Gu Pingting watched Meng Xizhao in silence for a long moment, then suddenly stood and began walking toward the door.
Halfway through, Meng Xizhao remembered she was still there. He turned his head. “Gu—”
Pausing, he offered her an awkward smile. “Miss Su, you should remain here for now. When it’s time to set out for Yingtian Prefecture, I will come for you.”
Gu Pingting—no, now Su Ruozun—didn’t ask again if he could help her. She instead stood and asked, “Will I be staying with Lady Guan?”
Lady Guan was the Eastern Palace woman who had given Meng Xizhao the pouch; her full name was Guan Cuimin, though few had called her that in many years.
Meng Xizhao nodded. “You’ve lived in the Eastern Palace for a full year—you should be familiar with every inch. Stay with her, and she can teach you.”
“But she has met my lady before. She knows I am not her.”
Meng Xizhao pursed his lips, smiling. “That will depend on your skill.”
“Lady Guan survived in the Nanzhao Eastern Palace for many years without injury, despite being a Qi native. She knows how to navigate such a complex environment. If you can win her loyalty, she will be a great asset. You will no longer be alone. Her husband and children died ten years ago, and she has no other relatives. Ningren Mansion is unfamiliar to her. She once cherished Lady Su Ruozun as if she were her daughter. You can use this to have her treat you as her own, even if not biologically.”
Su Ruozun stared at him in astonishment. “And if she betrays me in the future—”
Meng Xizhao: “I am only suggesting. Whether you act on it is your choice. Do you want someone who knows your identity and can depend on you, someone who will always stay by your side? Or do you want to remain alone, never worrying about your secret being exposed?”
Su Ruozun fell into thought.
Clearly, such opportunities would not last. They met at a humble beginning; when they reached Yingtian Prefecture, that chance would be gone. Who could know where people came from, or whose orders they followed?
She could not decide immediately, and Meng Xizhao did not rush her. He only explained the identity he had prepared, adding that if she wished to bring Lady Guan with her, she should inform her of the arrangement.
Guan Cuimin appeared older than her age, but at just over thirty, her experience and resilience perfectly compensated for Su Ruozun’s shortcomings. Su Ruozun was courageous and clever but had always fought alone. She lacked insight into human hearts and had little understanding of benefactors; she could never match Guan Cuimin in that regard.
Life itself is a series of high-stakes gambles. Every step is a bet—sometimes, even a falling meteor could end a life.
Pushing open the door, Meng Xizhao stepped out. Lady Guan, sitting outside, immediately rose when she saw him.
Meng Xizhao smiled briefly and walked on.
Guan Cuimin paused, glancing at the unfamiliar young woman inside. She could not read Meng Xizhao’s intentions. This girl had been pushed into her room the previous night. When asked who she was, she had only replied that she was a Qi native—nothing more.
A mix of caution and nervousness filled Guan Cuimin’s mind. Inside, the two women met eyes—mutual curiosity, subtle tests, and quiet apprehension.
…………
Yesterday had been chaotic. Meng Xizhao had been temporarily placed in an empty palace chamber. Today, such arrangements were unnecessary. Every corner of the imperial palace had been inspected, and Zhang Shuogong was preparing to have the Crown Prince relocate to the residence of the captured Nanzhao emperor, Zhen Anluo.
Meng Xizhao wanted to smack him on the back of the head.
Isn’t it already conspicuous enough?
The Crown Prince had led troops, achieved great victory, and captured Zhen Anluo. News of this alone would send Yingtian Prefecture into upheaval. Surrounding states would be in an uproar.
And now, instead of keeping a low profile, they were rushing to move him into the Nanzhao emperor’s bedchamber. Was this the Crown Prince trying to pile on more glory—or just to make a mistake so people could finally have a handle on him?
With a single sweep of his hand, Meng Xizhao took control and decided that the Crown Prince would stay in Luosahua’s bedchamber. In truth, Luomailong’s would have been more suitable, but he was dead, not yet formally buried, and his chamber had been converted into a shamanistic-style memorial hall. Even if tidied, Meng Xizhao felt a chill just thinking about it.
Luosahua’s chamber, however, was on the same scale as the Eastern Palace, and Meng Xizhao, having visited daily before, was already familiar with it.
He had never entered Luosahua’s bedchamber before, so this counted as a kind of fulfilled curiosity. Surrounded by silk brocades and antique incense burners, he sighed with admiration. Truly, she was the most favored princess of Nanzhao. Then, brimming with excitement, he walked over and sat cross-legged on a nearby consort’s couch.
He had the imperial palace ledgers brought in. Others could not read them, but he had studied the Nanzhao language for some time. Even if he couldn’t understand every detail, he could at least tell what the records pertained to.
As he was about to leaf through them, he looked up and saw Zhang Shuogong still standing there.
Meng Xizhao narrowed his eyes. “Weren’t you going to see His Highness? What are you still doing here?”
Zhang Shuogong’s expression was numb.
And you still dare to ask me?
Then what exactly are you doing here?!
So now, you’ve completely stopped pretending? Even though this is Nanzhao, far from Yingtian Prefecture… you can’t be this brazen!
Zhang Shuogong deeply regretted having left for so long before. Not only had he fetched a useless physician, but he had also missed the most critical moment of these two developing feelings. Yu Fulan, with his poor emotional intelligence, probably still hadn’t noticed the change in the Crown Prince’s relationship with this Meng fellow.
Zhang Shuogong was torn.
Was it that he was getting old, or that he was out of touch with the times? How could he not see the stage these two had reached…
Was it mutual understanding of hearts, or a silent comprehension of everything?
Previously, Zhang Shuogong would have erupted, throwing Meng Xizhao out. Now, he neither did that nor intervened; he quietly left, instructing the others not to enter freely.
Better not to try to understand what can’t be understood, or his brain might explode. Best to stick to his old duties and relieve the Crown Prince’s burden.
Yes, now there was one more task: to back up His Highness if needed.
……
When Cui Ye returned, Meng Xizhao had just finished organizing the ledgers. He had kicked off his boots, sat cross-legged on the consort’s couch, holding a basket of chilled lychees, carefully peeling them.
Seeing Cui Ye approach, he raised a finished lychee to him. “Here, Your Highness, try one. It’s called the Consort’s Smile.”
Cui Ye paused. “Consort’s Smile?”
The consort didn’t smile, but the Crown Prince did. “More elegant than a regular lychee. You really know how to name things, Erlang.”
Meng Xizhao: “…………”
He had forgotten—Du Mu was a late Tang poet, and in this world, no trace of him existed.
Nonchalantly holding out the lychee, Meng Xizhao didn’t bother explaining and switched topics. “Are you eating it or not?”
“I am.”
Cui Ye lowered his head and, taking it from Meng Xizhao’s hand, ate the translucent fruit.
Meng Xizhao withdrew his hand, pursing his lips, silently peeling another.
Cui Ye finished the lychee, then took a white handkerchief to wipe his hands. Watching Meng Xizhao, he smiled faintly, though he said nothing.
Meng Xizhao stole a glance at him, seeing that he still looked indulgent, and felt a sudden twinge of guilt.
Puffing out his cheeks, he finally spoke. “How are things outside now?”
Cui Ye replied, “Ningren Mansion has been taken. Nanzhao claims the Yuyi Army numbers 100,000, but General Ding estimates only about 70,000. Thirty thousand died last night, another thirty thousand were captured during the day, and about ten thousand remain—either hiding or stationed nearby. It should take three or four more days to clear them all.”
Normally, when a losing army sees they cannot win, they would flee.
But this time was different. With Zhen Anluo captured, the Yuyi Army could not abandon him, or they would become traitors.
The people of Nanzhao were more unified than those of Qi, but opportunists existed. These were ordinary troops, not the elite Yuyi Army, so they were not immediately threatening. Once things were settled here, they could be dealt with.
Meng Xizhao would not interfere in military affairs. His inquiry was only to see when this situation might conclude. Pondering, he said, “So, if nothing goes wrong, in about ten days, Your Highness should return?”
Cui Ye nodded.
When the expedition was announced, no timeline was given. The goal, naturally, was to stay until all of Nanzhao was subdued and then return in triumph.
But, as always, Zhen Anluo was already captured.
Capturing him alone was a monumental achievement. Even if the entirety of Nanzhao were annexed, bringing back their emperor would overshadow everything.
Cui Ye had to return. He had to go back and receive the respect of the entire court.
Meng Xizhao smiled. “I want to see what excuse the emperor will find this time to replace the Crown Prince.”
Cui Ye also smiled, shaking his head. “You know full well, this is your achievement. I have nothing to do with it.”
Meng Xizhao: “What is mine is yours. After this, who else besides the emperor will doubt that I am yours?”
As soon as he realized the double meaning, Meng Xizhao quickly shut his mouth.
Cui Ye pursed his lips slightly, looking as if he wanted to laugh or say something, but restrained himself.
Meng Xizhao: “……”
You’re always so considerate, it makes even wanting to throw a little tantrum feel unreasonable.
……
It was now mid-June, long past lychee season, except in the imperial palace. Seeing Meng Xizhao eat six in a row, Cui Ye took the basket away, instructing preparations for dinner.
When traveling, there was no need for formality—just cook a few simple dishes and sit down to eat.
After dinner, Meng Xizhao didn’t mention leaving. Cui Ye watched him quietly for a while, inwardly thrilled, and of course, didn’t bring up the topic himself.
When the moon was high, it was time to rest. Cui Ye finally said, “Erlang, it’s late. Go get some rest.”
Meng Xizhao yawned and nodded.
Climbing into Luosahua’s bed, he ran his hands over the cooling mat made of jade pieces, each one the same size, and his lips twitched involuntarily.
Too luxurious!
No, such extravagance could not be left to harm others. He had to take it with him!
Cui Ye approached, noticing that Meng Xizhao had already settled in and was silently fascinated by the jade mat. He paused for a moment but didn’t disturb him, instead sitting nearby.
The bed was enormous; four people could easily lie on it with room to spare. Thankfully, someone had cleaned it carefully during the day—otherwise, Meng Xizhao would have been wondering what sorts of “activities” had taken place here.
……
Meng Xizhao lay on his stomach. Cui Ye removed his hair crown, letting a cascade of dark hair fall. Meng Xizhao looked up, realizing it was probably the first time he’d seen Cui Ye’s hair down.
Even that day at the Longxing Mansion, when they had shared a bed for the night, Cui Ye hadn’t undone his hair crown. He had always been meticulous and elegant, as if untouched by the mortal world.
Cui Ye noticed Meng Xizhao’s gaze, paused, and then casually removed his outer robe.
It was midsummer, so they wore very little.
His inner garment was made of the finest Jiangnan silk. Its qualities were well known: light, thin, and, for summer wear, exceptionally breathable. Meng Xizhao realized he could even see the tiny spots on Cui Ye’s chest.
Meng Xizhao: “…………”
Damn. Even the jade mat under him suddenly felt less appealing. He couldn’t sit or lie properly, his mind blank. Suddenly, Cui Ye came closer and asked softly, “Erlang, shall I undo your hair?”
Meng Xizhao’s earlobes nearly turned ruby red, yet he didn’t realize it, forcing a calm, “Mm.”
Cui Ye smiled silently and lifted the crown off his head.
Once removed, the scalp, taut all day, finally relaxed. Cui Ye ran his fingers through Meng Xizhao’s slightly tangled hair, gently massaging, like a head massage. Meng Xizhao wanted to just lie down and melt into it.
Sensing his thoughts, Cui Ye shifted closer, positioned Meng Xizhao’s head on his lap, and continued, pressing and stroking the acupoints on his scalp.
Meng Xizhao didn’t resist, eyes closed, silently enjoying it.
Time passed, and Cui Ye eventually paused. Meng Xizhao hadn’t slept; he slowly opened his eyes.
Cui Ye watched his unmoving eyelashes, while Meng Xizhao’s gaze followed the flickering candlelight at the center of the chamber.
In the quiet, Meng Xizhao suddenly spoke. “…Cui Ye.”
Cui Ye froze, unprepared for the feeling of being called by name, and reflexively said, “Yes?”
Meng Xizhao rested his head on Cui Ye’s lap, eyes downcast, one hand tugging at the fabric on his calf, forming a small twist.
He asked, “That day at Longxing Mansion… what exactly happened?”
Months had passed since, and he hadn’t asked then. Cui Ye didn’t know what Meng Xizhao was thinking. After a moment of silence, he said, “Zhang Shuogong found a miraculous doctor for me, hoping to cure an old illness. But that person said… even if treated, I’d only have a dozen years to live.”
Meng Xizhao froze, then bolted upright.
The bed canopy let in only dim light; in the half-dark, Meng Xizhao’s eyes widened, staring in disbelief at Cui Ye.
Cui Ye had intended to explain further, but Meng Xizhao swallowed the words.
He sat silently, trying to gauge what Meng Xizhao would say.
Meng Xizhao’s dark eyes spun, realization dawning: Cui Ye had been truthful. His entire body went numb.
“Only a dozen years?”
He repeated, voice barely a whisper. “Just… a dozen years?”
Cui Ye remained silent.
The earlier shock subsided, and his body seemed to finally react. The first surge of emotion was overwhelming anger.
“Then why didn’t you tell me?!”
“Didn’t you have time for trivial things, but not to tell me this? Or did you think I didn’t need to know? You! —”
In his life, Meng Xizhao had never been this angry. Words failed him; he could only glare at Cui Ye, throat tight, as if something blocked it. He felt he could have cursed endlessly, yet his voice refused.
Just when he was flustered, frustrated, Cui Ye leaned over and gently wiped away the moisture at his eyes with his thumb.
Meng Xizhao froze.
He hadn’t realized he had been crying.
Cui Ye, stroking his slightly reddened eyes, whispered, “After returning from Longxing Mansion, I sent people to consult doctors. Because of you, I didn’t want to resign myself. Last month, Yu Fulan found a doctor who claimed he could restore me to normal, though treatment would take a year. If you weren’t worried, I should have started trying by now.”
The rise and fall of emotions had been intense. Meng Xizhao stared, stunned. “He said he could cure you?”
Cui Ye smiled. “Yes.”
Meng Xizhao’s rigid posture slackened. He looked at a nearby pillow for two seconds, then suddenly grabbed it and threw it at Cui Ye with all his strength.
“Then why scare me like that?! You’re… you’re utterly heartless!”
“What good would scaring you do?!”
Cui Ye, having never been struck in his life, silently took the beating, letting Meng Xizhao vent his anger. Only then did he speak: “No good, truly. Seeing you like this… it comforts my heart, yet it pains me as well.”
Meng Xizhao: “…………”
He glared at him. “Flattery! Not a word of it do I believe!”
Cui Ye wasn’t afraid of his glare at all. Boldly, he leaned closer, trying to take Meng Xizhao’s hand. Meng Xizhao dodged, yet Cui Ye still smiled patiently: “It’s true. Even if it pains me, I wanted Erlang to know. Not only is Erlang of utmost importance to me, but to you, I am no longer merely a sovereign friend. In ways you haven’t yet realized, you’ve already begun to resist letting me leave your side.”
Meng Xizhao pursed his lips, not looking at him, his expression tense.
Seeing this, Cui Ye pressed further: “A dozen years may seem long to ordinary people—regrettable, but not unbearably so. Yet why, Erlang, did hearing it make you so sorrowful, even bring tears to your eyes?”
Meng Xizhao: “…………”
His face betrayed him. “I— I was angry!”
Cui Ye looked at him and smiled. “Doesn’t seem like it.”
Meng Xizhao: “……”
How had he never realized that Cui Ye enjoyed teasing him so?
Debating this felt utterly foolish. Meng Xizhao lay down instead, along the wall, back to him, eyes closed, feigning sleep.
Obviously, he was sulking. Cui Ye watched his silhouette, silent for a while, before finally chuckling quietly.
He blew out the lamp, returned to bed, and after a while, when Meng Xizhao’s body had unconsciously relaxed, spoke again:
“I am pleased that Erlang worries for me.”
Meng Xizhao: “……”
Just… stop talking.
Cui Ye continued: “When I heard of your disappearance, my heart felt as you do now.”
Meng Xizhao stared at the wall.
Cui Ye: “At that moment, I hoped Erlang would rush in, telling me you had escaped danger.”
Meng Xizhao lowered his gaze.
Cui Ye: “Extreme joy in life comes from false alarm. I thought you’d, like me, be ecstatic with relief. Yet thinking back, you are far steadier than I.”
Meng Xizhao: “……”
A long pause. From the wall-side of the bed, a very small voice finally emerged: “I am happy too.”
“Just… my way of being happy is to hit you.”
Cui Ye: “…………”
The air went silent for a moment, then both of them burst into laughter, completely breaking their composure.
＊
When the war finally settled, the generals returned from the front.
The army naturally became noisy, and the first quarrel upon returning was over the calculation of military merits.
The palace had been subdued by Yu Fulan and his forces, with the Imperial Guard reinforcing afterward. The whereabouts of Zhen Anluo were of no concern—such a heavyweight’s capture would surely credit the Crown Prince.
So the dispute centered on the inheritance of Zhen Anluo’s children and the subordinates of high-ranking Nanzhao officials.
Meng Xizhao watched silently. He had played no part in combat, only served as internal support.
Yet witnessing it, a thought kept occurring to him:
These so-called invincible generals… aren’t they really just bandits dividing spoils after a raid?
……
Zhan Buxiu had opened the city gates, earning top merit. Afterward, he broke through Nanzhao defenses alone, pursued two hiding Nanzhao princes—Zhen Anluo’s brothers—who had stolen royal treasures, intending to flee and establish their own power, leaving Zhen Anluo aside.
Adding all this together, Meng Xizhao guessed that upon returning, Zhan Buxiu would likely be titled “General of So-and-So Guard.”
Historically, the Weifu system of the Central Plains, inherited from Sui and Tang, had a maximum of sixteen guards. But Emperor Tianshou’s father disliked warfare, reducing it to twelve, which were largely honorific. Even if one received a title, they still had to command troops.
Still, holding a “So-and-So Guard General” title meant entering the fourth rank of officials. Whether fourth rank or senior fourth, Emperor Tianshou would grant them a mansion within the inner city.
Many had once trampled the Zhan family. Seeing them move back in, so publicly, would surely make those people green with envy.
The thought alone made Meng Xizhao laugh with delight.
Having had enough of the noise, he left the gates, found a guard to guide him, and went to see the legendary national treasure.
In the Central Plains, the national treasure was the Heshibi jade, later becoming the Heirloom Seal of the First Emperor. But it had been lost for centuries.
Meng Xizhao, excited to view another nation’s treasure, discovered to his dismay that Nanzhao’s national treasure wasn’t even jade—it was merely a rather pretty stone, with fine lines etched into it.
He learned that this stone had been obtained by Nanzhao’s national advisor over two hundred years ago. It supposedly had mystical properties: spending time near it could make a person feel more spirited.
The lines on the stone were believed to be writing, comprehensible only to children favored by the god of sorcery.
Meng Xizhao: “…………”
A mere meteorite, wrapped in superstition.
Perhaps some radiation from the stone heightened alertness—but radiation is radiation. The energy boost might come with… unknown side effects.
Meng Xizhao immediately stepped back from the stone, narrowing his eyes as he examined the fine lines etched on its surface. They resembled some kind of script—very abstract, almost like oracle bone characters.
“Hmm… perhaps there’s a way to make use of this.”