By the time Meng Xizhao returned home, it was very late. Everyone was asleep. The air was thick with the scent of burning incense, drifting either from Meng Jiaojiao’s courtyard or some neighbor’s home.
In his bedroom, after bathing, Meng Xizhao leaned against the headboard while waiting for his hair to dry, lost in thought.
Zitang had tidied up his things and, holding the clothes he had changed out of, just watched him silently.
Meng Xizhao: “…”
Turning toward her, he asked, “Anything?”
Zitang: “Lang Jun, I haven’t seen Sister Jin Zhu in so long.”
Meng Xizhao: “She’s out handling things for me.”
Zitang nodded, making a soft sound. Meng Xizhao expected a follow-up question, but she paused, then turned and left.
Meng Xizhao: “…………”
He couldn’t figure out what she was doing.
The days that followed remained much the same. The ‘war’ between the Chancellor and the Three Departments remained at the level of word battles and business disputes, as if both sides tacitly agreed not to escalate. At first, the Heavenly Longevity Emperor found it amusing. Court sessions were dull, and watching their quarrels kept him awake.
But quarrels grew tiresome, and eventually, the emperor’s ears began to ache.
Soon, it ended with a compromise: Meng Jiuyu was punished to stay home and reflect for three days, while Qiu Suming was stripped of his Grand Secretary post.
Yes, most high officials held multiple positions—a functional post and two or three honorary titles. Losing an honorary title was hardly serious. When the emperor got angry, this was how he vented; later, he might restore it.
Meng Jiuyu knew this and felt no satisfaction.
In the study, the three Meng men sat together. Meng Jiuyu and Meng Xi’ang frowned deeply, while Meng Xizhao crunched on pastries.
His father and elder brother, acting as if he were a son of their own, “…………”
Meng Jiuyu had been through enough to remain silent. Meng Xi’ang, anguished, said, “Second Brother, at a time like this, how can you still be thinking of food?”
Meng Xizhao: “If not eating, then what? Should I suffer like Father?”
Meng Jiuyu: “…”
You little rascal, I’m the one suffering, and it’s your fault!
Meng Xi’ang, anxious, spoke only once before leaving Meng Xizhao alone, even handing him the plate of pastries from his own side.
While doing so with a calm demeanor, he said to Meng Jiuyu: “Father, if you ask me, we should draft a regulation. If we delay further, this will just fizzle out. The Three Departments won’t linger in Yingtian Prefecture forever; their current stay is long enough.”
Meng Jiuyu lifted his eyelids, glancing at Meng Xizhao, whose mouth bore a few crumbs. Seeing him so focused, he twitched his mouth corner and asked his eldest son, “And what do you propose we do?”
Meng Xi’ang: “The grudge is set; we can’t let it go. Otherwise, every year we’d have no peace. Others aren’t like Qiu Suming—he holds high office and frequently corresponds privately with the emperor. Now he’s openly opposing us; once he leaves, who knows what he might write in secret letters? Then we’d be trapped like turtles in a jar.”
Meng Xizhao suddenly began coughing violently. Meng Xi’ang, startled, quickly reached over to pat his back. When he looked back, he saw his father’s face dark as night.
Meng Jiuyu: “You mean to say, I, a great bastard, have two little bastards with me?”
Meng Xi’ang: “…………”
“Uh, that’s not what I meant…”
Meng Xizhao turned his head, shoulders shaking, which only made Meng Jiuyu angrier. “How did I end up with two unfilial sons! First son, how did you even pass the provincial exam? I’m beginning to suspect you cheated!”
“And you, second son—stop laughing! Carefree as you are, do you even hear yourself? Aren’t you also one of the bastards?”
Taking a deep breath, Meng Jiuyu said in a low voice, “Enough. First son speaks harshly, but not inaccurately. It’s true—this plan isn’t easy. Qiu Suming has deep backing. If we can’t pin him down all at once, preventing any chance of resurgence, it will leave trouble for the future.”
His stern gaze turned to Meng Xizhao. “So tell me, what is your idea?”
Hearing this, Meng Xi’ang also looked at his younger brother. Faced with the attention of both, Meng Xizhao blinked, set down his plate of pastries, and said, “Father, you ask for my idea, but I really have none. Qiu Suming rose because the emperor favored him, trusted him. His rise was rapid, like bamboo shoots after rain. Can the three of us match the emperor’s finger? No. So no matter how hard we try, we can’t strike at his weak point. He amassed wealth, gifted the emperor lavishly—he is the emperor’s favorite. No matter what faults he commits, as long as the emperor remembers his merits, he cannot be brought down.”
Meng Jiuyu and Meng Xi’ang were momentarily stunned. According to Meng Xizhao, it seemed there was no chance for them.
But something felt off. They exchanged glances, then looked back at Meng Xizhao’s sweet smile. Meng Jiuyu was the first to catch on: “Ah, I understand.”
Meng Xi’ang: “…Father, what do you understand?”
Meng Jiuyu frowned at his eldest. Once a prodigy, yet now his brain seemed duller. Still, he patiently explained: “Second son means that striking Qiu Suming’s mismanagement or his oppression of the countryside won’t bring him down. The key is to make the emperor despise him, to make the emperor feel that what Qiu Suming cost him outweighs what he gained. Once the emperor realizes this, we need do nothing—Qiu Suming will collapse on his own.”
Meng Xi’ang’s expression shifted as comprehension dawned. Yet after a moment, he frowned again: “But how do we make the emperor realize this?”
Meng Xizhao suddenly interjected: “Naturally, we work on the emperor’s mind. Big brother, tell me—what sort of person is our emperor?”
Meng Xi’ang: “…………”
He looked at his brother, hesitating, but seeing only family around, he swallowed his unease and said, “Selfish, petty, ungrateful.”
Meng Jiuyu: “…”
Meng Xizhao: “…”
No need to be that blunt.
Meng Xizhao rubbed his forehead helplessly. “I don’t mean that. I mean he cares about face and grand achievements. He wants to be a legendary emperor and deeply values the stability of his throne. You might not see the latter often, but think about it. If he didn’t care so much about his throne, why did he hesitate to depose Empress Xie in favor of Consort Gan, despite publicly proclaiming his deep affection for her? What he truly loves isn’t Consort Gan—it’s his throne.”
Meng Xi’ang blinked, his expression changing instantly, the realization written plainly across his face: Got it, I see.
He had never considered it from this angle before. He felt both admiration and amusement—everyone else knew the emperor was devoted to Consort Gan, but only his brother discerned that the emperor’s true devotion was to his own power.
With a direction now clear, Meng Xi’ang understood what to do. He smiled: “I know what to do, and it’s simple. Everyone knows Qiu Suming’s misrule has left the people destitute. Previously, no one dared speak out because of Grand Tutor Gan, but I’ll be the one to break the silence.”
Meng Xizhao saw his brother’s determined face, as if he could draft an official report tonight. He quickly interjected: “Wait, don’t rush. If you propose this hastily, the emperor won’t believe it; he may even think you have nothing better to do. We need a gradual approach, step by step, slowly piling up the emperor’s dissatisfaction with Qiu Suming. When the pressure reaches a breaking point, you make your move. He’ll fall, and I’ll do my best to see that this Lord Qiu ends up in the Yingtian Prefecture prison—I’ll make sure he’s properly ‘welcomed.’”
Meng Xizhao and Meng Xi’ang exchanged looks, imagining the scene, smiling wickedly in unison.
Meng Jiuyu: “…”
Sitting beside them, watching his two sons plot to topple a notorious corrupt official, Meng Jiuyu felt a complicated mix of emotions.
Especially considering the contrast between the two:
Meng Xi’ang hadn’t thought that far—he was carried along by Meng Xizhao, fully motivated by family interest. Meng Xizhao, on the other hand, seemed less involved at first, aside from the initial conflict with Qiu Suming.
But after that night, when Meng Xizhao had foreseen the trouble and warned that offending Qiu Suming might endanger the whole family, Meng Jiuyu knew: this was far from simple.
By now, Meng Xizhao’s goal seemed perfectly clear: he wanted Qiu Suming brought down. Yet Meng Jiuyu’s heart remained uneasy.
There was a doubt he simply couldn’t shake.
Why was Meng Xizhao deliberately keeping himself out of the spotlight?
Punishing corrupt officials might not please the emperor, but the common people would surely cheer. Meng Xizhao wasn’t foolish—why would he forgo such glory?
Forget excuses like “he only wants to be a reckless playboy or a favored minister.” When he returned from the Xiongnu, he had made a huge show of influence. Even if Yingtian Prefecture was almost impervious to him, other regions—especially those near the Xiongnu—viewed him very favorably.
So why? Why, after all that effort to cultivate his reputation, did he now abandon the benefits and shrink into the shadows?
Meng Jiuyu could roughly guess the reason, but he dared not truly consider it.
Because the moment he did, his heart would race, and he’d wish to strike his son with a rod, to drive him to abandon such thoughts.
Hiding in the shadows meant avoiding the notice of certain people. If those people didn’t notice him, he could continue to lie in wait, strike unexpectedly, and deliver the blow from behind.
And the number of people in the court who required such careful handling… was very small.
Meng Jiuyu sipped his tea, feeling an immense chill in his heart.
What nerve—truly remarkable nerve.
The only comfort he could take now was this: once Meng Xizhao had finished his maneuvering, there would probably be no one left in the Great Qi court who could trouble him. By then, perhaps, he could finally live at ease.
Meng Jiuyu was lost in thought, so absorbed he didn’t hear Meng Xi’ang calling him. When he finally did snap back, he saw both sons looking at him with concern.
Meng Xi’ang asked, “Father, what’s wrong? Are you alright?”
Meng Jiuyu paused, shook his head. “I’m fine. Oh, right, there’s something I need to tell you both. Your mother plans to find a suitable husband for Jiaojiao. Once she and Jiaojiao have chosen someone, the two of you will help gather information. Especially you, eldest son—you’ve opened several taverns. With so many people coming and going, you’re bound to hear plenty of gossip. Make sure to vet the candidates properly; Jiaojiao must not be married off to a corrupt family.”
Upon hearing this, Meng Xi’ang immediately pounded his chest in assurance. “Don’t worry, Father. Even without your orders, I’ll handle this properly.”
Beside him, Meng Xizhao frowned instinctively. “Jiaojiao is only fifteen…”
Meng Jiuyu: “In three months she’ll be sixteen. A girl this age should start being considered for marriage.”
Meng Xizhao: “…………”
Well, it was true. It had taken a long time to get to this point. After the match-making, the engagement, and the six rites, Meng Jiaojiao would be seventeen or eighteen by the time she was truly wed. While Meng Xizhao wasn’t entirely satisfied, it was certainly better than being married off at thirteen or fourteen.
…
His little sister was about to be married. Meng Xizhao felt a twinge of unease. She hadn’t even been home long, and yet she was about to become someone else’s bride. People only began to cherish what they were about to lose—and Meng Xizhao was no exception.
He immediately began to reflect. Too busy, always away from home, often gone for long stretches without seeing Meng Jiaojiao. When he applied to establish his own mansion, she knew. She said nothing, but the disappointment was visible on her face.
And not long ago, he had promised to fetch her, but got distracted along the way. By the time he arrived, she had returned home…
Meng Xizhao fell silent.
As a brother, he had been utterly negligent.
Wiping his face, he hurried out, visiting several taverns in succession, buying the dishes Meng Jiaojiao loved, and personally delivering them to her courtyard.
Jiaojiao, unaware of anything amiss, thanked him happily. Meng Xizhao, however, looked at her with a tangled expression, words caught in his throat.
Jiaojiao tilted her head in curiosity. “Second brother, why do you keep staring at me?”
Meng Xizhao: “…Jiaojiao, Father said Mother wants to find a husband for you.”
Jiaojiao paused, then smiled. “That? Hmm, that was my idea too. But even if I hadn’t mentioned it, Mother would’ve arranged it. Before things get too busy, she often visits my aunt without me—probably to arrange matches secretly.”
Meng Xizhao stared at her in surprise. “You suggested it?”
Jiaojiao nodded. “Yes.”
Meng Xizhao’s eyes widened further. “You have someone in mind?!”
Could it still be Prince Linjiang? But he was already engaged—to the second daughter of Grand Marshal Tian. The wedding would be next year!
Jiaojiao shook her head shyly. “No. I’m just grown up now. A good husband should be chosen sooner rather than later; otherwise, someone else will pick for me when I’m older.”
Hearing this, Meng Xizhao slammed his palm on the table. “Who dares! Jiaojiao, if it’s for this reason, you needn’t rush. You can wait another year or two—truly, a year or two is enough!”
A year or two from now, no matter who you choose, I can ask the new emperor to grant you a royal marriage!
…
Jiaojiao: “…………”
She stared at Meng Xizhao in astonishment, unable to understand why he had suddenly become so passionate. Tilting her head, she spoke slowly:
“Actually… it’s not just that. At home, seeing Big Brother and Sister-in-law in harmony makes me a little envious. Father and Mother supported each other, walking together through life’s hardships. Now, Brother and Sister-in-law are on the same path. As for you, Second Brother… sometimes a romantic wanderer, sometimes seemingly indifferent to women. But I guess your pursuits are like the gentle, beloved lady of your heart.”
Meng Xizhao: “…………”
Not exactly. He already had a lady—the “lady” he had in mind was someone even more imposing than him.
He remained silent. There was little he could say. His sister wanted to fall in love; should he really stop her?
At that moment, Meng Jiaojiao continued, “Second Brother, when you got into trouble, I felt as if the sky had collapsed. If it hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t have realized how little I could bear. Back then, Father and Big Brother ran themselves ragged for you, Mother took care of the household while visiting her family to make sure the military preparations were thorough, even Sister-in-law returned to her mother’s home so that the Prince could speak for you in court—and me? There was only me. All I could do was cry; I couldn’t help in the slightest.”
Meng Xizhao paused, instinctively saying, “But you’re just a young girl. It wasn’t your fault that I got into trouble. I don’t want you to sacrifice your whole future because of me.”
Jiaojiao nodded. “I know. And I’m not saying this to make you feel guilty. I just mean that similar things might happen again in the future. No one’s life is always smooth sailing. I’m a member of the Meng family, so I must stand strong. If someday our family faces trouble, I want to be able to help, not just stand by and cry, powerless.”
Meng Xizhao: “…Then there’s no need to rush into marriage.”
Jiaojiao pressed her lips together and looked at him. “Second Brother, I’ve thought it through carefully. If I marry, I’ll become the head lady of my household, able to manage the family and oversee its affairs. As for the husband, I want someone who listens to me, someone whose current status is below mine but whose future is promising. He should come from a simple household, with a difficult marriage, so that I can earn a reputation for helping him in adversity, sharing hardship together. Once I’ve decided to marry, I’ll devote myself fully, heart for heart. In doing so, I can win over his whole family. If I win over a petty man, he might betray me, but if I win over a gentleman, the benefits I gain could last a lifetime.”
Meng Xizhao: “…………”
He stared blankly at Jiaojiao. She spoke so animatedly, clearly having thought about this for days, if not longer. And as he listened, he had a subtle sense of déjà vu—as if he had heard those criteria somewhere before.
Meng Xizhao felt a mix of surprise and suspicion. Jiaojiao, seeing that he hadn’t replied, asked herself, “Second Brother, what do you think of what I just said?”
Meng Xizhao: “…”
“Jiaojiao, do you already have someone in mind? Why are you asking me this?”
Even though they were close, Jiaojiao shouldn’t be asking him this. Even among girls, talking about future husbands usually made them blush. How could a sister discuss this with her brother?
Caught by his guess, Jiaojiao’s cheeks flushed. “Second Brother, you and Xie Yuan of the Fangling Marquis household… you’re very close, right?”
Meng Xizhao: “…………”
After a second, he shot to his feet. “You want to marry him?! No, absolutely not!”
Jiaojiao blinked. “Why not?”
Meng Xizhao: “He’s ten years older than you!!!”
Jiaojiao: “Nine years older. I checked his birth date—nine years and eight months.”
Meng Xizhao was dumbfounded. “And you still want to marry him? By the time you’re married, he’ll be nearly thirty!”
Jiaojiao: “….”
After a pause, having calculated what ‘nearly thirty’ meant, she murmured, “Isn’t that good? Older men are caring, and I’m willing to marry him. He will surely be grateful and treat me even better.”
Meng Xizhao: “…………”
He was utterly in awe of Jiaojiao, his voice trembling. “Jiaojiao! Marriage isn’t just about age. If your hearts aren’t in sync, you’ll become a pair of resentful spouses! Just because he’s older doesn’t make him a good man. He might find you childish, illiterate, or not gentle enough. What then?!”
Jiaojiao stared at him. “Really? Is he that kind of person?”
Meng Xizhao froze. Well… actually, no.
Judging by how Xie Yuan treated Jin Zhu, Yin Liu, and the others, he was a gentleman, polite even to the maids. Their praise for him had been high. In his presence, they would even commend him.
Seeing Meng Xizhao fall silent and avert his eyes, Jiaojiao understood. She smiled. “I know you’re worried, Second Brother. But think carefully: besides being older, Xie Yuan has no other flaws. He has no female relatives at home, studied diligently, has no concubines. People say ordinary women don’t wish to marry into the Xie family, but even women of humble means would. His younger brother has many admirers—it’s not that no one wants him, he just keeps himself pure and doesn’t take concubines.”
“And he’s the Crown Prince’s cousin. Second Brother, since you follow the Crown Prince, if I marry him, it benefits our family too. The Crown Prince will trust you more.”
Meng Xizhao muttered, “Whether you marry or not, the Crown Prince trusts me anyway.”
Jiaojiao: “….”
After a pause, Meng Xizhao turned to her. “You’ve firmly decided—you really want to marry him?”
Jiaojiao: “Not entirely. I just think he’s good, fits what I expect in a husband. If he has any issues or refuses to marry into our family, I’ll choose someone else. Like Cang He, the Ministry of Works official—he’s also close to you, right?”
Meng Xizhao: “…………”
Please, spare the people around me.
At last, Meng Xizhao realized: all that talk from Jiaojiao revealed her true criteria—her future husband must first be her friend.
Ultimately, Jiaojiao wanted a marriage where she could share fortune and misfortune with him.
Touched? A little.
Anxious? A lot.
…
His sister was so understanding and considerate, but instead of joy, Meng Xizhao felt mounting anxiety, like ants on a hot pan, unable to settle.
Anxious, he rushed to the Eastern Palace, frowning as he leaned on the Crown Prince’s lap, chattering incessantly about his worries.
It was simply that he feared Meng Jiaojiao might place her trust in the wrong person, and that because of him, she might make a choice she would regret for the rest of her life.
The Crown Prince held a wooden comb and methodically brushed Meng Xizhao’s hair downward. The gentle massage on his scalp eased his anxiety slightly.
After finishing the first pass, the Crown Prince began a second, then spoke lightly: “Second Brother, if it weren’t Jiaojiao, but an ordinary girl—say, the maid by your side, Jin Zhu—what would you think of marrying her off to Xie Yuan?”
Meng Xizhao followed the prompt, thinking it through, though his face remained furrowed.
“Pretty good.”
He even felt that Jin Zhu had hit the jackpot.
After all, Xie Yuan was talented. Once the Crown Prince ascended the throne, his own career path would be smooth and unobstructed. Titles, appointments—everything would come easily. Even if Jin Zhu were very good, her social standing was too low; ordinarily, she could never hope to marry such a man.
Meng Xizhao understood.
After a brief silence, he huffed and turned over, pointing at the Crown Prince’s sharp nose: “It’s because he’s your cousin that you’re defending him.”
The Crown Prince lowered his eyes, smiling faintly. “Second Brother, that’s unfair. Xie Yuan is my cousin, yes, but we aren’t particularly close. Moreover, I would never do something that might estrange you from me. For just one Xie Yuan? It’s not worth it.”
Meng Xizhao: “…………”
His sympathy for Xie Yuan even began to rise.
As his expression relaxed a bit, he suddenly realized and sat upright with a snap: “You’re still defending him!”
The Crown Prince: “…………”
He decided it was best to stay silent. As a relative of Xie Yuan, no matter what he said, Meng Xizhao would interpret it as ulterior motives.
Once he stayed quiet, Meng Xizhao began to think more calmly. The more he pondered, the more he realized both Jiaojiao and the Crown Prince had reasonable points.
“…But he’s ten years older than my sister!!!” Meng Xizhao still lamented.
……
Xie Yuan hardly ever left his house. If Meng Xizhao hadn’t summoned him, he might have forgotten what the streets of Baihua were even like.
Standing by the window of a tavern, watching the vendors along the Qinhuai River, Xie Yuan smiled unconsciously.
Since serving as a local magistrate, he realized he enjoyed seeing ordinary people living peacefully.
Sadly, such scenes were rare across the Great Qi territory.
As a secretary in the Central Secretariat, Xie Yuan might be one of the most inconspicuous in history. He was supposed to attend court daily, but the Emperor rarely handled state affairs. Some days, ministers could meet him for an hour; other days, half an hour; sometimes not at all.
Recently, the palace had gained a new concubine, Su Jieyu, and the Emperor seemed increasingly distracted with pleasure, shortening the time for state matters. So Xie Yuan spent most days in the Secretariat with his colleagues, who smiled on the surface but bore no true warmth.
The Department of the Chancellery, under the supervision of the Minister of Works, was relatively less complicated, but the Central Secretariat was like a ground of scheming—factions intertwined, some by school, some by marriage, some by function. A dozen people could form a hundred factions.
Poor Xie Yuan had little real work recently but saw plenty of political intrigue.
If Meng Xizhao hadn’t sought him out, he probably would have gone looking for Meng Xizhao himself. He feared that if he didn’t do something real, he would burst.
After nearly fifteen minutes, Meng Xizhao finally arrived. Hearing the door, Xie Yuan turned with a faint smile, cupping his hands in greeting. “Magistrate Meng, I hope all is well.”
Meng Xizhao glanced at him but ignored the greeting, moving to sit aside.
Xie Yuan: “……”
He wondered if he had done something wrong to offend Meng Xizhao, but seeing him smile briefly as usual, Meng Xizhao said, “Let’s order food first and chat as we eat.”
Xie Yuan naturally agreed.
Once the dishes arrived, Xie Yuan began asking after Meng Xizhao, inquiring about his recent dispute with Qiu Suming and whether he needed help. In fact, when Qiu Suming had accused Meng Xizhao’s father, Meng Jiuyu, Xie Yuan had informed Meng Xizhao, earning the young man’s gratitude. He had even sent a servant to express thanks personally.
Meng Xizhao didn’t want to dwell on it and soon changed the topic. Seeing this, Xie Yuan thoughtfully didn’t press, simply recounting his experiences in the Secretariat.
Meng Xizhao listened but grew impatient.
Holding his wine cup, he endured Xie Yuan’s recounting of Minister Yan’s affairs for nearly a tea’s time before finally losing patience. “Brother Xie, may I call you that?”
Xie Yuan was surprised but quickly said, “Of course. Then may I call you… Second Brother Meng?”
Meng Xizhao: “……”
Soon, he’d probably be calling me that all the time.
Waving his hand, he said, “Just call me Xizhao.”
Xie Yuan smiled and readily agreed: “Alright, then I’ll call you Xizhao.”
Meng Xizhao felt awkward but said nothing, only asking, “How is your family?”
Xie Yuan: “All well. My father mentioned you a few days ago, praising your courage in standing up to the Three Offices.”
Meng Xizhao nodded. “And your younger brother, Xie Yun, is he still wasting time with women and neglecting his duties?”
Xie Yuan: “…………”
Though true, it wasn’t exactly polite to ask so bluntly.
But Meng Xizhao had always been straightforward. After a brief pause, Xie Yuan answered: “No. After returning home, I talked to him at length, hoping he would pursue official examinations—even if not for the highest rank, at least a degree. He actually enjoyed studying before; it was just the family situation… Fortunately, everything has improved now.”
Meng Xizhao blinked, not bothering with any polite preamble or comforting words for Xie Yuan. Instead, he leaned closer with curiosity and asked, “Xie Yun isn’t exactly a boy anymore. You want him to sit for the civil examinations, even if he succeeds immediately, it’ll take two or three years. Right now he’s just a civilian. In the meantime, he hasn’t married, has he? Does your family not plan to arrange a match for him?”
Xie Yuan paused, hesitated, then replied carefully, “In a year or two, once the family’s situation improves, we will, I suppose.”
Meng Xizhao hummed thoughtfully and continued, “And you? You don’t have a household either. Your father should be more concerned about you, shouldn’t he?”
Xie Yuan finally sensed the strangeness in the line of questioning. But he was neither eloquent nor confrontational; even though Meng Xizhao himself had no family, Xie Yuan couldn’t bring himself to turn the question back. Besides, Meng Xizhao wasn’t entirely without domestic obligations.
This time, Xie Yuan was silent a little longer, but eventually, he answered Meng Xizhao plainly: “I have never considered starting a family. My father is indeed anxious, but he knows anyone who marries into my house would share in its hardships. He cannot suggest such a thing, and I cannot allow an innocent woman to suffer alongside me.”
Meng Xizhao studied his expression for a moment before replying, “Times are different now. As you said, in a year or two, your family’s situation will improve. If your younger brother can marry, why not you?”
Hearing this, Xie Yuan couldn’t help but smile. It was a warm, gentle smile, like a spring breeze, and even Meng Xizhao felt a comforting warmth flowing through him. Surely, a young lady witnessing it would react even more strongly.
But Xie Yuan himself was unaware of this effect. He spoke sincerely: “I know I am not as capable in winning a woman’s favor as my brother. I’ve spent the first half of my life with the books of sages, becoming a wooden post of a man. Even if the family prospers later, I am still the eldest. If I were to marry, all domestic affairs would fall to my wife. She would have no one to support or guide her. Who would willingly endure such a life? Tiring days, and in the evenings, facing a man like me, oblivious to romance, day after day… it would be even more exhausting.”
Meng Xizhao: “…………”
He had inadvertently brought up Xie Yuan’s own sadness. Once Xie Yuan finished speaking, he poured himself some wine in silence. Meng Xizhao watched the clear liquor fill the cup, his own expression growing more peculiar by the moment.
Wooden post—easily managed.
Poor family—perfect for earning loyalty through shared hardship.
Eldest son—the family estate would eventually be his.
No one to assist or instruct—he would take charge himself!
Evening companionship—well, Xie Yuan had truly never considered taking a concubine; that was why his future wife could see him every night.
Meng Xizhao fell silent, suddenly realizing he might have been overthinking things.
Meng Jiaojiao was certainly not foolish. Choosing the older, lower-ranking Xie Yuan over the similarly aged, top-scoring Zang He had clear reasons.
And the reasons had all been laid out plainly.
Meng Xizhao’s feelings grew complex. Honestly, if he were a woman, he would want to marry him himself…