Zhan Buxiu was busier than him. After putting the men down and giving a few more instructions, he rode off. Meng Xizhao waved cheerfully in front of the manor until the figure disappeared, then rubbed his cheeks and turned back.
Since the Zhang family courtyard was completed, Lady Meng had called back its manager to resume duties in the administration department. The manor itself was now unmonitored, a stage for the new recruits to get settled.
Meng Xizhao asked, “Are the people inside adapting well?”
Jin Zhu smiled. “How could they not? The conditions you’ve provided are so good, even I want to go in and serve you.”
Meng Xizhao relaxed slightly. “Li Huai does know how to handle things.”
Li Huai was currently working in the Armory Bureau. In Da Qi, salt, iron, and coin production were strictly controlled. Even buying a simple kitchen knife required going to an official blacksmith. Without connections, forging one yourself was unthinkable.
With Li Huai as a connection, Meng Xizhao found many tasks far easier.
He requested a group of elderly, weak, disabled, or soon-to-retire craftsmen. These weren’t master artisans; each could only produce one piece at a time. They were assembly-line workers: one specialized in iron rings, another in spear shafts. Their skill level was modest, and the Armory Bureau didn’t worry about leaks—they were barely capable of doing the work, yet still required full pay, which was already a headache for the bureau.
Upon hearing Li Huai’s troubles, Meng Xizhao slapped his chest. “If I don’t enter hell, who will? I’ll take on your worries for second cousin!”
Li Huai was so moved he nearly cried, immediately figuring out how to transfer these people from the Armory Bureau. At first, the craftsmen thought losing their positions meant punishment; they were downcast. But upon realizing they were just moved to another department, doing similar work with higher pay, they became cheerful instantly.
The Armory Bureau’s troublesome handicapped craftsmen became experienced mentors under Meng Xizhao. Even if they couldn’t work themselves, they could supervise others. One-on-one guidance? That was a bonus for Meng Xizhao.
As for the younger, healthy craftsmen, he split them into groups and assigned tasks.
Group One: research on catapults. Meng Xizhao only specified two principles: the longer the lever, the longer the trajectory; the stronger the force, the farther the throw. How to achieve it? That was up to them.
Group Two: develop a multi-shot crossbow. He only gave them the name and suggested adding springs. He drew a 3D spring diagram and an animation showing how it would compress and snap back. Then he scratched his head, adding: “High-temperature forging and mixing in certain materials to form an alloy might increase flexibility. Work toward that.”
Though confused, these two groups weren’t under strict deadlines, so the pressure was manageable.
Group Three, however, had it worse. Meng Xizhao cruelly added a line to their assignment: complete the research within three months. Do well, and you’ll receive a mansion; fail, and you’ll spend a lifetime with the Xiongnu.
The craftsmen: “……”
For Da Qi people, the Xiongnu were like the devil incarnate. Falling into their hands meant death. Terrified, they began work in earnest that very day. Meng Xizhao, noticing their overexertion, had Jin Zhu keep watch to prevent them from endangering themselves.
Why such urgency?
Because Group Three was tasked with researching black powder.
As a modern university student, Meng Xizhao’s closest exposure to explosives had been watching fireworks. Remembering the old adage—sulfur, saltpeter, charcoal—was already impressive. But he knew that formula alone was potent enough to make true black powder. Hence, his strictness.
Developing black powder was only the start. Raw black powder could intimidate but wasn’t highly lethal. It was so unstable that careless handling could harm the user. Thus, it had to be refined. Without improvements, the craftsmen would have to produce it directly on the battlefield—a logistical nightmare.
Meng Xizhao called Jin Zhu over. While trying to recall how his biochemistry classmates used to run experiments in his previous life, he listed a whole string of precautions for her.
Every ratio had to be recorded. They were to use the small gold scale from the apothecary and measure everything precisely. And another thing—success had nothing to do with making a large batch. They had to test little by little. No one was allowed to start off by kneading together some huge black lump. If they did that, the entire estate might get blown up…
Most important of all: every time they tested an explosion, everyone had to retreat at least five zhang away. Even if they could not clearly see what was happening, they absolutely could not stand too close.
Jin Zhu could not understand any of this.
Was it not just gunpowder? Did it really require such intense caution?
There might be many things Jin Zhu did not know, but she had seen gunpowder before.
When she was a child, her family lived in Yongzhou. At that time Yongzhou was still territory of the Great Qi. Only after Yongzhou fell did she flee with the other townspeople to Ying Tian Prefecture.
Back when she still lived in Yongzhou, the barbarians of Nanzhao attacked the city gates. The imperial troops sent by the court brought out the famous weapon of the time—the Thunderclap Cannon.
Just listen to that name. So imposing. And when the Thunderclap Cannon was fired, it was indeed extremely loud and extremely bright.
…
Jin Zhu remembered that the thing was basically like a gigantic firecracker. The noise was tremendous. Even in broad daylight, when it was launched, you could see a burst of flashing light when it exploded. And then… well, that was it.
The Thunderclap Cannon landed among the Nanzhao barbarians and set fire to the clothes of five or six of them. The barbarians yelped in pain, rolled on the ground to put out the flames, and then, even angrier, howled as they charged forward.
So what exactly was the point of this Thunderclap Cannon? All it did was thunder up the enemy’s morale.
Jin Zhu held no expectations for this black gunpowder. Meng Xizhao did not bother explaining either. After all, seeing would be believing.
Jin Zhu was left behind at the estate. Yin Liu took over her duties managing Bu Xun Tian, leaving only Qing Fu and Zi Teng as the capable attendants at Meng Xizhao’s side.
The two of them were polar opposites in temperament. One loved to talk. If Meng Jiaojiao ate one dish less at a meal, she would roll her eyes and start wondering whether there was some hidden reason behind it. The other was as still as an ancient well, quiet as a chicken. Even if something happened right in front of her, she would not bother thinking about what it meant.
June brought nothing major for Meng Xizhao, but for Great Qi, something serious happened.
The emperor of Nanzhao personally led an expedition and crushed the Great Qi armies in battle after battle. Great Qi lost yet another city. The main general held fast in Jiangzhou City, where nine rivers met. The city itself was preserved—but the people of Jiangzhou were not all saved.
In history the word “barbarian” was a derogatory term the people of the Central Plains used for other races or countries. But in Great Qi, it mainly referred to Nanzhao, because Nanzhao was barbaric to an extreme.
Burning, killing, looting—those were basic practices. Eating human flesh and drinking human blood happened occasionally as well. Even worse, they loved abducting people.
Women were taken back to bear children for them. Men as well. The customs of Nanzhao were extremely fierce. They had no marriage system; if they took a liking to someone, they simply dragged them away. People were already used to women being taken, but they even abducted men. And after keeping them for a year or two, they would sometimes release them and send them back.
It was said that by then the women who had taken those men had already given birth. Since they did not want to continue feeding these useless men, they kicked them back across the border into Great Qi.
As for the women, release was impossible. Women were resources—reproductive machines that could be used for a full twenty years. Perhaps after twenty years, once a woman could no longer bear children, they might let her go. But in most cases, women of Great Qi did not live long enough to reach that point.
Jiangzhou City itself had not fallen, but many of the Jiangzhou civilians who fled in panic were captured by enraged Nanzhao soldiers. Jiangzhou was now filled with wailing and misery, and a popular uprising had even broken out.
Meng Xizhao heard about all of this at the dinner table. As Vice Chancellor, Meng Jiuyu had to review major and minor affairs from the court. This matter was considered military, and the main person responsible was the Privy Councilor Geng Wenjin. Meng Jiuyu had only polished the wording slightly, marked that he had reviewed it, and then passed it on to others.
Meng Jiuyu spoke with great sighs, but he was not sighing for the people of Jiangzhou. He was sighing for the general.
In his opinion, that general was actually quite capable. Ever since leading troops out in October of the previous year, he had been winning battles continuously. If the emperor of Nanzhao had not suddenly come to the battlefield in person, boosting the morale of the Nanzhao soldiers, he might not have lost that city at all.
But now the city was gone, and Jiangzhou had erupted in rebellion. The emperor would certainly pin all responsibility on the general. Whether the man could keep his life was uncertain.
Meng Xizhao poked at his rice with his chopsticks. Suddenly he asked, out of nowhere, “Father, will you plead for him?”
Meng Jiuyu froze in the middle of stroking his beard.
He was baffled. Why would he plead for this man? He was a civil official. He had never had much interaction with military officers.
Meng Jiaojiao bit her chopsticks. Recently she had grown closer to Zhan Hui, and Zhan Hui’s household only had Old Master Zhan, so she had inevitably absorbed some of his influence.
She spoke as well. “Father, the way you describe it, this general sounds pitiful. If he survives, he could still redeem himself with future merit, could he not?”
Meng Jiuyu: “……”
It was one thing for the second son to interfere, but why was Jiaojiao concerned about matters like this now?
Meng Xi’ang was chewing on a rib. Hearing this, he blinked and looked at his younger brother and sister. After thinking for two seconds, he spat the rib back onto the plate.
“Be kind to others, and you are kind to yourself. Father, it is only a single sentence. We lose nothing by saying it, and we might earn someone’s goodwill. Next April I will enter official service as well. Our family will have too many people in court; that makes us easy targets. One more friend means one more path.”
Meng Jiuyu: “…………”
Why was even the eldest son saying this?!
Helpless, he turned to look at Madam Meng—only to discover that her face was filled with the word “gratified.” Clearly, she believed the children standing united was a wonderful thing.
…So no one was going to care about their old father anymore?
Did they think these words were so easy to say?!
If the Emperor was in the middle of a rage, whoever stepped forward to plead for mercy would end up being unlucky as well.
Rationally, that was how Meng Jiuyu thought. But whenever his wife and children became involved, it was very hard for him to stay rational.
In the past, when he handled matters at court, he only had to consider himself. There was no helping it—he had been the only one in the family serving in the court. Now, however, his three children had reminded him that in the future he should also start thinking about the official careers of his two sons.
Holding his chopsticks, Meng Jiuyu’s gaze drifted for a moment. He did not give a definite answer immediately.
“Then… your father will go back and think it over carefully.”
Meng Xizhao continued eating. Without drawing attention, he glanced once at Meng Jiuyu, then lowered his head again.
In truth, Meng Jiuyu did not need to plead for mercy at all.
This general was not going to die anyway.
Yes, the Emperor Tianshou was extremely angry. He had been locked in conflict with Nanzhao for twelve years now and still could not see any hope of victory. Moreover, he personally hated the idea of losing cities. Back then, not long after he had tricked Zhan Shenyou into returning and then executed him, Nanzhao learned the news. Their entire army celebrated like it was a festival and surged northward in one push, occupying six of his cities. Even now those six cities had still not been recovered.
The Emperor Tianshou would never admit that he had done anything wrong, but deep down he bitterly resented the loss of cities. Now another one had been lost—how could he not explode in anger?
Yet no matter how furious he was, he did not truly execute the general.
Because there was simply no one left in the court.
There were very few military officers who actually knew how to fight. Even fewer could command an army as the main general. It had already been ten years since the death of Zhan Shenyou. Over these ten years, the Emperor Tianshou had been like a fan of a perpetually losing football team—hoping every day, only to watch defeat after defeat. Now that he had finally found someone with a bit of ability, if he killed even this one, he would have nobody left to lead the troops.
Of course, it was not enough for him alone to think this way. Someone also needed to argue the opposite side. And the one who played that role was the current General of Agile Cavalry, General Shang.
General Shang knelt on the ground and wept bitterly, begging the emperor not to execute the main general. He even swore on the general’s behalf that next time they would certainly fight their way back and restore the prestige of Great Qi. The Emperor Tianshou listened and put on a reluctantly agreeing expression, though inside he was letting out a huge sigh of relief.
But what he did not know was that General Shang had also let out a huge sigh of relief.
The title General of Agile Cavalry was the highest-ranking military position of the dynasty. The last person to hold that position had been Zhan Shenyou. In effect, it was the equivalent of a grand marshal of a feudal empire. Logically speaking, someone who could sit in that seat should have stronger military ability than the frontline general.
The reality, however, was that General Shang might not even be as capable at commanding troops as Meng Jiaojiao.
…
He came from a hereditary military family and became a general through his father’s rank. After that, he climbed upward through banquets, gifts, and marrying the daughter of a high official.
He had led troops out only twice.
The first time, he got lost in the mountains and forests and nearly starved his entire army to death. It was Zhan Shenyou who rescued him.
The second time, when the enemy challenged them before battle, he pretended to be ill and refused to appear. He stalled like that for three days and three nights until Zhan Shenyou arrived. Only then did they win the battle.
He did not know how to fight wars. What he knew how to do was scheme and flatter.
This time, when he pleaded for the main general’s life, it was not because he pitied his subordinate. It was because he was afraid that if the main general died, the Emperor Tianshou—who would never abandon the war against Nanzhao until it was won—might send him out to serve as the next main general.
That would never do. Ten years ago when he had still been drifting around the military camps, things had already been unpleasant enough. Now he had spent ten years in Ying Tian Prefecture enjoying rich food and comfortable living. There was no way he could endure the hardships of military campaigning anymore.
Thus, throughout the entire court of civil and military officials, not a single person cared about the small rebellion in Jiangzhou. Everyone’s attention was fixed on the lost city and the fate of the general.
But Meng Xizhao knew something they did not.
In the storyline, the general would be forced by Shang Xiguan to remain stationed in Jiangzhou, compelled to rebuild his army and redeem himself through merit. Meanwhile, the rebels in Jiangzhou would quietly hide themselves.
Then, in the winter of the following year, when the general led troops out to reclaim the lost city, they would take advantage of the empty defenses inside Jiangzhou. In one swift strike they would seize the city, proclaim themselves kings, and from that point on become a major threat to Great Qi.
As for that unfortunate general, both his front and rear paths would be cut off. With no other options, he would hear that Zhan Buxiu was recruiting troops in Bashu. Since he had once served under Zhan Shenyou, he would not hesitate at all. He would lead his remaining forces and surrender to Zhan Buxiu.
At that time he would have barely more than ten thousand soldiers left.
Yet it was precisely those ten thousand soldiers that would give Zhan Buxiu the foundation for his rise, allowing him to step onto the stage of power in this world.
Taking advantage of Meng Jiuyu’s hesitation, Meng Xizhao went to persuade him again. Reasoning with grand principles would not work—Meng Jiuyu’s instinctive distrust of Meng Xizhao was already engraved in his bones. So Meng Xizhao had to persuade him in the opposite direction.
“Father, do not go. I have thought it over. I will go persuade His Majesty myself. His Majesty likes me so much—he will definitely listen to me. Look what happened when he executed General Zhan before. The common people were so unhappy. As long as I explain this reasoning to him, he will naturally realize how absurdly wrong he was.”
Meng Jiuyu: “…………”
What did you just say?!
At that moment, Meng Jiuyu’s expression could not even be described as shock. It was more like a raging storm.
Terrified that his foolish son might really lose his head and go say such things to the emperor, the very next day Meng Jiuyu scrambled into the palace to request an audience. Bent at the waist, he carefully recited the speech he had drafted all night.
He could not perform like Shang Xiguan, nor could he swear grand oaths for the general as if they were close allies. Instead he simply laid out the current situation piece by piece for the Emperor Tianshou.
The emperor did not feel very pleased listening to it, but he had to admit that Meng Jiuyu’s words made sense.
The general’s life was spared.
However, the Emperor Tianshou felt that he could not simply let him off so easily. So he picked another man from among the available officers to replace him and ordered the general to return immediately to Ying Tian Prefecture.
“I want to scold you to your face before I feel satisfied.”
The general: “……”
No matter what, he hurried back to the capital day and night.
On the first day of the seventh month, while the general was still on the road back to the capital, another group of troops had already set out. However, the people of Ying Tian Prefecture did not yet know about it.
Early that morning, Meng Xizhao got up and was preparing to report for duty at the Honglu Temple. But when he stepped out of the gate of the Vice Chancellor’s residence, he unexpectedly saw Guard Zhang waiting there.
Meng Xizhao was stunned.
And when Guard Zhang saw him, he actually cupped his fists politely in greeting.
“Assistant Minister Meng, my master invites you to his residence for a chat.”
Meng Xizhao: “……”
This was the first time he had ever heard Guard Zhang address him by his official title.
After thinking it over, Meng Xizhao decided to go with him anyway. Not long after they left, a figure who had been lurking near a wall slipped away furtively as well.
Guard Zhang rode at full speed the whole way, taking Meng Xizhao up Chicken Cage Mountain. It was still early, and there were not many worshippers on the mountain. Looking at the relatively quiet Jiming Temple, Meng Xizhao suddenly called out, “Stop the carriage. I will get off here.”
Guard Zhang immediately objected. “His Highness is still waiting for you.”
“I said stop the carriage. If you do not, then when I see His Highness later, I will say that I did not want to come at all and that you kidnapped me here.”
Guard Zhang: “……”
He had never seen someone this shameless. Guard Zhang glared at him, but in the end he had no choice but to let Meng Xizhao off at the front gate of the temple. Then he watched, fuming, as Meng Xizhao walked into the main hall.
About half an hour later, Meng Xizhao finally came back out.
Guard Zhang looked at his empty hands. “What did you go in there for?”
Meng Xizhao shot him a glance. “That is between me and the Buddha. Mind your own business.”
Guard Zhang: “…………”
Who wanted to mind it anyway!
After circling around to the back of the mountain, Meng Xizhao entered the courtyard and discovered that he had actually arrived earlier than Cui Ye. Guard Zhang’s face clearly said, Yes, I was wrong. So what are you going to do about it?
Meng Xizhao silently shook his head, too lazy to argue with him.
Before long, Cui Ye arrived as well. Seeing Meng Xizhao already there, he was extremely surprised.
At that moment, Meng Xizhao understood. This had not been Cui Ye’s arrangement at all—Guard Zhang had acted on his own initiative.
But Cui Ye did not look angry. On the contrary, he seemed very happy that Meng Xizhao had come.
Meng Xizhao stayed only for the morning. He watched Cui Ye drink his medicine, after which he quickly grew listless and drained of energy—though this time the symptoms looked somewhat different from before.
Meng Xizhao chatted with him for a while, then urged him to rest. Cui Ye wanted to hold on a bit longer, but Meng Xizhao kept persuading him. Eventually he lay down in bed. Once he gradually fell asleep, Meng Xizhao quietly left.
When he returned to the Honglu Temple, Meng Xizhao had barely stepped inside when he saw Han Daozhen, who had not had much presence lately, storming out with obvious anger.
“Where did you go? You were late without saying a word. Since when does the Honglu Temple have such rules?!”
Meng Xizhao smiled and pulled a roll of yellow silk from his sleeve.
“Do not be angry, Lord Han. I simply noticed that you have been in good spirits recently and thought the scripture I gave you last time must have worked wonders. So I wanted to strike while the iron was hot and help you reach an even higher level. Look—this is the Heart Sutra personally copied by an elder from the Manjusri Pavilion of Jiming Temple, and it has been consecrated! Come, come, no need to stand on ceremony. Please accept it!”
Han Daozhen: “…………”
Who is standing on ceremony with you?!
Han Daozhen was furious. At that moment he deeply regretted that back when he was studying, he had not spent all that time cultivating instead. If he had, he could simply extend a finger now and poke Meng Xizhao to death.
Unfortunately his cultivation was not that advanced. All he could do was swallow his anger, snatch the silk scroll, and storm back to his room to question his life choices.
Meng Xizhao kept smiling brightly and even called after him, “Lord Han, make sure today’s cultivation is a joyful one!”
Han Daozhen stumbled and nearly fell flat on the ground.
After laughing enough, Meng Xizhao returned to his desk. Just then, one of his subordinates approached.
“Lord Meng, the envoy from Yuezhi asks that you visit their guest residence. He says there is something he would like to discuss with you.”
Meng Xizhao blinked, then nodded. “Understood.”
What “business” could there be? Juqu Huijue simply had some first-hand gossip and wanted to share it with his Great Qi friend.
“A few days ago, the Left Worthy King brought people to the court of the Chanyu. They loaded up a great many furs, jewels, and even two Ferghana horses. I suspect that by the time I am telling you this, they have already set out.”
Meng Xizhao: “……”
I know the steppe is vast and open.
But the fact that you people can see so clearly what is happening even in the Chanyu’s court is a bit strange.
It seemed that no matter the era, sending spies to each other’s countries was always the most ordinary practice.
The Xiongnu still followed their old system. The entire nation was divided into three parts: the central court of the Chanyu, and on the left and right the courts of the Left Worthy King and the Right Worthy King.
The two Worthy Kings were the Chanyu’s right and left hands, usually the people he trusted most. In the past, the Left Worthy King had even been the position of crown prince among the Xiongnu—whoever held that title would eventually become the next Chanyu. But after the Xiongnu had once ruled the Central Plains, that practice changed. The Left Worthy King was now chosen from the nobility, while the princes remained beside the Chanyu so he could raise them personally.
Even so, the Left Worthy King was still an extremely important figure in the Xiongnu state. If he was setting out with gifts, the matter at hand must certainly be significant.
Especially those two Ferghana horses. They were among the finest treasures the Xiongnu could produce—and even they did not possess many.
Juqu Huijue spoke of this as if it were simple gossip, naturally because it had nothing to do with him. But Meng Xizhao could not take the same carefree attitude. He could only give a wry smile.
“It seems Brother Shuye truly guessed correctly. The Chanyu of the Xiongnu indeed intends to seek a marriage alliance with Great Qi.”
That Chanyu was already sixty-three years old! Yet he still wanted to marry one of their fresh, young princesses. Truly a toad lusting after a swan’s flesh.
Juqu Huijue felt quite sympathetic toward Meng Xizhao. After sympathizing, however, his curiosity took over.
“In your opinion, which princess will the emperor of Great Qi marry off to the Chanyu of the Xiongnu?”
See—even the people of Yuezhi already knew that there was no need to ask whether the emperor of Great Qi would agree. He definitely would.
The only question was which princess would be sent.
The Emperor Tianshou did not have many sons, but he had a great many daughters—seventeen in total. Princesses of Great Qi usually began looking for consorts earlier than the princes arranged marriages. Around the age of thirteen they would start selecting a husband, and they typically married at around sixteen, roughly the same as modern marriage ages.
Four years earlier, however, after the last princess who had been married off to the Xiongnu died, the Emperor Tianshou suddenly halted the marriage negotiations that several princesses were already undergoing. Everyone grew anxious for months. Then, after a few more months, he abruptly changed his mind again and allowed them to continue searching for consorts.
But two princesses were exceptions: the Princess of Chu, who had only been twelve that year, and the Princess of Jing, who had been fourteen.
Now those two princesses were sixteen and eighteen. Neither was married, and neither had even been formally betrothed. It was quite obvious—they had been reserved for foreign marriage alliances.
Juqu Huijue had lived in Ying Tian Prefecture for many years, so naturally he knew about this. Privately he despised the emperor of Great Qi for having no backbone at all. Yet to Meng Xizhao’s face he was extremely curious—exactly which princess would be sent to the Xiongnu?
Meng Xizhao thought for a moment before answering, “Probably the Princess of Chu.”
Juqu Huijue looked a little shocked. “Is she not the younger one? According to the thinking of you Great Qi people, should the elder sister not be married off first?”
Meng Xizhao: “……”
If you ask me, who am I supposed to ask? No normal person can understand what goes on inside the head of the Emperor Tianshou.
You could not even say he favored sons over daughters. In truth, he treated both sons and daughters more or less the same—that is to say: although you call me Father Emperor, I only regard you as an acquaintance.
Only the children born to his true love counted as actual children to him. As for the rest—if they were due a title, they received a title; if they needed to be sent away in a political marriage, then away they went.
The book itself did not describe the marriage alliance with the Xiongnu in much detail—it was mostly just a formality. Meng Xizhao did not even remember which princess had been sent. What he did remember was that later, from the perspective of Zhan Buxiu, the story mentioned that the Chanyu of the Xiongnu died only six months after the wedding.
When he died, the princess was present.
The new Chanyu believed his father’s death was suspicious. Instead of marrying the princess himself, he followed Xiongnu custom and forced her to be buried along with the deceased ruler.
Later, when chaos broke out in Great Qi, the new Chanyu dug up the old grievance. He claimed his father had been murdered by the resentful princess and declared that he would avenge him. Using that as an excuse, he tore away a large swath of Great Qi territory.
The Zhending Prefecture, which had already been devastated by corrupt officials of the Three Departments of Finance, was ravaged once again by the Xiongnu.
As for why Meng Xizhao guessed it would be the Princess of Chu—it was because Sang Fanyu had once mentioned that the emperor had sighed and remarked that the Princess of Chu was a woman of great talent. The emperor always had the fastest intelligence. Even though the Xiongnu appeared to have suddenly sent the Left Worthy King to propose marriage, it was entirely possible that they had already communicated privately beforehand.
Otherwise, how could the Emperor Tianshou—who almost never remembered his own children—suddenly recall the Princess of Chu?
Juqu Huijue sighed as well. As a man of culture, he truly pitied these ill-fated women. Of course, once he finished sighing, he happily went back to eating.
Watching his carefree manner, Meng Xizhao almost laughed.
So you are already enjoying the spectacle of Great Qi being embarrassed by the Xiongnu?
But do you know what will happen next?
When the old Chanyu dies and the new one takes power, the very first thing he will do is lead troops to attack Yuezhi. Yes, Great Qi will lose a large territory—but the Yuezhi will fare even worse. They will be swallowed entirely by the Xiongnu. From then on, there will be no Yuezhi kingdom—only the Court of Yuezhi under Xiongnu rule.
Juqu Huijue lifted his head and raised his cup for a toast. Meng Xizhao immediately smiled and eagerly brought his own cup forward.
＊
Originally, Meng Xizhao had not been completely certain about the Princess of Chu being sent in the marriage alliance. But by the time the Qixi Festival arrived—the festival also known as the Begging for Skill Festival—he knew it was certain.
Because the Princess of Chu actually left the palace to celebrate.
Standing atop the inner city wall, she looked down at the bustling crowds below, though no one knew what she was thinking.
It was unheard of for a princess to wander the streets like this. She must have personally begged the emperor for permission. And the emperor, seeing that this daughter would soon be sent off to endure hardship among the Xiongnu, had granted her this small favor.
The day itself was special. The streets were filled with young ladies, and all the goods for sale were things they liked. Even the atmosphere of Baihua Street had changed. What was usually an obvious red-light district was now colorful everywhere. Even the women who normally entertained clients had come out to watch the young ladies strolling together with their friends.
Meng Jiaojiao had gone boating on the lake with Zhan Hui. Meng Xizhao politely declined the invitation—he still feared water. He would deal with that problem later.
As for his fear of women…
After persistent experimentation, Meng Xizhao had finally figured out the mechanism.
If an ordinary woman touched him casually, it was fine. But she could not touch him when he was already frightened.
When he was already afraid, his entire body became extremely sensitive. At that moment, if someone touched him, it would instantly trigger his body’s instinctive reaction.
The good news was that the trigger conditions were rather strict. Meng Xizhao was actually quite brave. Unless water and women appeared at the same time, it rarely activated.
The bad news was that there was basically no cure for this. Who ever overcame two fears simultaneously while trying to overcome just one?
And Meng Xizhao also discovered that if too many women gathered together, he would start to feel restless and uneasy.
For example—right now.
On the street there were easily several thousand brightly dressed young ladies…
After a moment of silence, Meng Xizhao turned to leave. But for a moment he did not know where he could go.
Meng Jiaojiao had gone boating. Meng Xi’ang had gone to meet the County Princess. There was only one day each year when the two of them could meet, sit together, and share a cup of tea. Meng Xizhao certainly could not disturb them.
Going home was not an option either. Madam Meng had a strange habit of obsessively giving her children whatever she herself had lacked. Her mother had died early, her father had been a fool, and her stepmother had been warm on the surface but cold inside. For several years, their household had never even built the decorative pavilion that young ladies used during this festival. She could only visit other households and enjoy theirs.
Over the past few days Meng Xizhao had watched Madam Meng nitpick every detail of the pavilion being built. He even suspected that if he returned home now, she might stuff him into the pavilion too—just to indulge her fantasy of raising him like a daughter for once.
Qing Fu saw the troubled look on his face and suggested, “How about going to Bu Xun Tian?”
Meng Xizhao shook his head. “No. If I go now, I will just become a spectacle for those distinguished guests.”
After all, he did not fit in with those so-called “great talents.”
Qing Fu did not understand what he meant by “spectacle from the West” and was still puzzled when suddenly a voice sounded nearby.
It was a man’s voice—very pleasant, very gentle.
“What a coincidence. I did not expect to meet Assistant Minister Meng here.”
Meng Xizhao’s ears twitched. Wasn’t that the kind of deep, magnetic “male god” voice that had been all the rage in his previous life? Curious, he turned his head and saw that the person standing behind him was a teenage youth, barely more than a boy.
By now Meng Xizhao had developed a habit—his first instinct was to glance at whatever the person wore at his waist.
While he was still wondering who the young man might be, Qingfu kept his lips still and merely edged closer, murmuring in an almost indistinct whisper, “This is the Prince of Linjiang.”
Meng Xizhao: “……”
He cast a glance at Qingfu, whose expression remained perfectly normal, then looked back at the Fifth Prince. Immediately, his smile bloomed like a sunflower.
“Your humble servant greets Your Highness. I never expected that on a day like this Your Highness would also come out to share in the people’s merriment. What a blessing this is for the citizens of Great Qi.”
The Fifth Prince’s smile deepened at the flattery. It truly had not been easy—two whole months, and he had finally managed to run into Meng Xizhao.
“I was just looking for somewhere to dine. Why don’t Deputy Minister Meng join me?”
Meng Xizhao’s first instinct was to refuse outright. He would rather go home and pretend to be Madam Meng’s second daughter than sit down with the Fifth Prince and confirm all those rumors about his close ties with the Office of the Chief Councilor.
But when the words reached his lips, Meng Xizhao suddenly glanced around. Passersby had clearly heard their conversation just now and were secretly looking over, curious about what the legendary prince looked like.
In the blink of an eye, Meng Xizhao changed his mind.
Smiling brightly, he said, “Then I would be honored to accept. In that case, why don’t we go to my restaurant, Bu Xun Tian? Your Highness has probably never been there before. Its dishes are among the finest in all of Yingtian Prefecture.”
The Fifth Prince said, “I have been there before, though I never managed to see Deputy Minister Meng.”
Meng Xizhao immediately put on a look of surprise and embarrassment. “Such a thing happened? Your Highness may not know—Honglu Temple has been terribly busy lately. Even when I want to step out and relax for a moment, I have no time. I never imagined that because of this, I would miss meeting Your Highness. In that case, today’s meal will be my treat. Your Highness may order whatever you like.”
The Fifth Prince laughed at once, feeling that Meng Xizhao was very tactful. They walked quite a distance before he suddenly stopped in his tracks, realizing something was off.
Wait a minute—did that mean that if not for this situation, today’s meal would have been paid for by him?!