The wind whispered secrets through the peach boughs as Chen Ping’an emerged from the simple dwelling. He gazed upon the golden-crowned Daoist standing beneath the blossoming tree, a figure woven from the very dragon veins of the land. “How many blossoms grace the branches now?” he inquired.

Song Yunjian replied, his voice soft as falling petals, “The count holds steady, near six hundred and fifty. Eight hundred is within sight.”

Unlike the Qingming Realm where emperors were mere conduits for the celestial Dao, the human kingdoms of the vast land held a sacred limit. Eight hundred years of reign, a great and perilous threshold. Tradition held that crossing this chasm would unleash a transformation of epic scale, a carp leaping into dragonhood.

At the heart of this momentous shift lay the question of humanity’s sovereign. All of Sacred Master Li’s ancient efforts, his intricate designs, such as establishing the Residences of True Men, sought to determine if mankind truly needed a figure to shatter the very foundation of the Great Dao he had forged, severing the connection between Heaven and Earth.

Song Yunjian and the young National Preceptor shared an alliance of unconventional balance, where the roles of master and attendant, host and guest, were often reversed.

Chen Ping’an was the guide, Song Yunjian the support. Yet, Chen Ping’an, a Daoist of the Middle-Earth, was but a traveler pausing within the grand inn that was the Dali Dynasty. Song Yunjian, however, was inextricably bound to the kingdom’s fate. Dali’s strength amplified his Daoist power; its decline would diminish it.

Chen Ping’an and Cui Dongshan had earlier surmised that Song Yunjian was akin to a pre-ascendant cultivator. Should Dali’s power continue its upward trajectory, Song Yunjian might achieve a state of weak ascension. Were Dali to become the paramount dynasty of the realm, he could even reach the zenith of the Ascension Realm. Beyond that, Song Yunjian dared not dream, for he could never compare himself to the revered scholars of the Central Temple.

Of course, Song Yunjian’s so-called power was a facade. Secure only within the capital, his strength waned beyond its borders. If the Dali capital was Song Yunjian’s grand Daoist sanctuary, the entire Dali Dynasty was merely a smaller one. Standing beside the peach tree within the National Preceptor’s estate, or rather, within the aura of the Dali Emperor and the young National Preceptor, he was at his safest.

A warbling finch flitted among the blossoms, free or imprisoned? By the measure of life and death, it was unbound. By the measure of heart and mind, a gilded cage.

Initially, Song Yunjian had yearned to explore the Imperial City, to wander beyond the National Preceptor’s estate, to visit the Southern Gate of the Thousand Step Corridor, the Grand High Mystic Hall, and the enchanting Flower Goddess Temple.

But Chen Ping’an, with a few simple words, had revealed the true stakes, quashing any such notions.

“Within half a year, I have survived an assassination attempt by a candidate for the Fourteenth Realm and engaged in desperate battles with two cultivators of that level.”

“Such trials are far from over.”

The implication was clear: they were bound by fate. While Chen Ping’an aided his cultivation, Song Yunjian could not indulge in whims that might jeopardize them both. That would be a breach of all righteous codes.

Any misfortune befalling Song Yunjian would first cripple the Dali Dynasty’s fortunes, and then directly impact Chen Ping’an. His nascent Ascension Realm would falter, perhaps plummeting several levels, depending on the severity of Song Yunjian’s injuries.

Yet, Song Yunjian was not merely a burden. With him seated in the capital, he could spare Chen Ping’an considerable effort and manpower.

Song Yunjian smiled. “At my birth, calculations were made. Before you accepted the Emperor’s decree to become National Preceptor, there were eighty-seven blossoms, give or take five.”

His constant presence beneath the peach tree was surely not for the sake of picking up stray coins.

Chen Ping’an frowned. “Are you certain?”

Did this imply that the Dali Dynasty’s reign had once been destined to last only eighty-seven years?

Song Yunjian’s smile faded. “As certain as I can be.”

The sable-hatted maiden leaned against a nearby pillar. “Daoist Yingning, speak clearly and truthfully, not like a drunkard mumbling in his cups. I am well-versed in literature and now delving into ancient phonology. I have never heard of ‘roughly certain.'”

Song Yunjian sighed. “That ‘rough’ calculation is the limit of my abilities.”

Xie Gou stroked her chin. “We should steal a few fortune-telling Daoists from White Jade Capital.”

Xiao Mo shook his head. “It cannot be done.”

Xie Gou laughed. “In my heart, it is already done.”

Hearing the word “heart,” Chen Ping’an smiled knowingly.

After all, Chen Ping’an had already clashed with White Jade Capital in a way few imagined, not merely a polite greeting or a few angry words exchanged.

An act repaid in kind: Chen Ping’an had visited the Qingming Realm to gaze upon White Jade Capital, and the calculating Daoists of that realm had visited Chen Ping’an’s Daoist heart, only to be met with an equal and opposite force.

Xie Gou tugged at her sable hat, displaying a hint of agitation. White Jade Capital was a fortress of impenetrable resilience. Xie Gou’s hidden blade, her trump card, was useless.

She lamented, “I brought a short sword, only to look upon the mountain.” Furthermore, Xie Gou’s Daoist heart was wavering of late. Her restraint was tested, the urge to devour Liu Laocheng and others almost overwhelming. Liu Tui? Song Yunjian?

Did they believe their innate luck would protect them from annihilation? They were but choice ingredients, devoured by Bai Jing since ancient times!

Xiao Mo cautioned, “Patience is needed.”

Xie Gou could not simply steal Daoists from the Jade Capital on her own. Even a combined assault by her and Xiao Mo would fail against Yu Dou, the Lord of Shangqing Pavilion. More allies were required.

Perhaps… just perhaps, the three allies from their shared battle could form a core: Chen Ping’an, Zheng Juzhong, and Wu Shuangjiang. Coupled with the Mountain Lord’s wife, Ning Yao, the peerless warrior, and including him and Xie Gou, they could form one wing. And then there were Qi Tingji, Lu Zhi, the executioner Hao Su,崔 Dongshan, Jiang Shangzhen, and the sword cultivators of the Fallen Mountain sect, forming another. And then there was Yao Qing, the pseudo-Fifteenth Realm, providing distant support… but such an endeavor was no simple inquiry, but an earth-shattering event that would destroy the fourteen prefectures of the Qingming Realm, White Jade Capital included.

Daoist arts would tear the heavens asunder.

Five hundred years of Daoist decline would find its resolution in Chen Ping’an.

Ten thousand years before, Xiao Mo had not participated in the Ascent to Heaven. Now, ten thousand years later, he longed to try.

Why he had not joined the cause then was not due to cowardice. Xiao Mo had wandered the realm alone, fearing no one. It was simply that the Small Master back then was vastly different. The current Sacred Master exuded gentleness, but the Small Master had been fearsome. Xiao Mo had once drunk with the Master of the Azure Sky Grotto and declared, “At most, he’s just a man. What is there to fear?” He had challenged the Small Master to a duel.

The reason he had not ascended to the heavens alongside Jiang She and Bai Jing was that Xiao Mo had once seen that “man.”

Xiao Mo turned to the sable-hatted maiden, thinking that if the opportunity arose, they would stand together on the summit of White Jade Capital, gazing down upon the world.

Xie Gou caught his gaze, a blush creeping across her cheeks. *Xiao Mo’s eyes are so gentle… he wants to sleep with me.*

Chen Ping’an chuckled. “Truly, a scholar of phonology.”

Xie Gou covered her mouth. “Mountain Lord, we are on the same side. Do not favor this useless fellow and alienate your warriors.”

Song Yunjian was unoffended. Bai Jing and Xiao Mo were ancient demons, ten thousand years old. Direct speech was their way.

Song Yunjian smiled. “The number of blossoms waxes and wanes. As long as this cycle continues, the world is at peace.”

Chen Ping’an said, “Dali is but one of the ten great dynasties. Even if the world in Dali grows better, it does not mean the world is at peace.”

Xie Gou placed her hands on her hips. “Hear, hear! Precise wording. Daoist Yingning, you must be more careful!”

Song Yunjian simply smiled. He had learned how to interact with Xie Gou. As long as one did not regard her as a normal cultivator, anything she said or did was understandable.

Chen Ping’an casually mentioned, “Last time I was in the capital, I mentioned ‘strokes of genius’ to Xun Qu. Now, Xun Qu has begun to work with the Hundred Flower Blessed Land. Is that a coincidence or a testament to the power of words?”

Song Yunjian said, “Is that not a good thing? The Daoist seeks the Dao, a path fraught with difficulty, and the hardest part is validation. A man of Dao whose heart is sincere, whose words are true, who gains enlightenment, and this is the novel domain of ascension, yes?”

Xiao Mo was ill-suited for such esoteric discussions. Even thinking too much left him feeling as if he had drunk inferior liquor. Xie Gou dared not speak rashly.

Chen Ping’an simply mentioned it and returned to the dwelling. Upon the table lay a collection of maps of the various prefectures, upon which routes were traced in vermillion, like meridians in the body or dragon veins across the land.

He also had Rong Yu compile lists of officials, divided into three categories: Imperial officials, regional civil officials, and garrisoned military officers. He wanted summaries of the officers deemed excellent in the last three Imperial assessments, with emphasis on middle-level officers in their prime. Rong Yu was methodical and soon provided the first list, promising a more detailed report by late afternoon. Chen Ping’an sat in the chair inlaid with a piece of porcelain and began to peruse the list. Did serving near the Emperor reveal one’s true character? It was hard to say.

Chen Ping’an had already refined the entire National Preceptor’s estate.

Xiao Mo and Xie Gou had added layers of enchantments. Xiao Mo’s innate talent and Xie Gou’s command of numerous Daoist veins made them both masters of formations.

The brush in Chen Ping’an’s hand was a celestial artifact common in the offices of the Imperial City. The user needed no inkstone, the brush required no dipping; a simple breath sufficed to write. The Dali Dynasty possessed many such items. In the kingdoms south of the Great Waterway, such things were rare. They were supplied to senior ministers by the Imperial Treasury, not for general use. They were well aware of the benefits, but their coffers were empty.

Zhao Yao, a Secretary of the Ministry of Justice, arrived at the National Preceptor’s estate. Rong Yu quickly brought him tea. Zhao Yao hastily drank it and said, “I just came from the Ministry of War. After speaking with Wu Wangcheng, Senior Minister Shen appeared and asked when you were coming to visit. He reminded you not to break your promise. Every day you delay is another day he does not submit his resignation to the Emperor or hand over the seal of the Ministry of War.”

As a fellow disciple of the literary tradition, even though they both held the rank of Third Grade official, with its division into Regular and Associate ranks, Lord Hong Ji was still the head of the Northern Military Office of the capital. Minister Zhao did not stand on ceremony.

Zhao Yao rotated his arm and said, “I need a definite answer. Tomorrow? The day after? The matter of replacing the Minister of War, who will take over, when, reporting to the Imperial Study, controlling the Imperial Court debate, and the sweeping changes that will follow… these are not matters to be taken lightly. I will emulate Shen Chen and camp here until you give me a date. Do you begrudge me working all night on official duties, attending the morning roll call, and fulfilling my night watch within the Forbidden City?”

Chen Ping’an said, “Oh? Quite the temper.”

Zhao Yao took a large gulp of tea and then picked up the teacup, examining it closely. “Is this authentic?”

Chen Ping’an said, “As long as you don’t pocket it, you can decide whether it’s real or not.”

Zhao Yao gazed at it with fondness. “Did you pick this up during the Assembly at the Temple of Literature?”

Chen Ping’an smiled. “I am curious as to what the two Secretaries, from the Ministry of Justice and the Ministry of War, discussed. Were you plotting rebellion?”

Zhao Yao laughed in exasperation. “The National Preceptor stands in the palace, sits in the Imperial Study, and then returns home. Is the curfew over? Are you going to ignore the four Dali sword-ships and their escorting military transports heading south? Who said the current Imperial Assessment had two tracks, overt and covert, and that the preparations for the celebration were part of it? Do you want me to examine the files? There are so many remarkable individuals in Dali’s capital today. Do you want the accompanying cultivators from the various prefectural generals to assist the Ministry of Justice in monitoring their movements?”

Chen Ping’an folded his sleeves and said, “Complaining to me is useless. I am not the Minister of Personnel. If you want a promotion, go visit Changsun Mao.”

Zhao Yao said, “Back to business. First, is the result given by the Yu Clan Ancestral Hall sufficient, or do you need to drag out a few more that can be mentioned in the Imperial Gazette? Second, with so many officials implicated in the Great Waterway matter, will the Ministry of Justice continue to handle the case alone, or does the National Preceptor have other plans? Third, I just heard that the Hundred Flower Blessed Land has allied with Dali. Should the Ministry of Rites make an appearance to hold a simple ceremony to formalize the alliance?”

Chen Ping’an said directly, “It is enough, but you must find another line that can fill the Imperial Gazette. The Ministry of Justice will handle the case alone. If you need extra manpower, just ask. For now, no need for an alliance ceremony.”

Zhao Yao nodded, slipped the Flower Goddess Cup into his sleeve, and rose. “Then I will take it that you will visit the Ministry of War tomorrow. I will bring the message to Senior Minister Shen.”

Chen Ping’an turned a blind eye. “Minister Zhao, there is no need to test me again.”

Zhao Yao said, “I must see the outcome before I can sincerely promise it won’t happen again.”

You, Chen Ping’an, said you would investigate to the end, regardless of rank. You must convince me that this is true. Are you trying to deceive me, or yourself, with mere words?

Chen Ping’an nodded. “That makes sense.”

Zhao Yao clasped his hands in farewell, not giving Chen Ping’an a chance to retain him, and hurried towards the second courtyard.

He brushed past Rong Yu, who carried an ornate box. Her expression was strange, but after a moment’s hesitation, she asked, “Minister Zhao, did the National Preceptor say he was giving you the Flower Goddess Cup?”

Zhao Yao continued without pausing, turning his head to smile. “Miss Rong Yu, he didn’t say that. I took it myself.”

Rong Yu asked, “Are you sure?”

Zhao Yao nodded. “Sure.”

Rong Yu stifled a laugh. “Minister Zhao is truly considerate of the National Preceptor. You are a worthy disciple of the Literary Sage.”

Zhao Yao stopped, puzzled. “Miss Rong Yu, what do you mean?”

Rong Yu patted the ornate box. “The National Preceptor asked me to fetch a complete set of Flower Goddess Cups, saying that if he was going to give one away, he might as well give twelve. The Flower Mistress, Qi Fang, personally sent them. I imagine they are not fakes.”

Zhao Yao took out his Flower Goddess Cup from his sleeve and glanced at Rong Yu’s ornate box. He did not have the face to change his mind, but then an idea struck him. He stuffed the cup back into his sleeve. “It is still worth being happy to take one Flower Goddess Cup from him.”

Rong Yu nodded with a smile.

Zhao Yao felt refreshed and was about to leave when he realized he should apologize to Rong Yu. “I am sorry that the box is missing a Flower Goddess Cup because of me.”

Rong Yu smiled. “It isn’t. There are twelve cups in the box.”

Zhao Yao froze.

Chen Ping’an stood on the steps. “Tsk. Minister Zhao, we are from the same hometown, a place known for its porcelain. I was merely a kiln apprentice for a few years, but you own a private dragon kiln! Yet you have no appreciation for porcelain. That is disgraceful! Children of wealthy families are different. You have never mixed clay or formed a pot, have you? Next time, it is best not to tell people you are from Longquan County in Chuzhou.”

Zhao Yao was too lazy to argue. He went to find Lin Shouyi for a chat.

After a brief visit with Lin Shouyi, Zhao Yao left the National Preceptor’s estate and found Rong Yu waiting at the gate with the ornate box. “Minister Zhao, take it.”

Unexpectedly, Zhao Yao shook his head. “I would rather take a fake Flower Goddess Cup myself than have him give me a genuine set.”

Rong Yu was puzzled. You are both the same age from the same hometown, the same literary tradition… why are you competing with the National Preceptor?

As soon as Zhao Yao left, another Secretary came running, greeting Rong Yu with a nod before rushing into the National Preceptor’s estate. He stopped abruptly and Rong Yu watched as Cao Gengxin raised his purple gourd and began to drink, as if he was drinking water. Rong Yu smiled. Secretary Cao must have sneaked away to drink!

Cao Gengxin had sharp eyes and had seen Secretary Zhao’s flirtations with Rong Yu. He spat. Secretary Zhao’s eyes were blazing with impure thoughts, but Miss Rong Yu was unmoved and rebuked him sternly.

Cao Gengxin asked, “Miss Rong Yu, what is in this box?”

Rong Yu smiled. “Eleven Flower Goddess Cups.”

Cao Gengxin asked, puzzled. “Why is one missing?”

Rong Yu smiled without answering.

In fact, the Flower Goddess Cup taken by Zhao Yao was genuine.

Cao Gengxin tentatively asked, “Miss Rong Yu, how about we ask the National Preceptor to give me the box and the cups?”

Rong Yu shook her head with a smile.

Cao Gengxin stamped his foot, raised his gourd, and took another large swig. After hiding the gourd, he vigorously brushed his sleeves and hurried back to the Ministry of Personnel.

—

It was the beginning of Youzheng time, late afternoon.

In the easternmost part of the inner Imperial City was a private garden that encompassed the entirety of Old Oriole Lake. It was said that the largest celestial inn in the capital had originally wanted to be located here, but they could not agree on the price. There were rumors that the garden’s owner was an obscenely wealthy scion from a wealthy family. All that was known was that his ancestral home was either on Chi’er Street or Yi Chi Lane. He had no concept of good business practices and cursed at the negotiator, saying that he should take a piss and look in the mirror, telling him to send the message to that董 Dong bumpkin, to take a piss and look in the mirror, and tell him to get lost, or he would pack his bags and kick him out of the Imperial City.

This was what was known as the pride of those born wealthy, the arrogance of those born noble.

Shen Zheng had been waiting here for nearly half an hour. He was waiting for a man named Liu 48, nicknamed “Canal Leader.” What he was really waiting for was power.

More accurately, a stepping stone to greater power, for Liu 48 had finally agreed to introduce him to the powerful “Sixth Lord.”

Even though it was the afternoon, Shen Zheng still felt stifled. The entire capital was like a steamer. He stood in the shade of a willow tree, occasionally glancing at the gate. Even though he had been waiting for nearly half an hour, Shen Zheng waited patiently for Liu 48 to appear. As for whether they would be able to exchange more than a few words once they met, Shen Zheng had no idea.

He also wondered who that Dong bumpkin was and how much money he had to dare bid repeatedly for the Old Oriole Lake garden.

He was even more curious as to how that person, after failing to acquire this property, was able to find a better location, a celestial inn.

In Shen Zheng’s eyes, this was a slap in the face to the wealthy scion, but the latter seemed unperturbed. That inn doing business with immortal coin…

The highest-ranking official Shen Zheng had ever dealt with was a county commandant. He knew nothing of the inner workings of the court.

It was said that whom you followed in the officialdom was more important than anything else. Was it not the same for those who lived in the underworld?

Bored, Shen Zheng broke off a willow leaf and put it in his mouth. When he had first arrived, he had feared that the gatekeepers would drive him away. Fortunately, no one had bothered him from the beginning to the end.

Shen Zheng had walked all the way from his home in the outer city. He had private carriages and horses, of course. But Shen Zheng decided to walk, mainly because he feared making a fool of himself and offending Liu 48.

Shen Zheng’s thoughts drifted. He wondered if, in ten or twenty years, there would be a rising star who would wait with such… frustrating emotions to see him.

He could not reach the heavens, as he had no immortal arts. The land of Dali’s Imperial City, the first-class land with its hundred offices, was not his to govern. He dared not reach out casually, but he believed he was capable of navigating the underworld, those dark corners that the upper classes found distasteful.

Birds had bird paths, snakes had snake routes.

Each had their own way of living.

He was from Jiayu County in the outer reaches of the capital. Jiayu County was known for producing many military generals and was said to be a feng shui treasure trove for carp turning into dragons. There were also many underworld gangs.

Shen Zheng was twenty-seven years old. He had joined a gang at twelve, and at twenty-four, he had led a hundred brothers into the capital and established a foothold in the outer city. After several years of struggle, he had finally made a name for himself. However, his gang had just been annexed by Liu 48’s gang. The night before, Shen Zheng had personally taken down two brothers who refused to bow to Liu 48, and he had gone from being an strategist and accountant to being a gang leader.

He wanted to earn more money than he could spend in several lifetimes, to sleep with the daughters of at least Third Grade officials, to become someone like Canal Leader Liu 48, who could move mountains and stir seas, with connections in both the underworld and the legitimate world.

Shen Zheng felt that he was only missing a patron.

Today, he was going to meet that person.

A plain carriage slowly drove towards the private garden. The driver was a vigorous youth who was clearly a trained fighter.

Two men sat facing each other in the carriage. One was a mountain of flesh who vigorously fanned himself with a gilded fan, his forehead and neck still dripping with greasy sweat. The fat man complained endlessly, wondering what was going on and why it was so hot this time of year. He should have ridden in his carriage, with an ice charm from one of the celestial shops. It would be cool for ten days, but it was expensive. Oh, hey Han, let me ask you, are those talismans that you can buy in all the neighborhoods these days are one of Dong’s streams of wealth? You have good intel, let me know. I can brag to those ladies, you know, like those talismans were… given to me by Dong…”

The other man, who appeared to be the same age, was dressed in scholarly attire, but he had the air of an official about him.

Listening to the fat man’s endless prattle, the man hardly spoke. Now, he finally said with a hint of mockery, “Wei Qiong, what are those women who follow you after? You should talk about it.”

The fat man laughed. “What else could they be after? They can’t make much money off me. Guess they’re after my beauty.”

The man glanced at the fat man and shook his head. “What they get is hard-earned money.”

This middle-aged fat man with the goatee must weigh more than two hundred pounds of fat. The only two things he could brag about in his life were that he was from Yi Chi Lane and that he was the childhood friend of Secretary Cao.

In recent years, the fat man often took all kinds of women to Yi Chi Lane and Chi’er Street to get a feel for things.

It was a running joke among their acquaintances.

The fat man owned a thriving restaurant by the Iris River, but he did not engage in any shady business. He was too timid, and his family rules were strict. It wasn’t worth it to get his legs broken for a few coins.

In fact, thirty years ago, his family had been qualified to attend the Imperial Study’s small court sessions.

As the families residing on Yi Chi Lane and Chi’er Street proved, no matter how distinguished one’s ancestors had been, attending the small court sessions was a significant milestone.

If there was a chair for one to sit on, there was no need to say anything. Without a chair to sit on, there was no need to say anything. It was pointless to bring up old tales.

However, by his father’s generation… never mind. His father was still just an attendant in the Ministry of Rites, one of many. His two uncles were doing even worse. They were both good people who were terrible at being officials. Because of their seniority and integrity, they were unbending and spoke bluntly in their respective offices. The fat man had heard an anecdote about his uncle, a secretary in the Ministry of Works for nearly thirty years. One time, a vice minister called him to his office to discuss something. For half a quarter of an hour, the uncle stared straight at the vice minister, not saying a word.

The vice minister was at a loss and had to find a way out himself, saying that if the uncle felt it was inappropriate, they would discuss it later.

Perhaps the vice minister was a little annoyed and added a few more sentences: that according to the rules, he had to bring a detailed survey document by tomorrow at the latest. The vice minister pointed at the uncle and said helplessly, “You are always this way here. If you have the guts, go argue with the senior minister!” The uncle had already gotten up to leave.

When the fat man heard this, he thought it was a heroic deed and asked his uncle if it was true. Perhaps his uncle was in a bad mood at the time and scolded him badly, cursing his own brother and the family as a whole, saying that his father was the best at being an official and had no scholarly integrity at all. He was no better and had opened a restaurant by the Iris River. Why didn’t he just put on a theatrical costume and sing to sell himself? Wouldn’t business be better? The fat man quickly ran away.

It was pointless to scold people if they could not understand. Besides, the dragon-patterned celadon brush stand that I gave you back then has been on your desk for many years now.

Therefore, the fat man’s background could intimidate outsiders unfamiliar with the Imperial City, but it was a joke on Yi Chi Lane.

The fat man’s name was Wei Qiong. Qiong sounds like “poor.”

His friends often teased him about his name, saying that he had been born into wealth but given a bad name.

Wei Qiong did not mind. The so-called shady business of his generation was different from that of his fathers and grandfathers. For example, Wei Qiong felt that he was not involved in shady business because many peers of similar backgrounds had already expanded their businesses south of the Great Waterway, and there were even rumors that a few had taken transcontinental ferries to the Tongye Continent. Wei Qiong was incompetent, but not stupid. He knew that those businesses could not be too clean.

Of course, in his uncles’ eyes, only those who had passed the Imperial examinations and earned a clean reputation through their own efforts, or those who had gone to the border army and made a name for themselves on horseback, were walking the right path.

Han Liu hesitated before saying, “Your Second Uncle has been an attendant in the Ministry of Rites for many years. The position isn’t high, and he doesn’t have much power in the Imperial City, but his reputation is good. There’s still a chance for him to rise.”

Wei Qiong said indifferently, “Even if my father rises another step, he’ll still be stuck in a lowly department. He might just get stricter with me, telling me about family customs.”

Han Liu said nothing.

Wei Qiong closed his folding fan and smiled. “Let’s not talk about these troublesome things. I’ll throw you a celebration tonight. If it wasn’t for your rules, I would’ve invited your colleagues, no matter how big or small, to my restaurant. It would’ve been easier and more lively. Don’t you know me? I’m the best at making friends at the dinner table! Especially when it comes to supporting my friends!”

Han Liu lifted the curtain and frowned. “Fat Wei, even if I don’t eat at your restaurant, why are we coming here? It’s a detour and expensive.”

Seeing his good friend frown, Wei Qiong became timid, stammering and unable to say anything. No wonder his father and uncles said that Han Liu was born to be an official.

Han Liu noticed Wei Qiong’s unease and smiled. “You wouldn’t be afraid of being slaughtered, but I’m only a few pounds of meat. Can I withstand the slaughter?”

Wei Qiong rubbed his hands and smiled. “This place has high standards. It shows sincerity to treat you to dinner here. Besides, I’m treating. You don’t have to pay. How much do you make with your salary?”

Han Liu twitched his lips and put down the curtain. “It’s bad luck to see that guy’s face.”

Wei Qiong said, “You definitely won’t see him, Young Master Wei. That guy doesn’t come here a few times a year.”

Wei Jia’s family background wasn’t bad. More importantly, his family and the Shangzhu Kingdom Cao family were close friends and in-laws. Wei Jia could openly call the Vice Minister of Personnel Cao Gengxin “Uncle Cao.”

This guy, who had been full of mischief since childhood, also owned a restaurant, but it was just a side business.

He liked to brag that Uncle Cao and his aunt had almost been betrothed in childhood.

These so-called sons of prominent families who were considered failures by their fathers gradually formed tacit agreements, each with their own connections and territories.

Han Liu did not want to say harsh words to his friend. The Imperial Court was currently in a time of assessment, and everyone had to be careful.

However, on second thought, he was just a lowly Sixth Grade official eating a good meal with a friend, and there was nothing shady about it. If someone wanted to settle scores, so be it.

Han Liu finally stopped sitting upright and leaned back against the carriage wall, kicking off his boots. “I’ve been working non-stop these past few days. It’s exhausting. Finally, I can take a breather and eat a good meal.”

Wei Qiong laughed. “That’s the bad thing about being in public service. A word from the top, and a hundred things for the bottom to do. I deserve to be scolded, but you deserve to be tired.”

Han Liu shook his head, pulling at his collar. Although he looked tired, his eyes were bright. “All the hard work is worth it. Don’t laugh at me, but I’m so worried about my job that I want to ask what the dogs are named, and often can’t sleep at night, and get up and walk the streets and alleys to feel at ease. But I’m not tired. We’ll have a good drink later. Now that we’re here, we’ll drink… expensive liquor!”

Wei Qiong rarely saw Han Liu in such a state. Han Liu had been steady since he was a child, much like Yuan Zhengding, but Han Liu, like him, liked to follow behind Secretary Cao and stir up trouble. The difference was that Secretary Cao would be fine at home, while Han Liu would at most be scolded.

Wei, why did you finally decide to ask me for help?”

Wei Qiong hesitated and said with a grin, “The Goddess gave me a dream.”

Han Liu kicked Wei. “Go to hell.”

Wei Qiong raised his fingers. “I swear to the heavens!”

Han Liu rubbed his temples. “Alright, alright. You’re good at keeping secrets. Actually, Gengxin told me a long time ago. He gave me a deadline, if you didn’t ask me, I would ask you.”

Wei Qiong was shocked.

Earlier, Wei Qiong had run into Cao Gengxin walking alone on Yi Chi Lane. Wei Qiong had quickly stopped his carriage and chatted with him for a few words. Cao Gengxin had said that in Iris River, Han Liu’s Sixth Grade official was as good as a Third Grade official.

Secretary Cao was telling the truth.

Han Liu said softly, “What I can do, I’ll definitely help as a friend. What I can’t do, even if you ask me… never mind, you don’t have the guts to bully or kill anyone. So don’t think that because I helped you this time, our friendship is over. If you encounter something similar in the future…”

Han Liu paused for a moment and said, “Wei Qiong, remember this. I, Han Yi, never tell lies. There’s no need for me to act tough with you. If anyone thinks you’re easy to bully, I’ll let them know who the real boss is in Changning County.”

Wei Qiong was stunned, and his eyes instantly turned red. He quickly laughed and rubbed his eyes. “This is enough to make an old man cry.”

Han Yi said softly, “Next time, I’ll introduce Hong Ji to you.”

Wei Qiong pointed north and lowered his voice. “The one from the Northern Garrison?”

Han Yi hummed. He didn’t say anything more. Wei Qiong, of course, wouldn’t ask more.

Han Yi laughed to himself. “I’ve always wondered, when we were kids, you used to follow Gengxin through the streets, selling erotic art and teasing young girls, or fighting the guys on Chi’er Street, stupidly charging in first every time. Didn’t you ever think to look back and see where I was standing, or where Gengxin was standing? You were brave back then. Why are you so timid now?”

Wei Qiong raised his palm and rubbed his face hard. “I was following Cao… Gengxin, so of course I’d charge forward with a brick.”

“Besides, Gengxin was much braver than us. We only dared to tease girls our age, but he dared to tease girls much older than us.”

“Isn’t it strange? No matter what Gengxin said, they never got angry. I secretly tried it once on Ma Yuan’s sister, who was gentle. Gengxin had teased her many times, and she always blushed and never talked back, right? Do you remember? When it was my turn, guess what? She just looked at me, took a few steps back, got into a stance or something, and gave me a shoulder throw on the spot! Wow, I was stunned and couldn’t get up for a long time. Before she left, she threatened me not to tell anyone, or she’d beat me every time she saw me.”

Han Yi laughed.

Wei Qiong rubbed his chin and said, “That’s not all. When I sneaked home, my mom found out and kept asking what happened when she was applying medicine. Who hit me so hard? I said it was Han Liu and that we’d been making money with Cao Gengxin and had a fight over the money. My mom was so worried and said she’d tell your parents to discipline you.”

Han Yi laughed so hard he had to rub his cheeks. “I was wondering why my parents were inexplicably trying to persuade me not to fight, saying things like ‘gentlemen use words, not fists.’ I was thinking that I hadn’t bothered those bastards lately and that I hadn’t beaten them. My mom said, ‘If you can avoid a fight, don’t fight. You’re friends, there’s no need