When he woke the first time, Meng Xizhao was not in good spirits, so he quickly fell asleep again. It was only when he woke the second time that he had fully recovered.
Opening his eyes, he saw the same unfamiliar room. No one was in sight. Directly ahead stood a round table made of jujube wood, and on it rested a small teapot.
Meng Xizhao blinked a few times. Out of habit, he raised his hand to scratch his head—only to realize that he was still clutching something.
It felt a little soft, a little warm… and somewhat familiar.
Meng Xizhao lowered his gaze to take a look.
When he saw that distinct hand—long fingers, visible blue veins, the bones clearly defined—held tightly in his own palm like a small toy, his scalp instantly began to tingle again.
He kept his head lowered for quite a while before finally deciding to face reality.
When he lifted his eyes, he saw the Crown Prince sitting beside the bed, leaning against the headboard. His other free hand rested casually before him as he watched Meng Xizhao’s various small movements without blinking.
Meng Xizhao: “……”
Cui Ye looked at him and gave him no chance to pretend ignorance.
“Do you want water this time?”
Meng Xizhao hesitated. “…Yes.”
Hearing that, Cui Ye stood up and smoothly withdrew his hand. But he did not immediately pour water for Meng Xizhao. Instead, he bent down and tucked the quilt more securely around him, making sure no draft could slip in. Only then did Cui Ye turn around.
He lifted the teapot first and checked it, discovering the tea inside had already gone cold. Not a trace of warmth remained. He walked to the door, opened a narrow crack, and said something quietly to the people outside. Soon, a new tray was passed in.
Meng Xizhao watched all of this unfold with such smooth efficiency that he was stunned. Only when Cui Ye handed him a cup suitable for drinking did Meng Xizhao snap out of it.
He quickly sat up, took the cup, and began sipping the water in small mouthfuls.
When he had fallen into the river, he remembered instinctively clamping his mouth shut, so he probably had not choked on water. But afterward he had lost awareness—who knew whether he had accidentally swallowed a few mouthfuls and been pressed belly-up like a floating whale.
His throat felt as dry as though it had gone days without water. So although he drank slowly, the cup of hot water was soon empty.
Holding the cup, he looked at Cui Ye expectantly, hoping he would pour another.
…The change from his earlier panic to this boldness was rather swift.
Cui Ye seemed able to tell what he wanted. Sitting down beside him again, he said, “Wait a moment. After you drink your medicine, you can have more.”
Meng Xizhao had already been disappointed. Hearing this, he was even more surprised.
“Why do I need medicine? I feel perfectly fine.”
Cui Ye took the cup from his hand. “The physician prescribed a calming decoction. He said you should drink a few doses—to settle your nerves.”
Meng Xizhao: “…………”
He looked a little uncomfortable. “I don’t know what was wrong with me today. Ever since I got on that boat, I felt uneasy. And then…”
Suddenly he remembered something.
“Your Highness, why are you here? Did you hear about what happened too? Don’t tell me the whole of Yingtian Prefecture already knows about it!”
Good heavens… his reputation was already terrible enough. He was one of the topics people in Yingtian chatted about after meals. Now he was not just a topic anymore—he was a source of amusement.
Seeing the anxious look on his face, Cui Ye curved his lips slightly.
“Don’t worry. There was a tea stall blocking the view where you fell in. Not many people saw it. The clinic was nearby, and after leaving there, Xie Yun brought you here. At least today’s incident will not spread.”
As for tomorrow or the day after—he could not promise anything.
Hearing that, Meng Xizhao suddenly thought of another question.
“Where is this place?”
Cui Ye replied, “My private residence.”
Meng Xizhao froze. “What time is it now?”
Cui Ye said, “Just past the third watch.”
Meng Xizhao hesitated. “…Then my parents—haven’t they been looking for me?”
Cui Ye looked at him and smiled faintly. “Someone has already been sent to inform them. They were told that today you felt lazy and did not want to return home, so you are staying at Bu Xun Tian for the night. You will go back tomorrow morning.”
Meng Xizhao: “…………”
Cui Ye had arranged everything so thoroughly that Meng Xizhao still had many questions—but for a moment he did not know which one to ask first.
After a while, he finally spoke again.
“What is Xie Yun to you, Your Highness?”
The two of them looked at each other. After several breaths passed, Cui Ye answered, “He is my mother the Empress’s nephew.”
Meng Xizhao silently calculated the relationship.
“So he’s your cousin?”
Cui Ye pressed his lips together, looking as though he did not particularly want to acknowledge that relative. But he did not deny it either, which was as good as admitting it.
Meng Xizhao felt somewhat surprised.
During this time, he had mostly been paying attention to Xie Yuan, the elder brother who had passed the imperial examination. He had hardly paid attention to the younger brother who frequented Hundred Flowers Street. Xie Yun looked neither like Xie Yuan nor like Cui Ye, which was why Meng Xizhao had failed to recognize him.
Then again… if the elder brother was a dragon among men, the younger brother would hardly be mediocre.
After turning these thoughts over in his mind, Meng Xizhao could not help lifting his eyes to look at the Crown Prince.
There was a great deal contained in that gaze.
Cui Ye met his eyes and could roughly guess what he was thinking.
Xie Yun was sent by you, wasn’t he?
You don’t trust me, so you had him test me, right?
The moment I stepped onto that boat today, I felt ill—did you have Xie Yun arrange something there?
Lu Xun once said that he had never hesitated to speculate about his countrymen with the greatest possible malice. As for Cui Ye—he had never hesitated to speculate about himself with the greatest possible malice.
Anything connected to him—bad things were bad, good things were bad, and even neutral things would eventually become bad.
Lowering his eyes, Cui Ye even began thinking quietly to himself.
Meng Xizhao was clever. He would never say such suspicions directly to his face. At most, he would slowly distance himself in the future.
And he would do it gradually, flawlessly—so that Cui Ye would never realize he had already begun to harbor such thoughts.
The calmer and more unreadable Cui Ye’s expression became, the more sympathy appeared in Meng Xizhao’s eyes.
Hmm?
Sympathy?
Cui Ye paused in surprise. Just then, Meng Xizhao sighed and, with a particularly empathetic air, patted Cui Ye on the knee.
“Believe me, Your Highness, I understand you. I also have a cousin like that who’s always causing trouble for me.”
Cui Ye: “…………”
Meng Xizhao actually had a pretty good impression of the Xie family. Now that he knew Xie Yun hadn’t come to oppose him, Meng Xizhao felt relieved. And once he relaxed, he rubbed his stomach.
“Your Highness, is there any late-night food?”
Cui Ye looked at him silently, then turned and ordered the kitchen to bring food.
The dishes arrived together with the medicine. By then, Meng Xizhao had already gotten out of bed. His original clothes had been completely soaked, so he had changed into a new set at the medical hall. Sitting by the round table, he first picked up the bowl of medicine and frowned at the dark, murky liquid inside. Then he shut his eyes and downed it in one gulp.
After finishing the medicine, the bitterness made his entire face twist out of shape. At that moment, a square piece of crisp sugar was offered in front of him.
Meng Xizhao hurriedly took it and popped it into his mouth, speaking unclearly at the same time.
“Thank you, Your Highness.”
Crunch crunch—the candy shattered between his teeth. The sweetness chased away the bitterness. Only then did he properly savor the sugar. After finishing it, he eagerly picked up his chopsticks and filled his stomach halfway. Only then did he remember the Crown Prince sitting across from him.
“Your Highness, aren’t you eating?”
Cui Ye replied, “I’m not hungry.”
Meng Xizhao grinned. “Even if you’re not hungry, you can still eat a little. Late-night snacks make people happy.”
Cui Ye chuckled slightly at that. “And what kind of logic is that?”
Meng Xizhao did not actually know. “Food and desire are part of human nature. Even the sages said so, so it must be a good principle.”
As he spoke, he glanced around the room, then toward the door in the distance. Ever since he woke up, he had not seen anyone else. Even these things had been handed through the door to the Crown Prince, who then personally brought them to the table.
He did not think much of it—who knew whether this was some unique rule of the Crown Prince. What he cared about was the people around him.
“Your Highness, where did my attendant go?”
Cui Ye also glanced at the door. “I had him go rest first.”
Meng Xizhao gave an “oh,” then asked again, “Who pulled me out of the river? It definitely wasn’t my attendant. He’s as skinny as a monkey—no way he has that kind of strength.”
Cui Ye had been about to pick up the other pair of chopsticks on the table, just as Meng Xizhao suggested, to eat a little with him. Hearing that, he suddenly paused.
“I thought you believed it was me who saved you.”
Meng Xizhao looked up and realized Cui Ye was not joking. He could not help laughing.
“Your Highness, I’m not that muddleheaded.”
Cui Ye frowned, not understanding what he meant.
Meng Xizhao said, “How could a dignified Crown Prince jump into the water on the street to save someone? Even if you were there at the time, you should have ordered a guard to go down and rescue me.”
Otherwise, if the Crown Prince climbed out of the river drenched while carrying someone in his arms—even if Meng Xizhao survived—the Emperor Tian Shou would probably wish he were dead. The emperor might not like the Crown Prince, but if the Crown Prince embarrassed himself, it would also embarrass him.
Cui Ye’s frown deepened. “Then why did you—”
Meng Xizhao looked at him in confusion. Cui Ye paused, and the latter half of his words—“feel so relieved when you saw me, and even reach out to grab my hand”—were swallowed back down.
After a moment, Cui Ye changed what he was going to say.
“The Crown Prince can do it too.”
Meng Xizhao blinked.
Cui Ye spoke very seriously. “The Crown Prince would save you too.”
For a moment, Meng Xizhao said nothing. After a long while, he smiled faintly.
“Thank you, Your Highness.”
“Then does Your Highness know who saved me today? I should prepare a gift to thank him.”
Cui Ye shook his head. “I did not see the person. I only heard that it was a young soldier. When he heard you were fine, he left.”
Meng Xizhao paused for a moment.
“Oh.”
Then he lowered his head and continued eating.
After eating and resting for a while, the calming soup seemed to be taking effect. Meng Xizhao’s head kept nodding drowsily. Cui Ye told him to go back and sleep, saying he would leave someone here and have him woken up early the next morning.
Hearing that he intended to leave, Meng Xizhao quickly asked where he planned to go since the palace gates were already closed.
Cui Ye smiled at him and told him not to worry about such things.
After watching Meng Xizhao fall asleep again, Cui Ye finally stood up, lowered the bed curtains, then turned and left the room.
Outside, Yu Fulan was standing guard. When he saw Cui Ye come out, he immediately stepped forward, but Cui Ye did not even look at him and simply walked past.
Qingfu was staying in another small room—not resting, just staying there. At first he had refused to leave no matter what, but after learning that Cui Ye was the Crown Prince, he had stared in shock for quite a while. After that, he no longer dared to disobey and left reluctantly, turning his head back every few steps.
As for Xie Yun, he was being watched by Zhang Shuogong and was currently kneeling in the main hall.
He had been kneeling there for exactly as long as Cui Ye had been inside.
While Cui Ye and Meng Xizhao were eating, drinking, and chatting inside, he had been enduring both mental and physical torment here.
Xie Yun was not like his older brother.
Xie Yuan, because of his outstanding scholarship, was highly valued by Xie You. When letters were sent to the Eastern Palace, he usually wrote them together with Xie You, or they alternated writing them. So even though he had never met the Crown Prince in person, Xie Yuan still felt a deep affection for him. In his mind, blood was thicker than water—even if the Crown Prince were a stranger he had never seen, he would still be willing to brave fire and water for him.
But Xie Yun did not possess that kind of awareness.
He cared about the Crown Prince only because his father and older brother cared about him. But if you asked whether he truly respected or pitied the Crown Prince, that was completely nonexistent.
That was why he often refused to follow the usual path. Even though the Crown Prince had already made it clear that he did not want to meet members of the Xie family, Xie Yun still tried again and again to see him with his own eyes. That was how Yu Fulan ended up teaching him a lesson.
After kneeling for nearly five hours, the resentment in Xie Yun’s heart had grown from a tiny spark into something as big as a balloon.
Even after a decade of curiosity about the Crown Prince, he felt no joy at all when the prince finally stood before him.
He knelt straight on the ground. Even with shadows cast over him, he kept his head lowered, staring at the floor tiles with a look of defiance.
Zhang Shuogong, standing nearby with his hand knife in hand, thought to himself that this Xie Erlang was truly reckless to the point of courting death.
Cui Ye lowered his gaze, looking at this cousin who had only existed in rumors until now. “Tell me—what exactly were you planning by seeking out Meng Xizhao today?”
Xie Yun kept his head bowed and remained silent.
“You were trying to extract information from him, weren’t you?”
Xie Yun’s eyes darted to the right, toward the room where Meng Xizhao was staying. I knew it—they’re all pretending. He heard everything, but acts as if he didn’t! he thought.
Even asleep, carrying such a burden made Meng Xizhao turn uneasily in bed.
…
Xie Yun still did not speak. Cui Ye looked at him and suddenly let out a laugh.
Hearing the laugh, Xie Yun instinctively raised his head. He was momentarily stunned when he saw that Cui Ye’s features bore some resemblance to Xie Yuan, his older brother. Then, seeing the sharp focus in Cui Ye’s gaze, he stiffened again.
Cui Ye’s smile was captivating, yet his eyes held no warmth at all. It was like being pricked by thorns on one’s back—Xie Yun experienced the meaning of this expression firsthand today.
Cui Ye stepped forward suddenly, reaching out and pinching Xie Yun’s chin. The motion was far from ambiguous—it hurt, sharply.
Xie Yun struggled in pain, and Zhang Shuogong immediately drew his knife, pointing it at Xie Yun’s chest.
Frightened, Xie Yun froze. Cui Ye forced him to lift his head. They were extremely close now; although his face resembled his brother’s, Xie Yuan could never convey the expression Cui Ye wore at this moment.
Focused, dangerous, and looking like a desperate man on the run.
“You were trying to pry information about me from him, weren’t you?”
The smile on Cui Ye’s lips widened further. “Tell me—how did you know that he and I are acquainted?”
Xie Yun: “……………”
Father, older brother, help me!
His pupils nearly shrank to pinpoints. The eloquence he usually wielded had vanished, replaced by stammering.
“Y-Your Highness… w-wasn’t it you who told him to deliver a letter to my older brother? My brother took the letter home, and we thought you were pacified. That’s why I went to find Meng Xizhao. I… I only wanted to see if he was one of yours!”
Cui Ye paused, surprised. “I told him to deliver a letter to your brother?”
Xie Yun felt as if his jaw were about to dislocate. He dared not rub it, instead nodding frantically, almost creating an afterimage.
“Yes! So if Your Highness didn’t know about it, then Meng Xizhao must have been pretending to use your name for some malicious purpose! Your Highness, I was deceived by him too!”
His face flushed with indignation. He felt that with just a word from Cui Ye, he could jump up and drag Meng Xizhao out for interrogation. Yet with a single glance from Cui Ye, he shrank back like a quail, bending his waist, afraid of further angering him.
Cui Ye, for his part, was puzzled. After a moment of thought, he could not figure it out, so he took a few steps back, sat down on the chair in front, and finally asked Xie Yun:
“What did he deliver to your brother?”
Xie Yun dared not lie and answered honestly: “It was a piece of letter paper, the type Your Highness often uses, with a thin purple bamboo drawn on it, and a poem written beside it. It was presented during the Qionglin Banquet. Meng Xizhao used it as an excuse to tease my older brother and delivered it to him.”
Cui Ye frowned upon hearing the word “tease,” but did not dwell on it. He only asked, “What poem?”
Xie Yun recited the poem exactly.
Cui Ye fell into silence after hearing it.
Xie Yun cautiously lifted his head to watch Cui Ye’s expression.
There was no need to ask—this poem was certainly not written by the Crown Prince. Not just the poem, even the letter was not sent at the Crown Prince’s command! At this point, the Crown Prince still held the Xie family at arm’s length, which explained why Zhang the guard looked so grim when bringing someone here.
In Zhang’s eyes, this must have been the trouble caused by some poor distant relative of the Crown Prince, with no other outlet but to trouble them…
Xie Yun’s heart was heavy. He still had no way to explain.
After a long pause, Cui Ye raised his head again and looked at Xie Yun.
“Tell your older brother that, since things have come to this, he can do whatever he wants. He need not consider me, nor claim it’s for my sake.”
Xie Yun was taken aback, then nodded with a complex expression.
“And… about today’s matter—”
Cui Ye said, “Just pretend nothing happened.”
He looked at Xie Yun again.
Xie Yun felt his hair almost stand on end at that single glance. His innate understanding of human nature finally proved useful. He quickly nodded in agreement. Everything that happened today would remain inside him: Meng Xizhao forging the Crown Prince’s handwriting, the Crown Prince caring more for Meng Xizhao than for his own cousin, and the realization that the Crown Prince was far from the ideal virtuous man they had imagined…
After letting Xie Yun leave, Cui Ye sat in the hall for a while before departing.
He did not wake Meng Xizhao nor reveal this matter. He knew why Meng Xizhao had done what he did.
If Meng Xizhao knew Cui Ye’s thoughts, he would surely be in tears.
Meng Xizhao’s gesture had been an olive branch to Xie Yuan, showing him that he was being noticed, and that he understood the relationship between Xie Yuan and the Crown Prince. This way, if Xie Yuan needed support in the future, he would remember this kindness. Regardless of whether they became friends, at least they would not become enemies.
Yet Meng Xizhao had miscalculated the complexity of the Crown Prince’s relationship with the Xie family. He had assumed the Crown Prince interacted with the Xies as routinely as the Council of Administration did with the Duke’s House.
Now, Cui Ye realized that Meng Xizhao’s actions had been meant to repair the relationship with the Xie family. He must have seen that day when Cui Ye did not attend, leaving Xie Yuan alone, with no one by his side. Moved by this, Meng Xizhao, under the guise of the Crown Prince’s name, wrote the poem to Xie Yuan—encouraging him, comforting him, and giving him the strength to rally again, so he would not lose hope.
Although the process was the same, the outcome felt completely different. In Cui Ye’s mind, everything Meng Xizhao had done was now interpreted as being for him alone.
Previously, Meng Xizhao had hinted at certain things, but Cui Ye, lacking trust, had given no response…
In the pitch-black alley, Cui Ye suddenly stopped and clenched his right hand.
The hand was empty now, slightly cool to the touch. Yet just an hour before, it had been warm—held tightly by someone as if he were a precious treasure.
Yu Fulan waited behind for a moment, noticing the Crown Prince had no intention of moving. “Your Highness?” he asked.
Cui Ye shook off his thoughts, lowered his eyes slightly, and continued forward.
＊
After the fifth watch of the night had passed, Qing Fu was released by Guard Zhang. He had not slept a wink and, seeing Zhang’s predatory gaze, swallowed nervously, offering a sheepish smile as he followed him to find Meng Xizhao.
Once Meng Xizhao was awake, Qing Fu carefully attended to his morning routine. When Meng Xizhao asked the time and learned it was just past the first quarter of the Mao hour, he felt no urgency. He even wanted to ask if any of the late-night dishes from Guard Zhang were left so he could reheat them and eat another meal…
Qing Fu nearly collapsed. Sir, it’s just one meal?
Normally he would never question Meng Xizhao’s decisions, but today he dared to oppose him, insisting that Meng Xizhao leave first and find an inn for breakfast afterward.
His sudden temper surprised Meng Xizhao, but he good-naturedly agreed. Once they left the alley, Qing Fu’s bravado completely deflated.
He wanted to cry and laugh at the same time. “Sir, why didn’t you tell me you knew the Crown Prince?”
Meng Xizhao replied, “…What difference would it make if I had?”
Qing Fu: “At least I would have been mentally prepared! You don’t know—yesterday, the Crown Prince suddenly appeared. Seeing you lying in bed, he immediately sent everyone else away. I said I was your attendant and should stay to serve you, but that guard surnamed Zhang nearly scared me to death. He said if I didn’t leave, he’d knock me unconscious and throw me out…”
Meng Xizhao smiled. “He’s a guard; naturally, his temper isn’t great. It’s fine—you’re unharmed, right? I’ve seen him scare Jin Zhu before; it’s no big deal.”
Qing Fu didn’t see it that way. He worried and furrowed his brow. “Sir, you should still be careful. As the saying goes, to serve a ruler is like serving a tiger.”
Meng Xizhao waved him off. “He isn’t even the ruler yet.”
Qing Fu: “But one day he will be, won’t he?”
Meng Xizhao gave him a glance, thinking that at the current pace, that day might never come. He only smiled. “We’ll see when that day arrives.”
The inner city of the An Tian Mansion was a city that never slept; shops were always open, and there was never a lack of customers. Unlike Bu Xuntian, which closed at night, this was the norm.
Recently, Meng Xizhao had been thinking about whether he should adapt local customs, arranging a three-shift schedule for the staff at Bu Xuntian, turning it into a twenty-four-hour operation to increase revenue.
But that could wait. For now, the important thing was breakfast.
He casually picked a breakfast inn and ordered several dishes for himself and Qing Fu. They ate cheerfully, while outside, near Bu Xuntian’s entrance, Meng Xiang sat in a carriage, his face dark as night.
Yesterday someone had reported to the Council of Administration that Meng Xizhao would be tired today, having stayed at Bu Xuntian a while, and would sleep outside, so they needn’t worry. He would return home the next day.
His parents, though not pleased, had no strong objections. Second young master was busier by the day; the Grand Minister of the Court of State Ceremonies shirked responsibilities, leaving everything—big and small—on him. Meng Jiuyu and Madam Meng were proud yet worried. If he chose to spend a night at Bu Xuntian, so be it.
However, Meng Xiang felt something was off.
Second young master had run the inn for so long, and he had never really played there. Normally he only checked the inn’s performance and looked for flaws. How could he be tired from playing there and plan to sleep overnight?
His parents didn’t know, but Second Young Master had once told him that Bu Xuntian had no guest rooms, only a sleeping area on the fifth floor reserved for His Majesty; no one else could go there.
Meng Xiang formed a vague suspicion but kept silent. After everyone slept, he quietly went to Bu Xuntian’s entrance, waiting for his brother.
…
Sure enough, until the second quarter of the Chen hour, no one emerged from inside Bu Xuntian. He guarded the main door, his attendant guarded the side door—there wasn’t a soul, not even a fly.
By the Chen hour, the Court of State Ceremonies began work. His brother might skip class but would never be late on duty.
After a while, by the third quarter of the Chen hour, Bu Xuntian should have opened. Jin Zhu and Yin Liu arrived to tally the accounts for this period, only to see the eldest son standing like a gatekeeper, black-faced.
Jin Zhu froze. “Eldest young master, what’s—”
Suddenly she understood. “You want to book a music performance, right? There’s no need. You’re the eldest young master; one word would suffice—”
Meng Xiang: “…Who’s here to listen to music?”
Jin Zhu stared, confused by his furious expression.
Meng Xiang had a thousand things to say, but in the end, it all boiled down to one lament: “Bring Meng Xizhao to see me tonight!”
After saying this, he swept his sleeve and left.
Jin Zhu: “…………”
He even called out Sir’s full name; he must be seriously angry.
So… what trouble has Sir gotten into this time?
…
This question—well, it was one even Meng Xizhao himself didn’t know the answer to.
After breakfast, he went to the Court of State Ceremonies. Before starting work, he stopped by Han Daozhen’s room. Inside, Han Daozhen was seated on a meditation cushion, a censer in front of him, the room filled with curling incense smoke. It looked as if he might ascend to immortality any second.
Meng Xizhao: “…”
Considering all the conveniences Han Daozhen had brought him in the past, Meng Xizhao decided not to fuss over the man’s disruption of the office space.
However, that incense burned all day. The Court of State Ceremonies wasn’t large to begin with, and the smoke drifted from Han Daozhen’s room, quickly filling the place. Others had grown accustomed to it, acting as though they hadn’t noticed, but Meng Xizhao couldn’t stand it. A colleague told him that every eighteenth day of the month Han Daozhen did this, advising him to endure.
Meng Xizhao endured the whole morning, but by the afternoon it became unbearable. He found a random excuse to step outside for fresh air.
With time still early, he sent Qing Fu to buy some popular local gifts. Carrying them himself, he went to the outer city.
After a few visits, Meng Xizhao had grown familiar with the route to the Zhan family. He knocked, and Zhan Buxiu quickly opened the door.
Seeing him in clean clothes, Meng Xizhao smiled. “I knew you’d still be here.”
Zhan Buxiu froze for a moment. “Why are you here?”
Meng Xizhao raised an eyebrow. “Look at what you’re saying. You saved my life yesterday; shouldn’t I come today to properly thank you?”
In this era, saving a life truly equated to recreating a parent. A woman might pledge herself, a man would repay with his life. In other words, saving someone effectively signed you up with a servant who owed you their life, for free.
But seeing Zhan Buxiu’s expression, he didn’t intend to demand repayment—or even to reveal that he had been saved by him. Good, just as a protagonist should be.
The more Meng Xizhao observed him, the more pleased he became. He handed over the gifts. “There’s food and useful things here. I know you’re often in the military; you won’t need them there. Keep them at home. Don’t refuse—if you won’t even take this, I’ll have to assume you want something more valuable.”
Zhan Buxiu opened his mouth to reply, then closed it again, taking the items inside. But noticing Meng Xizhao hadn’t followed, he turned. “Aren’t you coming in?”
Meng Xizhao froze and pointed at himself. “I… can I?”
Zhan Buxiu: “…”
Realizing his question embarrassed the unassuming protagonist, Meng Xizhao chuckled. “I’ll come by another day for a proper meal. Today I have other matters. Put the items away and then come with me.”
Zhan Buxiu asked, “Where to?”
Meng Xizhao raised an eyebrow, mischief sparkling in his eyes. “Not telling you. You’ll see when we get there.”
Zhan Buxiu merely glanced at him, returned the gifts inside, and followed out—entirely unafraid that Meng Xizhao might trick him.
…
The Zhan household had no carriage. As a junior officer in the Imperial Guard, Zhan Buxiu had a horse issued by the military. Even without experience with horses, Meng Xizhao could tell it was ordinary and lacked spirit, certainly less lively than the carriage horses he’d seen before.
His first thought was that someone in the Guard had mistreated Zhan Buxiu, but then he reconsidered.
Da Qi’s territory wasn’t as vast as the one he had come from; it was only half the size and mostly plains and hills—areas not conducive to raising horses.
The city of An Tian had a designated pasture outside for horses, cattle, and sheep, but the soil was poor. No matter how well they tried, the animals could never achieve the healthy, glossy condition of the northern steppes. Over generations, the quality of horses had actually declined.
Thus, Da Qi and the Xiongnu signed a treaty: Da Qi provided gold, silk, and grain, while Xiongnu supplied horses.
It was like feeding a tiger. The steppe threat was immense; Da Qi needed horses to train cavalry. But buying horses only strengthened the steppes, forcing Da Qi to buy even more and train more cavalry—a vicious cycle.
Still, it was undeniable—the horses the Xiongnu sent were excellent, immediately distinguishable from local ones. They were reserved for imperial guards and elite units, while the regular garrison had to make do with local horses.
Meng Xizhao rode in a carriage, Zhan Buxiu on horseback. Both moved at a good pace, quickly leaving the outer city and entering a rural village outside An Tian.
Fields stretched across the landscape, lush and green in mid-May, just past the Dragon Boat Festival. Vibrant life filled the scene.
Zhan Buxiu, perhaps rarely seeing such sights, watched the farmers bent over in the fields, tending crops, before reluctantly looking away.
Inside the carriage, Meng Xizhao leaned against a small window, lazily speaking. “The Emperor granted me twenty acres of fertile land. I visited before and thought it looked good. But the tenants—thin and haggard—seem barely able to eat. I plan to build a manor here, borrow labor from my mother, and gather all these tenants together. They won’t live scattered in villages anymore; they’ll become tenants under my manor.”
Zhan Buxiu: “If the funds suffice, do as you please.”
Meng Xizhao: “Do you think building a manor is just about money? It’s not. You need people, and you need protection from outsiders. I don’t want others benefiting from my work. What I accomplish must be counted to my name and benefit only those I intend to benefit.”
Zhan Buxiu frowned, riding beside him. “What are you planning now?”
Meng Xizhao half-stuck his head out the window, tilting it lazily back, and gave him a cheeky grin.
Knowing that Zhan Buxiu didn’t intend to answer, he paused for a moment before asking another question: “Then why are you telling me all this? What do you want me to do?”
Meng Xizhao immediately sat upright, half his head still out the carriage window, one hand flicking aside the curtain, grinning broadly. “Very simple—completely within your reach.”
He paused briefly; the smile softened, and his eyes grew serious. “Train your own soldiers. Build a Zhan family army that belongs only to you. You don’t need many men, but each must be capable of holding his own against a hundred. This manor is too important. Even the courtiers guarding the Court of State Ceremonies, I cannot trust them.”
“Tell me—can you help me with this?”
Zhan Buxiu held the reins and asked, “When do you need it?”
Meng Xizhao thought for a moment, then made it sound urgent: “In two months.”
He nudged the horse lightly, and it adjusted its pace under Zhan Buxiu’s guidance, keeping stride with the carriage.
Meng Xizhao kept his gaze on Zhan Buxiu’s profile, waiting for his answer. After a short silence, Zhan Buxiu’s lips curved slightly.
“Understood. I’ll be ready to pick up anyone you send.”