Meng Xizhao settled Su Ruozun in a residence typical of a modest, refined mansion in Yingtian Prefecture.
…
“Hmm, there’s no way around it. Land in the Inner City is incredibly valuable, and the Late Emperor decreed that residences must be built according to official rank—fixed dimensions for length and width. Each official was permitted only one large house; if they wanted another, it had to be constructed strictly like a commoner’s home.
Ancient construction technology wasn’t advanced—no cement, no steel reinforcement. If buildings were too tall, they risked collapsing. Yet, with no other options, the residents of Yingtian Prefecture became, almost forcibly, skilled at building homes. All private residences were at least two stories, and the closer to the city center, the taller they went.
This particular mansion was a three-story building: the first floor spacious, the second floor for private chambers, and the third an attic. Within a single night, Jin Zhu had transformed it into a proper gathering place for refined ladies. Musical instruments, chess sets, painting materials—all were in place. Silks and brocades, gold, silver, and jade treasures were everywhere; when Meng Xizhao entered, he nearly went blind from the display.
‘Jin Zhu, you truly are my treasure.’
He thought, Although you’ve done this beautifully… my own house isn’t even this luxurious!
Moreover, Jin Zhu had quickly hired two well-reputed maids, two housekeepers, and four guards. None were allowed upstairs—they all stayed in the servants’ quarters on the first floor.
Were it not for Meng Xizhao’s restraint, honestly, he thought Jin Zhu’s talent would be more than sufficient for a proper palace post.
With a complex expression, he sat down. Madam Guan immediately poured him a cup of tea and then excused herself, thoughtfully closing the third-floor door behind her.
Taking a sip of the fragrant Lushan Yunwu tea, Meng Xizhao felt he had finally learned to appreciate tea. This batch, fresh from this year’s harvest, cost at least two hundred silver coins per tael. Lushan Yunwu tea came from Jiangzhou, grown under harsher conditions than the famous Longjing tea. For centuries, it had been a tribute item, accessible only due to the empire’s prosperity, growing wealth among the people, and the former emperor’s policy of allowing tribute goods to enter the market. Only then could ordinary people savor such a delight.
Meng Xizhao hadn’t told Jin Zhu who Su Ruozun was—he merely asked her to care for the young lady diligently. A single glance from Jin Zhu and she understood perfectly the degree of attentiveness required.
…This was the intuition of a top-tier assistant.
Setting down his cup silently, Meng Xizhao asked Su Ruozun, “How do you find your accommodations here? Anything unsatisfactory?”
Su Ruozun shook her head. “Everything is perfectly arranged. I have no complaints.”
Meng Xizhao thought to himself, If you did, I couldn’t provide it anyway…
He smiled. “Good. I came today only to check on you. In the future, I likely won’t visit again. Since I brought you here and settled you in my family’s property, further visits might invite gossip. You must understand that your reputation cannot suffer a single blemish. After all, our goals are very ambitious.”
Su Ruozun smiled. “You may rest assured, sir.”
“When will I get to see His Majesty?” she asked.
Meng Xizhao considered a moment. “Soon—within these few days. Well, it’s hard to say exactly. The weather is hot now; the Emperor may be reluctant to leave the palace. Watch the weather carefully. His Majesty has matters to attend, and when it cools, he will come see you. Be ready then.”
He continued, “Do you remember everything I’ve told you?”
Su Ruozun nodded. “Every word, sir, I keep in my heart. Only… there is one thing I do not understand. If you do not wish me to imitate Consort Gan, why have you asked me to learn her temperament so precisely—three parts alike, no more, no less?”
Meng Xizhao explained, “If you do not understand her temperament, you would not survive a day in the palace without knowing how to navigate it. Consort Gan is extremely important to the Emperor. For over a decade, no one dared imitate her; those who did had only one path—death without burial. I want you to learn her personality as a stepping stone. For ten or so years, no one like her has been by the Emperor’s side. Seeing you, he will find a sense of familiarity and be drawn to you. After that, you must stop imitating her. She had the confidence that comes from favor; you do not. If you only imitate, you will always remain her shadow, never achieving what you truly wish.”
Su Ruozun, half understanding, said, “Imitating her makes me the second Gan Jingyue, but if I surpass her, then I am the first Su Ruozun.”
Meng Xizhao clapped approvingly. “Exactly! Believe me, although His Majesty likes Consort Gan, he cannot endure her bad temper forever. You will take the essence, discard the flaws, and show him day by day how virtuous you are. He brought you into the palace because of your resemblance to her, so naturally he will compare you to her. There is a saying: the dead cannot surpass the living. Another says: the dead cannot speak. She, fundamentally, cannot outdo you anymore.”
Su Ruozun listened, paused, and then laughed softly. “Sir, you are truly mischievous.”
Meng Xizhao, hearing what sounded like praise, bashfully lowered his head. “Not nearly mischievous enough.”
Su Ruozun: “….”
In the silence, Meng Xizhao picked up his tea cup and sipped. Then, recalling something, he said, “Do not be overly anxious. The only thing that can make the Emperor furious with you is if your identity is compromised. Beyond that, even if you err, His Majesty will not harm you. At worst, he might exile you, and if that happens, I will intercept matters along the way, ensuring you a stable remainder of your life.”
Su Ruozun remained silent, focusing on her preparations. She even studied another woman’s personality by lamplight until midnight—not for a stable life, but for much greater ambitions.
Meng Xizhao looked at her, roughly understanding what she was thinking. This young lady’s ambition was so strong that even he felt somewhat humbled in comparison.
After a pause, he continued, “If nothing unexpected happens, His Majesty will soon appoint me as the Crown Prince’s Chief Steward. Then I’ll have free access to the Eastern Palace, which lies within the main palace. From that point, meeting you will no longer be so difficult.”
This was different from what he had told her before—previously, he had said that once inside the palace, he wouldn’t be able to help her at all.
Su Ruozun looked at him in surprise. “Sir, is it for my sake that you’ve fought to obtain this position?”
Meng Xizhao hesitated, then vaguely said, “Well… roughly half for you, half for myself.”
Su Ruozun’s instincts told her something was off. She had never heard of the office of Chief Steward of the Crown Prince; unknown positions were usually insignificant. For Meng Xizhao to expend such effort only to acquire a seemingly unimportant post, it must have been because he couldn’t fully trust her, prompting a change of plans midway.
She immediately felt deeply moved. “Sir, I shall never forget your kindness in this lifetime.”
She was about to kneel to express her gratitude, but Meng Xizhao hurriedly helped her up, chuckling awkwardly. “Please, no need. In the future, when I see you again, it will be me paying respect to you. This way, we can get used to it beforehand and avoid drawing attention later.”
Su Ruozun laughed, shaking her head. “Even so, in my heart, you will always be my benefactor.”
Meng Xizhao pressed his lips together and smiled.
…
Outside, Qing Fu had been waiting nearly half an hour before Meng Xizhao finally emerged. He rushed forward to support him into the carriage.
Once seated, Meng Xizhao felt something odd. “You don’t ask me what I went in there for?”
Qing Fu scratched his head. “If you wish to tell me, you will. If not, why should I ask?”
Meng Xizhao stared at him, puzzled. “I’ve noticed… ever since my trouble began, all of you seem to have matured quite a bit. Had I known, I should’ve gotten into trouble sooner.”
Qing Fu spat three times, then clasped his hands over his head, bowing to the four directions while chanting words Meng Xizhao couldn’t understand—except for the phrase ‘Don’t be surprised by the strange’. Once finished, he turned to Meng Xizhao with a frown. “Master, you always speak without caution! Can you just say whatever? I’m hoping you’ll grow up a bit more mature!”
Meng Xizhao: “…This little brat is lecturing me?!”
＊
The next day, well past the hour of the Serpent, the Emperor sent a eunuch to summon Meng Xizhao to the palace.
Meng Xizhao’s elder brother, Meng Xian’ang, was a supervising censor, rarely present for roll call. He happened to be home, smiling as he handed over a red envelope to the messenger, then anxiously turned to his younger brother. “The Emperor is probably about to reward you.”
Meng Xizhao: “…Looking at your expression, it feels less like a reward and more like I’m about to be exiled.”
He comforted his brother: “What is meant to come will come. His Majesty is a reasonable man; he’ll give me justice.”
Meng Xian’ang: “…Reasonable? Who, His Majesty??”
If he were reasonable, Meng Xian’ang thought, they wouldn’t have to worry at all!
Before holding office, Meng Xian’ang had neither liked nor disliked the Emperor and even respected him somewhat. But since taking office, especially seeing how he treated his younger brother, Meng Xian’ang’s wishes at the county shrine always were that the Crown Prince ascend sooner. Loyalty? Impossible. Their Meng family was full of schemers; expecting loyalty from them was simply unreasonable.
…
It wasn’t a regular court day, indicating the Emperor’s mood was merely moderate. If he were truly pleased, he would have distributed rewards during the regular court session. Since he didn’t, he likely didn’t want them to be too prominent. Observing this, Meng Xizhao activated Plan C, which he had prepared for the Emperor’s reactions.
On the way in, he ran into Zhan Buxiu, now without armor, wearing only a military uniform. They greeted each other and walked toward the palace together. When no one was looking, Meng Xizhao whispered, “Official business only. Don’t say more than necessary.”
Zhan Buxiu glanced at him, then returned his gaze to the path. He was naturally taciturn.
This made it easy for him, perfectly suited to his nature. As for Xie Yuan, also summoned, no instructions were necessary—he always behaved the same way, making it almost impossible to get him to speak more.
The three waited together in a side hall until a eunuch came to escort them into Kunyu Hall. Meng Xizhao immediately saw the familiar icy figure again, and after a brief pause, they bowed formally to the Emperor.
The hall contained more than just them—over a dozen officials, who seemed to have been holding a small meeting prior to their arrival. The Emperor lounged lazily on the dragon throne, gesturing subtly to Geng Wenjin, who understood and relayed the discussion results to the group.
They had agreed on rewards for the military. Lower-ranking soldiers were left to the discretion of their commanders. Nine meritorious generals with titles would each be promoted one or two ranks based on battle reports. After returning to the capital, official documents would be issued. Younger officers would receive stipends and land, along with honors for elderly family members. Older officers would be granted honorary military governorships. Only one person was awarded the title of Loyalty and Righteousness Count, due to seniority and serious injuries sustained during the campaign. He deserved recognition regardless.
Meng Xizhao listened, feeling that everything was handled according to procedure—not excessive, yet not disappointing, strictly by the rules.
Zhan Buxiu and Ding Chun were not among the nine.
Bowing his head, Meng Xizhao waited a while until Geng Wenjin finally reached the part about their rewards.
Ding Chun was promoted at last, moving from Grand General of Huaihua to the formal Second-Rank Grand General Who Guards the Nation, a position second only to the West Gate Commander. A string of additional rewards followed, which Geng Wenjin read through at length before finishing.
When it came to Zhan Buxiu, Geng Wenjin paused briefly before continuing.
Meng Xizhao pricked up his ears. Upon hearing the title “General of Guiding Virtue,” he couldn’t help but widen his eyes.
The reason: the General of Guiding Virtue was normally a third-rank general. Zhan Buxiu had been promoted four ranks in one go.
Zhan Buxiu himself looked somewhat surprised, but since Meng Xizhao had previously instructed him to handle matters officially, he simply bowed in compliance and said, “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
The Emperor: “…?”
Just moments ago, when he intended to grant Zhan Buxiu the title of General of Guiding Virtue, everyone had tried their hardest to stop him, each face more shocked than the next. Yet now, the main subject didn’t show the slightest reaction.
The Emperor was slightly displeased but didn’t press the matter. He waved his hand, uttered a few polite words, and let him step aside.
Meng Xizhao’s mind was a complete muddle, wondering why the Emperor was so generous to Zhan Buxiu, when suddenly he heard the Emperor call his name.
Startled, Meng Xizhao immediately lifted his head. “Your humble servant is present.”
The Emperor looked at him. “Meng Qing, your daring venture into enemy territory was truly perilous. Tell me, what reward do you desire?”
Meng Xizhao bowed deeply, answering respectfully, “Your humble servant has served Your Majesty with utmost loyalty, willing to die in your service. To return safely to Da Qi is already heaven’s blessing; I dare not ask for any reward.”
At his side, Minister Yan thought: You’re weaving a tale, aren’t you? If no reward were given, I imagine you’d leap up on the spot.
The Emperor chuckled lightly. “If you don’t want a reward, someone else wishes to request it on your behalf. The Crown Prince recently told me that he is pleased with your service and wants you to serve as the Crown Prince’s Chief Steward. Are you willing?”
Meng Xizhao raised his head, astonished, looking toward the Crown Prince—but found he was nowhere in sight.
Panic set in; sweat began to bead on his forehead.
Xie Yuan quietly observed, utterly admiring him. The control and release of his performance were beyond what he could ever learn in a lifetime.
After several tense breaths, Meng Xizhao’s throat seemed to be constricted, and he forced out the words:
“Your humble servant… Your humble servant will obey Your Majesty’s will.”
The Emperor snorted. Smart move.
Though his response still leaned toward the Emperor, the Emperor had seen his earlier hesitation. Such indecision indicated he couldn’t make a choice in the moment. If the Crown Prince had been present today, this answer might have been different.
Kunyu Hall was already cool, and now it was so silent that one could hear a pin drop.
Everyone bowed their heads, while the Emperor fixed his gaze on Meng Xizhao, his thoughts turning over repeatedly.
The Emperor was petty; even the slightest sign of disloyalty from a minister would be noted, leading to distrust. Fortunately, unlike his grandfather, he wasn’t cruel—distrust wouldn’t cost someone their life, but future promotions and the privileges of a favored courtier would be unattainable.
After considering, the Emperor made a decision: since Meng Xizhao leaned toward the Crown Prince, he might as well indulge him. He wanted to see if Meng Xizhao would regret his choices once the Emperor’s favor was absent.
Thus, he immediately announced: “Very well. I shall grant you a small favor. From today, Meng Xizhao, you shall hold the office of Crown Prince’s Chief Steward. Ah, you are also a great merit-holder in this campaign. What of the Governor of Yingtian Prefecture?”
Unaware, the current Governor stepped forward, puzzled. “I am present.”
The Emperor said: “I shall promote you to Minister of Works; your duties as Governor shall be handled by Meng Xizhao.”
Receiving two actual offices at once, one might expect envy or resentment—but no one spoke, fearing to draw attention at such a moment.
The position of Crown Prince’s Chief Steward had been vacant for ten years; whoever took it was certain to be buried in paperwork. As for the Governor of Yingtian Prefecture, though also an actual post, it was busy—every matter, big or small, flowed through the Governor’s office. The palace being nearby, the inner city populated with nobility, made it impossible for the Governor to offend anyone.
Most crucially, the Governor of Yingtian Prefecture was outside the jurisdiction of the Three Departments and Six Ministries. This meant that, for at least three years, Meng Xizhao could not enter the center of political power.
Zhan Buxiu clenched his fists, tempted to strangle the villain on the throne. Yet, recalling Meng Xizhao’s earlier advice, he silently restrained himself.
The former Governor was stunned; others earned promotions for achievements, and now he reaped the benefits too. This “pie” felt unreal.
And it wasn’t over. To show his magnanimity and make Meng Xizhao even more regretful, the Emperor promoted Xie Yuan to Secretary of the Secretariat—a position likely held by the youngest appointee in history.
Xie Yuan stiffened for two seconds before bowing in thanks. His office had been acquired at Meng Xizhao’s expense, and by Xie Yuan’s nature, he would have preferred receiving nothing himself.
Even Minister Yan began to feel pity for Meng Xizhao. Secretly shaking his head, he thought Meng Xizhao had been too honest today, despite usually being skilled at acting. Now he was taking a huge loss.
Yet Meng Xizhao, head bowed, showed no reaction at all—leading others to speculate whether he was holding back tears.
Almost—only that Meng Xizhao was doing his best not to laugh.
What I want, you just give me, Your Majesty. You truly are the most foolishly considerate emperor in the world!
According to his earlier discussion with the Crown Prince, they both thought that the post of Crown Prince’s Chief Steward was practically within reach. To make it look proper, the Emperor would surely offer some compensation. The Crown Prince assumed the Emperor would grant something trivial, perhaps an empty title. Meng Xizhao, on the other hand, suspected he would be assigned to a subordinate ministry—but given his reputation outside, connected somewhat to Minister Yan, the Emperor wouldn’t place him under Yan’s wing.
What Meng Xizhao truly desired was the Governorship of Yingtian Prefecture.
A post that had ties everywhere, influence everywhere, authority over trials, judgments, and arrests, yet unlike the Imperial City Office, the Yingtian Prefecture Bureau was independent. Once active, even the Emperor would have difficulty interfering.
Most importantly, Meng Xizhao’s heart was set on this: as Governor, he would be the top authority, with no superiors micromanaging him—making his work far easier.
He was on the verge of laughing aloud when the Emperor, having grown weary of the long audience, waved to dismiss the others.
The rest departed quickly, but Meng Xizhao stood silently in place.
The Emperor, conditioned to dismiss people promptly, paused when he noticed Meng Xizhao’s expression. Biting his lip, Meng Xizhao looked up, feigning great distress.
The Emperor: “…”
Seeing that face, the Emperor felt a twinge of guilt. Meng Xizhao had indeed performed great feats, barely escaping death, and had not immediately chosen to side with the Crown Prince—only hesitated. Reflecting on this, the Emperor realized his behavior might have been a bit harsh.
After a pause, the Emperor refrained from dismissing him and waited until the others had left, then asked mildly, “Do you have anything more to say?”
At this, Meng Xizhao dropped to his knees with a thud, as if he could no longer contain himself, wiping his eyes pitifully. “Your Majesty… Your humble servant… Your humble servant…”
The Emperor, noticing this, felt even more guilty, but also curious—what could this man be so upset about? A servant cannot serve two masters.
The Emperor chided him: “Stop crying, speak properly.”
Meng Xizhao sniffed, obediently lifted his head, and spoke clearly, “Your Majesty, Your humble servant was coerced by His Highness the Crown Prince!”