Meng Xizhao had pleaded for so long before Luosahua, and in the end, she only agreed to let him send Xie Yuan back.
Luosahua reasoned that Jin Sanzang could not be fully trusted. Although in his account he claimed a distant relationship with his second uncle, the first person he thought of in his plea was precisely that uncle.
Qi placed high importance on filial piety. From Meng Xizhao’s constant mention of his parents, it was clear he was devoted. All the more reason not to let his second uncle go—keeping him as a hostage could serve as leverage at a critical moment.
As for the household servant, he could not be released either. He was Meng Xizhao’s man; who knew whether they might conspire against Nanzhao? The man surnamed Sun, however, was only an acquaintance. Their bond was minimal, and according to reports, Sun was a scholar. Scholars would never tolerate treason—those who betray their country deserved death.
With their already distant relationship and now opposing views, it was likely that upon returning to Qi, Sun would sever all contact with the Jin family.
Luosahua thought through all this thoroughly. Yet from the moment she took Meng Xizhao’s first suggestion, she had fallen completely into his trap.
Meng Xizhao was anxious, wishing he could send Xie Yuan off immediately.
But it was raining, and he still had much to explain.
From the moment he realized Luosahua was intent on capturing him alive, he felt something was off. If it were just anger over rumors, why not execute him immediately? If she were a sadistic, vindictive person, issuing such an order would make sense—but she was not. She valued talent above petty grievances, and didn’t even mind his Qi nationality. Could such a person really harbor a desire for revenge this intense?
The answer could only be one: Luosahua wanted to capture him not for revenge, but to use him.
Meng Xizhao didn’t know what exactly she had heard or intended to exploit, but he did know that if her intentions were legitimate, she wouldn’t give up so quickly.
Chances were, by the time the official escort returned with them, a second capture team would already be on the move.
Thus Meng Xizhao urged Xie Yuan to hurry, ensuring that news of “Magistrate Meng” being safe reached the people before the second capture team returned.
No matter how eloquent Meng Xizhao could be, once word of his disappearance spread, with his looks, age, uncanny intelligence, and all the other coincidences—never mind Luosahua—even the palace guards could quickly trace him.
He didn’t have to spell it all out; Xie Yuan would understand. But leaving him to go alone weighed heavily on his conscience.
“Sir, perhaps you should go yourself, and I’ll stay here, posing as you. The Nanzhao people are unfamiliar with us; it might be possible to deceive them.”
Meng Xizhao: “…………”
Yes, it might allow them to bluff their way through, but leaving those three behind would mean certain death.
He shook his head. “Anyone can go, but I cannot. Luosahua has already remembered me, and besides, I have tasks to complete here. Do you recall what I said before? I want the four of us to return properly, without a single person being able to claim that we did anything against Qi.”
Xie Yuan remained silent, watching him.
It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Meng Xizhao—just… the risk was far too great.
For a moment, Xie Yuan didn’t even want to leave. He wished Wang Sili and Jia Renliang could take his place; sending word home was something anyone could do. What he truly wanted was to stay, to accompany Meng Xizhao along this perilous path, and to witness just how far he could go.
Xie Yuan’s heart swelled with heroic ambition, but Meng Xizhao had no sense of sentimentality.
Ignoring the stirring emotion in Xie Yuan’s eyes, he pushed him to pack his things, and as he helped, he said, “When you see General Zhan, deliver a message for me.”
Xie Yuan blinked in confusion while packing. “What message?”
Meng Xizhao tossed a few scattered silver coins into his bag, paused in silence, then straightened and looked at him. “Tell him to capture Ganzhou as soon as possible. When the Nanzhao forces are cornered, their crown prince Luomailong will lead troops personally. Tell him—whether he taunts, fires hidden arrows, uses poison, or even deploys explosives—he must make sure that Luomailong’s life remains on the battlefield!”
Xie Yuan was stunned.
“You want him to kill the crown prince of Nanzhao?”
Meng Xizhao looked at him calmly. “Why not?”
Xie Yuan: “……”
It wasn’t that it was impossible.
The problem was… could it really be done? And if Luomailong died, wouldn’t the Nanzhao people launch a furious counterattack?
He thought this and asked, and Meng Xizhao, hearing the two questions, hummed in acknowledgment and then plopped down onto the bed. “Yes, it’s difficult. That’s why I told you to inform General Zhan—to think of some cunning plan. It’s not that I lack confidence in his strength; I just need him to deliver a decisive strike. As for the counterattack… it will happen, of course. But that’s just temporary pain. Once it’s endured, everything will be fine.”
Xie Yuan: “…………”
No… this is too precarious!
A decisive strike first, then enduring a counterattack… how long would that ‘pain’ last? Even without knowing much about battlefield tactics, he understood that even if Ganzhou fell, Ningren Mansion wouldn’t be reclaimed immediately. If Luomailong died, the hatred toward Qi within Ningren would escalate. Meng Xizhao’s situation would only become more dangerous.
Xie Yuan’s gaze was full of worry—not just for Meng Xizhao’s safety, but also for his mental state.
“Sir, as they say, preserve the green hills and there will be fuel for the fire. Nanzhao can be dealt with later, but first, you must keep yourself alive.”
Seeing Xie Yuan’s genuine concern, Meng Xizhao laughed and patted his shoulder like old friends. “Relax, I know what I’m doing. Ah, once I’m free from Nanzhao, I’ll probably go straight back to Tianfu. What rank do you think the emperor will grant me? Surely fourth rank or higher, but fourth rank seems low. Third rank would be just right… perhaps even as an imperial scholar. Imagine me—a year ago, illiterate—becoming a scholar! Ha! What a ridiculous joke.”
Xie Yuan: “…………”
Honestly, he looked like he was on the verge of losing his mind.
…
Despite his lingering worries, Xie Yuan eventually left.
Wang Sili sat by the window, watching his figure fade into the distance. After a long while, he closed the window, sighed, and turned around—only to see Meng Xizhao standing behind him. Wang Sili nearly fainted.
Wang Sili: “…Nephew, why are you standing there?”
Meng Xizhao looked at him, then sat down beside him. “Second uncle, you’re a scholar, right? The Wang family of Taiyuan—wasn’t that your ancestry?”
Wang Sili: “…………”
The Wang clan of Taiyuan was renowned during the Wei and Jin periods, and still notable in the Tang. Over time, the Central Plains fragmented, and Wang’s branch became marginal. Wang Sili had no prominent relatives, so when boasting of his family, he relied on ancestral glory.
This was what he had bragged about upon arriving at Longxing Mansion. Faking calm, he said, “Yes… my family has always served in government. Naturally, we studied as well.”
He didn’t tell Meng Xizhao that no one in the family had ever held rank.
Meng Xizhao didn’t care. He smiled. “Your family has good morals. You’ve studied the four arts, I presume?”
Since the Spring and Autumn period, the four arts—qín, qí, shū, huà—were considered essential skills for gentlemen. Historically, this referred to men, though over time it became expected of women as well. For now, they were still generally male skills.
Wang Sili blinked, not understanding why Meng Xizhao asked.
Still, he nodded. “I… can do them…”
Though not proficient, only at a basic level, that was enough for Meng Xizhao.
Upon hearing this, Meng Xizhao snapped his fingers in front of Wang Sili. “Excellent! Second uncle, you’re my lucky star! I have a task for you. From today on, you do nothing else. Xie Yuan’s room is yours; stay there and use the plans I’ve given you to craft something for me.”
Wang Sili: “…But I don’t know how to craft anything.”
Meng Xizhao sighed. “Impossible! It’s all art, and the principles overlap. Even if you don’t know, you can figure it out. Your hands can play qín, play chess, paint, and copy art—they can surely carve. Let’s set a deadline: one month. Every day, submit two pieces. Focus and put your heart into it. I need to see your progress. If you improve every day, in a month, the final works should be nearly perfect.”
Wang Sili: “…………”
Daily submissions? Two pieces every day?!
Are you even human?!
His face full of resistance, he protested, “No, I really can’t do it.”
Meng Xizhao glanced at him and smiled faintly. “Second uncle, you can’t refuse the wine only to be forced to drink later.”
Wang Sili: “…………”
He stared blankly at Meng Xizhao. The latter sighed. “Xie Yuan has left. Now it’s just the three of us left to depend on each other. Second uncle, you may not realize it, but I absolutely despise being held back by someone. And second, I detest those who only eat but do not work. When faced with such people, I feel… anger, no, hatred. I want to drive them far away, leave them to their own devices, let them die—but not in front of me.”
After saying this, Meng Xizhao suddenly noticed the sweat on Wang Sili’s brow. “Second uncle, why are you sweating so much? Hot? Oh, let me fan you.”
He grabbed a nearby fan and flapped it hard, causing Wang Sili to squint his eyes against the wind. When the gust stopped, Meng Xizhao smiled and reassured him, “Was it my words that frightened you? There’s no need for that. We’re all in the same boat, stranded at the ends of the earth—how could I ever drive you away?”
Wang Sili’s trembling heart finally relaxed a little. Then he heard Meng Xizhao continue slowly: “This is Nanzhao. If I drove you out and you decided to act rashly, exposing my identity, what would happen? So no, driving you away is not an option. Instead, I’ve decided to keep you here permanently.”
Wang Sili: “…………”
He nearly wept with relief, repeatedly shouting, “I’ll carve! I’ll carve!”
Seeing his obedience, Meng Xizhao finally put down the fan and added a gentle reassurance: “Actually, I was just scaring you before. How could I ever harm someone like that? Whatever I do, it’s all to ensure we return to Qi together. The three of us united are as strong as steel.”
This time, Wang Sili didn’t dare speak. He didn’t believe Meng Xizhao was bluffing—this man was just that cunning, willing to sacrifice himself to achieve his goal.
Regardless of his intentions, Wang Sili began diligently carving. Meng Xizhao first gave him a blueprint of a Nanzhao palace guard’s waist badge to practice on. Despite the first piece being rough and uneven, it at least had form. If Meng Xizhao had attempted it himself, a whole block of wood would have been wasted instantly.
Without proper carving tools, Meng Xizhao had to improvise. He bought five utility knives and a paper cutter, and a poor-quality inkstone, which he smashed to create sharp edges for scraping and carving.
Wood? That was simpler.
Relying on his merchant instincts, he wandered the busiest streets of Nanzhao, buying all kinds of curiosities—from jewelry to pots and pans—so much that he couldn’t carry it all and had to hire porters. Among these, he slipped in a few small pieces of wooden furniture made by carpenters—perfectly innocuous.
The furniture was made of various types of wood, which would give Wang Sili plenty of practice material, and those covertly observing wouldn’t suspect a thing. Back at the mansion, Meng Xizhao inspected the textures and kept a one-foot-tall dressing box for himself, leaving the rest for Wang Sili.
Poor Wang Sili had to chop wood with a kitchen knife, carve patterns with a paper cutter, and polish with a smashed inkstone.
Within two days, his hands were covered in wounds. The pain was unbearable, yet he forced himself to continue.
And he had to improve every day, as Meng Xizhao demanded. The thought of failing made him more diligent than ever.
While Wang Sili was laboring day and night on the badges, Xie Yuan finally arrived at Jizhou.
Outside the city, Xie Yuan rode recklessly to draw the attention of the city guards. When he tried to detour through the countryside, he was intercepted.
Behind him, the two men accompanying him frowned. But they weren’t too worried; after all, they had disguised themselves as Qi nationals for years and knew how to allay the guards’ suspicions.
When Xie Yuan was stopped and searched, the two followed slowly, intending to enter the city with him.
As Xie Yuan turned, he slipped something into the guard’s hand.
The guard paused, maintaining his composure, letting his colleagues continue the search. Then, pretending to move aside, he unfolded the note in his hand.
Inside was also a piece of silver. The guard’s eyes narrowed as he read the contents—one glance, and he was shocked.
Meanwhile, Xie Yuan watched the guard hurry away and slowly lowered his gaze.
A minute later, Xie Yuan was buying tea inside Jizhou city when heavily armored soldiers suddenly arrived. They first detained Xie Yuan, then the two men with him.
Xie Yuan didn’t struggle, following them calmly. The two men initially protested, but seeing Xie Yuan’s serene demeanor, they realized they had fallen into a trap.
But realizing it changed nothing—they could no longer send messages back to Nanzhao.
Brought to the main general’s camp, Xie Yuan sat with a cup of tea, eyes heavy with thought.
Suddenly, the sound of hurried footsteps approached. Xie Yuan looked up to see a young, heroic-looking man stride in, his face flushed, likely from the quick pace he had been walking.
Behind him followed an older man in more elaborate armor.
Xie Yuan immediately felt puzzled.
He hadn’t seen either of them before, but he knew the senior general Ding Chun was the older one, while Zhan Buxiu had only been appointed a guerrilla general at the end of last year. Why, then, was the deputy running ahead of the commander?
Was Zhan Buxiu just too anxious, or did he hold an unusually high status in this army?
Lowering his eyes to mask his scrutiny, Xie Yuan stood and cupped his hands. “Which one is Zhan Buxiu, General Zhan?”
Even though he could tell, he still pretended not to know—proper etiquette in Qi, though Meng Xizhao had never learned it.
……
Zhan Buxiu immediately stepped forward. “That’s me. You are Xie Yuan?”
Xie Yuan nodded. “Exactly.”
Zhan Buxiu looked even more anxious. “Where is Meng Xizhao? You disappeared with him. Why did you return but he did not?”
Ding Chun, standing beside him, noticed Zhan’s slightly aggressive tone and interjected, “Buxiu, let Tongzhi Xie sit first. Even urgent matters can wait a moment.”
Xie Yuan: “……”
“No, General Ding, what I have to report is truly urgent. Do you know if the people of Longxing Mansion have learned of Prefect Meng’s disappearance?”
Five days had passed since Meng Xizhao and the others were taken. Ding Chun and Zhan Buxiu exchanged glances, both slightly perplexed.
They were in Jizhou; how could they know the current state of Longxing Mansion? The only one who might know was Meng Xizhao’s maid, Jin Zhu, who had sent them a message.
Seeing that Xie Yuan seemed to have returned on a mission, Zhan Buxiu calmed down slightly. After thinking, he shook his head. “They should not know. As long as the court hasn’t appointed a new prefect, Meng Xizhao’s people at the mansion will continue watching and will do everything to keep the matter secret.”
Xie Yuan thought of the reliable Jin Zhu and Yin Liu, then nodded. “Even so, it cannot be hidden forever. Once the court learns of it, they will send a new prefect.”
He paused, then looked at Zhan Buxiu. “General Zhan, Prefect Meng’s wish is that we both help keep this secret. Until he emerges, we must not let the Nanzhao people discover his disappearance.”
Zhan Buxiu was taken aback.
Ding Chun, puzzled, asked Xie Yuan, “Where is Meng Xizhao now?”
Xie Yuan pressed his lips. “At Ningren Mansion. Prefect Meng, in a perilous situation, pretended to be a merchant from Qi. His identity remains undisclosed, and Princess Luosahua of Nanzhao has taken a liking to him. Now, he can freely enter and exit the western palace.”
Ding Chun: “…………”
Only a few days, and he’s already mingling with the princess’s inner circle?!
Xie Yuan didn’t fully know Meng Xizhao’s intentions either. He only relayed what he knew. Even this was enough for Ding Chun and Zhan Buxiu to digest.
Assigned a critical task, Zhan Buxiu’s mind buzzed.
Although he had previously defeated the Xiongnu crown prince, that was in an unofficial context, and the outcome didn’t affect his fundamentals. But in a real battle, killing the enemy crown prince…
If Luomailong truly led troops personally, he would not just be the crown prince but also the commander. A commander rarely fought personally; even if Luomailong was reckless, his deputies would prevent him from exposing himself.
So, luring him out by challenge alone wouldn’t work…
Could they ambush him with hidden arrows?
Zhan Buxiu felt his brain nearly overheating. Meanwhile, Ding Chun sat, troubled.
He seemed to understand Meng Xizhao’s plan. He was trying to make a meritorious act, acting as Qi’s most capable and least suspected internal ally in Nanzhao. But… heavens, Meng Xizhao’s courage was incredible. Didn’t he fear one misstep and death in Nanzhao?
No, Meng Xizhao had stood up to the Xiongnu crown prince, faced the Left Wise King of the Xiongnu, and even the current Chanyu—nothing fazed him. Plotting to eliminate a Nanzhao crown prince seemed almost trivial by comparison…
Ding Chun also felt his mind muddled. He was not skilled in strategy and, since Meng Xizhao’s life was not in immediate danger, he saw no need to decide hastily.
“This is a grave matter, Tongzhi Xie. I cannot make this decision, and you should not act on your own. Wait two more days—once the crown prince’s reinforcements arrive, let him decide. The details must be carefully considered.”
Xie Yuan blinked slowly. “…Crown prince?”
Ding Chun nodded, smiling wryly. “How ironic. Meng Xizhao is plotting here to lure their crown prince to the battlefield, and meanwhile our own crown prince has already mobilized troops. Perhaps before Ganzhou falls, Luomailong will already be before us.”
Xie Yuan’s body tensed.
So he heard correctly.
The crown prince really is coming.
＊
The speed of a full army could never match a single fast rider, so Nanzhao remained unaware of Qi’s substantial preparations.
Meng Xizhao, naturally, could not possibly know that Cui Ye was on his way.
Late at night, Meng Xizhao couldn’t sleep, constantly touching his empty chest.
Princess Luosahua had not returned his jade pendant. She had sensed how important it was to him from his microexpressions.
Not only did she believe it was a gift from his beloved, she held the pendant in her hand and smiled at him: “Mr. Jin is a man of deep feeling. When one’s beloved is absent, this cold pendant is his only hope. You fight so desperately to retrieve it. Very well, I will keep it for him. In the future, please direct your efforts entirely toward assisting me. Your people say, ‘Sincerity moves even metal and stone.’ Having seen your sincerity, I will return the pendant to you.”
Meng Xizhao grew even more silent as he recalled Luosahua’s words.
He was a straightforward man—stubborn, blunt, utterly lacking in sentimentality.
Acts like treasuring a gift from someone else… that was simply not something he could naturally do. After all, no matter how beautiful a piece of jade was, in the face of life and death, it was nothing more than a stone.
Moreover, he trusted that in their current situation, if he had lost the pendant, Cui Ye would not have blamed him. On the contrary, she would have comforted him. The jade had taken the misfortune on his behalf; in that sense, it had served its purpose.
So the only one unable to overcome this emotional hurdle was Meng Xizhao himself.
As for why he couldn’t…
Meng Xizhao tried to deceive himself, telling himself it was because he didn’t want to lose a keepsake of Cui Ye’s mother. But when the pendant had been seized, he hadn’t even known it belonged to Empress Xie; he had only thought it was a family heirloom of the Xie clan. Even so, seeing it taken away stirred in him a murderous impulse.
He sat under the moonlight, expressionless, and then suddenly flopped down, pulling the blanket over his head.
There, he muffled himself under the covers, letting out soft, distressed whimpers.
Next door, Wang Sili paused mid-scratch in his woodcarving work.
Strange—where was that dog barking coming from?
……
The next day, Meng Xizhao went to the Nanzhao palace to report as usual. As he approached the palace, he noticed several Nanzhao soldiers beating someone on the ground.
Meng Xizhao hadn’t planned to intervene, but when he saw it was a woman, he froze in place.
The soldiers were yelling in the Ailao language, which Meng Xizhao didn’t understand. He quickly strode over and shouted, “Stop!”
The soldiers looked up, unfamiliar with him, and sneered, “Who are you, meddling in others’ business? Watch out, or we’ll hit you too!”
Meng Xizhao wasted no words and immediately removed the waist badge from his body.
It had been given to him by Luosahua a few days prior. It wasn’t strictly necessary now, since most people in the western palace recognized him, but at that moment, the badge proved effective. Seeing the western palace insignia, the soldiers panicked. Luosahua and Luomailong were not to be trifled with. They cursed the woman on the ground twice more and then fled together.
The woman slowly picked herself up.
Meng Xizhao said nothing at first. As he had approached, he had already seen that the one being beaten was Gu Pingting, the woman who sold snacks at the palace gate.
Her dress was dirty with soil, her hair messy, her face still the same dark red, but a patch of her arm that had been exposed revealed normal, fair skin.
Meng Xizhao watched her bend her knees and silently thank him. He didn’t respond immediately, instead studying her for a moment before asking, “Why did you try to enter the palace?”
Gu Pingting looked up in panic. “I didn’t! Please, sir, I’m just a food vendor—”
Meng Xizhao interrupted her. “These past few days, every time I saw you, you were acting polite toward palace staff. You asked the guards when shifts changed, inquired where palace attendants were assigned, and just now, when those three left… did you notice only two badges remained?”
Gu Pingting was genuinely stunned this time.
Meng Xizhao leaned slightly closer and whispered, “You want to dress as a man? But even with your face blackened, you still don’t look like a soldier. If you want to sneak in, blackening alone won’t work. You need makeup, disguise—understand?”
Gu Pingting: “…………”
She wanted to deny it. “I-I didn’t—”
But the shock drained her of all confidence.
Meng Xizhao smiled. “Alright, alright. Since we’re from the same hometown, I’ll help you.”
He held up his badge in front of her, shaking it slightly. “See this? This is a genuine badge. It lets me enter openly. Whatever you need inside—finding something or someone—if it’s not excessive, I can help. In return, I don’t want money. Just do me a favor.”
Gu Pingting: “…What favor?”
Meng Xizhao: “You teach me to speak Nanzhao language.”
Gu Pingting stared at him. “You won’t learn it.”
Meng Xizhao let out a small laugh. “Underestimate me, huh? There’s nothing in this world I can’t learn. At most, a month—I will master it.”
He tilted his head. “So, what exactly do you want in the palace?”
Gu Pingting remained silent.
Though her expression showed nothing, she was struggling inside.
She had lingered outside the palace for months without progress. Recently, she had learned Luomailong brought in several beautiful Qi women again. Her anxiety worsened.
Luomailong never treated Qi women as humans—once he tired of them, they were discarded. Before discarding, to prevent them from belonging to other men, he would maim them. In worse cases, he killed them.
New arrivals meant the old ones were even more at risk. She was desperate and decided to take a risk: steal a badge and sneak in to find someone.
Whether Meng Xizhao was trustworthy, she didn’t know. She had no choice but to gamble.
After a few seconds, she asked, “Tell me first—why did you ask me about Miss Su a few days ago?”
Meng Xizhao was taken aback.
He quickly asked, “You’re looking for Miss Su?”
Gu Pingting: “You answer me first.”
He paused, then said, “When I passed through Jiangzhou, I heard Miss Su was beautiful, and the locals lamented her being captured. I happen to like helping others with the sword. Since I now have a foothold in Nanzhao, rescuing her would also be a good deed.”
Gu Pingting: “…………”
Hearing this, she did not believe him for a second.
A man like Liu Xiàhuì only appeared once in thousands of years; every other man, no matter what sweet words he spoke, was ultimately thinking the same thing.
Suppressing her disgust toward Meng Xizhao, Gu Pingting focused on the most urgent matter: rescuing her mistress. Everything else could wait.
So she lowered her head and, in a deep, resonant voice, said, “I truly want to find Miss Su. I am a maid of the Su family, and I have been with Miss Su since I was six. Even after our exile, we never separated. That day, when the Nanzhao people came, they captured not only Miss Su but also me. The Nanzhao who brought us here intended to take us both into the palace, but I fell ill along the way. According to their rules, I should have been killed. It was Miss Su who protected me, instructing them to leave me outside Ningren Prefecture to fend for myself. After I recovered and entered the city, I inquired in every way and learned that Miss Su, due to her beauty, had been sent to the Eastern Palace. Sir, if you truly can help me, I beg you to bring her out. She has been in the palace for nearly a year, and the crown prince surely no longer favors her. If you rescue her, I will serve you faithfully and repay you in any way I can!”
At the end, she looked at Meng Xizhao as if he were a lifeline. Being on the street, she did not dare to kneel; even her voice was hushed.
Meng Xizhao listened but did not immediately respond. “It’s already been a year…”
He had also inquired about Luomailong’s reputation over the past few days: he was like a spring breeze to the Nanzhao people but a demon to the Qi people.
Though Meng Xizhao did not say it outright, Gu Pingting understood. She quickly added, “No, my mistress is still alive. Every day I check the burial grounds; she isn’t there.”
Meng Xizhao stared at her in astonishment.
This woman was ruthless—she risked daily visits to the chaotic burial grounds just to confirm Miss Su’s safety. Meng Xizhao knew he could never do such a thing himself.
Realizing Miss Su’s plight was worse than he had imagined, Meng Xizhao nodded. “Don’t worry. I will make inquiries. Where are you staying now? Do you have a place in Ningren Prefecture?”
Gu Pingting replied, “Yes. I recognized an elderly Nanzhao woman as my godmother. She runs this food stall. I help her sell food, and she gives me food and a place to stay.”
Meng Xizhao: “…………”
Seeing her gaunt frame, he did not even need to ask. The so-called food and lodging probably left much to be desired. Miss Su was living poorly, and so was this young lady.
Meng Xizhao had agreed to help. As he turned to leave, Gu Pingting called after him, earnestly urging, “My mistress cannot endure hardship. She is spoiled and stubborn. Ordinary people might tolerate her, but for her, it’s like hell. Sir, I beg you, please keep this in mind—I fear she will soon be unable to hold on.”
Meng Xizhao nodded, then left. Watching his retreating figure, Gu Pingting’s anxiety did not lessen in the slightest.
There were things she had not told Meng Xizhao.
For instance, her illness had been caused by Miss Su. On the way here, Miss Su had poured water on her and forced her to sleep in wet clothes. When she failed to fall ill, Miss Su made her eat dirt. When Gu Pingting refused, Miss Su lost her temper and threatened her.
Gu Pingting was right: Miss Su was particularly spoiled, and from a young age. After their family fell into decline, she still required constant care, as she could not manage anything herself. Gu Pingting’s parents had died, and she had nearly starved on the road before the Su family saved her and made her their daughter’s personal maid.
Out of gratitude, she had followed the Su family into exile, tending to Miss Su faithfully for ten years. In the quarry, Miss Su had done none of the labor; Gu Pingting did it all.
By all rights, she should have hated Miss Su and enjoyed the freedom she would gain once separated.
Yet from the moment she was thrown from the carriage until now, Gu Pingting had lost count of how many times she had cried. Sometimes, even standing with a blank expression, she felt her tears flowing.
She would accept any measure to rescue her mistress: acknowledging a Nanzhao godmother, bowing to Nanzhao people—whatever it took.