Chapter 91

Chapter 91

Meng Shuping obediently replied, "Alright."

"Seriously? Is he going to police whether I can write poetry or not? Why does he have so much time on his hands? Is being able to compose poetry something special?"

Emperor Qianyou puffed out his chest proudly—yes, being able to compose poetry was something special! If this brat had the ability, he should try composing one himself!

After having the ink and brush put away, Emperor Qianyou asked everyone to sit down. Meng Shuping, who had failed to slip away earlier, could only console himself, "Sigh, forget it. Even though accompanying the Emperor here is a hassle, at least I get to mooch a meal from him, right? Every time I ask him for money, he never gives me any. Just watch—I’m going to fleece him this time!"

Emperor Qianyou coughed lightly. "Never mind. It might be a bit much to have you two young ones keep us old folks company. Seventh Prince and Beloved Minister Meng, you two can go out and eat on your own. I’d like to talk with the other Beloved Ministers."

Hmph! Although he wasn’t that petty, since this kid was so intent on taking advantage of him, he simply wasn't going to let that happen!

Meng Shuping widened his eyes in disbelief. "Sheesh! He didn’t hesitate to have us keep him company, but when it comes to treating us to a meal, he kicks us out. How can he still be as stingy as ever?"

Jiang Cihe couldn't help but chuckle. His father was really something—whenever he encountered this daring guy, he acted just like a child. How immature!

He stood up from his seat and excused himself from Emperor Qianyou. "Then, your son will take his leave now."

After saying that, he pulled Meng Shuping over. "Let’s go."

Meng Shuping grumbled angrily as he bid farewell to Emperor Qianyou and the others, then followed Jiang Cihe out. "How could he do this? No way—next time, I’m definitely going to fleece him!"

Jiang Cihe held back a laugh. Well, it remained to be seen whether the little moneygrubber or his father would come out on top.

Since it was already pretty late, all the private dining rooms in the restaurant were occupied, so the two had no choice but to sit at a table in the second-floor main dining area.

Still, the spot was actually pretty good—it overlooked the performance area below. If there was a show during their meal, they could enjoy it.

After ordering their food, Meng Shuping curiously asked Jiang Cihe, "Could you figure out what your dad wrote?"

"I wonder what level the Emperor’s poetry skills are at. I’d guess at least pretty decent, right? Otherwise, he probably wouldn’t have the nerve to show it off, would he?"

Jiang Cihe just sighed. He thought for a moment, then recited from memory the poem Emperor Qianyou had written. "Well? What do you think?"

Meng Shuping didn’t catch much else, but… "Anyway, it sounded quite powerful."

The corner of Jiang Cihe’s mouth turned up. That was a rather straightforward assessment. He wondered how his father would feel if he knew his poetry had been assessed like this by Meng Shuping.

A short while later, a waiter from the restaurant came over carrying a pot filled with hot tea. Unfortunately, just as he reached their table, someone accidentally bumped into him, and tea splashed onto Jiang Cihe’s clothes.

The waiter hurriedly apologized, frightened. "Sorry, sorry! Sir, are you burned?"

He cautiously glanced at Jiang Cihe. Judging by this gentleman’s attire and demeanor, he could tell he was someone important. Now, he’d spilled tea on him—even if it wasn’t intentional, if this noble gentleman had a bad temper, he’d probably kick him. Sigh, he just hoped it wouldn’t be too hard!

Meng Shuping also quickly stood up and rushed over to ask Jiang Cihe, "Are you okay?"

As soon as Jiang Cihe saw the water splash out, he dodged quickly. Even so, a few tea stains had still gotten on his clothes. Shaking his robes, he said to the waiter, "It’s fine. Could you find me a room to change clothes?"

Seeing that Jiang Cihe wasn’t blaming him, the waiter breathed a huge sigh of relief. He promptly said, "Of course, of course! Please follow me, sir."

Just as Meng Shuping was about to follow, Jiang Cihe looked at him and said, "You stay seated here. I’ll be back in a moment."

Meng Shuping could only nod. "Alright then."

After Jiang Cihe left, he sat there alone, bored while waiting. Just then, another group of people came in noisily. Meng Shuping hadn’t been paying attention, but unexpectedly, someone suddenly walked up to him. "Well, if it isn’t our Vice Director Meng! What are you doing here all alone?"

After receiving poor treatment from Meng Shuping the previous two times they met, Fan Jianhui had come to detest him with a passion. Especially since his father kept going on at home about how much Emperor Qianyou trusted and valued this Meng Shuping, which made Fan Jianhui extremely resentful. Just what was so outstanding about this guy?

He truly couldn’t understand—how could the Emperor trust someone like this?

Meng Shuping looked up blankly. "Huh? Who is he? He looks kinda familiar. But starting trouble right off the bat—could he be someone I’ve offended? Oh no, I’ve offended too many people. I can’t even remember who he is!"

Puzzled, he asked, "You are…"

Fan Jianhui was furious. This guy still hadn’t remembered him? How insulting! Wasn’t this making him look stupid for being the only one who remembered?

Angrily, he said, "You better remember this! This young master’s name is Fan Jianhui! We first met at the Dou family’s banquet! The second time was at the riding grounds!"

Meng Shuping suddenly understood. "So it’s you!"

"Tsk… Is it really necessary to remember something like that so clearly? Anyone who didn’t know better would think something happened between us. Could it be that because I didn’t remember him, he specifically came to get my attention?"

The people who had come with Fan Jianhui looked at him and Meng Shuping with strange expressions. Did Master Fan dislike this person or want to befriend him? Why did he even remember exactly when they’d met?

Noticing everyone looking at him strangely, Fan Jianhui grew flustered and angry. Why were they all looking at him like that? It wasn’t that he wanted to be on good terms with Meng Shuping—he was angry, understand? Angry!

He glared furiously at Meng Shuping. "Now you know, right?"

Meng Shuping nodded honestly. "I know."

"That idiot who couldn’t win an argument with my sixth brother and whose riding skills are totally awful, right?"

Fan Jianhui’s anger flared up instantly. Who was the idiot? You’re the idiot!

Chin raised, he said with extreme sarcasm, "Hmph! These days, just about anyone can become an official. Even someone as ignorant and unqualified as you can hold a position in court!"

Meng Shuping couldn’t help but speculate inwardly, "Is he jealous of me because he can’t become an official himself? Then he should work hard, study, and take the civil service exams! Or else, rely on his own abilities to earn an official title through the Emperor’s appreciation. How shameless to pick on me when he himself has no skills! What? Does coming to find me mean he’ll become an official? I really don’t get his logic."

He asked Fan Jianhui sincerely, "Do you… have some kind of grievance against the Emperor?"

"If you have a grievance, take it up with the Emperor! What’s the use of coming to me? It’s not like I can give him an official position!"

Fan Jianhui jolted and immediately said, "When did I say I had a grievance against the Emperor? Don’t change the subject! I’m talking about you! Someone like you, who can neither write poetry nor compose essays—how could you possibly handle official duties properly?"

Meng Shuping lowered his head and muttered softly, "Does being able to write poetry mean you can handle court affairs?"

"Isn’t this still a grievance against the Emperor? My official position was bestowed by the Emperor. If he says I’m not fit for it, doesn’t that mean the Emperor has bad judgment? Seriously, what’s the necessary connection between writing poetry and handling official duties? No wonder he can’t become an official. Look, he can’t even sort out such a simple logical relationship."

"Hahaha!" Some other diners in the hall burst into laughter. Although they didn’t know the full story, Meng Shuping’s words made them unable to hold back their amusement. "Yeah, since when does being able to compose poetry mean you can be an official? If I study it, can I become one too?"

"Tsk tsk tsk, thinking that writing a couple of sappy poems makes you so great. If that were the case, I could do it too—so how come I’m not an official?"

Fan Jianhui’s face flushed red with anger. That wasn’t what he meant at all! But just as he was about to speak again, he noticed Jiang Cihe walking over from the other side. "What’s going on?"

Before Fan Jianhui could explain, Meng Shuping quickly whispered, "He was just venting his grievances against the Emperor, saying the Emperor has bad judgment for not recognizing his talent and not giving him an official title!"

Fan Jianhui panicked and hurriedly refuted, "Don’t you dare make false accusations! When did I say that? I only said you’re not fit to be an official!"

Meng Shuping immediately looked at Jiang Cihe. "See? Heard that?"

"Isn’t this still complaining that the Emperor didn’t give him an official position? What, he thinks I’m not fit, but he is?"

Jiang Cihe said displeasedly, "Master Fan, whether Shuping is fit to be an official is for others to decide. If you’re dissatisfied, you can have your father file a complaint against him."

Fan Jianhui’s face stiffened. "You're joking."

Seeing that the group was still gathered there, Jiang Cihe glanced around and asked, "Is there anything else?"

Everyone quickly dispersed, saying, "Nothing, nothing."

Fan Jianhui also flicked his sleeve and left with the others. This Meng Shuping—why does someone always step in to help him? How is he so good at cozying up to powerful people?

After everyone had left, Meng Shuping emerged with lingering fear from behind Jiang Cihe, letting out a sigh. "Whew, there were so many onlookers. Next time, I won’t stay alone. Wherever His Highness goes, I’ll go, being his little tagalong."

Jiang Cihe chuckled. Why did Meng Shuping always have such strange ways of defining himself?

After Fan Jianhui and the others left Meng Shuping, they asked the attendant to arrange a private room for them. The attendant looked troubled and said, "I’m sorry, sir, but all our private rooms are occupied. Would you mind settling for a seat in the main hall?"

Fan Jianhui was very displeased. "Can’t you ask one of them to give up their room? Do you really expect me to wait out here?"

The attendant hesitated. "Sir, they’re in the middle of their meal!"

Just as Fan Jianhui was about to say more, Meng Shuping’s annoying voice chimed in again. "What’s his problem? If there’s no room, there’s no room. He should blame himself for coming late. Why take it out on the attendant? Can’t he see even His Highness and I are sitting out here? Does he think he’s more important than the prince?"

"But if he wants to cause trouble, it just so happens that His Majesty is in one of the private rooms right now. Maybe he’ll stub his toe on something hard this time, hahaha!"

Fan Jianhui froze. The Emperor was in one of the private rooms? He quickly said, "Never mind, we’ll just sit outside!"

Since the Emperor was here, he had to make a good impression! Even if he couldn’t be granted an official position, he had to strive to leave a positive impression on the Emperor.

So the group noisily made their way back to a table not far from Meng Shuping’s, as if they had just finished admiring the plum blossoms. After sitting down, they set aside the earlier incident and began discussing poetry.

One of them, noticing Fan Jianhui was still in a bad mood, tried to divert his attention. "Master Fan, your literary talent is truly exceptional. The poem you just composed is so fresh and natural—I can’t compare."

Fan Jianhui felt very proud but pretended to be modest. "You flatter me, Brother Zhang. It was just a momentary inspiration. In terms of my usual ability, I’m still not as good as you."

Another person asked curiously, "Oh? What poem did Master Fan compose? Please recite it for us, Brother Zhang, so we can hear it too."

Hearing this, Meng Shuping also perked up his ears, wanting to hear what kind of poem Fan Jianhui had written.

So that young Master Zhang recited the poem Fan Jianhui had composed earlier. After listening, the others nodded in approval. "Master Fan’s poem truly has a lively spirit. No wonder Brother Zhang praised it so highly."

Fan Jianhui, feeling pleased by the flattery, had already forgotten his earlier frustration. But just as he was about to modestly respond again, Meng Shuping’s annoying voice rang out once more. "That’s it? With all that praise, I thought it must be an amazing poem. But it sounds rather ordinary to me?"

Fan Jianhui’s expression darkened, and he grew angry. This Meng Shuping—why did he always have to spoil the moment? Was he deliberately trying to show him up?

He clenched his fists, almost unable to resist the urge to punch Meng Shuping, but then he heard Meng Shuping add, "Even though I don’t know much about poetry, it doesn’t sound as good as the poems His Majesty composes."

Fan Jianhui: "..."

He took a deep breath. This kid really knows how to put things in perspective. He wouldn’t dare claim his poem was better than the Emperor’s.