Ying Wujiu looked over. 

The young man wrinkled his nose, looking quite troubled, and said, “I think it was last time at Liuqing Pool… You told me to go over there, and then I fell…that’s why my clothes tore.” 

The implication was that it was his fault the clothes were torn, so Ying Wujiu raised an eyebrow. Rong Shuang pricked up his ears and waited for a long time but heard no response from the Emperor.

He said, “Oh, actually, Your Majesty, I don’t necessarily need you to reimburse me… I just think it’s not quite right that my clothes are torn, and I don’t have the money to buy new ones.”

“It’s fine if you don’t reimburse me.” “……”

“It’s fine; if I mend it, I can wear it for another five years.” 

After listening to this monologue, Ying Wujiu’s gaze fell on his sleeves, which were so heavy they nearly dragged on the ground.

After a long while, he chuckled softly: “I think if you didn’t stuff so many pastries and sunflower seeds into your sleeves, Lord Rong, you might just be able to wear them for another five years.” 

Rong Shuang blinked slowly, actually finding the remark quite reasonable—he didn’t detect the slightest trace of sarcasm or mockery in the emperor’s words. He scratched his cheek and replied quite honestly, “Well… then next time, I’ll just bring a gunny sack into the palace.” 

Ying Wujiu: “……” He turned and walked away.

Rong Shuang stood there dumbfounded for a long time before finally snapping out of it and bowing: “Then this humble subject will take his leave… Burp.”

Before long, Ying Wujiu heard the sound of footsteps—sometimes heavy, sometimes light—behind him; it seemed the wind had made him even more intoxicated.

Glancing back at the corner, he saw that slender, frail figure struggling to hold onto his official’s hat as he walked.

Clatter—

He must have tripped over something and took a tumble. The sunflower seeds spilled out in a clatter. 

A quiet murmur: “Ouch.” 

The young man crouched on the ground, wrapping his arms around his sleeves, and began picking up the sunflower seeds. 

Ying Wujiu looked away, and the figure vanished down the palace path. Then he heard a few more sets of footsteps clattering along behind him.

“What are you doing??? Stop picking them up, stop it! You’ve scooped up all the sunflower seeds from my table too!” 

“That’s a different matter, that’s a different matter.”

“Oh my! Qin Tianyang, you’re stepping on my sunflower seeds! Lift your foot!”

“You’re driving me crazy! Meng Han! Meng Han! Come help out!” 

“By the way, Qin Tianyang, I’ve been thinking—I think my sleeve might have torn the last time you came over to my place to make the bed. Do you remember? You made a piece of wood hit me back then…”

“You’re never going to stop! Why are you trying to frame me again?!!” 

“Just pretend to admit it for a second…” 

“Why should I?!!”

“And weren’t you just trying to frame His Majesty too?”

“No way, I didn’t. I wouldn’t do something like that.” 

“You did!! You, you, you, you!” 

……

Rong Shuang’s memories of that night were very jumbled; he only vaguely remembered walking away with a lot of things. When he returned to Tailin Hall for the second time, it seemed she had also made a few friends.

But, to his shame, he couldn’t even remember his friend’s name. All he could recall after that was blacking out.

Rong Shuang slowly came to on the bed, yawned, and rolled over. The next second, he opened his eyes and got a huge shock: “Holy shit!!!”

A baby-faced boy was peering in through the open sandalwood lattice window, staring at her without blinking: “Lord Rong, I’m so hungry. What time does your household serve dinner?”

Rong Shuang clutched his chest, completely bewildered. It took him a while to remember: Oh, right—Ying Wujiu had dumped this kid, the Prince Ning, on him. He sat up: “If you’re hungry, we’ll serve dinner right away. No problem, no problem.”

Upon hearing this, Ying Yin finally regained some of his energy. He got up, grabbed his tasseled spear from nearby, and with a quick leap, jumped down and swung it a couple of times.

Rong Shuang put on his shoes and threw on his outer robe, then paused for a moment by the window.

The sun was high in the sky today, and the sky was clear and azure, making everything appear more translucent and pristine than usual. The old loquat tree in the courtyard, over forty years old, stretched out its lush green branches, bearing many golden-yellow fruits that looked like little lanterns.

The young man’s tasseled spear dance was also exceptionally graceful, swift as a sudden downpour, creating bursts of silvery arcs as it sliced through the air. Elegant—truly elegant.

It’s just a bit of a waste to show this scene to an illiterate person. 

Rong Shuang pushed open the door to the west wing and was just about to call Old Ge over to order the meal when she saw him emerge quietly from the other end of the corridor.

“Sir, you’re finally awake.”

Rong Shuang: “What?”

Old Ge: “His Majesty has granted a reward.”

Rong Shuang fell silent for a moment, then seemed to realize something and shot forward: “Did they reimburse me for my official robes?”

No sooner had he finished speaking than Laifu and Wangcai appeared, each holding a scroll in one hand.

Upon closer inspection, it read, “Uncorrupted Official.” 

Rong Shuang: “……?”

Is something off here?

Old Ge: “Eunuch Huang said the palace had already had it mounted; you just need to hang it up.”

Ying Yin thrust a long spear toward him, halting it just a short distance away, and said earnestly, “My fourteenth brother has never bestowed calligraphy or paintings on anyone. Back in Lingzhou, countless people begged for a piece of my fourteenth brother’s calligraphy but could never get one.”

Rong Shuang let out a dry laugh. The calligraphy was indeed incredible—the brushwork was powerful enough to lift a tripod, the momentum overwhelming, and the technique so solid it could cleave right through a main beam. But why on earth was it bestowed on a spear hilt? And there was something distinctly sinister about the whole thing.

He could just picture the look on Ying Wujiu’s face as he wrote those characters… Come to think of it, is Ying Wujiu out of his mind? Staying up late in the middle of the night to write him a piece about an uncorrupted official? He’d be better off just giving me some silver. 

Heh, heh, heh.

Rong Shuang accepted the calligraphy and hung it in the prime spot—right in the center of the north wall of his empty west wing.

The midday spread at the Rong residence was lavish, because in addition to his stir-fried greens with pork and steamed buns, there were quite a few pastries.

Ying Yin looked at the simple meal on the table, somewhat incredulous: “Is this all we’re eating?”

Rong Shuang: “Of course not.”

As soon as Ying Yin let out a sigh of relief, Rong Shuang grabbed a handful: “There are still sunflower seeds.” 

Ying Yin: “……”

He clutched his stomach with a pained expression and said, “No way, I’m still hungry.”

Rong Shuang generously pushed all the pastries toward him: “These are all for you. Don’t be shy—and if there aren’t enough, there’s more.”

Ying Yin’s stomach growled. He grabbed a pastry and devoured it in one bite, mumbling, “I really do have a huge appetite—I’m not lying. Back when I was in Lingzhou, no one ate more than me—only my fourteenth older brother didn’t mind.”

Rong Shuang replied offhandedly, “Well, your fourteenth older brother sounds like a nice guy.”

Only then did he realize that this kid’s fourteenth older brother was Ying Wujiu. Ugh, take that back.

Ying Yin scooped up a mouthful of vegetables and said proudly, “Of course he is.”

Rong Shuang asked, “If I may ask, how old are you this year?”

Ying Yin held up two fingers to show him: “Seventeen, but my birthday is in December.”

Rong Shuang said, “So you’re not even seventeen yet—and His Majesty’s already put you in command of troops?”

Ying Yin grew proud again: “That’s right, but it’s no big deal. When my Fourteenth Brother was my age, he was already commanding 100,000 troops of the Northwest Army. In the Battle of Dingcheng Slope, my fourteenth brother led just 800 men to defeat Louqi’s 50,000-strong army—a feat worthy of being recorded in the annals of history.” 

Rong Shuang put down her chopsticks: “Impressive, very impressive.”

He didn’t expect this kid to be such a big brother fan—you can tell he really looks up to Ying Wujiu.

Ying Yin grew more and more excited as he spoke: “Now that my Fourteenth Brother has ascended the throne, I’m his Grand General for Subduing the North!”

Rong Shuang clapped for the “General’s Little Brother”—after all, one should always support a person’s dreams.

Although it was quite possible that this kid had been sent by Ying Wujiu to keep an eye on him, it didn’t matter—80% of the people in his mansion were spies anyway. Too many lice don’t itch; he was used to it. 

The only thing was, this kid really did eat a lot. Most of the pastries Rong Shuang had brought back from the palace had already gone into his belly, yet he still didn’t seem quite full.

One afternoon, while Rong Shuang was taking a sip of water, he saw the boy climb a tree, munching on loquats while teasing Yao Zu, who was running around in circles beneath it.

“Mmm~”

“Woof-woof~”

Rong Shuang rummaged through every nook and cranny to find some more candied fruit, then had Old Ge bring it all out and give it to Ying Yin.

The bad news was that he had a big appetite; the good news was that he wasn’t picky at all—he’d eat whatever you gave him, so he was very easy to take care of.

Just as Rong Shuang had settled Ying Yin down for another little nap, Old Ge came to report that Meng Han and Qin Tianyang had arrived. Rong Shuang: “?”

That news sounds so familiar.

Him: “What are they here for? To pay their respects to my ancestors going back eighteen generations?”

At the courtyard gate, Qin Tianyang had already stepped inside, carrying bags of all sizes: “Didn’t you invite me here?” Rong Shuang had a memory lapse: “When?”

Qin Tianyang picked up one of the roast chickens and tossed it toward the tree; Ying Yin caught it in a spectacular backward somersault, cradling it in his arms: “Thanks.” 

Qin Tianyang: “Last night—don’t you remember what you said after you returned to the Tailin Hall? It wasn’t just me—didn’t you also invite Minister Chen? And you were running after Elder Tan and Elder Gao, calling them ‘Grandfather.’ Everyone heard it; they thought you were possessed.” 

Rong Shuang was startled: “What???”

He turned to Meng Han, who was standing nearby and seemed more level-headed.

Meng Han nodded: “On our way here, we even saw Minister Chen’s carriage—it had just left the palace, so it should be arriving at the Rong residence very soon.”

Ying Yin, who was sitting in a tree munching on a chicken drumstick, nodded upon hearing this: “That’s right. The entire court—civil and military officials alike—can vouch for it.”

Rong Shuang fell silent. Oh no.

He’d invited that taciturn, aloof, and handsome Minister Chen over as a guest without even knowing the man’s name. 

Qin Tianyang was delighted to see him like this. He strode over to the steps and sat down: “It’s fine. Chen Wenjin may be a man of few words, but he’s the shrewdest of them all. Plus, he has the Emperor’s full trust. If you play a trick on him, the worst that’ll happen is a few official reports against you—it won’t kill you.” 

Rong Shuang forced a smile: “What are you talking about? That’s total nonsense. As soon as I got here, I said it was all your fault.” Qin Tianyang snapped: “What does this have to do with me!”

Rong Shuang: “Exactly! What does this have to do with you? Stop blabbering!” 

Qin Tianyang: “=Blood=”

Just as they were speaking, the second announcement came.

Chen Wenjin had just left the palace; he hadn’t even taken off his official robes yet. Standing tall and dignified, he strode in with measured steps. Spotting the few people in the courtyard, Chen Wenjin removed his official’s hat and bowed slightly: “Greetings, Young Marquis. Greetings, Prince Ning.” He didn’t forget to nod to Meng Han either, maintaining a composed and respectful demeanor with impeccable etiquette.

Finally, he turned to Rong Shuang: “There was much to attend to in the palace today, so I arrived late. Didn’t you, Lord Rong, say you had a secret to share with me?” Rong Shuang was once again left with a head full of question marks.

Did he really say that??

Chen Wenjin: “May we step aside for a moment?” 

Rong Shuang looked completely baffled. He glanced at Qin Tianyang and Meng Han, then at Ying Yin, who was eating roast chicken in the tree, before standing up and following Chen Wenjin aside. Once they were out of earshot,

“Senior Grand Secretary, please speak freely.”

Rong Shuang pondered for a moment: “Minister Chen, actually…The questions on the palace examination in my year were pretty tough, too.” 

Chen Wenjin: “……”

“Now that I’ve shared with the Senior Grand Secretary’s secret, I have some news His Majesty asked me to convey to you.”

Rong Shuang: “What?”

“As of today, the Grand Secretariat’s deliberating official has been absent for four months.” 

Rong Shuang: “?” No way.

No one had ever told him that.