Wen Maomao could say he was left wanting more after that evening’s banquet at the Jiaotai Hall. The dinner was delicious, the wine was fine, and the empress and consorts were all dignified women—speaking in soft, gentle tones and conducting themselves flawlessly. Not a single one of Jianlan’s concerns came to pass.

Everyone seemed to be quite fond of the children, especially Wen Maomao, who was orphaned and exceptionally handsome. 

As everyone knows, the most distinctive trait of the Daqi royal family is their striking good looks. Descendants of the Wen family might be mad, might be foolish, or might not even look like a monarch at first glance…but not a single one was unattractive. 

The Taizu stood eight chi tall, and the Taizong was distinguished in bearing and appearance; the historical records of the subsequent emperors also frequently describe them with phrases such as “handsome in voice and appearance,” “uniquely outstanding,” and “a charming face like jade.”* 

This was also the main reason why Imperial Consort Huo Hanguang was willing to marry the emperor; she had been drawn to handsome men since childhood. 

Yet even among this crowd of slender-shouldered, flamboyantly beautiful women, Wen Maomao still managed to stand out. It wasn’t due to any skill—he simply had naturally outstanding features. 

Of course, the concubines’ enthusiasm was also driven by their belief that Wen Maomao was the child they had the best chance of securing and raising by their side.

Of the three relatives—nieces and nephews—whom the Emperor had permitted to enter the palace, the eldest, Wen Mengzheng, the Prince of Wu, was already ten years old—a young lad—and had his own biological parents; it was highly unlikely the Emperor would assign him a foster consort. Although the birth mother of Wen Guan, the Prince of Qin, had passed away, she had long been renowned for her precocious intelligence—able to compose poetry at three and study literature at five—and everyone tacitly agreed that this was a child suited to be the Empress’s son.

Although this child did not attend the banquet today either, his face clearly displayed a look of “nonviolent noncooperation” from start to finish. 

Wen Maomao had even asked his new friend in Yongji, out of genuine concern: “If you feign illness and don’t go, might His Majesty find a pretext to punish your father?” The reason Wen Maomao had worked so hard up to this point was precisely that he feared that his only remaining family member, Uncle Zhong, would be punished by association.

But his friend’s cold reply was, “He’d better mean what he says.” 

The relationship between father and son was, to put it mildly, quite strained.

Even though Consort Huo had already clearly shown her affection for Wen Maomao, several other consorts—who considered themselves to come from distinguished families and to be quite capable—were already stirring with ambition.

The cloth tiger named 666, which Wen Maomao had placed on the long banquet table so it could watch the animated projections, finally grasped the current—not particularly complex—political situation and began actively offering advice to its host: 【It’s still best to choose the Imperial Consort. You’re young, if the Demon Consort is your mother, and on top of that, you have an uncle whose achievements overshadow the emperor—that completes your “inept ruler” package.】 

Wen Maomao hadn’t said a word, but he put up with the little tiger’s chatter because… the stick figures it drew were actually quite good. It left the little guy wanting to watch two more episodes after one, and three more after two. 

If it hadn’t been for the light rain that suddenly began to fall over the palace halfway through the banquet—prompting Empress Pei to call the event to a close early so everyone could return to their respective palaces—Wen Maomao probably could have watched another three, four, five, or six episodes.

In fact, that was exactly what he had planned to do. The paths in the palace were perfectly level, and the corridors were long—there was absolutely no need to worry about zoning out and bumping into something head-on. He could walk back while looking at the miniature paintings, killing two birds with one stone—how perfect.

Unfortunately, Jianlan didn’t see it that way.

She couldn’t hear the cloth tiger that never left His Highness’s side speak, nor could she see the little figures running and moving in the void before her eyes; she could only sense His Highness’s solitary figure after the principal consorts had all departed in their palanquins.

Imperial Consort Huo was the first to leave. Even before the rain had begun to fall or the Empress had announced the end of the gathering, she had already rushed headlong toward Changle Palace, where the Emperor resided. Everyone assumed she was worried that the Emperor’s absence—when he was expected to appear—meant something had happened to His Majesty’s health. Only she knew the truth: she was going into battle. She still felt she had to try one more time; she couldn’t let Wen Maomao suffer this injustice for nothing.

If the Emperor dared to spout that nonsense about “the harem must not interfere in state affairs” again, she would have to consider rallying support. She hadn’t yet decided whether to pour out her grievances to her illustrious father, seek out her eldest brother who had already joined the Cabinet, or turn to her second brother, who had just returned victorious from battle. 

In any case, if Wen Maomao wants something, she’s going to get it! 

Even Wen Mengzheng had a simple child’s sedan chair—though it looked more like a litter used on Mount Tai—but it was still better than Wen Maomao having nothing at all. 

This was also why Wen Maomao and Jianlan would arrive early for the banquet; they had to make their way south from the North Fifth Compound, located at the northernmost tip of the palace city, cutting straight through the entire Western Six Palaces, relying solely on their own two legs to reach the Jiaotai Hall, which was already incredibly close to the Front Court.

Only those who’ve walked it know just how vast the imperial palace is. 

In fact, when Jianlan had led Wen Maomao out of the Third Palace early on, she had already brought along the strongest eunuch from the Third Palace, thinking that if His Highness became too tired to walk, the eunuch could take turns carrying him with her.

Unexpectedly, the little prince proved so capable—he didn’t ask to be carried even once on the way here. And now, on the way back, it’s the same.

Wen Maomao didn’t feel the slightest bit tired—not even a bead of sweat had formed on his forehead. Back in his hometown, this was his daily routine: either climbing trees and wading in rivers with his close friends, or running wild all over the mountains and fields. Compared to that, the distance within the palace was nothing at all. 

He even had the glorious record of walking all the way from the county seat to the nearest village—and back again—in one go, just for a taste of wild honey. 

Wen Maomao wasn’t afraid of hard work; he was only afraid of seeing that kind of sadness on Jianlan’s face. 

For some reason, whenever he walked alone under his oil-paper umbrella—even though he was clearly just happily looking at the little characters in the cartoon—Jianlan would feel that he was sad, which in turn made her feel guilty. 

To spare Jianlan any sadness, the little boy had no choice but to reluctantly give up his plan to watch cartoons while walking. 

With one hand held by Jianlan, he strode forward, pointing with the other at the light drizzle in the sky and saying to her, “Uncle Zhong said that back in his hometown, they call rain ‘falling stars.’” The raindrops were tiny and sparse; blown by the evening breeze, they skimmed diagonally across the railing, landing now deeply, now lightly on the stone steps, sending water splashing in all directions—just like falling stars. 

Only the system was beating its chest in frustration amid this idyllic peace: 【“This just won’t do, Host. You’re a foolish ruler, a tyrant, a big bad guy, destined to bully the whole world—so why is it that, up until now, all I’ve seen is everyone else bullying you?”】

And its host’s reply was: Meow, meow, meow.

Well, on their way back to the Third Residence, they happened upon two palace cats that had popped up out of nowhere, fighting fiercely in the drizzling rain. One was a big orange cat, the other a calico—both agile and nimble, local tough cats born to fight. 

The kids happily ran up to them and spent ages giving them voiceovers: one said, “You’re so fat, you’re so fat,” and the other replied, “So are you, so are you!” 

It was as if, in Wen Maomao’s world, there was nothing to be unhappy about—and even if there was, it wouldn’t linger for long. 

Just then, a procession of sedan chairs adorned with ornate canopies and tassels came racing up from the distance, as if afraid they wouldn’t catch up to Wen Maomao; the four eunuchs carrying the sedan chair—two in front and two in back—were practically running so fast their feet seemed to be spinning like fire wheels. 

Bringing up the rear was Jiuhua, a lady-in-waiting to Imperial Consort Huo. After stepping forward to perform a curtsy, she invited His Highness to board the palanquin.

Jianlan had intended to refuse, wanting to speak on behalf of her Prince to object to such an unorthodox tugging, but Jiuhua had already cut her off with a single phrase: “My apologies, Your Highness, please forgive me.” slipped her arm under Wen Maomao’s shoulder—who was standing between the two little cats—and lifted the child onto the sedan chair. It was clear that this tough, taciturn lady-in-waiting wasn’t very skilled at holding children, but she had tremendous strength—she was clearly a trained fighter. 

After leaving the reassuring assurance that “Our Lady will take care of what comes next,” this court lady, dressed in indigo-blue court robes, once again departed with nimble grace—just as she had arrived with steady strides, not even bothering to open her umbrella. 

System 666’s Epiphany: 【Retreat to advance, feign weakness to demonstrate strength, sow discord between the Emperor and the Imperial Consort, and gradually draw the Northern Frontier military faction—represented by Imperial Consort Huo—to her side, laying the groundwork for a swift ascension to the throne in the future. So this was the Host’s plan all along! The Host is truly brilliant! I misunderstood you!】 

Clueless as ever, Wen Maomao—who had been locked in a gaze with the kitten just a moment ago and found himself suddenly lifted into the sedan chair the next—asked:……Who? Me? 

In any case, he slept soundly through the night.

Wen Maomao once again settled into a carefree, illiterate life where he didn’t have to wake up early or study—just have fun. From the moment he opened his eyes on the four-poster bed in the morning, he was already urging the system to show him some cartoon illustrations. 

The system felt that something was wrong with this situation, though it couldn’t pinpoint exactly what. It could only make a last-ditch stand: 【Are you satisfied with this? Are you content with this? You have to work hard and strive for progress—otherwise, when will you ever ascend the throne? Do you have any preliminary plans to overthrow the emperor or become crown prince first? If nothing else, you should at least be granted a title, right? Or even hold a government post.】 

Wen Maomao nodded vigorously: “Sure, absolutely, I’ll definitely do it. Show me one episode of *Little People’s Cartoon*, and I’ll do my best to make it happen.” 

【Really?】

“Of course it’s true.” Agree first and worry about the rest later; if it doesn’t work out, just smile and apologize. Wen Maomao was quite experienced in this regard—we bad guys always go back on our word like that! 

Sure enough, one episode after another, tomorrow after tomorrow. 

However, even before the System—which felt thoroughly duped—could protest, the Emperor’s imperial edict, written in bright yellow ink, arrived.

The three princes residing in the North Fifth Compound were all summoned together to kneel outside the palace gates and hear the emperor’s decree. Everything about the palace was fine, except that kneeling was simply frequently done; it seemed as though everyone had a pair of golden knees and an iron forehead. 

But Wen Maomao had to pull himself together, because today’s spotlight was on the three of them. 

—The three princes of the Northern Five Residences were officially enfeoffed.

Technically speaking, it should have happened last night, when the Emperor personally issued the decree at the banquet hosted by the Empress in the Jiaotai Hall. The entire evening’s festivities had been a mere prelude to this sour imperial decree.

【What are they being enfeoffed as? As the Emperor’s sons?】 666 was hidden within Wen Maomao’s wide sleeves—which seemed capable of holding anything—actively participating in every important moment of his host’s life. 

It certainly couldn’t be about conferring someone else’s son as his own. It’s an initial honorary title.

Of course, it could also be interpreted as being stingy.

Everyone started out in lower-level positions such as Inspector, Military Officer, or Sanitation Officer. Moreover, these ranks were more like honorary titles—they came with a corresponding salary but no actual power. 

As for whether one’s official rank and title would rise with age, that depended entirely on one’s relationship with the emperor.

This is why distant relatives of the emperor, like Wen Maomao’s grandfather, spent their entire lives as a Sixth-Rank Fengguo Zhongwei, with a stipend of 200 shi—barely enough to support his family of five. Throughout his life, Old Master Wen never managed to advance a single step further; after all, the emperor likely didn’t even know he had a relative like him in the world. 

Like his grandfather, Wen Maomao was granted the minimum-rank position of Fengguo Zhongwei at birth—and that was the end of it.

Now, with this imperial edict, Wen Maomao has effectively been promoted. All three were promoted together; regardless of their previous titles, they have now been jointly conferred the nominal military command.

The cloth tiger 666 was extremely excited and immediately provided Wen Maomao with a translation: 【“Yao Jun” is a technical term—it’s an honorary title for military officers, signifying nominal military command over a certain region, but it carries no actual authority. The title of Yao Jun can be granted to multiple people at the same time; for example, you could be the Inspector of Jiangzuo, and I could also be the Inspector of Jiangzuo, but only the true Inspector of Jiangzuo holds the real decision-making power.】 

Bi Fang, the eunuch from the Office of Ceremonial Rites who had come to deliver the imperial edict, was an old acquaintance—pale-faced, with narrow eyes, gaunt and gloomy. He began with a long, breathless string of archaic phrases: “…Though still young and inexperienced, his exceptional qualities are already evident… I, invoking the spirits of the ancestral temples and the state, have carefully assessed his virtue and bestowed upon him a fiefdom…” 

The ten-year-old Prince of Wu, Wen Mengzheng, was appointed Commander of the Changzhou Militia and promoted to General of Martial Strategy; the eight-year-old Prince of Qin was appointed Commander of the Qizhou Militia and promoted to General of Martial Strategy; and the six-year-old Wen Maomao was appointed Commander of the Shengzhou Defense Forces and promoted to General of Martial Virtue.

Whether it was the eunuch from the Office of Ceremonial Affairs or Little Tiger’s explanation, it all sounded like gibberish to Wen Maomao.

In the end, it was Prince Wen Guan of Qin—who had always been bold—who knelt not far from Wen Maomao. While maintaining the most proper kneeling posture and covering his face, he calmly and quietly gave his little friend a clear, to-the-point explanation: “Your rank is higher than ours. We’re Lower Fifth Rank, while you’re a Senior Fifth Rank.”

“!!!” Fifth-rank, with an annual stipend of 300 shi. Wen Maomao finally understood—he could give Uncle Zhong a raise! 

What made him even happier was that there was more to this imperial edict.

“Establishing love and ensuring the succession is not a matter of favoritism toward one’s close relatives; the titles of marquis and prince are in fact determined by moral conduct and social customs. Each of you should strive to better yourselves, cultivate virtue, and expand your achievements. Wen Mengzheng and Wen Guan are each to be granted three hundred taels of silverware, twenty bolts of brocade, one gold sash, and one horse; Wen Mao is to receive an additional fifty taels of goldware, one jade sash, a complete set of gold saddle and bridle, and one set of woven garments. The relevant department shall select a date to prepare the ceremonial gifts and confer the titles; the officials in charge shall carry out these orders. So ordered.”

This time, even without anyone’s help in translating, Wen Maomao instinctively understood: he had received a great deal of money.

It was truly as if, while sitting in the palace, money was falling from the sky. What a joy!

The ladies of the various palaces subsequently made their own gestures as well. The Empress, a paragon of virtue, gave her three children gifts that were essentially identical—favoring no one and shortchanging no one—but in accordance with the Emperor’s decree, she added an extra ten percent to Wen Maomao’s share. 

Consort Huo’s favoritism was on full display; her gifts of gold, silver, and jewels flowed like a river, carried by litter after litter from her Zichen Palace to Wen Maomao’s Third Residence. The courtyards, which had previously been quite spacious, now seemed on the verge of bursting at the seams.

Yet the Imperial Consort, seated deep within the palace, still felt a sense of sorrow—apart from money, she could offer nothing else.                                                                                                                               

— Author’s Note —

Nonsense Mini-Drama:

Huo Hanguang was deeply distressed: “I can’t give that child a great deal of love, but I can give him a great deal of money.”

*Terms such as “demon-like beauty as fair as jade” and “enchanting voice and appearance”: These all come from descriptions in the History of the Northern Qi of the emperors of the Gao clan. They were all considered “beautiful lunatics” by the people, and their beauty was renowned.