He had been spoiled by me.
The night was dark and windy, all the gates had long been locked, and the night dew felt slightly cool, mixed with the faint scent of earth.
The night watchman yawned as he held up a dim lantern, took a few steps, feeling hungry, and noticed a vendor selling night snacks of sweet fermented rice by the roadside. Smelling the rich sweetness, he approached and ordered a bowl, casually wiping the steps of a nearby closed shop with his sleeve before plopping down comfortably, and stretching his back. This place was not the vibrant East Third Lane, where few people remained at night; it was quite desolate. The vendor felt lonely too, so he began chatting with the night watchman.
They inadvertently brought up a curious incident from a few days ago, both expressing their astonishment.
It was said that the heir of Duke Li, who had been seriously ill for over half a year and had seen countless famous doctors to no avail, had recently received miraculous help from a divine physician and had unexpectedly recovered, having only taken a few doses of medicine. Now he could even get out of bed.
“I’ve heard that this illness is actually incurable. It had penetrated to the bone, and no renowned doctor in the world could do anything about it; how could it be so easily cured?” The watchman feigned mystery, took a sip of the still warm sweet fermented rice, sighed contentedly, and after being nudged by the curious vendor, continued, “I heard that these nobles invoke evil spirits, using the heart’s blood of a virgin as the medicine’s catalyst, a bowl every day to ensure survival!”
“Ah?!” The vendor was startled, glancing around and lowering his voice, “Is that true?”
The watchman replied confidently, “Of course! You saw that noble leave the estate the other day, surrounded by a throng, looking quite impressive!” He then asked the vendor, “You saw what that noble looked like, right? Like jade, without a flaw. Such a beautiful face! If he wasn’t drinking that virgin’s blood day and night, how could he maintain such looks? … Hey, get me another bowl!”
The vendor, half-convinced, nodded along and refilled the empty bowl.
Just as he turned around, he suddenly felt a chill above his head, as if a strange wind had blown in from nowhere, brushing past his crown and sending a shiver down his spine. He rubbed his arms, handed the sweet rice to the watchman, and didn’t even take the bamboo bowl, pushing the cart to find a different spot to squat. Just as he lifted the cart handle, a shadow suddenly flew past with a “whoosh” in his peripheral vision, startling him to the point where he nearly toppled the fermented rice bucket!
The watchman frowned at his overreaction and looked up to see another dark shadow slip away, too far to determine whether it was human or ghost. They both swallowed nervously, recalling the earlier tale of the blood-drinking evil spirit, and hurriedly went about their business, the vendor pulling his cart and the watchman hoisting his lantern, both scurrying forward.
Two pitch-black figures darted through the alleys and soon disappeared behind a wall of red bricks and green tiles, flipping into a grand residence with flying eaves and angular corners.
Finding a secluded spot to stand, they climbed onto the roof of a main house, lying in wait. One of the figures in black began to look around while muttering, “If the lady doesn’t want it, then so be it. Why can our young master suddenly be interested? Why can’t she fall for someone else? Besides, what could our young master possibly want that he doesn’t already have? He could easily be that lady’s fiancé, yet insists on being her brother-in-law; now look at the mess he’s in, coming at midnight to force her.”
“Shut your mouth.” The voice speaking was familiar, and it was none other than Duan Ming. He glanced at the chatty young guard assigned to him, scolding him, “How did our team end up with someone like you who talks too much? The young master doesn’t like excessive chatter; you might be a spy sent by someone else. I might have to cut out your tongue to prove your loyalty.”
The young guard immediately covered his mouth, shaking his head to indicate he wouldn’t speak anymore, but after a moment, he couldn’t help but defend himself, saying, “I was chosen by Young Master Min!”
Having spent half a year with Yu Jinnian, Duan Ming had also learned to jest, so he replied, “No wonder; you should be punished even more! You must be sent by Young Master Min to annoy the young master to death.”
The young guard: “…”
The young guard was angry and ignored him.
Duan Ming enjoyed the peace and quiet; finally, they both kept their mouths shut, focusing on the movements below. The moon was obscured by clouds, making it hard to tell the time. In the distance, they could hear the faint sound of gongs, suggesting it was around the third watch. Even the night watchmen from the princess’s residence couldn’t withstand sleepiness and had dozed off in the guardhouse. Only in a small pavilion slightly away from them was there still a flickering candlelight.
Unable to contain his curiosity, the young guard leaned over after half an hour and asked, “What did the young master call us here for?”
Duan Ming replied with a single word: “Watch.”
The young guard was confused: “Watch what?”
The sky was dark, the stars were dim, and no rain fell, making it feel stifling. Suddenly, the candle in the small pavilion extinguished with a puff, followed by a slight movement within, indicating someone had replaced the candle and relit it. At this late hour, Princess Ru Yu was not busy with state affairs; why wasn’t she resting? Duan Ming perked up, staring toward the depths of the courtyard corridor. Suddenly, at the end of the flower path, a small, unimpressive round lantern flickered to life, illuminating only a few steps ahead.
A maid tiptoed forward, taking a few steps before frequently looking back at someone, her movements cautious and discreet, raising suspicions about what they were plotting.
After a few more steps, the dim light revealed a pair of dark blue official boots—still a man in the dead of night!
Duan Ming smiled, waking the young guard, saying, “They’re here.”
…
Three days later was the palace banquet, marking the spring hunting feast. After this banquet, the emperor would select a day to pay respects to his ancestors, accompanied by his favored consort and beloved son, calling upon the noble families, along with a few capable civil and military officials, to join him in the Penglin Garden for spring hunting, thereby heralding the country’s fortunes for the year.
The event was grand and rare in the capital, aside from the New Year celebrations.
The spring hunting feast was set up beside the imperial garden, bustling with activity before dawn, and only began to serve food at dusk. The various families took their seats in order of rank; it was easy to tell who had the emperor’s favor and who had fallen out of favor. Every year, some were promoted while others never saw the emperor’s face again, making it hard not to sigh about the emperor’s coldness. Nevertheless, those who could attend the spring hunting feast were all outstanding individuals in the capital; even the one seated at the very end would be enough to bring glory to their family.
When Yan Chang arrived, the previously bustling banquet hall fell silent, followed by a stream of flattering words. Those who recognized him, those who didn’t, those who respected him, and those who didn’t have to respectfully call him “Prince Yue.” He was not only the only Prince of the South in the Da Xia dynasty but also had made significant contributions. Every wound on him had been earned for the peace of Da Xia, each place he had fought for the tranquility of the seas and the land.
Even at that moment, the emperor had to greet him with a smiling face.
Yan Chang glanced around and walked to the lower left corner, sweeping his robes aside as he took his seat. Raising his head, he immediately noticed two adjacent spots diagonally across from him. One was occupied by Min Xuefei, the legitimate son of Prime Minister Min, who was praised by the officials for his “quick wit,” yet behind his back, they often scorned him for his clever but deceitful tongue. Yan Chang silently scanned the room, then shifted his gaze, unable to suppress a cold sneer—beside Min Xuefei sat none other than the enigmatic Ji Shulun.
It was common knowledge that the young master of the Ji family seldom appeared at various banquets, even declining the emperor’s invitations by claiming to be unwell. As a result, the emperor only followed protocol by sending imperial edicts, and whether Ji Shulun attended or not became inconsequential. This year’s spring hunting feast had sparked even more speculation about his absence than his presence would have.
Earlier, there had been rumors that the Ji family was planning something to stir the already murky waters. At first, no one believed it; they thought it was just talk, especially given Ji Shulun’s frail health. Even if he were to serve, or even if he were favored by the emperor, how much impact could he have? People had seen his ailing appearance and knew he seemed destined to perish soon; he wouldn’t last for many more years.
But now, seeing Ji Shulun seated at the banquet, looking calm and collected, with no sign of illness, making it impossible not to think deeper. Coupled with the recent street rumors of blood-drinking, he had taken on an even more mysterious aura.
After all, no one knew how he had managed to recover.
Yet Yan Chang knew. From start to finish, he scrutinized Ji Hong with a playful gaze, so nakedly provocative that it was almost a challenge. Ji Hong pretended not to hear the gossip around him, his gaze slightly downcast, his pupils quietly reflecting the floating tea leaves in his cup. The aroma of tea enveloped him, moistening his eyelashes. He remained still, as if everyone else were at the imperial banquet, while he alone sat in his own elegant abode.
“Hypocritical,” Yan Chang remarked as he set down his tea cup.
At that moment, the emperor arrived late, naturally accompanied by the favored Consort Ji, who was constantly in his good graces. Everyone stood to pay their respects, and then the banquet commenced. The spring hunting feast wasn’t genuinely about eating and drinking; it was essentially a means to cultivate relationships with the noble families. The emperor pointed out a few promising young noblemen from the previous year, nodding and smiling at each, superficially rewarding them, creating an atmosphere of camaraderie between the ruler and his ministers.
Unbeknownst to whom the emperor was referring, no one in the crowd responded.
Grand Eunuch Feng Jian cleared his throat and called out loudly, “Is Doctor Zhang here?”
The officials whispered among themselves, looking around.
This Doctor Zhang was not just any doctor; he was Zhang Wenqing, the deputy official of the Ministry of War, who had the authority to select and examine fourth-rank military officials. Zhang Wenqing was actually quite handsome; his ancestors were once nobility. Although he had talent, he struggled to find recognition and faced many setbacks in his official career. A few years ago, fortune finally turned in his favor when he was recommended by the deputy minister of war and was promoted to the position of deputy official in the Ministry of War—he had practically hit the jackpot.
The deputy minister of war was none other than the upright and serious Lord Yan, who famously said, “If it’s for flattery, I can cast aside both sleeves filled with clean air.” Others didn’t know his background, but Ji Hong had already investigated him thoroughly—having Lord Yan identify true talent was likely more challenging than giving him gold and silver to recognize.
Upright? Others fit that description.
Feng Jian called again, “Deputy Official of the Ministry of War, Lord Zhang!”
Yan Chang: “…”
He summoned Zhou Feng to find Zhang Wenqing, but in the end, Zhou Feng never returned.
—Now, Ji family’s son had not resigned from the spring hunting feast, yet a newcomer like Zhang Wenqing had brazenly skipped the banquet.
By the time the announcement reached its third repetition, Ji Hong, who had remained silent, finally raised his eyes. He didn’t look at anyone but instead focused directly on Yan Chang. His dark emerald-like eyes were cold and still, gradually brewing an indistinct hostility. The steam from the tea lingered in front of his face but couldn’t warm the frostiness and gloom beneath his gaze.
In that moment of sharp confrontation, Yan Chang nearly flipped the plate in front of him in anger.
But he ultimately held himself back.
Due to Zhang Wenqing’s conspicuous absence, the emperor felt somewhat displeased. With the consort pregnant, the spring hunting feast quickly became an uncomfortable affair. The officials exited the palace, and Min Ji had important matters to report to the emperor, so he only patted Ji Hong on the shoulder, reminding him to be careful on his way home before quickly leaving. Ji Hong stood in place, dazed for a moment as he followed the crowd outside, walking slowly. To the onlookers, he appeared aloof and isolated, making no one willing to approach him for conversation.
Everyone watched as Yan Chang strode forward fearlessly, moving closer until the two walked side by side for a moment.
The first to move wasn’t Yan Chang, but Ji Hong. He pulled out a small item wrapped in oiled paper from his sleeve and handed it to Yan Chang. It wasn’t large, wrapped meticulously, and sealed with a red clay stamp shaped like a coin, feeling slightly weighty in his palm.
Yan Chang received it and coldly asked, “What is it?”
Just as he was about to unwrap it, Ji Hong threw in a comment, “It’s not for you.”
Yan Chang: “…”
The Prince of Yue nearly boiled over with anger, but Ji Hong then said, “Golden milk custard, a dairy dessert he particularly enjoys.” He didn’t even turn his head to look at Yan Chang, nor did he pay any attention to the latter’s probing gaze as he walked out of the palace. When they reached their respective carriages, he finally lifted his eyes slightly: “Prince Yue, he has indeed been spoiled by me. He is quite picky with food—he likes spicy dishes and sweet snacks, but they can’t be too sweet, and the spiciness has to be fragrant; otherwise, he won’t even take a bite. He can’t stomach the dishes from your region, so I hope Prince Yue will bear with him and not make it too difficult for him.”
Yan Chang frowned. Who was he instructing?
“If the Prince Yue’s residence doesn’t have a good cook, I know that the chef at Xifeng Building makes excellent Shu cuisine. If Prince Yue has the time, perhaps you could take him there tomorrow. I’ll treat, to welcome Prince Yue.”
After saying this, he got into the carriage and left without looking back.
He didn’t mention a single word about the missing deputy official of the Ministry of War!
Yan Chang almost wanted to throw the wrapped golden milk custard back at Ji Hong’s face.