With a loud shout, the imperial guards, holding torches, immediately rushed in that direction.
Meng Qi leaped onto the treetop and once again confirmed that Cheng Jingchuan indeed had extraordinary vision—able to spot both him and the doctor from such a distance.
“Has he learned martial arts?” Even Mo Li doubted his own judgment.
If not, what kind of hearing and sight would this require?
“Probably not; maybe it’s just that he’s extremely familiar with the palace,” Meng Qi speculated.
Actually, in the old days, the Marquis of Jingyuan had been like this, too. He initially made his mark because, when observing battles from the hills, he could always quickly identify weaknesses in the enemy’s formations and the vulnerabilities in his own. There were even people envious of this talent, claiming it was ancestral fortune. But in truth, wherever the Marquis of Jingyuan went, he always studied the terrain thoroughly.
This included water sources, high ground, wind directions, and the firmness of the soil.
If possible, he would also inquire about the area’s annual climate, crops, and vegetation—whether they were flammable, poisonous, or home to certain animals.
A great general is not born; they are made.
Although he didn’t think much of Qiu Si, Cheng Jingchuan didn’t seem like someone who had strayed onto the wrong path.
As Meng Qi pondered deeply, he noticed that after shouting, Cheng Jingchuan stepped back and melted into the bushes.
One might think he was taking the opportunity to escape, but Cheng Jingchuan had left his people behind and circled directly behind a rock garden, standing there and watching this direction.
His close associates scattered in all directions, shouting to capture the so-called traitor, directing the imperial guards into a frenzy as their search gradually moved away from this area.
Meng Qi glanced at the “intentionally isolated” Cheng Jingchuan, who was still staring straight in his direction. Raising an eyebrow, he said with interest, “Intriguing.”
He landed lightly on the ground without a trace of dust stirring.
Walking leisurely, he casually parted the branches, his eyes deep and unfathomable, with a faint smile on his face.
Even though Cheng Jingchuan had encountered many renowned scholars of Jiangzuo and witnessed the elegance of the Qinhuai River, he could not recall anyone from the vast lands of Jiangnan, Chu, or anywhere else who could rival the person before him.
—Some people, even when standing amidst ordinary shadows of sparse trees, outshine the beauty of spring cherry blossoms and autumn maples.
Cheng Jingchuan dismissed the thought of a “rabbit spirit.” Rabbits and Meng Qi’s demeanor were worlds apart.
Now, he suspected that Master Meng was a raccoon.
Arrogantly striding and landing soundlessly—no matter how he looked, it seemed fitting.
“Master,” Cheng Jingchuan bowed deeply with his hands clasped.
His manners were impeccable, and his attitude was solemn, though the thoughtful expression he had earlier did not escape Meng Qi’s sharp eyes.
What exactly was he observing? And what did he think of?
Meng Qi narrowed his eyes slightly. When he leaped down from the tree, he had hinted at Mo Li to stay put and refrain from rash actions. Considering the traps previously set by Qiu Si, it was better to be cautious. Falling into a trap wasn’t a problem, as long as it wasn’t a shared failure.
“There has been chaos in the palace today. I apologize for disturbing you and Doctor Mo,” Cheng Jingchuan said humbly, lowering his head. “There is something I believe Master may wish to see.”
The idea of being a descendant of an old acquaintance depended on the context.
By bloodline calculations, Cheng Jingchuan was practically five generations removed. Even if the Chu dynasty’s grace still lingered, it wouldn’t reach Cheng Jingchuan.
In the eyes of those tied to the dragon’s vein, family lineage and clan relations were no different from being from the same hometown. If Cheng Jingchuan were an utterly incompetent individual, Meng Qi wouldn’t have linked him to the Marquis of Jingyuan at all.
Ordinary people might find solace in the fact that an old acquaintance had a “descendant” capable of upholding the family name and living up to their ancestor’s reputation. Whether or not they were directly related mattered little—if the genealogical records weren’t split into separate families, they were considered kin. Meng Qi, however, scoffed at this custom.
A person’s success has nothing to do with their ancestors. Even in a saint’s family, there can be selfish cowards. The fame of one’s ancestors, no matter how illustrious, cannot serve as a crown.
Similarly, from a family of traitors or villains, could not loyal ministers and virtuous individuals emerge?
Judging the virtue of an entire clan by the actions of one person is utterly ridiculous.
Thus, when Meng Qi saw Cheng Jingchuan following Qiu Si, he merely glanced at the young man a few times, not feeling heartbroken over the descendant of an old acquaintance straying down a deviant path.
“Something?” Meng Qi said nonchalantly. “Is it something you want us to see, or something Mr. Qiu wants us to see?”
Cheng Jingchuan’s breath hitched; he truly didn’t know how to answer.
Seizing the Opium had been his own idea. Mr. Qiu, acting unusually, revealed the secret but hinted at returning the Opium to Mo Li—was there another scheme at play?
When dealing with an enemy strategist, not understanding the other’s intentions didn’t matter as long as one avoided following their rhythm. However, when it came to someone like Qiu Si, who was both mentor and superior, that strategy didn’t work. Cheng Jingchuan found himself in a dilemma.
Meng Qi hadn’t expected one sentence to expose the issue. Smiling faintly, he said, “You can think it over and come back.”
“Master, you jest,” Cheng Jingchuan quickly masked his emotions. His own choice was meaningless; even if he turned around and left, Qiu Si had a hundred ways to deliver the Opium.
Whether Master Meng was a monster or not was uncertain, but Mr. Qiu certainly wasn’t.
Qiu Si would die sooner or later—it was only a matter of waiting. Cheng Jingchuan was unwilling to openly defy Qiu Si because he knew how terrifying that man could be.
“Some days ago, someone secretly delivered a peculiar pill to King Ning’s palace. The pill is jet black and has a strange scent,” Cheng Jingchuan spoke louder deliberately, knowing Mo Li was nearby. “It originates from Jingzhou and is connected to foreigners. Unsure of its effects, I withheld it.”
Mo Li was stunned that the Opium he had been tirelessly searching for was being delivered so easily. His first reaction was suspicion.
Cheng Jingchuan cautiously added, “To be honest, Master, when the news from Fengxing Pavilion arrived, I didn’t know where to hide this pill, nor did I dare to show it to the imperial physicians. Now that I’ve met Doctor Mo, I can finally relax. He can determine whether this is the Opium.”
If it was, it could simply be destroyed, ending the matter.
Meng Qi was intrigued. Cheng Jingchuan’s implication was clear. What kind of intentions did this man harbor while working under Qiu Si? Was he patiently waiting for the crown prince’s ascension?
“Where is the Opium?” Meng Qi, knowing Mo Li cared deeply about it, cut to the chase and asked directly.
Cheng Jingchuan hadn’t expected Meng Qi to be so straightforward. He had braced himself for sarcasm or difficulties.
“In the imperial physician’s bureau…”
Meng Qi thought this method rather primitive—hiding the pill among piles of medicine. But the physician’s bureau was a bustling place, with nearly a hundred people including physicians and servants. Though he hadn’t counted them himself, judging by the number of royal offspring, he could easily guess the bureau’s size. Wasn’t it even riskier to hide it there? Or was there some secret room or passage in the bureau?
“…In the wine cellar next to it.”
Wait, what did you just say?
Meng Qi froze. Why was there a wine cellar next to the physician’s bureau?
The palace’s wine—whether for cooking or fine spirits—should logically be managed by the Wine and Vinegar Bureau under the twenty-four departments of the inner court. It should be near the imperial kitchen, so why was it near the physician’s bureau?
What kind of palace layout was this? Even a counterfeit design shouldn’t be this careless!
Cheng Jingchuan, prepared for the reaction, explained, “When the palace was constructed, several estates belonging to wealthy families in Ningtai were requisitioned. Lakes and canals were excavated in a hurry, causing severe water seepage in some areas during summer—including the imperial kitchen. Since King Ning loves fine wine, to prevent waste, the wine was relocated here. Rest assured, Master. I will personally fetch the Opium from the wine cellar now and hand it over to—”
Before he could finish, a blaze of light appeared in the distance.
It wasn’t the imperial guards searching with torches; thick smoke was also rising.
“There’s a fire! Somebody, help!”
Cheng Jingchuan’s pupils contracted sharply. Meng Qi glanced toward the commotion with amusement and asked, “The wine cellar’s direction?”
A shadow darted out—it was Mo Li, unable to contain himself.
After so much conversation, Meng Qi was confident there were no traps here, so he didn’t stop him.
“Who else did you tell about the Opium? Mr. Qiu?” Mo Li pressed.
Cold sweat appeared on Cheng Jingchuan’s forehead. He gritted his teeth and said, “…He didn’t ask. I only mentioned the physician’s bureau to others. As for the exact location where it’s hidden, only I know.”
Meng Qi seemed to chuckle, but when Cheng Jingchuan looked up, Meng Qi stood by Mo Li’s side with a serious expression, as if deeply concerned.
Cheng Jingchuan: “…”
Meanwhile, more and more people were running around fetching water, but the three in the bushes remained motionless.
Cheng Jingchuan looked at Meng Qi and Mo Li in astonishment. He didn’t move because he was confident that he had hidden the item well. Even if Mr. Qiu guessed the Opium was in the cellar, he wouldn’t be able to find it quickly.
“Alright, you’re not stupid, and neither am I,” Meng Qi said lazily. “If someone truly knew where it was hidden, they’d have taken it directly. Why bother starting a fire? Rushing over to confirm its location might just fall into a trap. Besides, with the fire in the wine cellar, even if I had three heads and six arms, I couldn’t put it out.”
Cheng Jingchuan gave him a strange look.
Meng Qi frowned and asked, “What kind of look is that?”
Was he thinking that the world’s monsters didn’t have magical powers and had to make a living like ordinary people? Cheng Jingchuan coughed lightly and lowered his head, saying, “Master, your martial arts are extraordinary, unmatched by any mortal.”
The term “mortal” simply meant ordinary people—it could imply Meng Qi was a god or spirit, or just that he was exceptional and not like ordinary folk.
As expected, Meng Qi didn’t pick up on it.
“If this fire was set by Qiu Si’s men, there’s no way they’d let me into the blaze. No matter how skilled I am, I wouldn’t be immune to fire,” Meng Qi waved his hand impatiently and said coldly, “Look at the scale of the fire—it speaks for itself.”
In just a few sentences, the fire had already lit up half the sky, creating a terrifying spectacle.
Now, even if someone claimed there was no rebellion or slaughter in the palace, outsiders wouldn’t believe it.
Cheng Jingchuan smiled bitterly. “Now we can’t avoid putting out the fire even if we wanted to.”
Without someone clear-headed to command, the entire palace might burn to ashes.
“What’s the rush?” Meng Qi casually raised a hand, and Cheng Jingchuan suddenly collided with an invisible wall, unable to move forward or backward.
Meng Qi crossed his arms, still wearing the guard’s uniform, and asked with interest, “What do you think Qiu Si’s intentions are with this move?”
Cheng Jingchuan opened his mouth but said nothing.
—Luring Master Meng and Doctor Mo out with the Opium, only for a fire to break out just after he met them. Was there any need to guess? It was nothing more than setting Cheng Jingchuan up to ingratiate himself with Meng Qi, only for this goodwill gesture to fail completely. Whether the Opium was destroyed or stolen, Cheng Jingchuan couldn’t explain it no matter how hard he tried.
With mistrust sown, would Cheng Jingchuan still have a chance to align himself with Meng Qi?
Cheng Jingchuan remained silent, his fists tightening inside his sleeves.
“What’s the point?” Meng Qi clicked his tongue, feigning regret.
Meng Qi wouldn’t say something like, “You’re a good man, why follow a villain?” especially with Mo Li standing nearby.
Cheng Jingchuan’s resentment and anger came quickly but faded just as fast.
In a short span of time, he calmed down completely, raising his head with composure and saying, “Master, you had a fortunate opportunity back then, meeting a worthy ruler and receiving a great chance. I didn’t have such luck.”
Meng Qi’s face darkened at the mention of a “worthy ruler.”
Cheng Jingchuan, undeterred, continued:
“When I was seven, my family fell into ruin. I was left to beg on the streets. Though I knew a bit of reading and martial arts compared to other beggars, what use was that? When I was about to starve to death, I couldn’t even beat a dog. I couldn’t join the army, couldn’t find work, and no one wanted to buy me even if I tried to sell myself. Being literate doesn’t fill one’s stomach.
“Mr. Qiu may be a terrible person, but he’s not stingy. Anyone who works for him, putting in effort on his behalf, receives a clear path forward. I don’t aspire to high office, wearing purple robes and gold belts, nor do I wish to restore Chu’s glory. I only hope that those who follow me can also find a better way forward, like those under Mr. Qiu. People of the jianghu wouldn’t have to wander aimlessly and die in the wild, merchants wouldn’t need to bribe officials to survive, children wouldn’t be left homeless and starving on the streets, and tenant farmers wouldn’t have to toil away in factories until they collapsed.
“Master, many people have no road to life before them.
“I am no saint, unable to save the world, but I simply wish to offer a way out for those willing to fight for survival.”
