From the side, Madam Guan watched without blinking. Seeing the Emperor remain by Su Ruocun’s side the entire time—and even ask a eunuch for a handkerchief to gently wipe her tears as she lowered her head—she took it all in carefully.
Madam Guan frowned. After a while, the Emperor said something to Su Ruocun. Su Ruocun fell silent for a moment, then gave him a deep, respectful curtsy.
Then they turned back—and Su Ruocun was escorted at the Emperor’s side as they left.
Madam Guan’s eyes widened instantly.
She kept her gaze fixed on them until she saw clearly that they were heading toward the imperial palace. Only then did she take a sharp breath, turn, and run back to the residence.
She sent a young maid to report the news to the Secretariat. The maid had originally been arranged by Jinzhu, so she did not hesitate in the slightest and ran off at once.
Meng Xizhao sat in his courtyard, idly reading a book. When the Crown Prince read, it was to cultivate his character—but when Meng Xizhao read, it was to cram knowledge of this world’s literature.
He did not want to accidentally blurt out lines from someone else’s work again. But he also could not speak in nothing but plain vernacular—that would make him look unsophisticated.
Reading already made one drowsy. And after the rain passed, the sun returned, bringing back the humid heat. As Meng Xizhao read on, his eyelids began to droop.
He glanced at the sunlight outside, pressed his lips together, and decided he could not afford to sleep.
Just as he was thinking of asking for a strong cup of tea to stay awake, Qingfu suddenly came rushing in.
“My lord, it’s done!”
His half-closed eyes snapped open. Meng Xizhao jolted upright. “Really?”
Qingfu nodded repeatedly. “Madam Guan sent word.”
Though he had expected this outcome, at that moment Meng Xizhao still froze briefly. Then he quickly came back to himself, stood up at once, straightened his hat, and strode out.
At the same time, he instructed Qingfu, “Prepare the carriage. We’re going to the prefectural office.”
At that moment, Yinliu, having heard the commotion, also ran in. She looked at him nervously. “My lord—did it succeed?”
Meng Xizhao nodded. “What I told you the other day—have you remembered it all?”
Yinliu had been tense, but seeing his calm demeanor, she relaxed instead and smiled. “When it comes to handling things, you can trust me, my lord. I remember everything clearly—guaranteed they’ll get the information firsthand.”
Meng Xizhao blinked but said nothing. He glanced outside at the sun, then turned back to her. “Go in an hour. It’s still too early now.”
Yinliu acknowledged him. After a moment’s thought, Meng Xizhao added, “Stay sharp. Big thunder, little rain—remember that. Even if they see through it, it does not matter. Just do not let anything go wrong.”
Yinliu nodded firmly. “I understand. If something really went wrong, it would not be worth the loss.”
Meng Xizhao said, “Exactly. It should be fine. At worst, just run.”
Yinliu smiled faintly.
Run? Impossible. At this stage, Madam Guan and Miss Su were both the type to risk everything. Only their lord worried they might truly be hurt. In their own minds, if injury could bring better results, then even serious harm would be worth it.
Meng Xizhao was in a hurry to leave, so he said no more. Yinliu watched him go, then after a moment of silence, went to find Ziting, who was sitting in the shade.
“Now you’re the only one managing things in the courtyard. Be diligent—keep an eye on the others, do not let them slack off. I will return after nightfall.”
Ziting stood up from the stone bench. “Why is everyone leaving? Ever since we came back to the Secretariat residence, I barely see any of you. And my lord too—why does he not assign me any tasks?”
Yinliu: “……”
She shook her head, too lazy even to answer, and walked away lightly.
＊
Jian Shugwu—Minister Jian—was that very same former Prefect of Yingtian who had stumbled into extraordinary luck.
Promoted in a single stroke, at the age of thirty-seven he had become one of the Six Ministers. These past few days, he had been laughing even in his dreams—so much so that his wife had not slept well for several nights.
The title “Minister of Works” might not sound impressive at first glance, but the Ministry of Works oversaw far more than construction—it handled water conservancy, transportation, military farming, city building, and artisans across the realm.
Its responsibilities were vast, intersecting with many other departments. In modern terms, the position was equivalent to a vice premier.
A thirty-seven-year-old vice premier—no wonder Minister Jian was so overjoyed.
Promotion brought not only sweet dreams but also a sudden surge in attention. Everyone wanted to drink with him, to celebrate his rise. The visiting cards piled up until they filled an entire cabinet. Even his wife was busy to the point her feet barely touched the ground.
So it was not that he deliberately avoided handing over duties to Meng Xizhao—he had genuinely forgotten about him.
……
As for the others in the Yingtian Prefecture office, none of them reminded him. Deep down, they resented Meng Xizhao becoming their superior.
After all, who was Meng Xizhao? A wastrel who had entered officialdom through flattery and family connections. The knowledge in his head was, in their view, less than that of a three-year-old child. As for his supposed achievements—one in Xiongnu, one in Nanzhao—none were in Yingtian Prefecture. What did that imply? That he likely had not earned those merits at all, but had taken credit for someone else’s work.
As for whose credit, they did not care. Thinking this way at least gave them some comfort—they simply could not accept that such a good-for-nothing had risen so quickly.
Thus, when Meng Xizhao arrived, they showed him little enthusiasm—glancing at him briefly before returning to their own tasks.
Holding a fan, Meng Xizhao swaggered in through the main gate of the prefectural office. No court session was in progress, yet he walked straight toward the main hall. The constable guiding him froze for a moment and moved to stop him—but Meng Xizhao pressed his fan against the man’s chest and pushed him aside.
Then, sauntering forward, he plopped himself down directly into the prefect’s chair.
Qingfu’s gaze drifted, pretending to see nothing.
The constable: “…………”
Meng Xizhao sat there with complete confidence, even adjusting himself into a more comfortable position before lazily looking down at the constable.
“What are you standing there for? No sense at all. Where is Minister Jian? The appointment was issued long ago, yet he has not come to hand things over to me. What does he mean by this? Could it be he intends to defy the imperial order?”
As he spoke, Meng Xizhao pulled an orange from his sleeve. While peeling it, he stared straight at the constable, waiting for an answer.
The constable watched as Meng Xizhao tossed a segment of orange into the air and caught it neatly in his mouth. His entire body went numb.
This… is our future Prefect?
He had a thousand things he wanted to say, but feared that if he actually said them, Meng Xizhao might be angered to death. In the end, he simply darkened his expression, cupped his fists, and said stiffly, “I will go and summon him at once.”
Meng Xizhao snorted. “No sense of awareness whatsoever. When I take office, I will have to properly discipline this place.”
Constable: …his fists clenched.
Jian Shugwu was in the council chamber discussing matters with his adviser. Since Meng Xizhao had not pressed him, and the Emperor had not mentioned it either, he assumed the handover was not urgent. He was still considering how many of his trusted aides he should bring along—at their level, one always had a few confidants, and bringing more would make future work easier.
When he saw the constable enter with a suppressed grievance written all over his face, Jian Shugwu was puzzled. But upon hearing that Meng Xizhao had arrived—and was acting arrogantly, putting on airs from the moment he stepped in—Jian Shugwu froze, let out an “oh!” and hurried out to receive him.
Though Meng Xizhao was his successor, he was still so young—there was a twenty-year age gap between them. Their official ranks were only a level or so apart, and Meng Xizhao had a father who was a Vice Grand Councillor. Jian Shugwu had no desire to offend him.
With a beaming smile, he arrived at the main hall—his voice preceding him.
“My worthy nephew! Why did you not inform me you were coming? What if I had not been here—would you not have made the trip in vain?”
Meng Xizhao glanced at him. After a brief pause, he rose from the chair. As he walked down, he gave Jian Shugwu a smile that did not reach his eyes.
“How could you not be here? You have delayed handing things over to me for so long—I had already guessed it. You must be reluctant to part with the Prefect’s seat.”
Jian Shugwu: “…you jest, nephew.”
Meng Xizhao raised a brow. “Am I jesting, or does Your Excellency truly think so? Frankly, I understand. By convention, you should have held this post for three full years before being transferred. Now His Majesty, in his grace, used my promotion as an opportunity to elevate you as well. In your heart—ah, it must not sit well at all.”
As he spoke, he raised a hand in a calming gesture. “No matter. I will inform His Majesty of your wishes. His Majesty is so considerate of his officials—how could he force you into the burdensome role of Minister? He will surely rescind the appointment.”
Jian Shugwu: “…………”
He let out a dry laugh. “Nephew, the sovereign’s word is not a jest. Let us not trouble His Majesty over such matters. By the way—you have not yet had lunch, have you? Come, come to my residence. Let us share a proper drink.”
Meng Xizhao shot him a chilly glance, his entire face practically spelling out I am extremely petty.
Jian Shugwu: “……”
He knew it—Meng Xizhao was definitely upset that he had been promoted as well.
Since Meng Xizhao remained silent, Jian Shugwu felt uneasy. After more than a year as Prefect of Yingtian, he might not have learned much else, but he had certainly mastered the art of avoiding conflict. The waters here were shallow, yet the currents fierce—there was no one he could afford to offend.
Drawing on the same persuasive tactics he used on princes and nobles, Jian Shugwu coaxed him for a while. At last, he saw Meng Xizhao’s expression soften slightly. Overjoyed, he pressed his advantage, even speaking candidly—insisting that what happened that day in Kunyu Hall had nothing to do with him, that he had never expected the Emperor to call his name.
Meng Xizhao’s expression eased somewhat, though he still snorted. “I was the one who earned the merit, yet you took half the benefit. Of course, I am not that petty. We serve in the same court—we will see each other often. I do not wish to fall out with you. Otherwise, how could our families continue to interact? If my father learns that you and I are at odds, he certainly will not let the matter rest.”
Jian Shugwu: “…yes, yes. Then what does my worthy nephew have in mind?”
Meng Xizhao glanced at him, then finally gave a more genuine smile. “Since you have benefited from my momentum, you should at least show some appreciation, should you not?”
Jian Shugwu: “…………”
The muscles in his face twitched painfully. “How much does my nephew require?”
At the same time, he prayed inwardly that Meng Xizhao would not make an outrageous demand—his family wealth was nowhere near that of the Mengs.
Meng Xizhao chuckled and raised two fingers. Just as Jian Shugwu was wondering whether that meant twenty thousand or two hundred thousand, Meng Xizhao spoke.
“I only need you to handle two matters. First, I will soon submit a memorial to request the construction of my residence. I ask that you allocate to me the former estate of General Feng by the Eighty-Li River in the western district—have the old residence demolished and build me a new one there.”
Jian Shugwu blinked, slightly stunned.
That was it?
He knew the Eighty-Li River well. Its waters were broader than the Qinhuai River, suitable for transporting grain and for naval movement. It had once housed military garrisons. After the current dynasty relocated the troops to Baihu Gate, that area gradually merged with the old aristocratic district. But due to its remote location and lingering historical issues, most residents there were military families.
He had thought Meng Xizhao would ask for land near the imperial palace—like Grand Preceptor Gan, Grand Commandant Tian, or Meng’s own father.
The Eighty-Li River area was not particularly sought after. Jian Shugwu immediately agreed. “No problem. I will personally ensure you receive the finest residence permitted within regulations.”
Meng Xizhao smiled and thanked him. “Much appreciated. Now, the second matter.”
Jian Shugwu waved a hand grandly. “Speak!”
As long as it did not involve money.
Meng Xizhao smiled faintly. “I would like you to complete the handover with me today—fully transfer the Yingtian Prefecture office into my hands.”
Jian Shugwu: “…………”
The affairs of the Yingtian Prefecture were vast. In ordinary prefectures, there might be at most two hundred personnel. But here, there were fifteen hundred—along with old case files, treasury accounts, military matters, household registrations, and numerous prisoners currently in custody.
All of it combined—under normal circumstances, even with urgency, a proper handover would take at least seven days.
Finish the handover in a single day?! For the one receiving, it was easy enough—just sit there and accept everything. But for him, how many documents would he have to draft?!
Jian Shugwu felt reluctant. The moment Meng Xizhao caught that expression, his face dropped instantly.
“What, Your Excellency is unwilling? Hmph—I knew you were just stringing me along! Just wait, I’ll go find my father right now!”
Jian Shugwu: “……”
Constable at the side: “……”
What kind of person is this?!
……
Terrified that something might go wrong at such a critical moment, Jian Shugwu hurriedly stopped Meng Xizhao and agreed to the demand. The paperwork could be written later, burning the midnight oil if necessary—what mattered now was handing over the official seal and the fish tally.
That was exactly what Meng Xizhao wanted. Once he had them in hand, he was satisfied. He declared that he would officially take office first thing tomorrow morning, and even instructed the constable to inform the others—he would be inspecting all officials in the prefectural office the next day.
After he left, the constable could no longer hold back. He vented his anger to Jian Shugwu, but Jian Shugwu could only let out a long sigh.
“Pray for yourselves.”
Constable: “…………”
＊
Hanging his new fish tally together with the one he had received a few days earlier as Junior Tutor to the Crown Prince, Meng Xizhao admired the ornaments at his waist for a moment before heading to the palace.
Now that he held the post of Junior Tutor, he no longer needed to wait for permission—he could go straight to the Eastern Palace.
Having been there once before, he found his way with ease. However, the Crown Prince was not present. When he asked, he learned the prince was attending lessons.
Meng Xizhao: “……”
Half an hour later, the Crown Prince finally returned. Seeing Meng Xizhao, a hint of delight appeared on his face.
“Second Brother.”
Meng Xizhao, however, did not indulge in such familiarity. He went straight to the point. “Since when did you start attending lessons? I recall His Majesty never assigned you a Grand Tutor.”
The Crown Prince sat down and smiled faintly. “It was only arranged the day before yesterday. I asked Father for it, and he assigned me two Junior Tutors.”
Meng Xizhao blinked. “You asked, and he just gave them to you?”
Cui Ye met his gaze, the corners of his eyes curving slightly. “I cast aside my pride and asked—so he gave them. Perhaps he has never seen me like that before. He may have thought something was amiss with me.”
Meng Xizhao: “…………”
After a pause, he asked, “Who did he assign?”
Cui Ye named two people. Meng Xizhao thought for a moment—they were minor figures on the fringes of the court, scholars of mediocre ability.
He pressed his lips together. “Usable people must be gathered little by little. Though their own abilities are not exceptional, they likely have academic affiliations. Your Highness might follow those connections and win over the scholars.”
Cui Ye smiled knowingly. “That was my thought as well. Does this count as being of one mind?”
Meng Xizhao smiled faintly in return.
If one truly wanted to win over the scholarly class, the best target would be Chancellor Yan. But from what Meng Xizhao observed, that old fox would not accept the Crown Prince’s overtures. More precisely—unless the Crown Prince had already ascended the throne, completed the mourning rites, and formally received the court’s allegiance, Yan would never show him favor.
The man was far too shrewd. Asking him to take risks? Not a chance.
Chancellor Situ was much the same. Though he had helped the Crown Prince once after a personal visit, there had been no warmth in their subsequent interactions.
Well, it could not be helped. Their position was still weak. Without demonstrating real capability, no one would treat them differently.
Resting his chin on his hand, Meng Xizhao looked at Cui Ye. “Su Ruocun has entered the palace.”
Cui Ye lowered his gaze to him. “I know. It happened two hours ago.”
“Then tomorrow—I’ll leave it to you?”
At that, Cui Ye could not help but gently smooth the slight crease between Meng Xizhao’s brows. “Between you and me, there is no need for such words. Do not worry—I will watch over her for you.”
Meng Xizhao blinked, then leaned forward, resting half his body on the table. As Cui Ye moved to withdraw his hand, Meng Xizhao caught it and pressed his palm against his own cheek.
“Do not move,” he said. “I am drawing energy from you. Tomorrow, there is another battle to fight.”
With that, he closed his eyes.
Cui Ye looked at his faintly weary expression and truly did not move again. As for what passed through his mind, only he himself knew.
＊
It was still daytime, and the Emperor was in no particular hurry. His feelings toward Su Ruocun were more of pity than desire, so after bringing her into the palace, the first thing he did was not anything improper, but to ask about her experiences in the Nanzhao palace.
This was her prepared backstory, and Su Ruocun knew it by heart. She vividly conveyed her anxiety while imprisoned, her fear of the Nanzhao Crown Prince, and the loneliness of an entire year without seeing daylight.
The persona Meng Xizhao had crafted for her was clear: proud like Noble Consort Gan, dignified like Noble Consort Gan, and just as aloof.
But with one crucial distinction—she would show that side only to others. In front of the Emperor, she would put away all her thorns and become the gentlest of women.
The reason was simple.
She had fallen in love with him at first sight.
……
Whether others believed it did not matter. As long as the Emperor believed it, that was enough. With his arrogance, convinced of his own perfection, the idea that a woman would fall in love with him at first sight seemed entirely natural.
The Nanzhao Crown Prince, Luo Mailong, was in the prime of life—young, formidable, and heir to a kingdom. His twin sister, Luosa Hua, was beautiful, so he could not have been unattractive either. Yet Su Ruocun had refused him to the point of risking her life, even attempting to harm him.
Such a thorny rose, once at the Emperor’s side, showed not the slightest temper. Her gaze toward him was shy, dependent, full of trust.
Not just a middle-aged man—even a youth of eighteen or nineteen would find it hard to resist.
And so, as they talked, their conversation gradually turned intimate. Over the years, the Emperor had been with women of every temperament—shy, passionate, rigid—but never someone like Su Ruocun, who trusted him completely and without reservation.
No matter when it was, the way she looked at him made the Emperor feel as though he truly was heaven itself—her heaven. She depended on him so completely, and was so fragile, that if he did not grant her a title, it seemed she might not survive.
His vanity was immensely satisfied. The novelty of the experience also pleased him. Even after sleeping with her, he did not feel any deep affection for Su Ruocun—certainly nothing that could be called love.
Still, seeing how much she relied on him, he decided to grant her the rank of Guiren—a Noble Lady—so she could feel secure.
For most women, that would already be enough. Though Guiren was the lowest rank among titled consorts, below it were countless women without any rank at all.
But the moment Su Ruocun heard this, she immediately slipped off the dragon bed in disheveled clothes and knelt upright on the ground. With tears streaming down her face, she refused—begging the Emperor to rescind his decree. She said she was of criminal status; how could she possibly be granted such a title? As long as she could remain by his side, even as a palace maid, she would be content.
The Emperor looked at her, deeply moved, and personally helped her up. In his heart, he thought: This woman truly loves me—she wants nothing at all. How foolish…
……
With one shoulder exposed, her tearful appearance became all the more pitiful. The Emperor still had considerable patience with her, so he gently reassured her, saying it was fine—he would pardon her criminal status.
Yet Su Ruocun refused again. She said she did not wish for him to break the rules for her, nor did she want him to bear criticism on her account. After all, her father truly had committed crimes; for her to bear the consequences in his stead was only right.
Hearing this, the Emperor found her even more admirable. Filial, loyal, and righteous—it suited her perfectly.
The Emperor had never been one to insist when others resisted repeatedly. Since Su Ruocun declined again and again, he relented. Upon hearing this, she visibly relaxed, appearing genuinely considerate of him. Yet a trace of regret inevitably surfaced on her face—clearly, she too wished to become one of his official consorts.
Then, leaning against him, she softly said:
“If only my father had not committed such treason… how wonderful that would have been.”
The Emperor sighed as well. Indeed—such a virtuous woman, if not for her criminal status, would have been ideal.
……
While the two of them lingered in mutual tenderness, Yinliu finally set out from the Secretariat residence.
Following Meng Xizhao’s instructions, she found several people and bribed a hanger-on in the inner city. This man usually accompanied idle young nobles in their entertainments. Once the money was in place, he happily went to work.
Even among wastrels, there were levels. He sought out those at the lowest tier—the sons of household servants from high-ranking officials. After all, even a servant of a prime minister could command respect; their sons wore fine clothes, spent lavishly, and moved freely in such circles.
As a professional companion, the hanger-on always knew the latest gossip. How else could he guide his patrons to the newest trends? Blending seamlessly into the group, he quickly passed along Yinliu’s message.
“Have you heard? A young lady just moved into the inner city. Ah, her beauty is like blooming flowers—like a celestial being! Even the top courtesan of Baihua Street cannot compare. I thought she might be entering the pleasure quarters, so I went to inquire—but I was driven off by the matron of her household. Turns out, she’s a respectable woman—and quite well-born!”
The group’s interest was instantly piqued. “How so?”
Lowering his voice mysteriously, the hanger-on said, “This young lady was once from an official family. She lived in Yingtian Prefecture as a child. Her father’s name—Su Wanjun. I think he used to be a prefect.”
Clang—one of them dropped his fan.
……
By afternoon, the heat had grown even more oppressive. Qiu Suming’s steward had access to ice, but nowhere near as much as his master. Being overweight, he was drenched in sweat while still managing the affairs of the entire household.
His youngest son came rushing in recklessly. The steward immediately snapped, “What are you doing here?!”
Having risen to his position, the steward had long since established his own household in the inner city. His residence was even more luxurious than that of some minor officials.
Ignoring his father’s anger, the son hurriedly leaned in and whispered what he had heard.
The steward froze. His first reaction was disbelief. “Impossible! Su Wanjun’s daughter is of criminal status—how could she appear in Yingtian Prefecture?”
The boy looked anxious. “It’s true! Someone saw her with their own eyes. Why would I lie to you? If you don’t believe me, go check!”
The steward immediately set out. At first, he intended to go to the prefectural office to check the household registry. But on second thought, if it really was Su Wanjun’s daughter, she would not dare register openly. So he changed direction and went to the office that handled property sales and rentals.
He assumed she must be renting—but when he gave the address, there was no rental record. Instead, there was an owner listed.
—Su Ruocun.
Wherever Qiu Suming went, this steward usually followed. Only in recent years, due to declining health, had he stayed behind more often. But ten years ago, in Hebei, he had been constantly at his master’s side.
He remembered Su Wanjun. He had dealt with Madam Su. And as for their daughter, Su Ruocun—he remembered her too.
The steward was instantly alarmed.
As the saying went, those with guilty consciences feared ghosts knocking at their doors. Having committed wrongdoing, the mere mention of this name made him feel danger approaching.
Still… Su Ruocun was just a young girl. Even now, she was only sixteen. The steward did not believe she could stir up much trouble.
Thus, he decided not to report the matter to Qiu Suming. Instead, he would handle it himself first, and only afterward inform his master.
As for how to deal with it? Simple—drive her out of Yingtian Prefecture. If she refused to leave, killing her on the spot was also an option.
In any case, she could not be allowed to remain here and become a threat to his master.
Wiping the sweat from his face, the steward did not act immediately. Instead, he waited until nightfall, when there were fewer people about, then gathered several capable men to accompany him.
Meng Xizhao: “…………”
So this was what it meant to “marry a virtuous wife.” Now he finally understood the weight behind those four words.
Still—were that husband and wife really not considering changing professions? Why insist on heading down the path of intelligence masterminds?
The County Princess had told him everything she knew. Satisfied, Meng Xizhao rose happily, thanked her, and took his leave. From beginning to end, she never once asked what he intended to do with this information.
Lowering her gaze, she did not immediately go out for breakfast. Instead, she took a sip of tea, her thoughts drifting back to her years in the prince’s residence.
Her mother had appeared glamorous on the surface, but her life had been bitter. Married into the commandery prince’s household for five years, she had borne three children—two sons and a daughter—none of whom survived. Later she gave birth to her, and though she managed to raise her to adulthood, the toll on her body meant she could no longer conceive.
Her father did not despise her mother for this and even allowed her to remain the principal consort. Yet the concubines in the household increased with each passing season. Even so, outsiders still praised her father as a man of deep affection.
There was no legitimate son in the residence, no heir—only her, a single legitimate daughter. Growing up, she endured all kinds of subtle looks from others: pity for having no brothers to support her, envy for her wealth, and remarks that any man who married her would profit greatly. If she were honest, a life of silks and fine food was already beyond what many could ever hope for. Knowing the resentment in her heart, her mother would always comfort her with the same words: nothing in this world is ever perfect.
But she could never understand—why not? Why must marriage mean compromise? Why, when she already possessed wealth and status, must she give up the chance for a harmonious life and instead step into a mess of endless strife?
When she was only eight or nine, families had already begun probing for a betrothal. Back then, her mother refused on her behalf. Later, when she was older, she refused them herself.
Her mother endured, her father was unfaithful—but fortunately, they were both good parents who doted on their only legitimate daughter. So when the marriage with the Meng family was arranged, it was she who first agreed, and only then did her parents accept the betrothal documents.
At the time, she did not think too deeply about it. It was simply a matter of choosing the best among poor options. She had heard that the Meng parents were harmonious, that there were no concubines in the household, and that the family discipline was upright. After marriage, she would not need to worry about internal strife. But truthfully, the Meng family had plenty of flaws and was far from a perfect match.
Her mother-in-law was formidable, her father-in-law prone to offending others, her husband had countless disreputable friends and was known to squander money, her brother-in-law was the most notorious wastrel of wastrels—so embarrassing he had brought shame all the way to Kievan Rus—and her only sister-in-law was spoiled beyond measure, with no genuine friendships among the noble ladies of the capital.
But there were few people in the household. Few people was good. With over a decade of her mother’s teachings, she believed her future days would not be bad.
Back then, how could she have imagined what would come?
Her mother-in-law was still formidable, but she loved her children and treated her like a daughter. Her father-in-law still offended people, but now that both his sons had entered officialdom, he had become more restrained, speaking only when necessary and quietly paving the way for them. Her husband cherished both his younger brother and her, and after marriage he learned to become a pillar of support, devoting himself to managing affairs at court. Her brother-in-law underwent the most complete transformation, becoming the most capable member of the family—his future now a broad, open road. Her sister-in-law, frightened by the family’s successive upheavals, shed her spoiled nature and matured greatly; though she still had no close friends among noblewomen, she no longer needed them.
The County Princess was keenly self-aware. A family like this, a life like this—such fortune could not be cultivated even across several lifetimes. So she had to protect it.
She wanted to continue living a contented life, and she wanted her children to have the same. That meant the family could not decline, and their unity could not fracture. Their current harmony was like a frozen river—only a thin layer of ice. One wrong step, and it would crack, plunging them into icy depths with no way back out.
Second Young Master was rising quickly, but no one could say he was steady. Whether it was herself or her mother-in-law, both were worried—afraid he might climb too fast and be tripped, falling hard. He likely shared that concern himself, which was why he often spoke boldly and did things others thought unwise.
Walking on thin ice…
His official career, the Meng family’s stability, her dream of perfection—all were tied to his fate. She knew she could not help in court affairs, but within and beyond the palace, she had more connections than most.
It could not be left to him alone. This concerned the entire family. As the eldest sister-in-law, how could she sit back in peace?
The County Princess stared thoughtfully at her teacup.
She should visit her natal home more often. And the Grand Princess of Chu… she had prior ties with Second Young Master. Now widowed for nearly a year, and with royal mourning not requiring too long, surely she would not wish to observe the full three years. One year for the chanyu was enough.
Perhaps… she could receive visitors now?
Meanwhile, Meng Xizhao left the east courtyard and went straight out, ordering seven or eight breakfast dishes at a restaurant and eating heartily on his own.
Although he had already learned some things from the County Princess, he still sent someone to find Young Master Fu.
They had not seen each other for over a year. When Young Master Fu saw him, his face was full of resentment, accusing him of forgetting old friends now that he had risen in status.
Meng Xizhao: “…………”
Since when were we even friends? And you actually believed what I said back then?
Of course, he could not say that aloud. Instead, he quickly coaxed him, claiming he had truly been busy—he had not even seen his own cousin in a long time, let alone Young Master Fu.
Given Meng Xizhao’s recent dangerous missions abroad and safe return, Young Master Fu’s expression softened, and he dropped the matter.
Fu Jicai had always been slow-witted, and he had not grown any sharper. After a few sweet words, he was once again as close as brothers with Meng Xizhao. Taking advantage of this, Meng Xizhao subtly gathered information. Fu Jicai spoke freely, unaware of anything amiss. What he said largely matched the County Princess’s account, though he added a few extra details.