Stammering, Shi Dazhuang said: “Lo-lo-lo-…”
Meng Xizhao raised an eyebrow: “Longxing Prefecture—formerly Hongzhou.”
Shi Dazhuang immediately dropped to his knees.
He tried to force a smile, but it looked worse than crying.
“My lord, honestly, I haven’t really made any significant progress. The first batch of selected seeds is just sitting in the warehouse, and the fertilizer formulas are all written down on paper. My lord could take these along to Longxing Prefecture while I stay behind to continue researching the second batch—this way I won’t let you down…”
Meng Xizhao shook his head: “Hey, don’t belittle yourself. You are the most professional when it comes to farming. Just taking the formulas isn’t enough—what if something goes wrong on site? I feel much more reassured with you there.”
Shi Dazhuang: “…………”
Overcome with emotion, he wept and expressed his gratitude: “Thank you, my lord, for your trust… sob, sob, sob!”
Meng Xizhao helped him up and then told him he could go home to make arrangements. They would depart after the first month of the year. If nothing unexpected happened, they wouldn’t return until the end of the year. He advised Shi Dazhuang to bring extra clothing and not to worry about his family. Once they left, Meng Xizhao would have Shi Dazhuang’s family moved into the inner city. The Meng family owned several private properties there, and he would assign them a small house—perfectly safe, with constant patrols by city guards. Although their estate was secure, living in the inner city was far more convenient.
Thus, Shi Dazhuang’s family was now well provided for.
Because Shi Dazhuang was going so far with him, Meng Xizhao even increased his salary as travel compensation. The Shi family, just five members, could live comfortably in the inner city. Extra funds could hire two maids to help with household chores. Meng Xizhao had resolved all of Shi Dazhuang’s worries—and removed his last possible excuse.
After bidding farewell to Meng Xizhao, Shi Dazhuang returned home in a daze. His wife had just put their daughter to sleep and, seeing him so distracted, anxiously asked: “Husband, didn’t Lord Meng call you? Why are you so absent-minded? Did he say something difficult to you?”
Shi Dazhuang looked at his gentle, soft-eyed wife and felt a surge of emotion: “My dear—”
He recounted everything.
Upon hearing it, his wife froze, then couldn’t help but laugh: “Husband, this is a good thing! Lord Meng is a righteous official—everything he does benefits the people. In the estate, there are often loud explosions; at first we didn’t understand why. It was only when my father’s scholar friends heard the story at the teahouse that we realized—those were weapons Lord Meng had commissioned to counter the Xiongnu and Nanzhao barbarians.”
“My husband, I may not be well-read, but I know enough to understand that who one associates with affects one’s character. This is a rare opportunity. Perhaps it will elevate our family. Even if not, helping the people of Longxing Prefecture is great merit.”
Her expression grew resolute, carrying the air of a female general from the Yang family: “Husband, go with peace of mind! I will take care of the household, honor my mother-in-law, watch over our uncles, and raise our precious daughter properly. You focus on your journey without worry!”
Shi Dazhuang: “…………”
He felt a bit numb: “Wife, you’re not even worried about my safety?”
She paused, then lifted her head: “It doesn’t matter. If something should happen to you, your two uncles will support the family. As for our daughter, I will ensure she remains here and marries into a suitable family, so the Shi family line will continue.”
Shi Dazhuang: “…………”
Truly, she was a devoted wife—she had even thought about arrangements after his potential death.
With such unwavering support, all he could do was tearfully pack his belongings, secretly hoping the Emperor might suddenly reconsider and deem Lord Meng’s assignment to Longxing Prefecture beneath him, sending him elsewhere instead.
Wherever he went didn’t matter to Shi Dazhuang; anywhere was better than Longxing Prefecture.
Alas, his wish would not come true.
On the first day back at work, Meng Jiuyu took the dispatch list and went to Emperor Tianshou, who had not yet recovered from the festival indulgences. He pleaded his case, describing all the hardships he had endured over the years…
For ten years, he had risen from Zhongshu Sheren to Canzhi Zhengshi, devoting himself every day to serving Emperor Tianshou. He rose earlier than the roosters and slept later than the dogs, and in court, almost daily, he faced impeachments by censors. Those hoping for his downfall could line up from Donghua Gate all the way to Baihu Gate.
He had poured his heart and soul into his work, yet the emperor still insisted on sending his fragile young son to Qinzhou—practically wishing him dead.
Of course, Meng Jiuyu’s words were phrased more elegantly, but the meaning was clear. Emperor Tianshou’s head spun from listening, and he asked, “So what do you propose?”
Meng Jiuyu immediately cupped his hands and pleaded for the emperor to revoke the order and not dispatch Meng Xizhao.
He wasn’t alone. Today wasn’t a regular court day; a few senior ministers were present to report on recent governance matters. Alongside him were Situ Xiang Gong, Yan Xiang Gong, and the ever-stubborn Grand Tutor Gan, who refused to retire.
Situ Xiang Gong was the final checkpoint before any decree was issued. Each decree had to be reviewed by Yan Xiang Gong, drafted, then sent to Meng Jiuyu for comment, and finally submitted to the Menxia Sheng for Situ Xiang Gong’s review. Only once he approved could it be enforced.
However, the dispatch list had reached Meng Jiuyu and stalled. Situ Xiang Gong had no idea that Meng Xizhao was to be sent away. Feeling puzzled, he glanced at Yan Shunying beside him.
Yan Xiang Gong: “…”
What are you looking at? Do you think I’d be foolish enough to suggest sending the emperor’s favored courtier to the frontier? Not me, you idiot! Look again!
Soon, Situ Xiang Gong realized the truth. Yan Shunying, though greedy and domineering, knew that until Grand Tutor Gan was out of the picture, he needed to lie low. He wouldn’t offend anyone unnecessarily.
That left only one possible answer.
Both Situ Xiang Gong and Yan Xiang Gong silently looked toward Grand Tutor Gan.
Gan knew this would happen. Meng Jiuyu wouldn’t watch his son be sent to the border without trying to intervene. Gan also had a strategy: sending someone away was standard procedure, but Meng Xizhao had performed exceptionally when interacting with the Xiongnu, proving he was well-suited for foreign affairs. So sending him to Qinzhou was ideal.
Meng Jiuyu could spar with Yan Shunying and even make a few jabs at Situ Huan, but before Gan, he could only argue reasonably—never revealing to the emperor that he was challenging the Grand Tutor.
After some back-and-forth, Meng Jiuyu lost ground.
Emperor Tianshou, growing impatient, thought: it’s just a dispatch, why make such a fuss?
At that moment, a frustrated Meng Jiuyu shouted, “Even if he is sent away, he cannot go to Qinzhou! He has contributed so greatly—sending him there as a mere Zhizhou would chill the hearts of other meritorious officials! At minimum, he should be appointed Zhifu!”
The emperor interjected, frowning: “Where do you suggest he be Zhifu?”
Meng Jiuyu opened his mouth, but Gan, seeing the emperor considering his counsel, quickly spoke first: “Among the vacant prefectures, only Longxing Prefecture remains.”
Meng Jiuyu: “……”
In truth, he had planned to propose Longxing Prefecture himself, ready with a rousing speech to convince the emperor of the Meng family’s loyalty and concern.
But the old man was too quick—he had beaten Meng Jiuyu to the punch.
From the moment Gan began his “competition,” Meng Jiuyu realized someone was scheming behind the scenes. He hadn’t expected Gan to be so persistent, determined to trip up Meng Xizhao.
Why? Has my son wronged you, or eaten your rice? Why such targeting?
Meng Jiuyu lowered his head, concealing his anger, vowing to deal with Gan’s descendants later.
After further wrangling, the dispatch decision was finalized. With Gan’s strong recommendation and Meng Jiuyu inexplicably silent, Emperor Tianshou, who had no real intention of sending Meng Xizhao to Longxing Prefecture, finally agreed. Even knowing it was a harsh post, Gan insisted, and Meng Jiuyu, seeming to concede, consented—Meng Xizhao would govern Longxing Prefecture so efficiently that the people could quickly return to peaceful lives.
Thus, the matter was settled.
Throughout, Meng Jiuyu never mentioned Xie Yuan.
After all, the position of Zhifu required serious discussion among the emperor and high officials, but who served as Tongzhi was insignificant. Zhifu was a third-rank official, roughly equivalent to a fourth-rank post in Yingtian Prefecture, while a Tongzhi under him was fifth-rank, equivalent to the status of Xie You, Xie Yuan’s father.
A Tongzhi didn’t attend court or report directly to the emperor—there was no need to even inform Tianshou.
Back at his office, Meng Jiuyu handled it with minimal effort.
When the Ministry of Personnel saw the privately issued appointment, they thought they were mistaken. They didn’t dare question Meng Jiuyu. Normally, the appointment would have been issued directly, but fearing future trouble if things were exposed, they sent it through the proper channels to Situ Xiang Gong.
Situ Huan raised an eyebrow at the appointment.
Even Jiang Fang was confused: “This Xie Yuan… isn’t he from Empress Xie’s maternal family? Could Meng Jiuyu really not know who he is?”
Situ Xiang Gong hummed in response. “Who knows?”
Jiang Fang asked, “Should we send it back for clarification?”
Situ Xiang Gong glanced at Xie Yuan’s name on the document and chuckled. “No, this has nothing to do with us. Let’s just pretend we never saw it.”
With that, he placed the document among the “read and approved” pile.
Jiang Fang: “…………”
Pretend you never saw it? That’s not pretending—you just waved it through.
＊
At Longxing Prefecture, the shortage of personnel was acute. The court needed to quickly send someone to take over.
Since Meng Xiang was about to get married, Meng Xizhao didn’t want to miss such matters, so he dispatched a vanguard team.
Xie Yuan led a group of officials arranged by the Ministry of Personnel, four clerks drafted from Yingtian Prefecture’s offices, and Silver Willow, specifically sent by Meng Xizhao, all setting out together.
The clerks were there to protect Xie Yuan and handle official duties upon arrival. The minor officials arranged by the Ministry of Personnel would help form a temporary administration.
Silver Willow acted as Meng Xizhao’s emissary, handling messages and miscellaneous tasks.
The official Zhifu would depart on the ninth day of the second lunar month, traveling light with only Shi Dazhuang and Jin Zhu accompanying him.
After all, this was an assignment to the frontier. Other officials often brought their wives and children—him bringing two maids would raise no eyebrows.
However, upon hearing this, Qingfu protested.
“Langjun, why am I not going this time?!”
Meng Xizhao: “…Longxing Prefecture isn’t exactly a pleasant place. What would you do there?”
Qingfu: “Then why can Sister Jin Zhu go with you?!”
Meng Xizhao: “….”
Do you have Jin Zhu’s efficiency? Her looks? Her spending power?
…
Not wanting to deny her, he resigned himself: she could go and continue shining there.
Qingfu didn’t care. He had served Meng Xizhao only a short while, previously sent to the Xiongnu for nearly three months. Now, Longxing Prefecture meant three years away. How could the master be gone for years while he stayed behind? He would be unemployed at this rate!
Their argument caught the attention of Madame Meng, who glared at Qingfu and said: “Bring them. Not just him—also bring that girl Zi Teng. Jin Zhu will likely be sent elsewhere, Silver Willow will manage your residence, leaving only Qingfu to handle your meals and needs? Bring them all. I won’t repeat myself. Honestly, even if you brought twenty, it wouldn’t be too many.”
Meng Xizhao: “….”
As Zhifu, he could bring no more than twenty maids. Otherwise, before even reaching Longxing Prefecture, the enraged locals would likely be out hunting rotten eggs—maybe not to kill him, but certainly to disgrace him.
…
Fine, fine, he’d bring them all. At worst, they’d remain in the residence.
Three days after the appointment was issued, Xie Yuan’s party set off, just after the Lantern Festival.
Meng Xizhao and his group would depart on the morning of the ninth, aiming to reach the outskirts of Longxing Prefecture by nightfall on the tenth.
The two places were only eight hundred li apart. Mounted on horses and traveling light, traveling day and night, eighteen hours was sufficient.
But there was one problem: Meng Xizhao couldn’t ride a horse.
…
Over the next few days, he had no choice but to practice diligently.
One day, as he struggled with mounting and dismounting, Meng Jiaojiao appeared. Standing under the shade of a tree, she watched him awkwardly handle the horse. As he prepared to rest, she ran over, bringing a bowl of hot soup.
“Second Brother, here’s my silver leaf soup.”
Meng Xizhao took it, sipped, and smiled. “Jiaojiao, your cooking is excellent.”
Meng Jiaojiao smiled back, but after only a brief moment, she sighed anxiously. “Second Brother, once you leave, we won’t see each other for a long time.”
Meng Xizhao paused. “It can’t be helped. But I’ll return as soon as possible. Don’t grow too fast—I worry I won’t recognize you when I come back.”
Meng Jiaojiao’s eyes filled with tears. “Second Brother… by the time you return, I might even be married.”
Meng Xizhao: “….”
Why are you still worrying about that?
Although the Crown Prince was no longer an option, countless young men outside were ready to pursue her. Meng Xizhao, seeing his sister’s bright and charming face, couldn’t help worrying: “Has Mother started arranging a match for you?”
Meng Jiaojiao shook her head. “Not yet. Mother said it would wait until Elder Brother is married.”
Meng Xizhao: “…that’s only a few days away!”
He handed the bowl to a nearby maid, then took Meng Jiaojiao aside. His expression turned serious.
“Jiaojiao, when it comes to finding a husband, be vigilant. Don’t trust too easily. People change—he may speak sweetly and sincerely today, but tomorrow could be all honeyed words hiding malice.”
Meng Jiaojiao wrung her handkerchief. “I understand that.”
“My friend Ah Hui once said that when choosing a husband, the most important factor isn’t whether he loves you, but whether he benefits your family. I used to think that was selfish, but seeing you, Second Brother, working so hard for your future, I’m unsure now.”
She asked sincerely, “Second Brother, do you think I should do the same? Find a husband who can help our Meng family, so that you and Elder Brother have less burden?”
Meng Xizhao: “….”
He looked at Meng Jiaojiao, utterly stunned.
He had intended for her to associate closely with Zhan Hui, letting her benefit from Hui’s guidance and become a sharp, discerning young lady.
But this—this was… overkill.
Everyone’s future was their own concern. No matter what their family did, it didn’t justify using their little daughter as a bargaining chip for advantage. That was no different from the emperors who casually married off princesses.
Meng Xizhao hurriedly dispelled the notion in her head. “No! Absolutely not!”
“Jiaojiao, marriage is a lifetime matter. Even with love and care, it doesn’t guarantee a happy life. Without love, each day will be bitter and lonely. Elder Brother doesn’t value advancement as much, and I… I must fight for my own future. You don’t need to strategize for me. Listen to me: as a young lady in the administrative department, very few girls are as privileged as you. Even when Father retires, your maternal family still has me and Elder Brother to support you. Our girls shouldn’t think in terms of marrying up or down—only whether it suits your heart. Why do Father and we strive so hard? Isn’t it so our family can act freely within morality, without restraint?”
Meng Jiaojiao considered his words carefully.
She didn’t show overt emotion but, after a moment of listening, her gaze dropped, tinged with melancholy. “I could do that… but Ah Hui, she…”
Meng Xizhao interrupted firmly before she could finish. “She can too.”
Meng Jiaojiao looked up in surprise. “Ah? Second Brother, how do you know?”
Meng Xizhao patted her head. “Because I know Zhan Buxiu. Don’t worry—when it comes to Zhan Hui, Buxiu cares far more than you. He won’t watch his sister leap into a fire pit.”
Meng Jiaojiao frowned. “But Buxiu is only a guerrilla general. Who knows when he’ll return?”
Meng Xizhao thought to himself: by the time I return, he’ll probably be back too. And then he won’t just be a guerrilla general.
He couldn’t explain all this to Meng Jiaojiao, so he merely smiled. “Trust him. A brother’s strength is limitless when it comes to his sister.”
Meng Jiaojiao giggled at his teasing, her eyes soft with longing. “Second Brother, I really don’t want you to leave.”
Lowering her head, she tugged at his sleeve. “When you’re there, Second Brother… please write to me often.”
After being spoiled by his little sister for a while, Meng Xizhao realized his whole body felt light and weak.
Ah, who could withstand this?
He hoped his future brother-in-law would be strong-willed; otherwise, he’d be lost in Meng Jiaojiao’s incessant calls for a husband every day…
After she left, Meng Xizhao remained dazed, standing by the horse, absentmindedly running his hand along the mane. Qingfu didn’t dare interrupt. Even before leaving Yingtian Prefecture, his master was already feeling the pangs of family longing.
Soon, Meng Xizhao shook off the daze and resumed practice.
Meng Jiaojiao wasn’t the first to express reluctance.
Madame Meng had come earlier, soon-to-be-wed Meng Xiang had also visited, and even Meng Jiuyu couldn’t restrain himself—he stepped into Meng Xizhao’s courtyard, giving endless reminders of instructions already repeated countless times.
Afterward, he still felt uneasy, sitting back to watch Meng Xizhao’s practice.
As he watched, his concern grew. With his second son’s riding skills, surely he’d fall off before even leaving Yingtian Prefecture…
Days passed quickly, and it was already the eighth day of the lunar month.
Tomorrow, he would depart.
For several days, Meng Xizhao had been restless. Qingfu observed him, sensing he was waiting for someone. After learning to ride, he often ventured out—to Wangjiang Tower or to Buxuntian, which was now managed by Young Master Li. Li, seeing him, assumed he was there to check on Buxuntian’s management.
Having followed Meng Xizhao for months, Qingfu understood. He realized: his master was waiting for His Highness the Crown Prince.
Indeed, the two often met secretly. Now, as Meng Xizhao was about to leave, the Crown Prince had not appeared. No wonder his master grew restless when alone.
Yet Meng Xizhao himself remained unaware.
Lately, thoughts of Cui Ye frequently crossed his mind, though he saw nothing strange in it—he simply thought of him, as he had often in the past.
By the eighth day, with all the government fireworks done and no one from the Crown Prince’s side delivering a farewell message, Meng Xizhao felt a bit weighed down.
There was nothing he could do. He couldn’t exactly rush to Cui Ye to request parting words.
The auspicious hour arrived. Madame Meng hurried in to summon him. Meng Xizhao no longer dwelled on thoughts, quickly standing to join the wedding procession.
As Meng Xiang’s younger brother, he had a role in the ceremony. Meng Xiang, clad in bright red nuptial robes, rode a chestnut horse purchased mid-last year by the administrative office and tended to daily like a newborn. Meng Xizhao followed a few steps behind on a spirited black horse.
Fortunately, he had learned to ride—otherwise, he would have had to walk.
At the Junwang Mansion, Meng Xiang paid respects to the Prince and Princess, then followed the usual wedding protocol, facing teasing from the county lord’s brothers. Meng Xizhao couldn’t help with the poetry, so he simply stood there, smiling at the stern-faced Liang Junwang across from him.
“My nephew greets the Junwang. Ah, Junwang, we met before at the apricot examination board. I recognized you at once, but at that time couldn’t greet you properly.”
Prince Liang remained speechless.
“What a perfect day, and you just had to bring up the wrong thing!” he muttered to himself. “Stop talking! If my son-in-law hears this and thinks I’m still scheming over the imperial examinations, what if he treats my daughter badly?!”
Somehow, the commotion in his heart must have been heard by some deity, because Meng Xizhao truly stayed quiet. When Meng Xiang finally escorted the county lord’s daughter out, Meng Xizhao quickly cleared the way, giving the bride and groom a proper path.
During a Da Qi wedding ceremony, the parents of both sides sit in the high hall.
So the county lord’s daughter did not formally bid farewell to her parents. Instead, holding a fan adorned with flowers, she gracefully stepped into the bridal sedan.
At this moment, there was no veil—just the decorative fan covering part of her face. Even so, with a slight tilt, one could still glimpse the bride’s features.
Meng Xizhao deliberately hung back a step, quietly peeking under the fan.
“Ah—”
No wonder his elder brother remained utterly devoted. The county lord’s daughter had a face that radiated peace and prosperity!
Elegant, dignified, commanding…
If one didn’t know she was a county lord, Meng Xizhao might have mistaken her for an empress.
Truly, she looked every bit capable of being the matriarch of the realm.
Matching her with his elder brother seemed almost too good for him.
…
Meng Xiang, now living his dream, smiled blissfully and foolishly at everyone. Even if Meng Xizhao had directly voiced his thoughts, his brother likely wouldn’t have minded—in fact, he might have nodded in agreement.
Meng Xizhao watched his elder brother with a mixture of fondness and exasperation. Well, on such a splendid day, he decided to go along with him.
…
The wedding procession, with its music and fanfare, soon returned to the administrative office. Meng Xiang dismounted and personally escorted the county lord’s daughter, dressed in deep green ceremonial attire, from the sedan, disregarding strict protocol.
Crossing the firepan, Meng Xiang prepared to bow to the Meng family elders, announcing he had brought the bride safely. But only Madame Meng stood there; Meng Jiuyu’s whereabouts were unknown.
Madame Meng’s smile remained as poised and dignified as ever, but the expressions of the relatives and allied ladies behind her were a different story.
One by one, they smiled stiffly, as though something untoward had just occurred.
Meng Xiang was momentarily taken aback and glanced at Meng Xizhao, who furrowed his brows and immediately assumed his duties as the groomsman.
Even though there was no formal groomsman at this moment, Meng Xizhao improvised one for himself.
…
His intuition told him the problem lay in the front hall. Quickening his pace, he entered the courtyard and quietly approached the hall to see who had been so indiscreet as to disrupt the first wedding held at the administrative office in over twenty years.
There, he saw his father standing cheerfully, while the seat that should have been reserved in the high hall had already been occupied by Cui Ye.
Cui Ye was smiling, chatting with Meng Jiuyu, who appeared attentive but whose every hair was screaming inside.
“When did you decide today was the day to show up?!”
Who didn’t know that the eldest son was getting married today? Now, with his arrival, the whole Yingtian Prefecture would find out that he was visiting today, not tomorrow!
Originally, because this wedding involved the administrative office and Prince Liang, the expectation was for imperial relatives to attend in celebration. The highest-ranking guests were assumed to be the princes. Since Prince Liang was also a prince, there was no need for extra courtesy; he could simply sit below and watch.
But now… the visitor was the Crown Prince!
In Da Qi, who besides Emperor Tianshou could ignore the Crown Prince?!
Meng Jiuyu’s mind began to sweat profusely. He fretted, trying to determine where the Crown Prince should sit. He couldn’t let him sit below—that would be disrespectful. But he also couldn’t let him sit above—the newlyweds were not his children!
Meanwhile, Meng Xizhao, having nearly dropped his jaw in shock, hurried in to salvage the situation.
Approaching Cui Ye, he bowed respectfully. “Your Highness, the Crown Prince, I was unaware Your Highness would honor us with your presence today, and for that failure of a proper welcome, I beg your forgiveness.”
Cui Ye turned and smiled. “No matter. When in the Xiongnu, I heard Meng Xiuzhu mention that the eighth day of the second month was the wedding of your elder brother. I simply wished to come and join the celebration.”
The guests dared not speak, though inwardly they thought:
“Join the celebration? Or curry favor?”
Look at how he’s made Meng Xizhao sweat bullets—and Meng Xizhao’s brother, too, looks completely unaware.
Clearly, the Crown Prince had targeted the administrative office, subtly bringing them under his influence.
For a moment, everyone’s minds raced, but ultimately, they settled on one conclusion: it’s none of my business. Observe first.
…
After exchanging a few polite words, Meng Xizhao invited the Crown Prince to step down, allowing him to rise graciously and stand beside Meng Xizhao.
Meng Xizhao used the excuse of catching up with the Crown Prince. Satisfied, the Prince did not leave immediately but said, “Since I’ve come all this way, let me watch the wedding first, then I will go elsewhere.”
He then proceeded to sit at the first lower seat, while Meng Jiuyu, satisfied that the seating issue was resolved, finally exhaled.
Meng Xizhao stood behind the Crown Prince, prepared to attend to him as needed.
When Meng Xiang led the county lord’s daughter inside and saw the Crown Prince seated below, his eyes widened in shock.
Seeing Meng Xizhao standing behind the Crown Prince, his expression turned even more complicated.
So… this is why the second brother always seemed indifferent—he’s been waiting for the perfect moment, now using my wedding as a chance to draw him here…
Meng Xiang muttered to himself: The first to be moved always loses.
…
The wedding ceremony officially began, and Meng Xizhao had stayed until now precisely to witness his elder brother’s moment of happiness, watching everything with full attention.
When the formal bows were completed, everyone immediately flocked around Meng Xiang and the county lord’s daughter to see them off. Meng Xiang, fearing that the crowd might jostle his bride, quickly extended his arms to keep people back, eliciting a wave of good-natured laughter from the guests.
Meng Xizhao couldn’t help but smile as well, though his expression was faint and carried a trace of envy.
Everyone’s eyes were on the newlyweds, but the Crown Prince was watching Meng Xizhao. After a long moment, he finally lowered his gaze.
With the couple gone, there was no need to linger and make things awkward for everyone. Meng Xizhao hastily invited the Crown Prince to his courtyard for a brief rest.
Once the Crown Prince departed, the previously tense atmosphere in the hall finally relaxed. Guests began whispering to their acquaintances, and Meng Jiuyu looked around at the bustling crowd, feeling thoroughly vexed.
His newly minted in-laws—Prince Liang and his wife—remained silent, their gazes fixed on him. From their expressions alone, Meng Jiuyu could discern their thoughts:
During the engagement, you never mentioned you intended to take sides, let alone that the person you’d align with would be the Crown Prince! And just so conveniently, this is revealed on the wedding day itself. Surely this was deliberate!
Meng Jiuyu: “…Doomed.”
The louder it was outside, the quieter Meng Xizhao’s courtyard felt. Not a soul was there—Chee Fu was busy at the front assisting him.
Once the door was closed, Meng Xizhao finally asked, “Your Highness… why did you come today?”
Cui Ye replied, “You didn’t want me to come?”
Meng Xizhao hesitated for a moment. “No… it’s just… I was surprised. I didn’t expect Your Highness to show such intimacy with me in front of others.”
Cui Ye regarded him for a moment, then stood and approached. “In the past, I refrained from showing it to protect you.”
Meng Xizhao twitched his ear, instinctively looking up to meet his gaze. “And now…?”
Cui Ye’s lips curved slightly. “Even now, it is to protect you.”
By placing him within his sphere at the moment of departure, no one nearby could touch him, and those far away would be unaware of the intricacies, daring not to interfere.
And when Meng Xizhao returned, this place would no longer be as it had been. Cui Ye would do everything possible to aid him, and even if he failed, he would not allow himself to become a blade in someone else’s hands aimed at Meng Xizhao.
No one could use him to harm Meng Xizhao.
These heavier thoughts remained unspoken; Cui Ye merely watched him quietly, his eyes shifting subtly, as if committing Meng Xizhao’s every expression to memory.
Meng Xizhao felt strangely unsettled under that gaze, as though his heart were climbing in an elevator, and he froze, unable to look away despite knowing this was no ordinary exchange.
After some time, Cui Ye produced an item from his bosom, carefully wrapped in silk.
Gently lifting the cloth, Meng Xizhao looked down and saw a necklace.
The warm luster of Hetian jade had been carved into the shape of a crescent moon. Every curve and edge had been meticulously polished, and years of being worn had given the jade a gentle glow—much like Cui Ye himself: mischievous in appearance, yet inherently kind and tender.
Meng Xizhao watched as Cui Ye brought the necklace closer and personally fastened it around his neck.
The faint warmth of his breath grazed his collarbone, sending goosebumps up his arms.
Cui Ye’s fingers were cool and light, brushing his skin in a way far more stimulating than the jade itself. Meng Xizhao froze for a long moment before realizing the necklace was already in place.
Cui Ye lowered his gaze, noting Meng Xizhao’s obedient demeanor, and could not resist lightly stroking his neck with his thumb.
He whispered, “Second Young Master, there is a mole here.”
Meng Xizhao immediately raised his hand to cover it, cheeks reddening. “Many people have them.”
Cui Ye tilted his head. “But I have only ever noticed yours.”
Meng Xizhao: “….”
He lowered his head, feeling the jade pendant resting over his heart through his clothes. “What have you given me, Your Highness?”
Cui Ye, noticing the flush on his face, spared him embarrassment and gently shifted the conversation. “It is a talisman.”
Then, smiling faintly, he added: “The crescent moon like a hook, the full moon like a plate. May it grant us reunion, Second Young Master.”