty really that easy?
He didn’t know what his younger brother had encountered, but he sighed and said: “Er-lang, you’ve grown now. You’re not as confused as before. But some lessons aren’t learned just with age—you have to hit the wall a few times, get bruised, before you truly understand. For these things, nothing I say matters. You must rely on yourself. Your elder brother asks nothing more than that you follow your heart—don’t let others force or block you.”
Life is short; time is precious. They could never be like him and the county lady, openly walking together for all to see. Their beginnings were hidden; likely, no one would know the ending either.
So, he thought, just do what you want. From the Crown Prince’s conduct, even if things ended, the Crown Prince would not harm Er-lang.
Of course, this was wishful thinking. He didn’t truly understand the Crown Prince and could only console himself this way. If the Crown Prince chose otherwise, even their whole family couldn’t resist.
The days of worry were long past. Meng Xianong now forced himself to think positively. He also mentioned wanting to become a Censor, to give Er-lang some reassurance.
“…Once I become a Censor, anyone in the court who acts against you, I’ll act against. Even if the remonstrating officials are punished, don’t worry, Er-lang. After you leave, I will watch over the court for you. From then on, if we brothers work together, our strength will be unmatched.”
Meng Xizhao: “…………”
No more corrupt officials, and now you want to form a faction?
He truly wanted to bow to Meng Xianong. No matter how it was phrased, it still fell under scheming and cunning. Once he, the scheming minister, steps down, how about being your supporter instead?
＊
Yet, even upon leaving Yingtian Prefecture, Meng Xizhao didn’t suggest that Meng Xianong change his post.
For one, he had already seen through his elder brother—he didn’t have the heart to be a truly good official. For another, the Censor position was actually quite advantageous.
Though the rank was low—he wanted to be a junior Censor at sixth rank, below the previous position of Vice Minister of the Court of State Ceremonial—the role allowed him to attend court.
And the position wasn’t last in rank; among all officials, he was ready to rise at any moment to impeach others.
……
Being at court allowed him to see the emperor’s face—a higher starting point than others.
Though the post was likely to offend people… with Meng Jiuyu and Zhu Yu ahead, no matter how Meng Xianong performed, he could never surpass their father.
Plus, according to Meng Xizhao’s plan, at most a year later, he could return to the capital. Then he could attend court as well. With him there, Meng Xianong would be unlikely to cause trouble.
After passing the city gate, Meng Xizhao walked a short distance before glancing back. This time Cui Ye was absent, and his elder brother had already returned home.
He looked at the tall, imposing green-brick walls and pursed his lips. In his mind, he decided not to return to the capital for the next year.
Even during the New Year, he would remain at Longxing Mansion.
As for what would happen a year later… that could be considered when the time came.
With that thought, Meng Xizhao spurred his horse toward Longxing Mansion.
＊
His intentions were good.
But unfortunately, he wasn’t the only one with plans in this world, and not everyone was willing to revolve around his schedule.
On his way back, soldiers delivering news of victory passed by. They crossed paths, and Meng Xizhao had no idea that Jizhou had already been breached by the Great Qi forces.
It had only been breached, not fully occupied. The Nanzhao defenders fought to the death, refusing to retreat, trying to expel Ding Chun’s army. Yet even the most defensible city falls if the enemy enters.
The Emperor of Tianshou was in Yingtian Prefecture, while the Nanzhao Emperor was in Ningren Prefecture, closer to Jizhou. Upon hearing the news, he was furious.
“What on earth happened?!”
The Nanzhao messenger soldier grimaced: “The Qi generals were cunning! While our Grand General was preparing the sacrificial offerings, they threw dozens of bags of filth, covering the offerings in filth. Before our general could react, the Qi forces began shouting that our magic array was broken, that we would be punished, and their morale soared. They charged, terrifyingly fierce.”
The Nanzhao Emperor: “…………”
His face turned green with anger. “And that’s enough to lose Jizhou?!”
The soldier shook his head: “That’s not all. The Qi commanding general led the front assault. His deputy, one Zhan Buxiu, secretly climbed the mountain path with only a few dozen men, hiding on the hillside of Jizhou. When chaos erupted, he first shot the general’s horse with an arrow, then had his men shout that the general had been killed, repeating three times. The voice was so loud, as if aided by the heavens. Not only did the Qi forces hear, our men also believed it. The outer troops, unaware, were thrown into confusion. Zhan Buxiu then led his troops in, killing dozens. He was incredibly skilled, fighting as if he could never lose, forcing our forces to retreat. That is how Jizhou came to its current state.”
As he spoke, a shiver ran down his spine—he had clearly witnessed Zhan Buxiu’s prowess firsthand, and even recounting it now stirred fear.
The Nanzhao Emperor watched his expression carefully, then his voice took on a peculiar tone. “Zhan Buxiu…”
He repeated the name, then asked, “Is he Zhan Shenyu’s son?”
The young soldier nodded. Barely twenty, he had never met Zhan Shenyu and knew little of his exploits. After all, he was a Nanzhao native; only those with idle time would publicize enemy generals’ stories.
The emperor’s feelings were far more complicated.
Ten years.
In just ten years, Qi had produced another undefeated General Zhan. This time, he did not want a head-on confrontation. The shadow left by Zhan Shenyu still lingered vividly in his mind.
So how could he remove this new threat?