While the post of Crown Prince Director of Affairs remained vacant, all accounts of the Eastern Palace were managed by the minor officer, Tongzhilang. Since Meng Xizhao had accepted this role, naturally he intended to manage it well. He therefore had Tongzhilang send him all the account books from recent years.
Tongzhilang was overjoyed at this request, nearly bowing thrice in gratitude.
Meng Xizhao, already uneasy from the officer’s reaction, turned his head and saw the Crown Prince smiling at him in a very peculiar way.
Meng Xizhao: “…Why are you smiling like that?”
The Crown Prince blinked lightly, then subdued his smile.
In ordinary households, when the husband is busy outside, the wife manages the household finances. Any expense must also be approved by her.
Though Meng Xizhao was not his wife, he was now essentially in charge of the Crown Prince’s household.
While waiting for the account books, the Crown Prince asked: “If I spend extravagantly, will Second Master reduce my allowance?”
Meng Xizhao: “…………”
What extravagant spending?
Even a meal out, he preferred vegetables, spending less than the Crown Prince.
Still, since Cui Ye asked, Meng Xizhao went along: “If there is truly excess, of course I would supervise. As Crown Prince, Your Highness must set an example for the people. It also earns you a good reputation.”
Meng Xizhao felt quite satisfied with the logic of his words. Yet the Crown Prince, upon hearing them, first shifted uncomfortably, then couldn’t restrain himself, breaking into an utterly sweet smile.
The way he looked at Meng Xizhao seemed almost tangible—like silk stretching from his gaze.
Meng Xizhao: “…………”
He really didn’t get it. Couldn’t get it at all.
＊
After receiving the account books, Meng Xizhao skimmed through them and brought a portion back home.
As he expected, the Crown Prince didn’t have any extravagant expenditures. His clothing, food, and living expenses were all necessary. The numbers looked inflated at first glance, but reviewing past records revealed that the prince’s spending didn’t even reach a tenth of what Emperor Tianshou spent as Crown Prince.
Moreover, a significant portion of the income listed came with “reward” annotations.
In other words, more than half of that tenth wasn’t paid monthly but was extra money requested by the Eastern Palace staff when they found the basic allowance insufficient. The allocation Emperor Tianshou set for the Crown Prince was actually smaller than what the accounts suggested.
The more Meng Xizhao looked, the more frustrated he felt.
Which Crown Prince was treated so poorly?
After studying the accounts for over an hour, he realized that not only were the records sloppy, but there were also signs of falsification.
It wasn’t Emperor Tianshou doing it—it was Cui Ye. Had Meng Xizhao not been so sensitive to numbers, he might have been fooled.
Meng Xizhao silently nodded to himself. Not bad. At least he knew how to secure benefits for himself.
…………
While Meng Xizhao was holding his brush, thinking of ways to make the falsified accounts more convincing, Qin Feimang presented the “Heavenly Stone” to Emperor Tianshou.
When the emperor first saw it, he was genuinely curious. He placed it on his desk, ready to test its effects. Listening to the music, he sat comfortably and soon became absorbed in the singer’s enchanting voice. Only after the evening meal was announced did he gather his lazily stretched limbs and rise.
Belatedly noticing the stone, Emperor Tianshou snorted: “Two hours have passed, and I feel no surge of energy. Only the people of Nanzhao would call such an ugly rock a national treasure. From top to bottom, the Nanzhao are utterly ignorant. Their imperial advisor must have tricked them, and they didn’t even notice.”
Qin Feimang, holding his whisk, bowed and replied, “As Your Majesty said, even standing beside Your Majesty, I sensed nothing unusual. It seems this stone is merely ornamental. Perhaps I should put it away?”
Emperor Tianshou hummed, but as Qin Feimang moved to take it, he added: “Wait.”
Qin Feimang immediately paused, standing respectfully to the side.
The emperor hesitated briefly, then picked up the stone from the desk.
Meng Xizhao had been honest—he didn’t just bring the whole stone; he also brought the small piece that had broken off. The stone looked the same inside and out, though the broken surface was rougher, less polished.
Emperor Tianshou examined the markings on the stone, but no matter how he turned it, he couldn’t discern any meaning. He refused to admit defeat, clinging to a sliver of hope that perhaps, what the Nanzhao couldn’t see, he could.
Yet after holding the uneven, roughly rectangular stone for a while, he gave up.
Completely incomprehensible.
Disdainfully turning his head, he handed the stone to Qin Feimang: “Put it in the treasury. Hmph. A stubborn rock, called a national treasure.”
Qin Feimang exclaimed softly. Seeing the emperor look away, he recognized a rare opportunity. At the moment the stone was about to land in his hands, he feigned clumsiness—crash!—and the stone shattered into pieces.
Hearing the noise, Emperor Tianshou turned, shocked, only to see Qin Feimang pale and immediately kneel: “Forgive me, Your Majesty! Forgive me! It is my fault—my hand twitched just now! Oh, what am I to do!”
Emperor Tianshou: “…………”
Really too fragile!
If it had been jade, he might have understood, but this was just a dull black stone with some red specks! Supposedly fallen from the heavens—would a celestial object be so brittle?
The emperor felt both speechless and irritated, but Qin Feimang had served him for so many years. Consorts came and went, but only Qin Feimang remained daily at his side. So the emperor didn’t let a useless stone ruffle him.
Waving his hand, he hurried to dinner: “I pardon you. Get up and let someone else clean it.”
Qin Feimang thanked the emperor profusely, still kneeling, muttering: “I’ll do it myself… huh?”
As he moved the fragments, the stone proved extremely brittle. With minimal pressure, a layer of stone powder came off. Qin Feimang took advantage of this to remove the rice glue carefully applied by craftsmen to mend cracks. When he reached the last piece, he paused in surprise.
The emperor noticed the hesitation, but Qin Feimang’s wide sleeves concealed his hands. Emperor Tianshou couldn’t see what he was holding.
“What’s the matter?” the emperor asked, puzzled.
Qin Feimang quickly rubbed the small stone ball to remove any trace of residue, then shakily stood, holding the piece with both hands, staring at the emperor in sheer astonishment.
Qin Feimang: “Your Majesty… there’s… something inside.”
Emperor Tianshou froze, taking a few quick steps to snatch the ball from Qin Feimang.
His face was stunned as he examined the ball. Then he turned to look at Qin Feimang.
Qin Feimang, even more shocked and frightened, instinctively stepped back.
The emperor realized it had nothing to do with him personally, but from Qin Feimang’s reaction, he sensed that the discovery aligned with his own suspicions.
＊
That evening, Jin Zhu returned to the Council Office. Seeing Meng Xizhao still engrossed in falsifying the accounts, she didn’t disturb him. Only when he yawned, preparing for bed, did she approach to report on the day’s events.
Meng Xizhao had just returned to Yingtian Mansion, and there were many matters that required his attention. The estates—he needed to inquire about their current state; the newly established mansion—he had to inspect the land.
Jin Zhu chattered on and on. When she had finished, Meng Xizhao nodded and asked, “Did you know that I received an award today?”
Jin Zhu nodded: “Yes, I just returned. Zitong informed me.”
Meng Xizhao exhaled lightly: “Yingtian Mansion is full of all sorts of people now, and it’s no longer a place where I can exercise full authority. I also can’t let you manage the lower officials for me anymore—if the pedantic scholars found out, they’d surely tear us apart.”
Jin Zhu chuckled lightly: “As if you actually care.”
Meng Xizhao tilted his head, looking at her: “I really do care now.”
A question mark popped up over Jin Zhu’s mind—not that she didn’t believe him, but she found it strange that Meng Xizhao’s attitude had shifted so suddenly.
Some things Meng Xizhao didn’t even know how to explain. He couldn’t tell her that his current reputation was tied to another person, and, barring some accident, would remain so until the day the Eurasian continent disappeared. He knew well the destructive power of pedantic scholars—black and white were irrelevant when it came to the pen in their hands.
Meng Xizhao wasn’t afraid of being accused of valuing women, but he feared being rumored to have an affair with Jin Zhu.
That would be bad for both Jin Zhu and the Crown Prince.
Even before being with the Crown Prince, Meng Xizhao had already gone through intense internal struggle—he pondered for a long time, analyzed extensively, and understood what he would face. He reflected on his previously overly “independent” ways and finally resolved to accept the Crown Prince.
The Crown Prince was a natural romantic; he handled love with ease. Meng Xizhao wasn’t. He had to learn, adapt, and improve while pursuing the relationship.
When the Crown Prince spoke words of affection, it was like having a basket full of love phrases behind him, randomly picked each day. For Meng Xizhao, even saying “my beloved” required suppressing his shyness and creating a miniature scene with his toes.
He wasn’t sure whether the Crown Prince had noticed this, but Meng Xizhao remained confident that, with practice, he could manage.
Yet some things couldn’t be practiced forever. One could live only once. Meng Xizhao wanted to care about his posthumous reputation, but he also didn’t want to let it interfere with the present enjoyment of life.
After a moment of thought, Meng Xizhao glanced at Jin Zhu. Calm and mature in temperament, she seemed the perfect candidate for his personal “trial run.”
Jin Zhu looked at him, sensing that his gaze carried meaning.
She suddenly had a bad premonition: “Langjun…”
But Meng Xizhao didn’t give her a chance to retreat. He turned, sitting upright, and looked Jin Zhu squarely in the eyes: “Jin Zhu, the Crown Prince and I have pledged our hearts to one another.”
As he spoke those words, he quickly created another miniature scene with his toes.
Meng Xizhao’s face flushed slightly. Jin Zhu, however, remained expressionless, staring at him for a moment before asking, “Really?”
Her tone and volume were unchanged.
Meng Xizhao nodded: “Really. When he fled to Longxing Mansion that night, I realized what was happening. At the time, I was timid and didn’t understand the meaning of love, so I refused him. But his treatment of me—you’ve seen it. I thought that, regardless of gender, to meet someone who likes me and whom I like in return is exceedingly rare. Because I’ve bound my life and fortune to the Crown Prince, I can trust him completely, which led to the feelings I have now. With anyone else, I doubt I could ever feel the same.”
Jin Zhu listened attentively, then sighed softly after a long pause: “You are indeed particular, Langjun. But it’s not your fault—either one is exceptionally good or exceptionally bad; there’s no middle ground. No wonder marriage has been a difficult path for you.”
Meng Xizhao paused: “That’s all?”
Jin Zhu looked puzzled: “All what?”
Meng Xizhao: “…I’m with a man now, and you’re not shocked?”
Jin Zhu blinked: “I am a bit shocked. But thinking carefully, I’m not entirely surprised. After all, you and the Crown Prince share a bond like life and death. Though he is the Crown Prince, he truly cherishes you. Even if it weren’t this kind of love, his regard for you would still be unmatched by anyone else. And since you’ve told me this, it means you’re sincere about your feelings. You are someone who values promises and affection; if there were any hesitation or indifference, you wouldn’t have told me so carefully.”
She couldn’t help smiling: “Just now, you looked like a young lady secretly engaged, finally deciding to inform the elders.”
Meng Xizhao: “…………”
He pressed his lips, feeling a little embarrassed. She had read him perfectly. He turned his head, unwilling to speak further. Jin Zhu, knowing his temperament, understood that this wasn’t the moment to coax him—better to switch topics. That way, he’d naturally return to the conversation.
Smiling, Jin Zhu said, “Did you tell me this to see my reaction before informing your parents?”
Meng Xizhao puffed out his cheeks: “No. Regardless of your reaction, my parents’ would be extreme. We’ll discuss that later. I told you because I wanted someone to confer with—there are matters I can’t easily discuss with the Crown Prince, but I can with you.”
Jin Zhu immediately smiled: “Then thank you for your trust, Langjun. Rest assured, I sincerely wish you well. Even if your choice is the Crown Prince, as long as he loves you wholeheartedly, I have no other thoughts.”
Meng Xizhao: “……”
She really considers herself my elder, huh!
He shot her an annoyed look but said nothing. Speaking further would no longer be a miniature scene—it would become a full three-room house. He quickly changed the subject: “Alright, enough of that. Did you send the craftsmen away?”
This was one of the tasks Meng Xizhao had assigned to Jin Zhu, but it was a minor matter. He knew she could handle it well, so he didn’t need to interfere.
Jin Zhu, understanding his thoughts, smiled quietly and said nothing, only nodding: “I sent them off. He thought he’d never return to the mansion, but when he realized it was only for three years, he was overjoyed. After all, we gave him such a large sum of silver.”
Meng Xizhao snorted softly: “That’s just a precautionary measure. In truth, three years won’t even be needed.”
Jin Zhu understood his meaning, merely smiling in response without speaking. After a moment, she asked again, seeking reassurance: “Then, can Minister Qin really handle this task for you?”
Meng Xizhao replied: “Why not? I gave him a hefty sum as well. All he has to do is act casually. If anything goes wrong, he can always pin it on me, claiming ignorance. There’s no risk for him, so of course he’ll do it.”
He didn’t yet realize that, once set in motion, Qin would be unable to extricate himself. He would have to continue carrying out Meng Xizhao’s orders; otherwise, once the trail was followed, there would be no escape.
Meng Xizhao smiled: “We’re not completely cruel—he keeps the silver. He gains money, can curry favor with the Crown Prince, and at the same time, exact revenge for the princess of the Shang Kingdom he once served. Three benefits in one move—why wouldn’t he comply?”
Jin Zhu fell silent.
If she were plotting this, she certainly wouldn’t have involved Minister Qin. Though convenient due to his position, he was too close to the Tian Shou Emperor. If he betrayed them, she’d have no way to escape.
Yet Meng Xizhao was right. This matter was like a quagmire: once a bit of mud stuck, it seemed cleanable, but once trapped, there was no getting out. That stone—rough and crude, yet containing fine honeycomb-like textures—was naturally perfect as a container for poisoning.
Meng Xizhao had initially staged the scene with the stone, letting it break and reveal the small sphere inside. Minister Qin surely thought it was no problem—he had merely mishandled it. Later, when Meng Xizhao added an invigorating powder, dissolving it in water and secretly coating the stone, Qin would raise no objection; after all, he often engaged in similar minor deceptions himself.
At a later stage, Meng Xizhao planned to mix the powder with a colorless, tasteless slow-acting poison. Even if Minister Qin objected, he would not dare speak up.
Honestly, Meng Xizhao hadn’t originally planned to go this far.
But once he saw the fine honeycomb within the broken stone, his scheme crystallized instantly—he could let the Tian Shou Emperor meet his end through the very sphere he trusted most. Thinking of it thrilled him.
He felt no guilt in manipulating Qin Feimang; after all, Qin was a notorious official. As long as Qin didn’t act recklessly, Meng Xizhao, using Teng Kangning’s expertise in poisons, knew it would go undetected. And Meng Xizhao had not placed all his bets on Qin alone—he had another accomplice. The slow-acting poison would sap the emperor’s strength while leaving him alert, keeping him docile in the harem. When the time was right, they could proceed.
Meng Xizhao lounged lazily, tapping his fingers against his temple, and looked at Jin Zhu: “You should go rest. Call Qingfu in—I have something to ask him.”
Jin Zhu nodded obediently and left.
Soon, Qingfu rushed in, his face bright with excitement: “Langjun, what do you want to ask me?”
Meng Xizhao smiled, gesturing for him to sit across from him: “You used to be fond of eavesdropping on Yingtian Mansion gossip, right? Let me ask you—did you ever hear about events from fifteen years ago?”
Qingfu blinked blankly: “Fifteen years ago? Langjun, what are you talking about?”
Meng Xizhao replied calmly: “About how Consort Gan married His Majesty.”
Qingfu: “…………”
Now a much wiser servant, Qingfu was no longer the naïve boy he had been. He knew what the name Consort Gan implied.
A little flustered, he looked at Meng Xizhao. Seeing he was serious, Qingfu swallowed and shook his head: “I… I really don’t know. No one in the inner city dares to speak of it.”
Impossible—if the secret were known, surely someone outside would dare to talk. But Qingfu’s position was too low; the people he could inquire of simply weren’t privy to the inner workings.
Meng Xizhao thought for a moment and asked again: “Then try to recall—are there any families in Yingtian Mansion who might know these things, have a poor relationship with the Gan family, and might be willing to spread their embarrassing secrets?”
Qingfu looked troubled. How could such families exist? Langjun was taking things for granted—
Suddenly, Qingfu remembered something, sat up straight, and said excitedly: “There really is one!”
Meng Xizhao quickly asked: “Which family?”
Qingfu: “The Ningyuan Marquis’s household!”
This time, Meng Xizhao was puzzled: “The Ningyuan Marquis’s household… which one?”
Qingfu slapped his thigh in frustration: “The one whose heir once attacked you—the Ningyuan Marquis’s son, Fu Jicai. His mother, the Marchioness, is the illegitimate daughter of Grand Tutor Gan. Back when she was in the Gan household, she wasn’t favored; even the old matriarch kept her in check. Even after marriage, she had no face. When she returned to her family, she was scolded by her grandmother for not understanding etiquette. The Ningyuan Marquis, seeing that his wife had married out, cut ties with the Gan family. For this, the Marquis suffered many grievances.”
Meng Xizhao looked at him curiously: “How do you know all this in such detail?”
Qingfu chuckled: “Because you hold a grudge against Fu Jicai, Langjun. I just inquired a bit more.”
Meng Xizhao pressed his lips together. Though he didn’t praise him aloud, the sparkle in his eyes conveyed his approval—and Qingfu felt it.
“Continue.”
“Ah, Langjun, perhaps you’ve forgotten. That Grand Matriarch of the Gan family—her authority was immense. Everyone in the Gan household obeyed her. When she was alive, the family had a reputation in Yingtian Mansion for ‘selling daughters.’ Their daughters’ marriages weren’t judged by character but by family status. It was well-known throughout the city. If the groom was influential or powerful, even the eldest daughter could be offered as a concubine. But once Consort Gan entered the palace, no one dared to speak of it anymore.”
At this, Qingfu leaned in slightly, lowering his voice with a hint of intrigue: “But even if others didn’t dare, our madam certainly did. She despised the Gan family’s ways. That Grand Matriarch not only sold her own daughters but even sold daughters from her maternal clan. When Master rose in rank and there was only our madam as the female of the household, she plotted to offer a distant cousin of the maternal family to Master as a concubine. Master naturally declined, but our madam couldn’t swallow her indignation. On the occasion of the Grand Matriarch’s birthday, she went with the eldest son and you to the Gan house to assert dominance. My goodness, Madam’s eloquence was impeccable. Not a single vulgar word, yet she scolded the Grand Matriarch so effectively that her face turned red and neck stiffened. The old lady tried to pretend she was about to faint, but Madam grabbed her, held her stiff, glaring at her—it was truly a sight to behold.”
Meng Xizhao: “…………”
He had heard of his mother’s renown in scolding the Grand Tutor’s mother, but he had never known the reason behind it.
Silently, he thought: Mother, truly mighty. Then he reminded himself: “Enough of that. Focus on the Ningyuan Marquis’s household.”
Qingfu nodded and redirected the conversation: “Ever since the Ningyuan Marquis and Grand Tutor Gan had a falling out, their families no longer associated. The Marchioness never mediated, and she even cut ties with her maternal family. That shows how outrageous the Gan family had been. Primarily, though, the Ningyuan household’s glory had faded. A few years back, the Gan family wouldn’t have acted so ruthlessly. When Consort Gan married, the Marchioness still had good relations with the Gan family. Because of the family’s strict rules, daughters married out often visited their natal homes. I believe she must have known what happened. Langjun, perhaps you should ask Young Master Fu?”
Meng Xizhao hummed thoughtfully, then suddenly realized: “Why ask Young Master Fu? If the matter is significant, the Marchioness may not even tell him. Better that my mother approaches her. They share a common adversary, and the Ningyuan Marquis has ties with my father. Perhaps she’ll confide in my mother.”
Qingfu hesitated: “…But the Marchioness is a concubine-born daughter; everyone knows she’s timid. She was present when our madam scolded the Gan Grand Matriarch, and since then, she avoids any occasion where Madam is present, always claiming illness. She’s likely afraid of incurring Madam’s wrath.”
Meng Xizhao: “…………”
Indeed, a formidable reputation isn’t always beneficial.