Chapter 332 Temptation

Chapter 332: The Lure

The capital was never short of places to throw money around, and Tingxiangxie was certainly one of the finest among them. Ever since Song Tingzhou had cracked down on the place last time, business at Tingxiangxie had dwindled considerably.

After leaving the yamen, Zhu Zening invited a few colleagues to drink at Tingxiangxie. As cups clinked and glasses went around, most of them were soon thoroughly drunk.

Zhu Zening was also drunk, his mind drifting hazily back to his days studying at the Changping Prefecture Academy. It was much like now—people crowding around him just for the price of a drink. Back then, he still carried the pride of youth, too proud to bother with all that fake politeness.

He recited Li Bai's lines: "Laughing at the sky, I stride out the door—how could I ever be one of the common folk?"

He sang Du Fu's verses: "Turning my hand, clouds; turning my hand, rain—why count these fickle, frivolous men?"

As the top scholar of Changping Prefecture, young and accomplished, from a family of imperial merchants—how could plain old "pride" even come close to describing it?

Unlike now, having gotten into things he shouldn't have, and being pushed around in ways he shouldn't have been.

"Master Zhu, right this way?" A beautiful woman entered the private room, smiling as she gestured.

Zhu Zening staggered to his feet and followed the woman to the daybed hidden behind gauze curtains in the room. The woman rolled onto the bed, and after pressing some hidden mechanism, a pitch-black secret passage suddenly opened beneath the bed.

Without a change in expression, he picked up the oil lamp from the bedside and slipped into the passage like he'd done it a hundred times, leaving the delicate woman on the bed to stand watch.

The passage was just wide enough for one normal-sized man. Zhu Zening had put on a bit of weight over the years, and his shoulders and hips kept brushing against the walls on both sides.

Under the dim light, he kept descending. Before a corner, he pulled a pitch-black mask from his robes and put it on.

The next moment, he turned the corner, and the space opened up before him.

It was an open space paved with bluestone slabs, surrounded entirely by dark walls. The walls were lined with many passages like the one he'd just come out of—some were just stepping out, others had been waiting a while.

Tables and chairs were scattered around the open space. At the center was a warm, flowing spring pool, where several naked beauties soaked—men and women alike, their faces dazed and dreamy.

The deeper you went, the thicker the smoke and mist got. Up close, you could see the water wasn't like a normal hot spring—it had a faint pink shimmer.

On the shore, scantily clad beauties carried trays with jade plates full of pale pink pills, each about the size of a soybean.

Several masked people had already rushed over eagerly to grab the pills. Once they got them, they stripped off their clothes and started fooling around with the beauties in the pool.

As if covering their faces made all the sanctimonious morality and Confucian talk they spouted by day disappear completely.

From the moment Zhu Zening walked in, his eyes weren't as clear as they'd been upstairs. He found a seat a bit farther from the pool and sat down, closing his hazy eyes. His fingers—his whole body—trembled slightly.

A beauty carrying the pills came up to him on her own and asked, "Master, would you like a mermaid pearl?"

Zhu Zening's trembling got worse. The mermaid pearl's faint scent, mixed with a hint of fishiness, clouded his mind. He gritted out a single word: "Stay."

When the beauty placed the round little pill in his palm, he swallowed it eagerly, just like the others had.

The trembling turned into a blissful shiver, like a beast about to break free being soothed back into calm.

The beauty handed over the last pill and then casually sat on Zhu Zening's lap.

Eyes still closed, he spat coldly: "Scram!"

The beauty let out a soft whimper but didn't dare cross him, slinking off with her tray.

From inside one of the passages, two figures watched Zhu Zening.

"Xiangxue hit a wall with him—he never touches Tingxiangxie's people?" Yan's voice was still hoarse, as if his throat had been through a hundred trials along with him.

Fuyin let out a scornful laugh. "People with real willpower don't come to a place like this. He's just putting on a show."

As she spoke, she pulled a sachet from her robes, walked over, and handed it to Zhu Zening, saying something flirty. Sure enough, Zhu Zening's face showed a visible struggle.

Fuyin was like a demon who could read minds, poking at Zhu Zening's conscience and limits. In the end, Zhu Zening still tucked the sachet into his robes.

Fuyin came back to Yan looking bored. "See? Told you so."

Yan's face was cold. "You've learned well from the Prince—both of you are masters at playing people. Fuyin, have you... gone to see her lately?"

Fuyin seemed to have known he would ask that all along, and replied with some exasperation: "Tingxiangxie is being watched closely right now. Forget me—even Xiangxue and the others haven't left the place in ages. Since you're already in the capital, why don't you go see your sister yourself?"

"We'll talk after His Highness takes the throne." A flicker of pain crossed Yan's indifferent eyes, then vanished, replaced by his usual coldness. "I took Guo Qixiu from the Xiang family, and we've got his son too. I've handed the man over to you—that completes the Prince's orders."

Fuyin had always admired how decisive he was. No matter how troublesome the job, if Yan was on it, it got done. He himself had no martial skill to speak of—it was just that he had a reckless, death-defying madness about him that chilled the blood.

Fuyin parted her crimson lips. "You've dealt with the Luo family the most. The Luo family's legitimate son boasted before the Imperial Consort that he'd already figured out a way to have the Emperor throw the man into the palace himself. Is that true or false?"

Yan frowned in thought for a moment, then only left her with: "That man is strange. On the surface, he seems full of schemes and wild ideas, but in private, he behaves oddly and occasionally spouts strange words..." He didn't know how to describe it.

"I'll send people to investigate in secret. If anything seems off, we can snatch Guo Qixiu back." Guo Qixiu's role was too important—Fuyin wanted Prince Lian to ascend the throne, and she certainly didn't want any variables disrupting the plan.

—

"Husband, the young master and the maternal aunt are here." Zhifan called softly from the outer room.

"Understood."

Meng Wan sat up from the bed, his eyes hazy, his ink-black hair cascading softly over his shoulders, softening even his strikingly beautiful features.

He had been worrying over too many matters lately—he hadn't slept well for days, and now his head was beginning to throb dully.

Zhimao brought in a basin of clean water and, seeing that his complexion seemed off, asked with concern: "Husband, are you feeling unwell somewhere?"

Meng Wan rubbed his throbbing temples. "Just a bit of a headache, nothing serious. Bring the water to my bedside—I'll rest a moment before changing."

Zhimao set the basin down and fetched a soft robe that Meng Wan liked to wear at home, placing it beside him.

Meng Wan washed up by the bedside, and by the time he had changed, he felt much more alert. He walked from the bedroom to the main hall, where Aunt Chang had clearly been waiting for some time, chatting with her son about Meng Wan's habits.

"The elders have been waiting half a day and he's still lazing in bed—whose wife behaves like this?"

"He's the husband of a high-ranking official, and the sun's already high in the sky and he's still not up. I hear that in the great households, everyone rises early to wait on their mother-in-law."

"I think it's all because your aunt is too soft-hearted and spoiled him rotten."

Meng Wan was already feeling unwell, and listening to her endless, pointless chatter only annoyed him further. "Aunt, are you talking about me?"

Yu Geer quickly stood up. "Sister-in-law, my mother is just talking nonsense. Don't take it to heart."

Yu Geer tugged hard at his mother's sleeve, deeply embarrassed. He was at his wit's end with such a mother.

Meng Wan sat down in a chair at his leisure. "Aunt, since you're living in this house and taking whatever you like from my mother, I imagine your monthly allowance serves no purpose."

He called out: "Zhimao, go tell Huang Ye that from now on, there's no need to prepare monthly allowances for the aunt and the young master."

Zhimao responded cheerfully: "Yes, this servant will go at once!" He stood tall and straight—if not for Nanny Jin's training, he would have loved to mock this aunt to her face.

Truly, does this household really not know who's in charge here? How dare you throw your weight around in front of the young master?

Hmph!

"Look at you, child—your aunt treats you as family, that's why she says a word or two. You're reading too much into it, aren't you?"

The maids of the Song family earn a few taels of silver a month, and Aunt Chang had had her eye on that for a long time. Now she quickly switched to a softer tone with Meng Wan.

But Meng Wan wasn't nearly as polite to her as he'd been in front of Chang Jinhua. "Since my aunt brought my cousin to stay at our place, with food and clothes taken care of, our money doesn't grow on trees, you know. Since my aunt thinks so little of me, why bother asking me for monthly money?"

Earlier, out of respect for Chang Jinhua, he'd treated them like proper relatives. Now Meng Wan clearly wasn't about to let Aunt Chang take advantage of him. "If you've got something to say, Aunt, just say it."

Aunt Chang's expression turned sour, and she wanted to bring up the allowance again, but recalling some messy family matters, she glanced around shiftily and changed her tune. "Wan Geer, your aunt heard that Da Lang's got a big official position in the capital—he can decide who lives and who dies."

Zhifan brought breakfast over for Meng Wan. He had just taken a sip of soy milk when he let out a scoffing laugh. "Who told you that? The one who holds the power of life and death is the emperor. If you say such things outside, I guarantee His Majesty will have our entire family executed—you'd better believe it. And it won't just be us—you and Yu Geer won't get off scot-free either."

Yu Geer's face went pale with fear. "It's that serious?" He grabbed Aunt Chang's arm and shook it. "Mother, did you hear what Cousin's wife said? Watch your mouth when you're out and about—don't cause trouble for Cousin and the rest of them!"

Aunt Chang shook off his arm. "Do you think I'm stupid? I know better than to say stuff like that out in public."

She then asked Meng Wan again, "Then... if something really goes down with the Song clan, won't Da Lang still step in?" She tried to sound relaxed, but her eyes kept darting over to see how Meng Wan was reacting.

Meng Wan picked up a steamed bun and said offhandedly, "For trivial matters, the local officials should give my husband some face. But if it's something serious like murder or arson, my husband will be completely impartial—if someone deserves the axe, they'll get the axe; if they deserve to hang, they'll hang. They won't make it past autumn."

"Hah..." Aunt Chang sucked in a breath and plopped down into the chair.

Meng Wan sensed something was off. He swallowed the bite of bun and asked suspiciously, "Aunt, what's wrong with you?"

Aunt Chang looked around, pretending to take in the stuff in Meng Wan's room. "Nothing, I just didn't sleep well last night. Wan Geer, that marriage your adopted son found—why didn't he pick a girl from a family of standing?"

She deliberately tried to change the subject, but Yu Geer's ears perked up at that.

Meng Wan had little appetite. After eating one small meat bun and finishing the half bowl of leftover porridge, he set down his chopsticks. "The two kids grew up together and are really close. Family background doesn't mean much."

Yu Geer felt a twinge of envy hearing that. If only his future mother-in-law were as open-minded as his cousin's wife—the poorer and more backwoods the place, the more those old mothers-in-law loved to throw their weight around.

He poked his mother with his finger.

Aunt Chang's thoughts were all jumbled, and she'd nearly forgotten what she'd promised him. Now she was feeling a bit off too. "Wan Geer, you see, Yu Geer is sixteen this year. There are no good families in the countryside—why not find him a match here in Shengjing?"

Meng Wan hadn't forgotten how the Chang family had bullied Song Tingzhou when he was young. It was already generous of him to put them up out of respect for Chang Jinhua, and now she wanted him to set up a match?

Meng Wan smoothed out the wrinkles on his sleeve. "So what kind of match does my aunt have in mind for Yu Geer?"

Aunt Chang perked up a little. "I've heard people talk about marquises and earls in the city. Wouldn't a match with that kind of family work?"

After saying this, afraid Meng Wan would refuse, she added a bit of flattery: "Da Lang holds such a high position now—if his cousin wants a match, wouldn't people be lining up to play matchmaker?"

What she said wasn't entirely wishful thinking. Marriage alliances were a big deal; back then, just mentioning that your uncle was a prefect or another relative was some official would make people tread carefully and show a little respect.

By all logic, Yu Geer, trading on Song Tingzhou's reputation, could actually marry into Shengjing. He might not land an earl's household, but he could still marry into a regular sixth- or seventh-rank official's family.

Meng Wan looked at Yu Geer. "You want to marry someone in Shengjing?"

Yu Geer met his eyes and felt like his every little thought was completely exposed. He quickly dropped his head, and only after a moment let out a barely audible "Mm."

Meng Wan let out a soft laugh and pulled a stack of invitation cards from a carved keepsake box. "I'm no good at matchmaking, but I've got quite a few invitations from the ladies in the capital. I'm not in a position to go out lately, so Yu Geer can go out and take a look around."

Yu Geer's eyes suddenly lit up. He took the cards and said, "Thank you, Cousin's wife. I won't run my mouth when I'm out."

After seeing the mother and son off, Zhifan cleared away Meng Wan's leftover breakfast and couldn't help but ask, "Young master, is it really okay to let the young cousin go off on his own?"

Meng Wan stood up, intending to go find Song Tingzhou. "It's fine—why wouldn't it be? If he wants to marry, let him. It's his own choice after all."

An untrained common young man, with such a crude mother, would not have an easy time making his way in Shengjing.

Song Tingzhou was exercising in the front courtyard, and Meng Wan watched him from the pavilion. As he watched, his throat started to feel scratchy. He cursed inwardly—he must have caught a cold.

Getting sick was no joke; if it got worse, it could lead to other problems. Chu Ci and A Xun were both away, so Meng Wan planned to have Gui Qian go out and get a doctor.

"What's wrong? Not feeling well?" Song Tingzhou turned around, sweat beading on his forehead. Seeing how pale Meng Wan looked, he hurried over.

Meng Wan was not one to put on a brave face. He pressed a hand to his forehead. "My head hurts a bit, and my throat feels scratchy too."

Song Tingzhou immediately grew anxious. "I'll have someone go get a doctor right away."

There was a clinic near their home. Gui Qian brought the doctor back to examine Meng Wan, and luckily it was just a common cold—nothing serious. The doctor wrote out a prescription and told them to have it filled, then Gui Cheng walked him out.