Chapter 42

Chapter 42

Luo Qianyu's heart jolted, and he whirled around.

He saw a servant dressed in plain, light-colored clothes standing at the doorway, holding a water bucket. The man appeared to be around twenty years old, with a calm face. However, the moment their eyes met, the servant's eyes widened, instantly welling up.

Luo Qianyu realized he had intruded into the courtyard, and the other person probably thought a thief had broken in. His Adam's apple bobbed as he tried to explain, speaking calmly, "I am a student of the Imperial College, having just resumed my studies not long ago. Today, I lost my way and stumbled upon this place by accident. You are...?"

The man's eyes still held excitement, which he barely managed to suppress. He bowed respectfully, "Do you not remember me, Young Marquis? This servant is named Ling Xi, a former attendant of His Highness the Crown Prince."

"Someone from the Former Crown Prince's side?" Luo Qianyu felt as if struck by lightning. Memories came flooding back. He looked around again, and everything suddenly made sense—

This place was actually the legendary Crown Prince's former residence within the Imperial College!

Ling Xi set down the water bucket, his arms trembling. "The Young Marquis has grown so much taller. This servant almost didn't recognize you."

"The last time I saw you, you were only this tall..." He gestured to a height around his shoulder, his voice choked with emotion. "Now you're already half a head taller than this servant."

"So, you're the one who comes to clean here?" Luo Qianyu asked, unable to answer the previous question, his throat tight. He quietly changed the subject. "Has this place always been maintained in its original state?"

"Yes," Ling Xi replied in a hushed voice. "Ever since His Highness... passed away, His Majesty decreed that the Crown Prince's former residence remain untouched. He also ordered this servant to come clean twice a week, keeping everything as it was."

"Is it the same for the Eastern Palace?" the Young Marquis asked. "No one lives there, but it's regularly cleaned?"

Ling Xi nodded.

The Young Marquis couldn't help but muse to himself that the Dog Emperor's superficial gestures were quite thorough, even extending to the Imperial College. The Crown Prince's former residence was indeed of no use, and no one dared to live there anyway. It was better to make a gesture of goodwill, letting the world know of his respect and remembrance for his late elder brother, the former Crown Prince. Quite clever, really.

Ling Xi, however, wasn't so easily put off. He asked softly, "Does the Young Marquis truly not recognize this servant anymore?"

Luo Qianyu felt somewhat awkward. "Perhaps you've changed too much. It's been so long, I couldn't recall for a moment."

"It's nothing." Ling Xi seemed to hesitate, wanting to say more. After a long pause, he asked, "You... are you well now?"

Huh? What kind of question was that?

Was he asking about his physical or mental state?

Could it be about his previous bout of cold and fever? Was palace news so efficient that even a minister's heir catching a cold and fever would reach the ears of a retired little eunuch?

Though unclear of the intent, Luo Qianyu still nodded hesitantly. "I am perfectly well. Thank you for your concern, Gonggong."

Ling Xi was no fool. He sensed the wariness and unfamiliarity in the young man's gaze. He lowered his head, wiping away a tear. "It is good that you are well. Your servant has always been here, at your disposal."

Luo Qianyu was slightly taken aback, even more unsure how to respond. "Thank you, Gonggong... 'At my disposal' is unnecessary. You were His Late Highness the Crown Prince's servant. There's no reason for you to serve the heir of a marquis's household."

Ling Xi, however, was stunned for a moment. He pressed his lips together. "This servant... served the Young Marquis before, in the Eastern Palace. The first time you secretly drank peach wine and got drunk, it was this servant who, together with His Highness the Crown Prince, helped you remove your boots. His Highness carried you to the bed, and it was this servant who fetched the sobering soup."

Luo Qianyu: "......?"

Was the original owner this bold, daring to overindulge in alcohol within the forbidden palace grounds?

And even had the Crown Prince personally attend to him?!

But no matter how hard he searched the depths of his mind, that past event remained shrouded in mist, leaving only fragmented shadows. As for the Ling Xi before him, he could only say the face seemed vaguely familiar.

Luo Qianyu didn't know what to say, only bowing his head slightly. "I troubled you, Gonggong."

Ling Xi shook his head. "For His Highness's former residence here, this servant comes to sweep and clean every morning and evening like clockwork. The hot spring pool's water is also changed regularly. All in the hope that if the Young Marquis ever returned to resume studies, and remembered this place, you could stay here comfortably." He then asked, "Does the Young Marquis wish to rest here tonight? This servant will go fetch brand-new bedding and pillows."

Luo Qianyu was inwardly shaken and couldn't help but ask, "A place where the Crown Prince lived... I can stay here?"

Ling Xi nodded, his expression as if Luo Qianyu had said something strange. "Of course. Before you resumed your studies... no, ever since you first entered the academy, you often came here. If you stayed late into the night, you would spend the night."

The amount of information was overwhelming. Luo Qianyu felt he needed time to process it.

Although they were childhood friends, time had passed. The affections of the past were ultimately sealed away in their naive youth. Growing up together was common enough, and such childhood companionship often faded away as years went by.

Looking through history, princes of all dynasties, especially crown princes, were deeply versed in the principles of ruler and subject. They would never become overly intimate with the sons of external ministers... No, 'intimate' wasn't quite the right word.

...

Had he really been indulged to such an extent by that Crown Prince?

Proceeding with caution, Luo Qianyu politely declined, saying he still had many personal belongings stored at his outer dormitory and would not stay the night for now.

Ling Xi did not insist, only gently informing him, "Even if I am not here, this place is cleaned daily. If the Young Marquis wishes to stay, you may move in at any time."

Luo Qianyu nodded in thanks. After bidding farewell to the little eunuch, he returned to his own dormitory.

-

In the classroom that day, Luo Qianyu's fingertips lightly touched the desk. His gaze slanted, landing on the Young Prince not far away.

Guan Mingyang was tall and sturdy, like a wooden post. However, his brows and eyes carried a sinister gloom, making him seem unfriendly. At the moment, he was lazily leaning back in his chair.

Luo Qianyu glanced at him from the corner of his eye, thinking this man had broad shoulders, long legs, and a solid back. Rather than a wooden post, he more resembled a human-shaped sandbag.

During the break after the Director of Studies' class, he stood up directly and walked over to Guan Mingyang's desk. His fingertips tapped lightly on the desktop. "Guan Mingyang, a word in private."

Guan Mingyang narrowed his eyes, clearly not expecting the Little Fox who had thoroughly humiliated him the other day to seek him out today. Having held in his anger for days, he sneered, "What is it? What does the Young Marquis want with me?"

Luo Qianyu didn't answer, merely stepping aside to make way, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Why ask so much? Are you afraid?"

Guan Mingyang's face darkened. He abruptly stood up. "I'd like to see what tricks you can pull!"

In the rear garden of the Imperial College, deep within the bamboo grove backed by rockeries, Luo Qianyu stopped and turned to face Guan Mingyang. "I've heard the Young Prince's swordsmanship is quite good."

Guan Mingyang caught the object the Young Marquis threw at him. Holding it, he realized it was a wooden sword. He was first stunned, then, with pent-up anger, scoffed, "What, Luo Qianyu, you want to spar with me?"

Luo Qianyu also drew a wooden sword from his sleeve. "We'll return before the next class. How about it?"

A flicker of surprise flashed in Guan Mingyang's eyes, followed by a cold, sinister glare. He grinned fiercely. "Fine. Since the Young Marquis actively seeks instruction, I'll naturally keep you company to the end."

Before his words faded, he had already gripped the wooden sword and thrust straight forward! Though the blade was blunt, he held nothing back!

Luo Qianyu sidestepped, raising his hand to block horizontally with his wooden sword. A *clang* echoed, wood shavings scattering.

Guan Mingyang's swordplay was domineering and ruthless, his attacks fierce, each move aimed at vital points, clearly wanting to make Luo Qianyu suffer. However, the Young Marquis carefully observed each of his moves and stances. After two exchanges, he managed to neutralize all of Guan Mingyang's attacks.

After six moves, sweat beaded on Guan Mingyang's forehead, and doubt flickered in his eyes. Why hadn't this kid been defeated yet?

Seizing the moment of his opponent's distraction, Luo Qianyu's sword tip suddenly flicked upward, pointing directly at the Young Prince's throat!

Guan Mingyang reacted swiftly, hastily retreating. His heel caught on a stone, causing him to stagger two steps.

Yet, his hand movements didn't slow in the slightest. With merely a lift of his arm, he intercepted the whistling wind at his throat. The wooden swords collided with a dull thud.

Guan Mingyang's sword stance was vicious. With a sweeping horizontal slash, he aimed directly at Luo Qianyu's waist. The youth sidestepped to block. The moment their wooden swords met, he suddenly felt a sharp pain in his left shoulder—the blunt sword tip struck heavily against his shoulder bone. The pain forced a muffled grunt from the Young Marquis, and one knee hit the ground.

Guan Mingyang retracted his stance, frowning as he stared at him. "Hey, what are you pretending for? I didn't even use seventy percent of my strength."

Luo Qianyu didn't answer, just lowered his head to stare at his shoulder, pressing gingerly at the tender spot with his fingertips, his brow furrowing tighter and tighter.

...That's not right.

How did he avoid my last move?

Seeing his odd expression, Guan Mingyang snapped impatiently, yet he couldn't help taking two steps forward: "Hey, you there—"

Before he could finish, he saw Luo Qianyu already standing up, muttering under his breath: "No, no, this isn't right... I've got to ask Wen Yu."

With that, he completely ignored Guan Mingyang, turned, and strode off.

Guan Mingyang stood rooted to the spot, the wooden sword still suspended in mid-air, his brow deeply furrowed, his face a mask of utter bewilderment. "...?"

And so, over the next few days, the Young Marquis kept coming to Guan Mingyang to spar, still using wooden swords.

If the Young Prince got hit, he'd just keep going, but the Young Marquis would call it quits the moment he was struck, still muttering "No, no," ignoring him and turning back to the classroom.

With so many abrupt stops and sudden endings, feeling used and tossed aside, even someone as dense as him would eventually catch on.

Guan Mingyang was pissed. He actually laughed.

-

Ever since discovering Su He that day, Luo Qianyu had taken to "visiting" the neighboring room frequently. Sometimes, after finishing reciting texts, he would go to Su He's place to practice his calligraphy, lingering for a good half-day.

Outsiders thought the two had become fast friends. Even Zhao Nian was fooled, feeling quite pleased, saying that although Young Master Su's grades weren't the best, at least he was a decent, honest sort, much better than the Young Marquis's usual pack of disreputable friends.

Little did they know, Su He wasn't actually befriending their young master; he was being strong-armed into writing new chapters of his story every day. Even now, the Young Marquis sat to one side practicing calligraphy, while Su He, on the other side of the desk, was trembling as he sweated over the latest installment.

Getting stuck was common. The Young Marquis wasn't breathing down his neck, even showing understanding. But while Su He was racking his brains, he glanced sideways and his eyes landed on the Young Marquis's calligraphy practice.

"..." Su He was dumbstruck.

This handwriting... was a train wreck. His attention diverted, Su He watched silently for a good while, and he couldn't discern any technique or structure—it was all over the place.

After a long moment, he finally couldn't resist, working up the nerve to ask softly, "Young Marquis, if you're practicing calligraphy, you shouldn't put the strokes down like that..."

Luo Qianyu raised an eyebrow. "Done with the chapter?"

This was the first time Su He had ever been given a live update demand. He silently averted his gaze. "No... I'm writing it, I'm writing it..."

A moment later, the Young Marquis's voice softened slightly. "Then how should it be written?"

Su He was taken aback. He thought for a moment, then mustered his courage. "Shall I teach you?"

Luo Qianyu held the brush. "Go ahead."

"You hold the brush like this." Su He guided his hand, making the brush handle turn slightly. "This angle is best when placing the stroke. The wrist should be relaxed, and after touching the paper, keep it suspended..."

His explanation was quite professional. But when the stroke landed, a crooked, squiggly ink mark dragged across the page, looking like an earthworm that had been stepped on.

"..." Su He stared at the writing, suddenly speechless.

"Never mind." Luo Qianyu tossed the brush aside, splattering some ink on his fingertips. He cleaned his hands, not forcing the issue. "Just focus on writing your story. I'm beyond saving; no one can teach me."

Su He silently spread out a fresh sheet of paper. After watching him write a few pages, Luo Qianyu casually picked up the freshly written story from the desk. He had only flipped through a couple of pages when his gaze froze, and soon after, his eyes slowly widened.

Without even reading a full chapter, just these few pages had completely transformed his image—a complete one-eighty. Was this still the same dissolute Young Marquis?

He picked out a few lines to read aloud, silently clenched the edge of the paper, shook his head, and sighed. "I wouldn't call Wen Yu 'Dear Yu,' and Wen Yu wouldn't get all flustered and blushy at every little thing around me. Does that sound like him to you?"

"Have you forgotten how my guard gave you that scare that night?"

Su He: "...I remember."

Su He knew that although Luo Qianyu hadn't asked him to change the original plot, since he had to review it, he had made some adjustments to the characters' portrayals—mostly concerning the Young Marquis.

The changes leaned toward making him more deeply affectionate and gentlemanly. Su He had thought the Young Marquis would be quite satisfied after reading it. Who knew the young man's brow would furrow tighter and tighter, until he finally put down the manuscript. "No, what is this? You've written me as some chivalrous romantic lead? I'm cannon fodder, a scum gong, not the protagonist shou. Who wants to be a gentleman? When have I ever spoken to Wen Yu in such a soft, gentle tone? What are you even doing?"

Su He: "..." What a strange request.

Luo Qianyu sighed. "Just write what you originally planned. Don't change the outline just because I'm here."

"...Yes."

Su He's writing speed wasn't fast. Perhaps it was also the universe messing with him; Su He could only produce one chapter in advance. If Luo Qianyu pressured him to continue, the other would be utterly unable to produce anything, he'd just clam up and well up if pushed further, and after crying, he'd write even slower.

Although he had read the original book beforehand, it had been a long time since he transmigrated, the original text was lengthy, and he had already forgotten many details. But now, with Su He here, he could at least get a preview of the next chapter's plot.

Once Su He started writing again, Luo Qianyu patiently waited for him to finish. This time, upon taking it and reading, he sucked in a quiet breath after finishing.

This time, at least the plot outline was clear—in two days, it would be the Young Marquis's birthday. The Young Marquis went with some wealthy young masters to a private room at the local Drunken Immortal Pavilion. The Young Marquis got dead drunk. Upon returning to the Imperial Academy, as soon as he saw Wen Yu, who had just finished bathing, a wicked impulse took hold of him and he tried to force himself on him, but Wen Yu cut his face.

Furious, the Young Marquis grabbed an ink-stained brush from the desk, pushed the protagonist shou down, and used the brush to "paint" and "practice calligraphy" on the other's snow-white skin, writing, "Guard Wen's snow-white skin suits ink even better than xuan paper."

He pinned the beauty on the bed, thoroughly humiliating him.

...Now that's more like it.

Luo Qianyu, straight as a board, was horrified, his world collapsing. He needed a minute before asking, "How do you know my birthday's the day after tomorrow?"

Su He also looked just as confused. "I... didn't know."

Luo Qianyu was momentarily speechless.

It had to be said, this plot... was seriously messed up.

Su He, you're a piece of work.

-

When his birthday arrived, Luo Qianyu didn't request leave from the Imperial Academy and told his family's estate not to make arrangements for him. He knew he couldn't just try and dodge the plot; it would backfire. The end result would either be failing to avoid it or having that same bad luck land on him instead.

When the young masters from the upper and outer dormitories invited him for drinks, the Young Marquis still went to the banquet. Wen Yu and Zhao Nian didn't accompany him. Lou Xian had been too busy to be seen for the past few days, having taken a few days off from the Imperial Academy. It was said he had even gone to the military camp a few times and couldn't make it to his birthday.

"Brother Qianyu, the Drunken Immortal Pavilion has a new chef from Jiangnan. We gotta try it!"

As dusk fell, the Drunken Immortal Pavilion was brightly lit. The waiters, seeing several young masters in fine brocade robes, hurriedly showed them to a private room.

Su He's writing was indeed precise—the Drunken Immortal Pavilion. This was where he would get drunk. Just as he was thinking this, he saw a fellow upper-dormitory student beside him pull out a wine jug. "Look, I specially had someone bring spring brew from Lingnan. Let's taste it later!"

As they passed around a screen, a peculiar round fan-shaped door suddenly appeared before them—eight sandalwood panels encircled a central bronze pillar like a folding fan. Each panel was painted with a lady in a different pose: one holding a silk fan to catch butterflies, another half-hiding her face with a pipa, yet another leaning on a railing gazing at the moon. The light from the Drunken Immortal Pavilion reflected on them, making them appear lively and exquisite.

Especially when the door pivoted, the beauties' sleeves seemed to flutter as if alive.

"Marvelous!" His companions were full of praise. One young master couldn't resist, his fingertips brushing over the crimson skirt on a door panel, sighing, "I heard there's a strange tale from the previous dynasty: a young nobleman mistakenly entered the Drunken Immortal Pavilion and had his soul captivated by the beauties on the door. They say the painted fairy's eyes seemed to ripple, her vermilion lips slightly parted as if whispering of longing, entrancing the young master. He lifted his foot to pursue her, but the screen rotated and transformed. He ran dozens of laps around the corridor, always trapped in the same spot, in a daze not knowing if he was in the painting or the mortal world. In the end, he even forgot to enter the private room! The owner had to have him thrown out."

"Haha... That's no historical anecdote; it's clearly the Drunken Immortal Pavilion's manager's clever storytelling! Deliberately fabricating such a strange tale to lure people like us to wear out their threshold!"

That got a big laugh from the group.

Luo Qianyu glanced at it, thinking it reminded him of a modern revolving door, but with far more ingenuity and refined elegance invested in its design.

The waiter chuckled apologetically, not the least bit embarrassed, and said, "You gents have a good eye. This is the 'Eight Immortals Crossing the Sea Gate,' specially commissioned by our proprietor from a craftsman in Yangzhou. Just look—"

He gently pushed one of the door panels, and the entire circular fan began to rotate like a revolving lantern, revealing four private chambers in different directions behind it. He introduced them: "The leftmost leads to the 'Listening Snow Pavilion,' the second to 'Rainy Sky,' the third is the 'Moon-Gazing Pavilion'..."

"Then we'll take the Moon-Gazing Pavilion!" a young master from outside the main family compound declared. "Brother Qianyu's birthday calls for ascending high to gaze at the moon—it's an auspicious sign!"

The waiter complied: "Right you are!"

The waiter pushed open the door to the Moon-Gazing Pavilion, where the banquet was mostly set up.

A spacious table was set with wine pots and gleaming crystal cups that cast scattered glints of light. Outside the window, the night deepened, and in the distance, the lanterns on the painted boats of West Moon Lake shimmered like floating stars. The faint strains of silk and bamboo music drifted over, making the room feel even quieter and more secluded.

Inside the Moon-Gazing Pavilion, candlelight cast a warm, dancing glow. The waiter brought out the final dishes, presenting a tray of eight cold dishes. The crystal pork terrine was as thin as cicada wings, piled into a small mountain. The honey-glazed lotus root was translucent and gleaming. The most exquisite was the signature dish "Snow and Rosy Clouds Soup," with tofu carved into hibiscus shapes floating in a clear broth—as delicate to look at as it was appetizing.

As soon as the wine was poured, Young Master Chen raised his cup with a smile and said, "Brother Qianyu, today is your special day. Let's start with three cups!"

Luo Qianyu raised a hand to stop him, a faint smile curling at the corner of his lips. "Not drinking today."

"Ah?" The group was taken aback. Young Master Chen exclaimed in surprise, "Brother Qianyu, in previous years you'd drink until you dropped. What's with breaking tradition this year?"

Luo Qianyu didn't answer, merely taking a sip from his teacup.

The young masters at the table exchanged glances. Suddenly, one of them smirked mischievously. "Could it be... someone at home is keeping a tight rein on you?"

Another caught on, understanding dawning. "You mean... the Capital's First Beauty? I heard the Young Marquis took him in as his personal guard, inseparable day and night. No wonder the Young Marquis hasn't been out carousing with us lately!"

Luo Qianyu's fingers stilled, the warmth in his eyes instantly turning cold. "Are my affairs of such interest to you?"

The private chamber fell silent at once.

This statement was nearly indistinguishable from "How dare you take an interest in my person?"

Seeing the tension, Young Master Zheng quickly tried to smooth things over. "Let's drink! Why bring up such matters?"

The others awkwardly raised their cups, but the atmosphere had already turned delicate.

Luo Qianyu knew these unsavory friends of the Young Marquis didn't bring up Wen Yu by chance. They probably hadn't even met him yet but were already curious about him. Seeing that he hadn't brought Wen Yu along, they were no doubt disappointed.

Their earlier probing was also to gauge Wen Yu's importance in his heart. If he were someone insignificant, they might even make some outrageous request.

Young Master Chen's eyes darted, and he quickly jumped in to defuse the tension with a smile. "Since Brother Qianyu isn't drinking today, how about we compose poems to celebrate his birthday instead?"

Everyone chimed in agreement. Luo Qianyu lazily lifted his gaze. "Very well."

"Excellent!" Young Master Zhou raised his cup, drained it in one go, and tapped his chopsticks in time to his chant, "I'll start: A jade tree stands tall in a spring like no other, golden cups never empty till dawn breaks!"

Amid the cheers, Young Master Chen continued, "Lying drunk among flowers, don't laugh at me; in the Moon-Gazing Pavilion, we paint our fame and glory!"

The flattery was unmistakable.

When it was Liu Yanzhi's turn—the most enthusiastic in urging drinks—he was the one who, in previous years, would inevitably get the Young Marquis thoroughly drunk on his birthday. Seeing him abstain today, Liu snapped his folding fan shut, glanced sidelong at Luo Qianyu, and recited with a smile, "Nectar was meant as an immortal's brew, why shun it tonight as if a scorpion's sting?"

This was hardly a birthday blessing; it was clearly a poem urging him to drink, as the Young Marquis was the only honored guest at the table who hadn't touched a drop.

Next, everyone at the table took turns reciting poems, some elegant, some witty. When it was Luo Qianyu's turn, the crowd egged him on: "The Young Marquis should give us one too!"

Luo Qianyu toyed with the cup in his hand. The fish pattern at the bottom seemed to swim as the light caught it.

When he looked up, he found all eyes in the room fixed intently on him.

Luo Qianyu sighed, set down his teacup, and after a brief pause, spoke calmly:

"Embroidered words and hairpin flowers may be inscribed, but do not press for half a drop of nectar."

As soon as the words left his lips, the expressions around the table shifted dramatically. Liu Yanzhi's folding fan froze mid-air. Young Master Chen's wine pot hovered, a drop of wine trembling at its spout, about to fall but not quite. The others were equally motionless.

Luo Qianyu recited the final two lines, his voice firm and resonant:

"If the birthday star's lips are stained with wine, you'll roll out with your scrolls in disgrace!"

...

The room fell into utter silence.

Suddenly, someone stifled a laugh, gripping the edge of the table, shoulders trembling faintly with suppressed mirth.

Finally, someone broke the silence, and the Moon-Gazing Pavilion erupted into uproarious laughter, impossible to contain any longer.

"What a poem refusing wine! Haha..."

"Truly brilliant!" another chimed in, barely holding back laughter. "That 'roll' is perfectly natural, the finishing touch! Why not make it a drinking game? Brother Qianyu, worthy of a candidate for the imperial exams, even your insults are elegant and suave!"

"Excellent poem! Excellent!" Young Master Chen, son of the Vice Minister, slammed the table in admiration. "The first two lines allude to classics seamlessly, echoing Su Hui's palindrome poem and referencing Young Master Liu's *Chuci*. As for the last two lines..." He glanced at Liu Yanzhi's alternating pale and flushed face and couldn't help laughing. "They seem plain and straightforward, yet conceal great artistry within simplicity!"

After three rounds of drinks, Luo Qianyu excused himself to step out for a moment, finally breathing in the fresh air outside.

The smell of wine in Drunken Immortal Tower was overwhelming. Luo Qianyu rubbed his temples and wandered back.

The Eight Immortals Crossing the Sea Gate rotated leisurely before him, the skirts of the beauties in the paintings fluttering and overlapping in his tipsy vision. Squinting, he pushed a door at random—

He hadn't gone far when he noticed the surroundings had grown much quieter. However, the private chambers appeared no different, so it was only upon pushing the door open that he realized he had stepped into an unfamiliar room.

The scent of agarwood washed over him.

Lanterns swayed gently in the night breeze along the corridor. After pushing the door open, Luo Qianyu didn't find the drunken young masters from the banquet. Instead, the room was silent, save for the faint, nearly inaudible strains of silk and bamboo music in the distance.

Unlike the elegance of the Moon-Gazing Pavilion, this chamber was furnished with understated yet valuable pieces. Only a long wine pot and cups sat on the table. An intricately carved incense burner emitted a subtle fragrance. Sheets of rice paper were spread on the tablecloth, the ink still fresh.

He suddenly recalled what was written on the Eight Immortals Crossing the Sea Gate—the waiter had been interrupted before he could finish introducing it. The last private room it led to seemed to be called...

"Abyssal Pavilion."

And behind the table sat a man in a dark-patterned brocade robe, his hair tied up with a jade crown, a wide cloak draped over his shoulders. He was writing something with a brush. Hearing the noise, he slowly looked up.

Their eyes met.

The current Prime Minister, the Emperor's most trusted advisor, and also... the last person Luo Qianyu wanted to encounter at this moment.

—It was Lin Jingyan.

Lin Jingyan's gaze was like deep, cold pond water, sliding from the jade-inlaid belt at Luo Qianyu's waist, up to the red silk ribbon in his dark hair, and finally settling on his face.

"Young Marquis," he set down his brush, his voice quiet and low. "Lost your way?"

Luo Qianyu was instantly on guard.

Hell.

What kind of luck was this? Of all people to run into.

For some reason, Luo Qianyu didn’t want to lose face in front of this man. His throat tightened slightly, but he stubbornly raised his chin under the oppressive atmosphere and said, “You must be kidding. Of course not. The waiter said there are four private rooms here, but only the guest in the Chenyuan Pavilion remains mysterious, unwilling to show his face. I came to see who this big shot was. Seen him. Not impressed.”

“I had no intention of hiding my identity. If the Young Marquis wishes to look, then look…” The man’s voice paused briefly before he slowly parted his lips. “Have you been drinking?”

Luo Qianyu hadn’t drunk, but it was inevitable that he carried the scent of alcohol on him.

“Indeed. Who doesn’t drink to their heart’s content on their birthday?” The Young Marquis replied with a calm expression, lying without batting an eye. He knew well that Lin Jingyan was cunning and calculating, and he couldn’t afford to let him notice anything amiss. It was better to claim he had been drinking. However, he then shifted the topic, not forgetting to taunt the other with a sarcastic tone. “But Your Excellency, why are you drinking alone here? Are none of those talented, gentle, and considerate beauties willing to keep you company? Could it truly be, as I once said, that you’re not up to the task anymore?”

“Even with countless beauties, they all seem dull and tasteless.” Lin Jingyan lifted his gaze, his tone betraying no emotion. He merely chuckled softly and said, “None hold a candle to the courtesan who got soaked through on the painted boat that day.”

…

At these words, the Young Marquis was suddenly stunned, unable to react at first.

But the next moment, Luo Qianyu’s face flushed bright red, and his clenched fists trembled visibly.