At the Administrative Council.
Madam Meng inspected the freshly written invitation, blew on the still-wet ink, then sighed lightly: “In this world, who sets up a household before marriage?”
Meng Xizhao: “……”
Seeing Madam Meng speaking as if to herself, he decided to play ignorant. “Before, it didn’t exist. Now, doesn’t it? Your son has set a precedent. Mother, shouldn’t you be pleased?”
Madam Meng: “…………”
Well, that’s just great.
But she didn’t dare speak so bluntly anymore. Last time she had acted decisively—striking first, reporting later—it had worked out, but when Meng Xizhao learned of it, he ran off to the remote Longxing Mansion to avoid marriage. He was even captured by the people of Nanzhao and nearly lost his life.
Forget it. She wouldn’t push anymore.
In truth, in today’s world, the age for marriage wasn’t rigidly fixed.
Plenty of people in their twenties hadn’t married yet. But most of them were commoners—laborers, soldiers, craftsmen—living unstable lives, struggling to have enough to eat. For them, staying unmarried into their twenties, or even lifelong bachelorhood, wasn’t unusual.
Royalty and nobility, on the other hand, didn’t have to toil for daily survival, and they bore the responsibility of continuing the family line. Naturally, when one reached marriageable age, the whole family would worry.
The Meng family, however, wasn’t a perfectly standard noble household.
They were small in number and late in starting out. His father had always been busy in Yingtian Prefecture, with little attachment to their ancestral home. When his grandfather passed away a few years back, Meng Jiuyu had returned to pay respects but only stayed for about ten days before hurrying back, attending the funeral, and resuming his duties.
By modern standards, that might seem unfilial—cold and indifferent.
But Meng Jiuyu didn’t see it that way. What use was filial piety? His father was gone. He had been raised by his parents, had never eaten a single grain from the clan—why should he obey the clan? Besides, according to custom, he would have had to observe three years of mourning before returning to office. Did people realize the implications? Even three months of absence could cost him his position.
When Grand Tutor Gan’s mother passed, the entire Gan family wept at the wake, showing the image of a loyal, filial household. But in the end, Gan Tai Shi begged the emperor for leniency, and every member—from the first-rank grand tutor down to the eighth-rank overseer—was spared the mourning period.
…
When the upper ranks are corrupt, the lower follow suit. With the Gan family setting a precedent, no one dared claim Meng Jiuyu was wrong. By comparison, Meng Jiuyu had at least sent his father back to his ancestral land, whereas Old Madam Gan had remained in Yingtian for two years before her grandson finally escorted her home.
Ancient wisdom held that the collapse of ritual and propriety signaled chaos in the realm. It wasn’t quite that far yet, but it conveniently allowed Meng Xizhao some leeway. Even his father’s authority could be flexible when faced with career prospects. So naturally, Meng Xizhao could delay marriage—or not marry at all—and focus solely on his official duties.
At least Meng Jiuyu remained neutral on Meng Xizhao’s unwillingness to marry. His mind was entirely on whether the crown prince’s political prospects were reliable—he had no time to dwell on his son’s marriage.
Father didn’t care. Mother didn’t interfere. Meng Xizhao relaxed and turned to arranging his younger sister’s marriage.
……
The ten-day period had arrived. Xie Yuan arrived early at Bu Xiantian, having been invited by Meng Xizhao. He even changed into formal attire. Seated in the elegant room, his face as flawless as jade and bearing refined, calm manners, he patiently waited for the host, regardless of who else was present.
Xie Yuan thought he had come early enough not to keep Meng Xizhao waiting. But he didn’t realize that just moments before he entered, Meng Xizhao and Meng Jiaojiao had lifted the door curtain—and hadn’t even fully settled in.
Hearing that Xie Yuan had arrived, both were surprised. “Already?!”
The maid who came to report nodded.
Since these two were Li Ping’s own cousins, his presence was naturally expected. Hearing this, Li Ping looked on curiously. “Who arrived so quickly? Xizhao, I thought you were bringing your cousin for a meal. Did you meet someone else as well?”
Meng Xizhao: “……”
He replied vaguely, “Ah, I met a friend.”
Li Ping’s gaze grew even stranger. “You brought your cousin to meet your friend?”
Meng Xizhao: “……”
Don’t look at me like that, as if I were some kind of matchmaker. I’m a good person!
……
Meng Xizhao didn’t want to explain to Li Ping and simply went out to meet Xie Yuan. After he left, Meng Jiaojiao and Li Ping exchanged glances. Meng Jiaojiao smiled. “Big cousin, I heard our second cousin got promoted. Congratulations! When will we call him out? The siblings should celebrate together.”
Mentioning her brother, Li Ping’s expression softened. He smiled as well. “Second brother was promoted to Assistant Minister of the Imperial Stables—a minor seventh-rank post. Nothing much to celebrate. But Xizhao’s cousin, now Prefect of Yingtian Prefecture, his father and grandfather are overjoyed.”
This was true. The heir apparent had always favored his nieces and nephews. The old duke, in his youth, hadn’t been remarkable, but with age, having little to occupy himself, he focused on his children. Besides, Meng Xizhao and his siblings were far better than many reckless youth of other families. Even if Madam Meng visited her maternal home like attending the empress, at least she returned frequently—so the old duke still remembered some old affection for his somewhat inadequate son.
In the original story of the Duke’s household, the ending was grim: the illegitimate son caused trouble, the heir suffered, and the heir’s entire family was exiled to Jiangzhou. The old duke died of anger. His second wife aged ten years overnight. She had no children. Originally, the heir treated her respectfully, at least giving her the courtesy due to a stepmother. But the illegitimate son, gaining power while his mother was still alive, treated her as a thorn in his side.
The illegitimate son inherited the title. Because the Duke’s household had erred, the duke himself was demoted two ranks to county duke. The illegitimate son was thrilled, as even the existence of the heir had previously blocked his gains.
Thus, from the Yue Dynasty onward, the once-honored Li family, glorious for seven generations, fell completely.
Meng Xizhao knew all this but had never warned the Duke of Wu’s household.
The main reason was simple—there was no need. As long as the government functioned smoothly, the heir apparent would remain focused, showing no cracks in his demeanor, and the illegitimate son couldn’t act recklessly to attempt a betrayal. After all, Madam Meng was still around, and he had grown up under her formidable authority—he was thoroughly intimidated by her.
Just as it was now, the illegitimate son behaved obediently in the Duke’s household, concerned only with one thing: hoping the old duke’s health remained strong for a few more years. That way, he could continue to bask in the reflected prestige of being the duke’s son. If the old duke passed and the heir inherited the title, he would be swept aside with his brothers.
The old duke wouldn’t meet the same fate as in the story, dying from sheer anger. Especially after Li Huai began to demonstrate administrative talent, the old duke was delighted. He had assumed none of his grandchildren would be competent—good genes all seemed to have gone with his daughter to the Meng family. Who knew a poor bamboo could produce a mutant shoot?
……
Speaking of Li Huai’s promotion, it owed a lot to Meng Xizhao. When Meng Xizhao had requisitioned artisans from him, they developed black gunpowder. The army’s demand for such materials quickly grew. Coupled with new steel-forging techniques, there was hardly a moment of idleness in the Armaments Bureau. The artisans originally came from Li Huai to Meng Xizhao. When Meng Xizhao returned from the Xiongnu campaign, the emperor recalled them to continue working at the Bureau. Grateful for Meng Xizhao’s favor, and knowing Li Huai was his cousin, they treated him with particular warmth.
Any new invention first passed through his eyes; any problem was brought to him for resolution.
Li Huai felt the same way. Although he wasn’t fond of being so busy, these men had once been his cousin’s subordinates, so he felt obliged to watch over them. Naturally, this mutual support emerged.
……
After some time, Li Huai himself hardly realized that he had become the most capable performer in the Armaments Bureau. By proactively supplying materials to the artisans and facilitating improvements to the cannons, his achievements were reported. Following official protocol, the Ministry of Personnel promoted him to Assistant Minister of the Imperial Stables.
Previously he had been a deputy in the Armaments Bureau; now he was Assistant Minister of the Imperial Stables. The department changed, but the role was similar. In the Bureau, he oversaw the crafted weapons; in the Stables, he oversaw the raised horses.
The Imperial Stables, one of the nine ministries, were responsible for maintaining the emperor’s carriages and mounts. Naturally, the emperor could only use so many, so the Stables also cared for the empresses’, princes’, and high-ranking palace officials’ mounts. Beyond horses, other transport animals—cattle, donkeys, camels, elephants—also fell under their care.
Yes, the Stables had elephants. During Buddhist festivals, they were brought out to awe the crowd.
Li Huai was assigned just as a batch of horses purchased from the Xiongnu was brought in. The finest horses stayed in the Stables, as did top-quality cattle and sheep. Meng Xizhao had secured a great advantage for the empire during negotiations with the Xiongnu, but the Stables staff had never been so busy before.
Among these horses were two “great lords”—sweat-blooded horses. Together with another one sent last year by the Left Wise King of the Xiongnu, there were three. Their conditions in the stables were better than humans’, and they were prone to kicking. One day too hot, another day new feed caused diarrhea. The staff were at a loss—no one could control them, except Li Huai.
Li Huai was a fifth-generation descendant of the great general Li Chuang. Though he had been disliked as a child and indulged in every vice, he had an extraordinary talent for horse care.
From the moment he could walk, he had his own foals. Ordinary people raised horses to ride; he raised them as companions, like pets—checking in, brushing one at random, tending to them.
The sweat-blooded horses became docile under his care, as if they were dolls.
The emperor valued these three horses highly. Occasionally, he would ride them for leisure. Learning of Li Huai’s skill, he was delighted, and it was widely speculated that Li Huai’s next promotion might be to Junior Minister of the Imperial Stables.
……
Since the Meng family and the Duke’s household were closely linked, Meng Jiaojiao was delighted by Li Huai’s success. While chatting with Li Ping, she noticed her maid had returned. She quickly rose, following the maid. Through two curtains, she glimpsed the gentleman speaking with her second brother.
Though partially obscured, his refined, elegant bearing was clear.
Meng Jiaojiao stared, her face gradually flushing.
She couldn’t help it—she simply liked men of this type.
……
Once Meng Xizhao sat, he began discussing the repercussions following the Qiu family’s downfall with Xie Yuan, forgetting entirely about Meng Jiaojiao outside.
After Qiu Suming’s death, the court was on edge for some time, everyone wary of the emperor’s anger. If it had been only the earlier execution, the reaction might not have been so intense—but the subsequent punishment was Lingchi, dismemberment.
From the first year of the Tian Shou reign until now, the emperor personally ordered Lingchi six times. Each time was a display of immense fury, and anyone attempting to intervene would share the misfortune.
For example, the famous General Zhan Shenyou was one of these six.
No matter how dramatic others’ reactions, Meng Xizhao paid them no mind. His concern was for Qiu Suming’s father-in-law, Grand Tutor Gan, and how he fared.
Meng Xizhao rarely entered the palace except for court. Xie Yuan, however, as a secretary at the Central Secretariat, spent every day in the palace and would see both the emperor and Grand Tutor Gan roughly every three days.
Xie Yuan said, “Three days ago, Grand Tutor Gan recovered from his illness. He spent nearly two hours alone with His Majesty, and when he left, the emperor personally escorted him to his carriage.”
Meng Xizhao snorted with amusement. “Incredible. He didn’t even join in the gossip. I thought no matter what, once His Majesty realized Qiu Suming had given him more than what he gave himself, he’d at least throw a dark glance his way.”
Xie Yuan, unlike Meng Xizhao, couldn’t openly speak ill of others. He merely shook his head slowly. “Grand Tutor Gan and His Majesty are not father and son, yet better than father and son. His Majesty’s feelings for Grand Tutor Gan run very deep.”
Meng Xizhao chuckled. “Isn’t it more his feelings for Consort Gan that run deep?”
Xie Yuan fell silent for a moment, offering no rebuttal.
Before Consort Gan appeared, the Tian Shou Emperor and Grand Tutor Gan had already known each other for ten years. Back then, there was no sign of any extraordinary attachment between them.
The mere mention of Consort Gan made Xie Yuan’s chest tighten.
What a formidable woman. While alive, she elevated the Gan family to unparalleled heights; even in death, she continued to lift them.
Qiu Suming was simply unlucky—he was only the son-in-law of Grand Tutor Gan, an outsider by surname. Had he been a Gan, surely he wouldn’t have suffered three thousand six hundred cuts.
Similarly, his wife had been fortunate: singled out, sent back to the Gan household, but not exiled nor made an official courtesan.
But her children did not share her luck; they received their due as usual.
It seemed clear: whether the Tian Shou Emperor forgave someone depended largely on their family name.
Meng Xizhao, noticing Xie Yuan’s expression darken, took another bite of food. After a moment, he shifted the topic, smiling. “Enough of that. On the ninth day of the eighth month, it’s auspicious for moving and starting new projects. Secretary Xie, will you honor my humble residence with your presence for my housewarming?”
Xie Yuan smiled. “For such a joyous occasion, I naturally must attend.”
Meng Xizhao was satisfied with the response. As if remembering something, he added, “If Xie Yun has time, have him come as well. His Highness should attend that day too. You two should catch up after all this time.”
Xie Yuan: “…………”
He thought he had heard the same words over ten years ago, back when his mother was alive. His mother had told his father, “You are fellow disciples, not strangers. I’ll arrange for him to come; you two can talk and bury past grievances.”
The tone and approach were remarkably similar. Xie Yuan’s mind twisted the meaning entirely, failing to realize that Meng Xizhao was merely using the housewarming as an opportunity to ease the tension between him and Xie Yun.
Soon enough, they would be family—double meaning included—and some matters were better addressed sooner than later.
Both Meng Xizhao and Xie Yuan, each with their own thoughts, had eaten their fill and spoken enough. Neither liked wasting time, so they rose and bid farewell.
Being the former employer of Bu Tian, Meng Xizhao walked Xie Yuan out. Xie Yuan thanked him but did not make a fuss.
Yet neither expected that just a few steps outside, a coquettish voice sounded from the corridor behind them:
“Second Brother, are you leaving?”
Xie Yuan paused, turning to see a dazzling, charming young girl blinking at him, her eyes lively, as she glanced toward Meng Xizhao beside him.
Meng Xizhao: “…………”
He froze, shocked, unsure what to say. Meng Jiaojiao’s gaze then shifted fully to Xie Yuan, as if she had only just noticed him. Immediately startled, she lowered her head, a blush spreading across her flawless cheeks.
“I’m sorry, I forgot you had a guest. I—I’ll go back to my room first.”
With that, she shyly retreated to her elegant chamber, deliberately turning her profile so Xie Yuan could see. She stole a bashful, furtive glance at him one more time.
Meng Xizhao in the corridor: “…………”
Li Ping in the chamber: “…………”
Meng Xizhao felt as if he had turned to stone. After a long moment, he cautiously turned his head, only to see Xie Yuan equally flustered, clearly aware of Meng Jiaojiao’s every gesture, likely berating himself for his overactive imagination and the chaotic flailing between waking positions.
Seeing Meng Xizhao’s grim expression, Xie Yuan snapped back to reality.
He dared not linger or speak further, simply bowing and excusing himself, then quickly departing.
Meng Xizhao drew a deep breath.
Back in Li Ping’s room, he felt on the verge of exploding.
“What just happened?! Didn’t I tell you not to go out? Even if you had thoughts, you could tell me—why do such things yourself! You—you’re trying to drive me mad! What young lady behaves like this?!”
If Meng Jiuyu had witnessed this scene, she’d surely have wept tears of joy.
Evil comes to meet evil…
……
Li Ping pressed himself nearly against the wall, eyes wide in terror, realizing that despite knowing Meng Xizhao all his life, he truly did not understand him at all.
So this is how terrifying his second cousin could be when angry!
And seeing Meng Jiaojiao remain perfectly composed, he realized that not only Meng Xizhao, but even this cousin, was utterly unreadable…
Meng Jiaojiao, knowing he would be furious, remained calm. Once Meng Xizhao finished venting, she spoke serenely: “Second Brother, I want to marry him.”
Meng Xizhao: “……Who’s stopping you? Once Father and Mother arrange the match and exchange the engagement letters with his family, you may see him however you wish—I won’t stop you!”
After all, Xie Yuan would never dare cross the boundary, and by then the engagement would already be discussed, leaving no room for gossip.
But now it was different. Meng Jiaojiao’s bold action was too forward. If word got out, people would surely say she was desperate to marry, and worse, even crueler things would follow.
Meng Jiaojiao thought: “He’ll first learn of this from his father. He’s never met me, doesn’t know what I look like. His first thoughts will naturally be about my family background and reputation. Once that impression forms, in his mind I will be nothing special—just a well-born daughter arranged by her family.”
Meng Xizhao froze for a moment, instinctively glancing at Li Ping.
The two of them exchanged the same shocked look: “……”
Meanwhile, Meng Jiaojiao picked up a nearby teacup and continued, “I, Meng Qingshu, am marrying a prince. My future husband must know this. Besides, I was the first to notice him; only because I set my heart on him could he bring me home as his wife. If I hadn’t chosen him, he wouldn’t even have crossed the threshold of my family’s home.”
Meng Xizhao: “…………”
He listened in stunned silence before finally asking, “What are you trying to do?”
Hearing this, Meng Jiaojiao suddenly stood up and gave him a sweet smile. “Second Brother, I want to live a good life. Please don’t tell Mother about this just yet. Wait a while—after Xie Yuan comes to propose—then you can let them know.”
The air was thick with silence. Meng Xizhao and Li Ping exchanged another helpless glance.
Meng Xizhao turned back toward his sister, studying her expression that seemed innocent but carried unmistakable intent. He couldn’t help saying, “Jiaojiao, marriage is no trivial matter, and certainly not something to scheme over. Xie Yuan has no experience in these matters. If, later, after your marriage, he finds out you schemed like this, he will be hurt.”
Meng Jiaojiao, puzzled, asked, “I put so much effort into wanting to marry him—why would he be hurt?”
A good question, even Meng Xizhao didn’t know the answer. For once, he had been stumped.
…
So Meng Jiaojiao’s plan was clear: she wanted to marry Xie Yuan, but she didn’t want him to think marrying her would be easy. She wanted him to go through eighty-one trials, understand how difficult it was to win her hand, cherish her, love her, and be grateful—only then would she happily enter the marriage.
Previously, when dealing with the Fifth Prince, she had never put in this much effort; it was always him approaching her. Clearly, her fondness for Xie Yuan was genuine.
But… was such a deep fondness a little terrifying?
Both Meng Xizhao and Li Ping felt a chill run down their spines. Meng Jiaojiao, mission accomplished, left with her maid, full of determination—she had many tasks ahead.
After a long moment, Meng Xizhao finally recovered. He looked at Li Ping. “Eldest Cousin, about today…”
Li Ping quickly shook his head. “Don’t worry. Jiaojiao is our family’s girl. I won’t tell a soul outside, not even Li Huai, about what happened today.”
Meng Xizhao felt reassured. “Then, on the ninth day, will you and Second Cousin both come?”
Mentioning the ninth day, Li Ping smiled. “Of course. Second Brother even prepared a grand gift for you.”
Meng Xizhao had never been particularly fond of Li Huai, so he merely smirked and didn’t dwell on it.
＊
On the ninth day, Meng Xizhao officially moved into his new residence. Since he was officially the head of the household, he invited only a modest number of guests—peers and friends of his own generation.
Among relatives, only younger members came; among elders, only the heir apparent, lowering himself to attend, congratulated Meng Xizhao briefly, patted his shoulder with words of encouragement, then went on to the government office to visit his mother.
Meng Xizhao’s subordinates were all invited as well.
Jia Renliang, Meng Xizhao’s closest adviser, acted almost like a steward, helping attend to the guests. Jin Zhu and Yin Liu managed the household’s internal affairs meticulously. Seeing Meng Xizhao with such capable and beautiful maids, others couldn’t help but envy—and gossip.
Could such capable and lovely maids really be just servants?
While people speculated, the Crown Prince’s carriage arrived.
Unlike the last time he appeared unexpectedly at Meng Xizhao’s wedding, this time no one was particularly surprised. Everyone rose to bow, then awkwardly stepped aside to continue their own conversations.
Some tried to exchange pleasantries with the Crown Prince, now a far more formidable figure than the pitiful prince he once was. Rumor had it his ties with the Right Chancellor were excellent!
But when Yan Shunying smiled at him during their meeting, she couldn’t help feeling: “All year long, it seems someone is always trying to bring me misfortune. Why must I be the unlucky one every time?”
Meng Xizhao: a literary leader, top of the court factions—if he doesn’t ride your wave, he rides someone else’s.
…
The Crown Prince brought a gift: a Sichuan-embroidered carpet large enough to cover an entire bedroom. With recent wars, Sichuan embroidery had surged in value. Such a massive piece would take at least a hundred embroiderers two years to complete.
Truly extravagant.
Everyone expressed envy, jealousy, and admiration.
Li Huai felt particularly frustrated.
He had also brought a carpet, appropriate for a housewarming. His gift was a patchwork animal-skin carpet, purchased from the Jurchens. Though they couldn’t speak refined language, their craftsmanship was impeccable, and the price was nothing short of extravagant.
He had spent a fortune to obtain it, yet Meng Xizhao, upon seeing it, frowned.
Understandable—at heart, he was still a modern-minded person with a touch of animal-protectionism. He found killing animals for warmth and survival acceptable, but turning them into a carpet… well…
Still, recognizing Li Huai’s intent, Meng Xizhao politely thanked him.
With the Crown Prince present, Meng Xizhao could focus solely on him. Entering his new bedroom, observing the surroundings, Cui Ye smiled. “So Second Brother will be sleeping here from now on?”
Meng Xizhao blinked. “For the next few years, certainly.”
Cui Ye asked, “And my place?”
Meng Xizhao smiled faintly. “If I’m pleased, your place is on the bed. If I’m not, your place is on that couch in the corner.”
Cui Ye glanced at the imperial concubine’s couch without comment, then pulled Meng Xizhao along to test the new bed.
……
Outside, Meng Xiang occasionally glanced toward the backyard. Seeing the Crown Prince’s guards stationed at the gate, he still felt uneasy.
So many people—aren’t you afraid of being discovered?
Li Huai noticed him sitting alone and walked over, joining him. “Cousin Xiang, what do you think Junior Cousin was thinking? He’s passing up prime land to build his residence here. Just a few steps more, and he’d be at Qinglong Gate. It’s not convenient for attending court either.”
Meng Xiang said, “Second Brother said he built here so the residence could be larger. In a prime location, he couldn’t move freely.”
Li Huai: “…………”
He felt much the same as Meng Xiang. Since he wasn’t married and was the only master here, what did he have to keep him from moving?
Li Huai still thought the location was less than ideal. “It’s big, yes, but the feng shui is poor. Look at the neighbors—none of them prospered.”
Since taking office, Li Huai had frequent dealings with the Privy Council and the Ministry of War, and knew many military generals. Meng Xiang’s understanding of such matters was truly limited.
He asked curiously, “Except for the house to the east, the others seem empty.”
Li Huai nodded. “Exactly, empty. Look at the house to the west—Commander Ouyang used to live there. When His Majesty personally campaigned against the Xiongnu, he went along. But he failed to protect the emperor and the entire family was executed.”
Meng Xiang: “……”
Li Huai continued, “The southern house belonged to General Qu’s family. After he passed, his eldest son, Junior General Qu, lived there. Ten years ago, he went on a campaign with the Senior General. Due to a navigational mistake, the army was trapped in the snow, nearly annihilated. Junior General Qu was hanged upon returning; the rest of the family was exiled to Qinzhou.”
Meng Xiang: “……”
Li Huai went on, “The northern house belonged to General Ping. Nothing happened while he lived there, but when the family took up a post in Mingzhou, they colluded with Japanese pirates. When His Majesty learned of it, he didn’t even bother recalling them for trial—he had the entire family executed on the spot.”
Meng Xiang: “…………”
Seeing Li Huai ready to continue recounting distant neighbors, Meng Xiang hurriedly interrupted. “Alright, alright, I get it. Clearly, the place is somewhat inauspicious.”
Li Huai shrugged. “But the land in Yingtian Prefecture is limited—where hasn’t misfortune happened? Even our Privy Council belonged to a former prime minister, and his end wasn’t any better than these cases.”
In chaotic times, life was fragile, whether of ordinary people or high officials.
Realizing this, Li Huai stopped pressing the point.
＊
At Meng Xizhao’s residence, it was lively and festive. In contrast, the Grand Tutor’s mansion was silent, almost abandoned.
Qiu Sumin was dead, and Grand Tutor Gan had lost an arm. The gaping wound still trickled blood.
With Qiu Sumin gone, those who were previously close to Grand Tutor Gan began murmuring. They feared the emperor would show no leniency, and that Gan would share the misfortune.
Although Grand Tutor Gan’s power had cleared the misunderstanding, he remained furious—exceptionally furious.
His most capable son-in-law… gone just like that!
The Gan family had heavy expenditures; hosting and gifting cost money. At their status, maintaining face meant daily expenses ran like a river, countless silver coins disappearing with every breath.
Previously, thanks to Qiu Sumin’s filial contributions, Grand Tutor Gan never minded. But now, with Qiu Sumin dead and his estate confiscated, leaving only a tearful, aging daughter, how could the Gan sons act? How could they repair the gap left behind?
Most of the Gan family remained in posts at Yingtian Prefecture; only a few were sent elsewhere. Those sent out could still earn money; those left behind could not. The emperor, along with Right and Left Chancellors Meng Jiuyu, kept a watchful eye. Even His Majesty’s respect couldn’t protect them from daily scrutiny.
Moreover, Grand Tutor Gan sought the Gan family’s long-term prosperity, not temporary glory. After he was gone, the family’s influence would diminish. When Emperor Tianshou passed, the Gan family’s advantage would rest solely on the Sixth Prince.
The Sixth Prince treated his maternal grandfather fairly but showed little regard for other Gan members. Therefore, the family restrained greed, avoiding any exposure that outsiders could exploit.
Yet… under current circumstances, Gan’s rules might be broken.
There wasn’t enough money.
…
Grand Tutor Gan’s mood was poor, though not desperate. A dying camel is bigger than a horse. The Gan family hadn’t yet shrunk; at most, their full measure had reduced to eight-tenths.
But this didn’t prevent him from holding a grudge against the Meng family. He didn’t know Meng Xizhao had actually caused Qiu Sumin’s death, yet he knew the Meng family had played a significant part.
A nest of rascals!
Gan’s claw-like hands trembled as he asked his aides if there were any new developments in the Meng family. Upon learning that Meng Xizhao had moved into his new residence and was receiving congratulatory visitors, Grand Tutor Gan trembled with anger.
His own family had lost a relative, leaving the entire household in shock, and yet the Meng family was hosting a housewarming!
Listen: the Crown Prince, Xie Yuan, Zhan Buxiu, Li Ping, Li Huai… all present!
Suddenly, Gan turned to Li Huai. “Li Huai—is he the one the emperor mentioned, skilled in horse care at the Court of the Grand Equerry?”
“Yes, Grand Tutor. You remembered! He’s Madam Meng’s nephew.”
For some reason, Gan’s anger shifted to delight, and he let out an ambiguous chuckle.
Blood debts must be repaid. The Meng family is unscrupulous; then he would be merciless.
Thinking of his plan, Grand Tutor Gan recalled Li Huai’s earlier words.
Click—his face darkened again. “What do you mean ‘you remembered’? My memory is excellent, better than yours!”
“……”
“Yes, yes, I’m to blame. I beg Grand Tutor for forgiveness.”
Wiping the sweat from his brow, he muttered in his heart: the Grand Tutor is getting harder and harder to serve. It takes him half a day to react, and yet he feels the need to assert himself. Honestly, he’s just old—slowing down in every way. Why not just admit it?