Xiao Chiye had kept a low profile for half a month, and finally received a reply from Ji Lei—his request for the training ground had been approved. He immediately left the city, bringing Chen Yang to inspect the site.
It was a patch of wasteland, formerly a mass burial site. After the execution platforms had been moved elsewhere, the land lay empty.
“Though it’s separated from the city by Maple Mountain,” Chen Yang got off his horse and surveyed the area, “it’s still quite far.”
“Half a ride before dawn, you can get here,” Xiao Chiye said, gesturing with his whip. “We’ll need to treat the old wily engineers from the Works Department, grease their palms, and have them fill in this area. A bit of cleanup, just enough to make it usable. It’s remote; the Eight Barracks won’t patrol here.”
“Governor, spend the money freely,” Chen Yang said. “Don’t worry about discomfort.”
“Even if it’s uncomfortable, they’ll have to bear it,” Xiao Chiye said. “People squat on our heads and pee—this place still needs to be made ready.”
“Yes, sir,” Chen Yang didn’t dare argue further.
Xiao Chiye stayed until dusk before riding back. Upon entering the city, he saw Li Jianheng’s guards waiting at the gate.
“What is it?” he asked, rein in hand.
The guards bowed. “Your Highness has prepared a banquet at Huixiang Pavilion on East Dragon Street and awaits the Governor’s arrival.”
Xiao Chiye considered briefly, then rode over.
East Dragon Street ran along the Kai Ling River, and as night fell, the lights blazed. Both sides were lined with taverns and flower houses; the river held various painted boats and pleasure crafts.
Xiao Chiye dismounted at Huixiang Pavilion. The innkeeper attended him personally upstairs. Lifting the curtains, he realized this was no ordinary gathering.
Those present were all well-known, or at least sons of officials. Beside Prince Chu sat a pale, delicate young eunuch—likely Feng Quan, the grandson Pan Rugui had arranged after Little Fuze’s death.
“Ce’an is here!” Li Jianheng greeted warmly. “Come, take a seat—we’ve been waiting for you!”
Xiao Chiye picked a seat casually, smiling. “Such a grand setup.”
“Let me introduce,” Li Jianheng said. “This is Feng Quan, grandson of Eunuch Pan. And this is my good brother, Second Young Master of the Xiao family in the North, Governor of the Imperial Guards, Xiao Ce’an.”
Feng Quan, more pleasant to the eye than Little Fuze, bowed politely. “I’ve long admired the Governor’s reputation.”
Across the table, Xi Hongxuan sprawled, occupying two seats, his flushed, sweaty face betraying his discomfort. “Let’s skip the formalities, Your Highness. Anyone else coming? Once here, let’s start!”
Li Jianheng raised an eyebrow at Xiao Chiye. “We’ve invited one guest everyone is eager to see.”
Xiao Chiye was confused by the overt signal, when a server lifted the curtain and whispered, “The distinguished guest has arrived!”
The hall fell silent.
Xiao Chiye turned to see Shen Zechuan, in the Jinyiwei robe, stepping in. He paused briefly upon seeing Xiao Chiye—but the hesitation was almost too obvious.
Everyone knew of their discord; the atmosphere grew tense, and the onlookers exchanged sly glances.
Li Jianheng warmly said, “This is Shen Lanzhou, everyone recognizes him, right? Lanzhou, take a seat. Innkeeper, begin the feast!”
Xiao Chiye thought Li Jianheng was obsessed, inviting him purely for his looks.
Shen Zechuan deliberately chose the seat beside Xiao Chiye. Their eyes met as he sat.
“So this is the Shen Lanzhou making waves in the capital,” Xi Hongxuan said, eyeing him. “Truly, seeing is believing.”
“I heard,” Li Jianheng said, “that Lanzhou’s mother was also a beauty from Duanzhou. Shen Wei practically pledged half a princely estate to win her. How could the son not be handsome?”
Laughter peppered the room, with covert glances at Shen Zechuan. Even Feng Quan murmured appreciatively: “If he were to father a daughter…”
“Then what need would there be for a Hua girl!”
The group of indulgent young men laughed knowingly. Xiao Chiye, glancing at Shen Zechuan’s lowered head, saw no sign of emotion.
The nape of his neck, caught in the dim glow, was as smooth as polished jade, extending beneath his collar. It seemed so touchable, irresistibly enticing, yet completely defenseless. His side profile was flawless; the arch of his nose perfectly formed. The eyes—captivating and teasing—hinted at playful amusement.
Xiao Chiye looked again.
Shen Zechuan was indeed smiling.
“Mistaken identity?” Shen Zechuan asked, eyes angled at Xiao Chiye.
“New respect,” Xiao Chiye replied, averting his gaze.
Shen Zechuan raised his head, smiling obediently at the assembly. “A modest appearance, thank you for your compliment.”
Seeing his compliance, the others relaxed, their words growing increasingly coarse.
Xi Hongxuan asked, “Has the new East Street trick caught on? ‘Playing with cups.’ Fine wine in golden cups placed in a beauty’s shoes—taste and play! Your Highness, tried it yet?”
Li Jianheng laughed. “Wine is ready; can’t find the beauty.”
Xi Hongxuan pointed coquettishly: “Isn’t she sitting here?”
Shen Zechuan, clearly unacquainted, forced a smile. “How could I deserve ‘beauty’? If you truly wish, I’ll host a proper game upstairs tonight.”
Protected by the Hua family, no one dared push further. Only Xi Hongxuan, seemingly incompatible with him, made things increasingly awkward. Hearing Xi Guan’an had fallen from favor, everyone assumed Xi Hongxuan was venting through Shen Zechuan.
Shen Zechuan was about to speak when Xiao Chiye interjected: “Old tricks like eating from shoes and cup games? That’s eight hundred years old. Even southern courtesans don’t do that. Let’s try something else—Xi Second, take off your shoes; we’ll use them as boats.”
Laughter erupted. Xi Hongxuan, plump and with unusually large feet, usually untouchable, was caught off guard.
“Alright then,” he laughed heartily, lifting his feet. “Servants! Remove Xi Second’s shoes!”
Li Jianheng scolded him a few times in amusement.
Shen Zechuan hadn’t expected Xiao Chiye to save him. He and Xi Hongxuan were in a staged game, now glancing at Xiao Chiye again.
Xiao Chiye ignored him, picking up chopsticks to eat.
Feng Quan, seated for a moment, finally spoke as the dishes neared completion: “The game is yours, gentlemen. Tonight I’ll add another dish.”
The next “dish” was a live donkey.
Feng Quan said, “The finest dish in the world is donkey meat. Gentlemen, have you ever tried ‘roasted donkey’?”
The room fell silent, eyes fixed on the animal.
Li Jianheng asked, “What is ‘roasted donkey’?”
Servants shoveled earth to form a small mound. They drove the donkey onto it, buried its four hooves, pressed its belly to the ground, and covered it with thick quilts.
“Gentlemen,” Feng Quan said humbly, “watch closely.”
A half-squatting servant ladled boiling water over the donkey. Assistants held the quilts, scraping the donkey’s fur off as it brayed. Then the servant cut the meat, placing it on a platter, roasting it on-site, and serving it around.
The donkey screamed, the cries even reaching downstairs.
Li Jianheng, pale, covered his mouth and nose. “Feng Gonggong, this dish… it’s too cruel…”
“Your Highness, try it first. The meat, cut straight from the boiling water, is the freshest. This ‘roasted donkey’ also carries meaning. Like a man in another’s hands—he must obey. Kneel when commanded, cry when commanded, suffer when chosen.” Feng Quan’s words were pointed.
Shen Zechuan’s position mirrored the donkey’s. Watching the blood-soaked quilts, the scent of iron and earth rising, memories of Ji Mu from five years ago, and of himself, resurfaced.
“Delicious!” Xi Hongxuan called, oblivious to the metaphor, enjoying himself.
Shen Zechuan’s chopsticks did not move; neither did Xiao Chiye touch the meat.
Li Jianheng, sensing the tension, nervously said, “This is truly indecent—remove it!”
“Wait,” Feng Quan said, looking at Shen Zechuan. “This dish was specially instructed by my foster father. Why won’t you eat?”
Pan Rugui was indeed his godfather. Even Ji Lei was beholden. How had this boy gained Pan Rugui’s favor so swiftly, even superseding Little Fuze, and earning Ji Lei’s attention?
Now, Ji Lei could not harm Shen Zechuan; in his hands, Shen Zechuan was immobilized. Tonight’s cruel method of humiliation openly declared their unresolved grudge.
Shen Zechuan picked up his chopsticks.
“I—”
Before he could speak, the chair beside him was violently pushed aside. Xiao Chiye stood, seized the platter of donkey meat, and flung it to the floor in Feng Quan’s direction.
Li Jianheng leapt up. “Ce’an…”
Xiao Chiye glared at Feng Quan.
If Feng Quan wanted to humiliate someone on Ji Lei’s behalf, that was his business. But Xiao Chiye himself was now the caged beast, no different from the donkey.
The slap landed hard, painfully.
Feng Quan, confused, asked, “Not to the Governor’s liking?”
Xiao Chiye’s hand rested on the hilt of his wolf-tooth blade. When he drew it, the hall screamed, yet before anyone could react, the donkey was decapitated. Silence fell; blood seeped into the earth, red and vivid, and no one dared breathe, unsure of his next move.
Xiao Chiye, backlit by dim light, wiped his blade on the tablecloth, then casually turned, smiling at the guests: “—Please, continue.”
Li Jianheng, staring at the knife, whispered, “Ce’an… put it away.”
Xiao Chiye sheathed the blade, glanced at Feng Quan, pulled over a chair, and sat squarely. “If you want it roasted, tonight I’ll watch Feng Gonggong eat it.”
Feng Quan was finally escorted away in a hurry.
Li Jianheng drank, tears streaming. “Ce’an, I truly didn’t expect this. Who knew that eunuch…? We are brothers—don’t let this ruin our bond!”
Xiao Chiye tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Affection differs. I understand. You may leave.”
Li Jianheng grabbed his sleeve to protest, but Xiao Chiye had Chen Yang lift him into his sedan.
“Take Prince Chu home,” Xiao Chiye said. “I’ll go alone.”
Chen Yang, seeing his resolute expression, said nothing and followed the sedan.
Alone under a lantern, Xiao Chiye paused, then kicked over a costly potted plant.
It tumbled, hitting the stairs, but was lightly steadied by a single hand.
Shen Zechuan stood on the stairs, composed. “Expensive, you know. You’ll need to compensate.”
Xiao Chiye said coldly, “He’s got plenty of money.”
He patted his waist—but found it empty.
Shen Zechuan waited a moment, then turned to the innkeeper: “Charge it to this gentleman—he’s rich enough.”