Now Cui Ye understood why they had to sneak in.
The left and right sides of the entrance were filled with people watching the excitement, while the main gate was blocked by a crowd of disgruntled grown men, glaring fiercely at everyone who managed to enter Buxuntian. If someone tried to slip in during the chaos, they would probably jump up even faster than the actual guards.
So Meng Xizhao led Cui Ye around in a detour, entering through an alley on the eastern side. As they walked, Meng Xizhao explained,
“I’ve already had people buy up the land on both sides here. The entrance is guarded, so ordinary people absolutely cannot get in.”
The alley was short. After only a few steps they reached the eastern gate.
Compared to the grand and imposing main entrance, this gate was not quite as tall, but the materials were even more luxurious. It was carved entirely from purple sandalwood. The fine details were inlaid with gold and traced with silver, and on the two door panels were carvings of Fuxi and Nuwa.
Ahem—important point: Fuxi and Nuwa, both with human heads and serpent bodies.
Cui Ye quietly examined the door. Meng Xizhao seemed not to notice his pause and continued his enthusiastic explanation.
“This gate lies to the east, symbolizing the arrival of auspicious purple energy from the east. Of course, I’m not very cultured myself. I know this is just a bit of opportunistic symbolism—but it’s for good fortune, after all. Harmless enough, don’t you think, Your Highness?”
Cui Ye thought: You are not seeking good fortune. You are seeking to flatter.
Smiling faintly, Cui Ye nodded without offering his own opinion. He simply stepped over the threshold and entered Buxuntian.
If one entered from the main gate, one had to register first, then pass through the main hall before reaching the stairs. From the street outside, the situation inside the hall could be seen clearly. The decoration was luxurious yet elegant, the colors pleasing to the eye—and the beauties even more so.
But the first floor actually had very little in it. It simply looked impressive. A few tables for playing chess were set out, and several beautiful women dressed in somewhat suggestive clothing sat nearby playing zithers for their own amusement. Like the other beauties, they ignored everyone completely.
However, entering from the eastern gate meant bypassing the main hall entirely and going straight upstairs.
Inside Buxuntian there were two staircases, one on the left and one on the right. They were not blocked off. Instead, irregularly shaped pearls had been strung together into hanging curtains along the railings. Lamps were placed at intervals beside them, all lit whether day or night.
At first glance, it seemed merely decorative.
But as Cui Ye walked through them himself, he discovered their clever use.
Pearls reflected light. That alone made the interior of the staircase appear hazy and indistinct. With the added glow of the lamps, it became even harder to see clearly what was happening within.
Nothing was actually covered, yet privacy was still protected.
For those guests who cared about their reputation, it was extremely considerate.
The second floor was the “art district”—Meng Xizhao’s term for it.
The entire floor had been opened up, without a single wall. It was only divided into sections.
Area One was the Plum, Orchid, Bamboo, and Chrysanthemum section. Soft cushions were placed on the ground, and beside them were long Han Dynasty–style tables. On top were brush, ink, paper, and inkstone, as well as pastries and tea.
Every decorative item had been specially commissioned. Each one was painted with exquisitely detailed images of the Four Gentlemen—plum, orchid, bamboo, and chrysanthemum—making people want to own them the moment they saw them.
Several of the people who had just entered were already seated here, waving their brushes across the paper. It was as if they themselves had become Confucian scholars from the Han Dynasty hundreds of years ago. The feeling was indescribably satisfying.
Some were pleased.
Others were rather picky.
One man looked displeased and said to the maid attending nearby, “It would be even better if there were bamboo slips.”
The maid bowed in the formal Han style.
“Reporting to the young master, bamboo slips are indeed available. One set of bamboo slips costs five taels of silver.”
Cui Ye: “……”
The man was stunned.
“Didn’t you say that enjoying music and entertainment here would be completely free?!”
The maid replied, “It is free. But these bamboo slips were carefully cultivated for two full years using the soil and water of Zijin Mountain in the southern suburbs. Generations of professional bamboo selectors examined them meticulously, choosing only those worthy of being rated top-grade. They were then sent to a specialized estate that prepares bamboo slips. After forty-nine days—seven sevens, a perfect cycle—these superior pieces were finally produced. You will know once you see them. The slips carry a subtle fragrance, and writing on them brings a sense of Zen. And once you finish writing, if you permit it, we will hang your bamboo slips on the wall for other distinguished guests to appreciate.”
The man was already immersed in what felt like a Han Dynasty literary renaissance. His heart had been itching to try. Hearing the maid’s explanation, five taels of silver suddenly did not sound expensive at all.
“Bring me one set!” he immediately called.
The maid answered with a cheerful “Yes,” and went off to fetch the bamboo slips.
Curious, Cui Ye also asked Meng Xizhao to get him a set. When the slips arrived, he examined them from every angle but could not see anything particularly special about them.
He leaned closer and sniffed.
There really was a fragrance.
Still, he did not believe the process could truly be that complicated. Two full years? Two years ago, Meng Xizhao still froze in place whenever he saw a beautiful woman. How could he possibly have prepared bamboo slips that far in advance?
So he asked Meng Xizhao beside him, “Where does this scent come from?”
Meng Xizhao blinked and answered honestly.
“After finishing the door panels, there were quite a few leftover scraps of purple sandalwood. I sealed them together with the bamboo slips for a few days.”
Cui Ye: “…Then won’t the fragrance fade very quickly?”
Meng Xizhao smiled. “It will not. At the very least, it will last more than three days.”
This was top-grade purple sandalwood. If stored properly, its fragrance could linger for a hundred years. Natural scents like this were notoriously hard to remove. The effect was far better than any luxury perfume from later generations.
Cui Ye said, “But no matter how long it lasts, one day the fragrance will fade. When that happens, are you not afraid he will come back asking for a refund?”
Meng Xizhao shook his head. “Not at all. He will not take the bamboo slips with him.”
Who would spend five taels of silver just to buy a few strips of bamboo? Earlier, the man had listened to the entire speech and hesitated the whole time. Only the final sentence—that his work could be displayed on the wall—had truly tempted him. So he would definitely leave the bamboo slips behind.
When night came and everyone had left, Meng Xizhao would simply send someone over and rub the slips again with those leftover sandalwood scraps.
Then the fragrance would be refreshed.
Cui Ye: “……”
You really are a remarkable talent.
Shaking his head, Cui Ye walked forward and arrived at the second area—the handicraft section.
Four linen mats were laid out there. On each mat was a rotating tray, and on the tray sat a lump of sticky, grayish clay.
The renowned courtesan leader, Sang Fanyu, was wearing a modified apron-style beizi provided by Buxuntian and playing with the clay with great enthusiasm.
Cui Ye: “……”
He stared in astonishment at the tray and realized that it could spin. Two maids beside Sang Fanyu were assisting her—one turned the tray while Sang Fanyu attempted to shape the clay into an unfired ceramic form.
As a celebrated talented woman, Sang Fanyu actually possessed some skill with handicrafts. Gradually, a narrow-necked plum vase began to take shape.
The maids beside her showered her with endless praise.
“Lady Sang is amazing!”
“Your first attempt looks this beautiful—truly worthy of Lady Sang!”
“So elegant—truly elegant! Lady Sang is truly an extraordinary woman!”
The more she listened, the more delighted she became. Once the raw clay form was finished, Sang Fanyu immediately ordered,
“Bring me brush and ink!”
One maid hesitated. “Lady Sang, ink suitable for firing in the kiln… requires payment…”
“Charge it if you must,” Sang Fanyu replied. “Do you think I cannot afford it? Hurry! If you do not bring it now, I fear it will collapse.”
…
On the other side of the handicraft area was the tea-tasting section.
Unlike outside establishments, all the tea masters here were women. They displayed their tea-brewing artistry in front while the guests sat across from them.
When the tea was ready, however, the tea master did not immediately serve it. Instead, she asked a question.
“What is bitter tea?”
“What is pure tea?”
“What is the finest of fine teas?”
Only if the guest answered her question would she present the tea.
Guests could also ask her questions in return. If she failed to answer, the tea master would smile charmingly. Her slender hand would move slowly toward her robes and then…
…draw out a voucher.
“Your talent overwhelms me, my lord. I have no strength to resist. I can only offer this humble token to express my admiration.”
The guest would feel as if he were floating on air.
To make a cultured and graceful woman admit defeat before him—how glorious!
He accepted the voucher and read its contents.
—With this voucher, you may receive one plate of matcha cheesecake when dining on the third floor. Usable three times within one month.
……
For the first time ever, a visit to spend money on Baihua Street had actually earned him a free dish.
The guest immediately stood up and went happily to eat.
Cui Ye did not understand.
“What is matcha?”
Meng Xizhao replied, “A snack long lost to time. It was very popular among the scholar-officials during the Wei and Jin dynasties.”
Cui Ye became interested. The two of them went up to the third floor.
The third floor consisted entirely of private dining rooms. Meng Xizhao had reserved one for himself—not large, not small, but perfectly suited to his taste.
Once they entered, Meng Xizhao did not even need to order. Jin Zhu directly instructed the kitchen to prepare one serving of every signature dish.
Meng Xizhao was not a trained chef. He could not cook at all. At most he could suggest a name and let his staff figure out the rest. Thus the dishes here were still the most common cuisine of Great Qi. He had simply hired several well-known chefs—enough to support the kitchen. There was no need to innovate in that area as well.
Besides, modern dishes might not suit ancient stomachs anyway.
After tasting just one bite of the so-called matcha cheesecake, Cui Ye frowned.
“The texture is rather strange.”
“Then Your Highness should try something else,” Meng Xizhao said.
The two of them continued eating, exchanging bites with their chopsticks. After a few mouthfuls, Cui Ye asked,
“What are the fourth and fifth floors?”
“The fourth floor is for listening to music,” Meng Xizhao replied. “The fifth floor is not open to the public for now.”
“Why not?”
Meng Xizhao answered, “It will open when the most distinguished guest arrives.”
Cui Ye looked at him. Then, suddenly, he smiled.
“You truly treat me without the slightest formality.”
Meng Xizhao pressed his lips together and smiled.
“If I had met Your Highness in the palace, even with a hundred times the courage I would not dare behave so boldly before you. But our first impression of each other was already like this, so why bother hiding it now? Besides, Your Highness is benevolent and did not hold my earlier offense against me. I should return the kindness.”
Only after learning that Cui Ye was the Crown Prince did Meng Xizhao understand why he had looked so weak that day.
He had most likely slipped out of the palace to look for an antidote.
Cui Ye’s position as Crown Prince was extremely complicated. In short, he had been poisoned, and the poison was very difficult to cure. In the original story, every single member of the Cui imperial clan was eventually killed by Zhan Buxiu after he completely descended into darkness.
Except for Cui Ye.
He walked calmly out of the Eastern Palace, openly revealed his identity on the spot, and even bowed his head in submission to Zhan Buxiu.
Without the antidote, he would only have a few years left to live. And the miserable state he was in was entirely the result of his own father’s cruelty. Zhan Buxiu, whose entire family had also been destroyed by the emperor, felt a strange sense of shared misfortune. He kept Cui Ye at his side as an advisor.
Despite being the former Crown Prince, Cui Ye bore Zhan Buxiu no hatred at all. On the contrary, he served him wholeheartedly.
When Zhan Buxiu first seized the imperial palace, the world could hardly be described as merely miserable—it was closer to a living hell. The country was on the brink of collapse, and foreign nations watched like predators. The territory of Great Qi had never been large to begin with, and during the four years of internal chaos, neighboring states had bled away nearly one-third of its land.
It was Cui Ye who proposed the policy of recuperation and recovery. It was also Cui Ye who later seized the right moment and advised launching wars against other countries.
Eventually most of the lost territory was recovered, and the situation steadily improved.
Then Cui Ye died.
That was how the book described it. It even said that Zhan Buxiu looked grave as he ordered a burial befitting a Crown Prince. But there was a small hint in the text: when the eunuchs lifted the coffin, it felt suspiciously light. However, with Zhan Buxiu standing nearby watching, none of them dared to speak, and the coffin was simply placed into the tomb.
Meng Xizhao: Highly suspicious that Cui Ye faked his death. Once he saw there was nothing left for him to do here, he probably ran off to live freely somewhere.
So setting aside the current external circumstances, Meng Xizhao actually had a very good impression of Crown Prince Cui Ye.
He thought Cui Ye was someone with vision, capability, and an extraordinarily strong mind.
If possible, he wanted to help him.
And by doing so, help himself as well.
Cui Ye looked at him but said nothing.
Being stared at by those dark, heavy eyes—it would be a lie to say it was not frightening. But Meng Xizhao held his ground, returning the gaze with clear, steady eyes.
After several breaths, Cui Ye finally spoke.
“I heard that when you were young, a monk once foretold your fate—that you would die early.”
Meng Xizhao: “……”
You really do not know how to make conversation.
After a moment of silence, he replied, “I do not believe in gods or buddhas.”
Cui Ye curled his lips into a faint smile. “What a coincidence. Neither do I.”
Meng Xizhao laughed. Picking up the wine pot on the table, he attentively refilled Cui Ye’s cup.
“If there truly were a compassionate Buddha in this world, then stories of parents forced to exchange children and eat them would belong in hell, not in reality. That alone proves there are no gods. And even if there were, they would not concern themselves with what happens on earth. So in the end, everything depends on us.”
Cui Ye stared at the clear liquid in his cup. After a brief pause, he lifted it and drank it in one swallow.
“There is still time. Once we finish eating, Second Brother should accompany me upstairs to listen to some music.”
The fourth floor belonged entirely to the singing troupe Meng Xizhao had obtained for free. Some performed solo, others sang in groups.
Because Cui Ye was the guest tonight, Meng Xizhao simply waved his hand and had everyone come out at once.
No gradual buildup—he went straight for the ultimate move: a full chorus.
But not all choruses were the same.
A typical school choir might sound decent but hardly impressive, often giving the illusion that a chorus is inferior to a solo performance. However, anyone who has heard a choir trained at a top conservatory would know the difference immediately.
Every person in the audience would find themselves unconsciously leaning forward, listening in a daze.
Even grown men would feel as if their ears had become pregnant.
Meng Xizhao had even arranged things cunningly: a small girl stood at the very front as the lead. Her pure, innocent child’s voice sang a few opening lines alone. Then the singers behind her joined in, one after another, their voices rising and intertwining.
A love song that seemed to express heartfelt emotions, create miracles, and bring tears all at once.
Even someone like Cui Ye—“whose heart was as cold as his wallet”—found himself stunned, his emotions rising and falling with the music.
After the choir withdrew, Cui Ye took a moment to steady himself. Then he looked at Meng Xizhao with a complicated expression.
“My father would like this place very much.”
Meng Xizhao smiled faintly. “That would be wonderful.”
That night, Cui Ye returned to the palace.
The imperial palace had been built by the Yue dynasty’s royal family. The Eastern Palace where he lived was vast and empty, with only one true resident—himself.
Cui Ye sat in his study and read for a while. Suddenly he lifted his head and called Yu Fulan over.
After giving several instructions, Yu Fulan looked utterly shocked, but he still went to carry them out.
Once the arrangements were made, Yu Fulan remained completely baffled.
He knew that the Crown Prince and the Emperor were like fire and water.
But no matter what, His Highness surely would not go so far as to lure the Emperor into visiting a brothel!
After all, he was the Emperor. Even if his reputation took a slight hit, it would not truly harm him.
So why on earth would the Crown Prince do this?