It proved true: a hungry camel is bigger than a horse.
Even though the Crown Prince held no real power, his information network outpaced Meng Xizhao’s. At least in this matter, the prince had been stewing all day while Meng Xizhao remained blissfully unaware, wandering outside.
Yu Fulan had exaggerated a bit. How could news from the Secretariat spread so fast across Yingtian Prefecture? Madam Meng had only asked a few friendly noblewomen to help identify suitable young ladies for Meng Xizhao. But now, the upper echelons of society all knew.
Madam Meng’s organizational skills were impressive. A day after her announcement, she already received a stack of portraits from matchmakers. She called her daughters-in-law over; the two women sat together, whispering judgments on who would be suitable for Meng Xizhao.
“This one is too beautiful—Second Brother wouldn’t be able to handle it.”
“This one is too thin—no, her health is fragile, likely to die young. Second Brother already has that hereditary disposition. If his wife doesn’t live long, what about his future children?”
The Crown Princess: “……”
She silently thought her elder sister-in-law worried too much. To demand both matching social status and perfection in every respect—could such a young lady truly be interested in Meng Xizhao? Even now, he held a fourth-rank office, but his past misdeeds hadn’t been forgotten. Anyone willing to marry him was already generous; being picky might leave him with no one.
For arranging a son’s marriage, the Crown Princess exercised practical judgment. Li Ping could inherit a title; his wife could be of higher family status, but as long as she was gracious and could manage the household, that was enough. For Li Huai, her standards were even lower: as long as the woman was alive and from a respectable family, that sufficed.
As long as these three conditions were met, and she didn’t despise her youngest son, she’d gratefully deliver him into marriage—even if the woman were a widow.
Was she unwilling as a mother to find a high-status match? No—she was just honest. Her son had this character. Anyone willing to marry him was already generous; there was no need to nitpick.
In her view, Meng Xizhao of the Secretariat was on the same level as her own Li Huai. Both had checkered pasts. Even if Meng Xizhao’s fame had grown, and he had prospects for high office, his fatal flaw remained.
“Can’t touch women… ugh, just thinking about it gives me a headache. If it were her son instead…” The Crown Princess of the Duke’s household mused inwardly, wondering if she could lower her standards a little.
Simply surviving… that was enough.
…
It was the end of the year. Meng Xizhao was beginning his holiday today, planning to visit the palace on New Year’s Eve to pay respects to Emperor Tianshou.
Sitting in his room, he was holding a charcoal pencil that Qingfu had had someone make, scribbling and sketching on paper. Jin Zhu and Yin Liu had gone out to take care of errands for him, Qingfu had gone to buy the five-flavor apricot lamb he craved, leaving only Zitong to attend to him.
Zitong entered without greeting him, simply placing a cup of hot tea before him and then standing idly by, staring out at the leaves outside the window.
Meng Xizhao glanced at her. “…”
“How is it?”
Zitong finally turned to answer him. “I didn’t see Madam.”
Meng Xizhao: “…”
Well, couldn’t you have at least told me!
He took a moment to calm himself, telling himself to get used to it, then rubbed his temples. “Mother went out?”
Zitong shook her head. “No.”
She said no more, quietly meeting his gaze.
Meng Xizhao almost coughed up blood. “…So why didn’t you see Madam?”
Zitong replied, “Oh, the Crown Princess of the Duke’s household came by. Madam is talking with her. Madam’s maid, Snow Mirror, wouldn’t let me disturb her.”
Meng Xizhao gave a small “oh.”
I see… fine then.
Touching his own face, he lowered his head to continue drawing, when suddenly his hand holding the pencil froze. He looked up, puzzled. “It’s already the twenty-eighth… why would the Crown Princess, busy with affairs at the Duke’s mansion, come all the way here to talk?”
Zitong blinked and explained again, “Isn’t it to discuss finding a bride for you, my lord? That’s why, despite her busy schedule, she made time to come.”
Meng Xizhao: “…………”
He blinked slowly, still holding the pencil, expression unchanging, staring at Zitong.
And Zitong stared back, equally calm.
Clang! The charcoal pencil fell onto the desk. Meng Xizhao clutched his chest. “Why didn’t you tell me about something this important from the start?!”
Zitong froze, seemingly not understanding why he suddenly got so angry. “My lord, you didn’t ask. You only told me to check if Madam had finished her business.”
Meng Xizhao: “…………”
Forget it. If he kept talking, he might just get himself worked up to death.
Pushing aside his half-finished artwork, Meng Xizhao sprang up and went off to find his mother.
The most capable maid by Madam Meng’s side was Snow Mirror, who had served her since she was a young lady and was now in her thirties. When Madam Meng commanded her to marry the head of the estate guards at the Ministry of Civil Affairs, Snow Mirror’s combat skills were still formidable. Even the Zhang family’s servants treated her politely.
Snow Mirror was guarding the door. Seeing Meng Xizhao rushing over, her heart skipped a beat.
She had watched over all of Madam Meng’s children growing up and knew them as well as Madam herself. A glance told her immediately: the second young master was about to confront Madam.
She hurried to block him. “Second Young Master! Second Young Master! Madam is seeing a guest—you cannot enter!”
Meng Xizhao had already faced the fierce Huns’ crown prince in direct battle. Was he really going to be stopped by a mere foster maid? He ignored her entirely and stormed into Madam Meng’s room.
Hearing him enter, both ladies looked up in surprise.
Meng Xizhao now resembled an angry pufferfish, chest nearly as high as his chin, eyes fixed on the sketchbook on the table. He dashed over and grabbed the book before either lady could stop him.
Seeing the pages filled with all sorts of drawings of underage girls—some of whom, in later centuries, wouldn’t even complete nine years of mandatory education—Meng Xizhao’s face turned green.
Clutching the sketchbook, he shouted, “Mother!”
Madam Meng: “…”
She, who had once struck officials with her fists and kicked elder ladies, now felt a rare twinge of guilt in front of her son.
But guilt lasted only a second before she realized: she had done it for the second young master. Why should she feel guilty?
Her indignation rose. “What are you yelling for?! Didn’t you see your aunt is still here?”
The Crown Princess: “…………”
She let out a delicate laugh, her already fragile features now even more sentimental. “You two chat, you two chat… oh, it’s been so long since I last saw Second Young Master. You’ve become more and more handsome! Well, sister, I’m busy with matters at the Duke’s mansion, so I’ll take my leave. No need to see me out! You two carry on talking.”
As she spoke, the Crown Princess stood, performing exaggerated hand gestures, urging them to stay put. Once she reached the doorway, she sprinted off—graceful yet commanding. Anyone unfamiliar would mistake this frail lady for the fleet-footed young master himself.
…
Her sudden departure left Madam Meng unable to even be angry.
Turning her gaze back, she glanced at Meng Xizhao. “Look at you… you scared your aunt away.”
Meng Xizhao refused to take the blame. “When has Aunt ever been afraid of me? It was your loud voice that scared her!”
Mother and son now shared a brief, awkward silence.
Madam Meng: “…In the end, your aunt is just too timid.”
Meng Xizhao: “Exactly. Mother, no matter how fierce you are, you wouldn’t actually hit Aunt.”
Madam Meng: “…………”
She squinted, teeth clenched. “I see you’re getting mischievous again.”
Meng Xizhao snorted and sat in the spot where the Crown Princess had just been. “Mother, why didn’t you tell me about finding me a bride? Something this big, and you kept it from me?”
Madam Meng replied lightly, as if the matter were trivial: “Why would I tell you? The match is arranged by parents and matchmakers. When I find the right one, you’ll naturally be informed.”
Meng Xizhao chuckled. “You’re afraid that if you tell me early, I won’t agree, and then you wouldn’t be able to continue looking, right?”
“……”
Suddenly, Madam Meng understood why, not long ago, Meng Jiuyu would get so upset whenever the second young master was mentioned.
“You won’t agree, but I’m going to arrange this marriage for you anyway. Second Young Master, consider your age this year—most people your age already have children.”
Meng Xizhao: “I’m not ordinary! Why compare me to them? Mother, haven’t you heard the saying, ‘How can a sparrow understand the ambitions of a swan?’”
Madam Meng’s brows shot up. “You’re saying I’m the sparrow?!”
Meng Xizhao grinned. “Of course not! You’re the swan, who gave birth to me, a little swan. And now is the time for me to flap my wings and soar ninety thousand miles into the sky. Why insist on marrying me off? Isn’t that just adding burdens?”
Madam Meng scowled. “You want to quote books to lecture me, yet you haven’t even studied enough! The one soaring ninety thousand miles is the Kunpeng, what does that have to do with you, a little chick? The classics talk about filial piety—why not mention that? The sages said to obey your parents. Why do you insist on going against them?”
Meng Xizhao: “……”
Oh no, he hadn’t expected his mother to be so well-read.
He could argue with twisted logic all he wanted, but if she quoted proper texts, he’d lose in three sentences. Sitting silently, staring at her raised eyebrows, he decided on another approach: push the limits.
He pressed his lips together, sprang up, and shouted loudly: “Fine! I don’t care! If you marry me off, I’ll shave my head and become a monk!”
Madam Meng: “…………”
Her anger flared. “You dare!”
Meng Xizhao: “See if I dare! I’ve already hurt myself eating meat in the Huns’ lands. From now on, I’ll eat vegetarian every day—no constipation, either!”
Madam Meng, exasperated at his “filthy talk,” slammed the table and stood up. “Meng Xizhao!!!”
But strangely, her shout made him less defiant. He looked at her with a pitiful expression, thump! sat back down.
Madam Meng: “……”
What is he doing?
Meng Xizhao dabbed at his eyes, no tears actually falling, but pretending as if they were.
“What are you doing!”
His almost-crying voice filled the room, leaving Madam Meng stunned.
And he continued: “A man should achieve great deeds first. Thinking about marriage now—what’s wrong with that?! And yet you shout at me, call me by name… I’m seventeen, almost eighteen, a grown man! Why do you still treat me like a naughty five- or six-year-old? I have pride! If people outside knew, Meng Xiuzhu would get scolded at home too. How could I ever survive?!”
Madam Meng: “…………”
She studied him warily, unsure if he was truly upset. Sitting wasn’t comfortable, standing wasn’t either.
Meng Xizhao lowered his head, sniffled, looking pitiful. “Everyone has their own path. It can’t be forced. My first half of life has already gone like this. If I want to do something meaningful in the second half, I can’t even count on anyone. And even you, Mother… you don’t believe in me. You’re my mother—you should support me! If you don’t, fine, but why stop me?”
Madam Meng stiffened. His soft, pointed words pricked her spine. “When have I ever stopped you? I want to support you, which is why I want to find a wife who can help you. Second Young Master, your father and I can’t be with you forever. Your eldest brother will live with the county princess, Jiaojiao will marry out, and you’d be all alone. Do you think your mother could bear that?”
Finally, the reason came out. Meng Xizhao found it a bit tricky.
It was just too reasonable. Countless resolute bachelors had died on this exact excuse.
He fell silent for a moment, then mumbled quietly: “Alone? I have Jin Zhu, Yin Liu, Qingfu, and Zitong with me.”
Speaking of Zitong, he paused, then decided to count her in just to make the numbers work.
But Madam Meng would hear none of it: “They can’t be compared to a wife. Only a wife stands by you as one body, feels your cold and your warmth. Loyal servants are still outsiders—they don’t count as family.”
After a moment, she added: “Your resistance to marriage… isn’t it because of your condition?”
Meng Xizhao: “……”
Why bring that up again?
Madam Meng sighed. “Second Young Master, listen to your mother. This illness can be treated slowly. But marriage… better sooner than later. Perhaps the reason you haven’t succeeded before is because those people weren’t your true wife. When it’s the right one, perhaps your illness will heal itself.”
Meng Xizhao listened to his mother’s twisted reasoning and could only marvel. “But Mother, what if marrying doesn’t work either? What then?”
Madam Meng paused. “Then we’ll nurture it slowly. One day it will improve.”
Meng Xizhao: “…Do you think my future wife will agree to nurture it together with me?”
Madam Meng gave him a glance. “Once she’s married into the house, even if she doesn’t want to agree, she will.”
Meng Xizhao: “…………”
He really wanted to bow to his mother.
She was planning a marriage trap!
Occasionally, Meng Xizhao felt that his family was surprisingly normal—but it never lasted long. Before he knew it, they would remind him with their true natures: no, you saw wrong.
In an instant, Meng Xizhao felt utterly exhausted, pressing a hand to his forehead. “Mother, you should just give up on using your divine abilities.”
Madam Meng: “…?”
What did he mean?
Meng Xizhao sighed, lifting his head. “If you insist on arranging things, then go ahead. But my stance is clear: I will not marry.”
Standing, he gazed at his mother, eyes heavy with weariness. “Everything I told you before was true. I genuinely want to do good deeds. Hiding my illness, tricking some young lady into this house… no matter how you look at it, that isn’t a good deed. If you keep forcing me, I’ll have no choice but to take extreme measures.”
Madam Meng let out a cold laugh. “What, you want to fight me?”
Meng Xizhao gave her a long, silent look and then simply walked out.
Madam Meng’s heart fluttered at the restrained intensity in his eyes. After he left, she spent the entire afternoon doing nothing, lost in restless thoughts.
Back in his own courtyard, Meng Xizhao had calmed considerably, no longer in such a hurry.
It dawned on him that when he first heard about this marriage arrangement, he hadn’t thought it through. Settling a marriage would take time. Even if his mother worked like a rocket, it wouldn’t be done in a single month. By then, he’d already be gone, and these trivial matters wouldn’t concern him.
As for whether Madam Meng might take matters into her own hands after he left…
Meng Xizhao chuckled. No need to worry about that either.
Returning to his desk, he found Zitong still standing in the same spot, and he admired her composure.
Questioning Zitong, understanding Zitong, becoming Zitong.
Meng Xizhao mimicked her stance, clearing his mind completely, expressionless, and continued his painting.
The next day, the twenty-ninth of the twelfth lunar month, the streets were relatively empty. Most errands had been finished; people were already starting the New Year.
Meng Xizhao carried his completed paintings and arrived at the Crown Prince’s villa. He assumed the Crown Prince would still be absent and had prepared to hand the paintings directly to the guards—but to his surprise, the door was opened by Yu Fulan.
Meng Xizhao paused, eyes widening. “Captain Yu, Your Highness is out of the palace today?”
Yu Fulan: “…Yesterday, the Crown Prince spent the whole day outside.”
He didn’t read, didn’t play chess, just walked restlessly in the courtyard, sometimes peering at the gate, sometimes sitting silently inside.
Yu Fulan thought the Crown Prince’s unusual behavior shouldn’t have anything to do with Meng Xizhao—but after hearing the news Meng Xizhao had shared, that was exactly how he became. Yu Fulan eyed Meng Xizhao suspiciously, then stepped aside. “His Highness is inside. Meng Xiuzhu, you may enter.”
Something about Yu Fulan seemed off.
Meng Xizhao couldn’t help but study him.
He wasn’t being paranoid; the last time Yu Fulan acted strangely, it was because someone overheard a conversation between Meng Xizhao and Zhan Buxiu, almost destroying their hard-earned camaraderie. But recently, he hadn’t said anything sensitive.
Shrugging off the unease, Meng Xizhao stepped in cautiously.
Cui Ye was not in the main hall but sitting quietly in his bedroom.
He appeared lost in thought, completely unaware of Meng Xizhao’s footsteps.
Meng Xizhao cleared his throat softly.
Cui Ye abruptly looked up, turning to see Meng Xizhao. He froze, looking a bit stunned.
Meng Xizhao found it amusing. “Your Highness, are you staring at me? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Cui Ye gradually relaxed, instinctively smiling, but then stiffened again once he realized what Meng Xizhao had said. “Second Young Master, don’t speak nonsense.”
Meng Xizhao shrugged nonchalantly. “Just joking.”
Cui Ye’s expression remained serious. “No jokes like that in the future.”
Meng Xizhao hummed, unsure if he had truly listened.
He sat before Cui Ye and offered his opinion: “Your Highness, you’re a bit like my mother.”
Cui Ye: “…The renowned Madam Meng?”
Meng Xizhao paused, then asked, “Why so?”
Seeing Cui Ye wasn’t angry, Meng Xizhao relaxed. Resting his head on his hands like a boneless creature, he said, “Because you, like my mother, care about these little things.”
He lifted his round eyes, smiling at Cui Ye. “But I know you’re all looking out for me.”
Cui Ye pressed his lips together, listening carefully.
So it had become so obvious—Meng Xizhao couldn’t help but compare him to his beloved mother.
It made Cui Ye feel a bit foolish for not noticing sooner.
His feelings were complicated: a mix of joy, excitement, weight, and ultimately, bitterness.
Even though he recognized it, what could he do? His preference, the “Way of the Dragon and the Way of Longyang,” was considered a grave offense, condemned by heaven and earth. Given his position, what could he possibly do?
Besides, Meng Xizhao had no such feelings for him; he was just an ordinary young man, destined to marry one day.
And that day was approaching.
Thinking of this, Cui Ye’s mood sank again. He stared at his own palm, lost in thought.
Meng Xizhao: “…Why is the Crown Prince plunging into his darkest moment while we’re just talking? I didn’t even say anything wrong…”
At that moment, Meng Xizhao and Yu Fulan were on the same wavelength. He realized the Crown Prince was incredibly complex; trying to figure him out might be harder than developing nuclear weapons in a lifetime.
For things that were too difficult, Meng Xizhao gave up quickly, never making things hard for himself. He stopped overthinking and lowered his head, reaching into his sleeve to pull out a small scroll.
He handed it to Cui Ye, his voice tinged with excitement: “Your Highness, please take a look. This is my New Year gift for you.”
Cui Ye lifted his gaze and looked at the slightly creased scroll, its edges curling. He paused. “Second Young Master, is the administration short on paper?”
Meng Xizhao looked blank. “No…”
Cui Ye: “…”
You couldn’t at least use a better sheet next time?
He let the thought go, figuring that having any gift at all was already impressive—no need to be picky.
Slowly unrolling the paper, Cui Ye’s eyes widened at the three-dimensional illustration before him.
It was drawn in the same playful style as the “piggy” from last time, but this time the protagonist was a chubby, round-lined carp, wearing a tiny crown of the Crown Prince on its head.
The image was simple: the carp swimming fiercely against a rushing river. Just from this picture, Cui Ye could already grasp its meaning. But Meng Xizhao tapped the air in front of him. “Look at the back—there’s another one.”
Cui Ye looked at him, then picked up the next sheet.
This time, the carp leapt into the air, surrounded by strange lines. After a moment, Cui Ye realized they indicated glowing.
On its head were now two round horns—it had transformed into a dragon.
Cui Ye gazed at the illustration for a long while, finally letting out a low chuckle.
Meng Xizhao, practically on pins and needles, asked, “Your Highness, do you like it? Is it good?”
Tracing the adorable lines of the chubby carp, Cui Ye nodded, voice low: “Yes. Very good.”
Meng Xizhao finally felt satisfied. “Good. It was worth spending a whole day on this. If I had more time, I could draw a dozen more—then you could flip them and see the images come alive.”
He let his imagination run wild. Curiously, he asked, “Your Highness, do you think I could publish some picture books in this style? I’m sure ordinary people would love them.”
Animated picture books would be popular, but this unique style… probably only Cui Ye would truly appreciate it. In this era, you had to have eyes that worked as fast as your brain to fully enjoy Meng Xizhao’s art.
Cui Ye carefully folded the drawings, then looked earnestly at Meng Xizhao. “Second Young Master often says I’m good to you, but in truth, you have always been the one good to me.”
Meng Xizhao felt a twinge of embarrassment. “Your Highness, these are just two humble drawings.”
No need to be so sincere; he could produce a thousand variations without repeating himself.
Cui Ye shook his head. “Humble, yet it touches my heart.”
Meng Xizhao: “…”
Here it came again—sticky, heartfelt sentiments.
Meng Xizhao hated being on the receiving end of someone’s sincerity—it made him forget everything else and unable to function.
Even a perfectly comfortable chair suddenly felt like needles piercing him, yet he knew he had to say something, or Cui Ye would be stuck.
After a long pause, he mumbled, “Your Highness…”
And then… words failed him entirely.
Seeing him flustered, Cui Ye smiled knowingly, easing the tension.
Meng Xizhao exhaled in relief, while Cui Ye felt a sharp pang of bittersweetness.
When the heart is eager, words flow freely; when it is empty, like Meng Xizhao just now, even one sentence becomes impossible to utter.
So it wasn’t that Cui Ye wanted to be sentimental—facing Yu Fulan or Zhang Shuogong, he simply couldn’t say such things. The difference lay entirely in the person before him.
Thinking further, he realized that even today, he might not have spoken anything at all.
Lifting his gaze, Cui Ye smiled at Meng Xizhao: “I heard… Second Young Master is going to marry?”
Meng Xizhao froze.
Did you set up surveillance in my house?
He was shocked. “Your Highness, you found out so quickly?”
Cui Ye’s smile stretched a little, though strained: “Word has spread throughout Yingtian Prefecture.”
Meng Xizhao: “…Just two days, and it’s spread across Yingtian Prefecture?!”
His mother’s efficiency was insane. Forget opening shops—she could easily be a master of public opinion.
His lips twitched; annoyance prickled him. “Your Highness, don’t listen to rumors—none of it is true.”
Cui Ye paused: “Not true?”
Meng Xizhao’s expression soured. “Yes. It’s my mother acting on her own. Maybe someone said something to her—she insists on arranging this marriage. But I… I have no interest in such things. Marry? I think living my own life is enough. Have you heard the saying: wise men do not fall in love, and solitary kings protect the state alone?”
Cui Ye: “…………”
Honestly? He hadn’t heard that before.
Staring at Meng Xizhao’s unwavering expression, a thrill of quiet joy rose in Cui Ye’s chest.
If Meng Xizhao never marries, lives his life alone—and he too never marries, lives alone—then rounded off, doesn’t that mean they will support each other forever?
Cui Ye’s math skills, even if Zu Chongzhi appeared, would bow in admiration.
Caught in the surge of emotion, Cui Ye reached out and grasped Meng Xizhao’s hand. “Second Young Master… are you serious?”
Meng Xizhao froze.
At that moment, Meng Xizhao blinked, wondering why Cui Ye was showing such unrestrained delight.
Cui Ye quickly realized his expression had betrayed him. He stiffened for a moment, then masked it with a worried look. “I’m just afraid you’ll regret this later.”
Meng Xizhao blinked innocently, failing to notice the subtle shift in Cui Ye’s expression. “I won’t. I’ve already thought it through. My destined partner must have a soul that resonates with mine—but in this world, there is no one who truly understands me. So I will never marry.”
Cui Ye: “……”
The emotional ups and downs were almost too much for him to handle. He hurriedly asked, “Second Young Master, why are you so certain?”
Meng Xizhao considered for a moment but decided it was too complicated to explain. “Your Highness, just consider me overly picky,” he said, clearly unwilling to continue the discussion.
Cui Ye could do nothing but switch topics.
After Meng Xizhao left, Yu Fulan immediately went in to check on the Crown Prince. From a glance, he seemed somewhat better, more composed than before—but his expression… somehow more solemn? Yu Fulan was thoroughly puzzled.
＊
On the thirtieth day of the twelfth lunar month, New Year’s Eve, all civil and military officials were dressed and present at the palace, ready to pay respects to Emperor Tianshou.
Even Meng Xizhao’s mother could not remain idle. As a titled consort, she had to rise obediently and visit the imperial harem to offer her congratulations. But there was no Empress, no Empress Dowager, and Lin Xianfei, who had served as acting consort for two years, had long been expelled from Yingtian Prefecture. The officials received by the court were under the supervision of an elderly consort of the harem.
The elderly consort was already over fifty, an age where most would be enjoying retirement, yet here she was, performing duties to assist Emperor Tianshou.
Alas, there was no avoiding it. With the position of Noble Consort vacant, Xianfei exiled, and the other consorts either deceased or in early widowhood, the palace needed to maintain appearances. Though everyone preferred that the emperor not appoint a new Empress, the remaining consort positions still had to be filled; otherwise, it would delay all proceedings.
During the previous reign, the harem had stirred strategically at times, while the officials recited auspicious phrases in turn.
Now that Meng Xizhao was fourth-rank, he no longer had to stand at the very end—but not much better, as he would still have to wait for half an hour before it was his turn.
Fighting a yawn, he endured, when suddenly a palace attendant dashed into the hall.
He knelt in the rear, right where Meng Xizhao was standing.
The recitation of auspicious phrases by the front officials was interrupted, and the attendant, face full of excitement, looked up at Emperor Tianshou: “Your Majesty! Excellent news! General Ding’s troops have taken Hongzhou in a single strike and driven out the Nanzhao barbarians! The city has been recovered!”
The officials froze for a moment, then reacted in unison, turning toward the emperor and bowing repeatedly. “Congratulations, Your Majesty! Blessings upon the empire!”
“Long live Great Qi!”
Meng Xizhao joined the crowd in the gestures, but stole a glance at Emperor Tianshou.
As expected, the emperor was ecstatic, patting the dragon throne like a 150-pound child, exclaiming his approval and ordering Qin Feimang to reward the attendant who delivered the news.
The attendant knelt gratefully to receive the reward, but Meng Xizhao glanced at him skeptically. Such good news usually came from the general’s trusted messenger—not some lowly attendant seeking personal gain by intercepting the army at the palace gates.
Still, this was not the time to intervene. If he acted, he might ruin the emperor’s mood, bringing misfortune on himself, the attendant, and the unknown soldiers who delivered the report.
With such news, Emperor Tianshou’s spirits soared even higher. Normally, he would tire after an hour of hearing reports, but today he sat for two hours. When Meng Xizhao finally left the palace, his legs were numb.
Fortunately, Meng Jiu Yu had experience. Once in the carriage, she showed him how to massage his legs, and within minutes, he felt normal again.
On New Year’s Eve, the court visits were mandatory; the first day of the lunar new year would be the same, though no auspicious phrases would be recited—just accompanying the emperor for the rituals.
A boring day, as usual. Meng Xizhao assumed he would have to stand until the emperor departed, but at the emperor’s closing remarks, he heard news that shocked him.
Receiving the victory report on New Year’s Eve was an exceptionally auspicious omen, symbolizing smooth fortune in the coming year. As the main reward, Emperor Tianshou decided to upgrade the city of Hongzhou and give it a more auspicious name. From now on, the city would be a prefecture, called Longxing Prefecture.
Meng Xizhao: “…………”
They win a battle, and instead of promoting the people, they promote the land.
Truly, Emperor Tianshou lives up to his reputation.