The night deepened, and within the county office, Song Changjing returned alone. The boy, Song Jixin, had already gone to the dog kennel that was Mud Bottle Alley. He did not insist otherwise. A seasoned general, he had commanded troops for many years, and could snore soundly amidst mountains of corpses and seas of blood. Therefore, he felt he owed that nephew of his nothing, even if the boy’s upbringing had not been befitting his noble status. Returning alive to the capital city of Great Li was good enough.

The aged steward of the county office had been waiting at the entrance, holding a lantern.

Song Changjing was the first to step across the threshold of the side door, which was only opened a crack. He strode forward, saying, “No need to lead the way.”

The aged steward silently nodded, slowed his pace, and quietly departed.

This county office on Fortune Street was not built extravagantly. Its grounds were far smaller than the residences of the Lu and Li families. The previous officer in charge of kiln operations, a genuine official, lived a frugal life, a fact the wealthy families of the town did not find inappropriate.

But Song Changjing was different. He was the Emperor’s younger brother, born of the same mother, and he had accomplished unmatched feats of territorial expansion. Furthermore, he was a top-tier martial arts grandmaster in the Eastern Treasure Bottle Continent.

His arrival was like a river dragon barging into a small lake. Even if the local powers were not exactly afraid, they would show the proper respectful attitude in the face of a man like Song Changjing.

As Song Changjing passed a small courtyard, he saw someone still studying diligently in the room, sitting upright. Even when alone, he was meticulous and proper.

*Truly a virtuous gentleman,* Song Changjing thought.

Song Changjing’s sleeves billowed as he quickly walked past, a sardonic smile appearing on his lips.

Years ago, a young scholar studied at the Lake-Watching Academy. His calligraphy was divine, shaking the court and the countryside. The ruler of Southern Wei summoned him to the palace to write an imperial decree in a side hall. It was the dead of winter, with heavy snow falling, and the brush froze and could not write. The Emperor ordered more than a dozen palace concubines to attend to the scholar, warming his brush for him.

This event quickly swept across the Eastern Treasure Bottle Continent, becoming a celebrated tale.

However, no one considered it deeply. The imperial palace was heavily guarded. If the Emperor didn’t speak of it, the eunuchs didn’t speak of it, and the concubines didn’t speak of it, how would the common people know?

Walking along the deep, secluded path, Song Changjing suddenly laughed heartily.

Wearing a simple, unadorned robe, Song Jixin returned to Mud Bottle Alley. The courtyard door was unlocked. After pushing it open, he saw the maidservant Zhigui sitting on a chair in the main hall, dozing off with her eyes half-closed and her head tilted. When her head tilted too far, she would immediately sit up straight and then continue to tilt again.

*It seems the girl is really tired,* Song Jixin thought. He bent down and gently shook her shoulder, softly saying, “Zhigui, Zhigui, wake up. Go back to your room and sleep. Be careful not to catch a cold.”

The sleepy-eyed girl rubbed her eyes and mumbled, “Young Master, why are you back so late?”

Song Jixin smiled and said, “I went to the covered bridge. It’s a bit far, so it was late.”

Zhigui saw Song Jixin’s unfamiliar formal attire and asked in surprise, “Huh? Young Master, why did you change your clothes?”

Song Jixin didn’t want to dwell on the topic. “Let’s not talk about that. How’s your reading and writing going after borrowing that local county gazetteer? Do you want me to teach you?”

The girl shook her head and said, “No need.”

Song Jixin returned to his room, which was pitch black. He took off his outer robe, kicked off his boots, and groped his way to the bed. The youth murmured, “Wang Zhu, Wang Zhu, so that’s how it is.”

Zhigui returned to her room, turned off the light, and went to sleep. She curled up in her blanket, making a series of small noises, as if she were secretly eating something, chewing on something in her mouth.

Finally, she even let out a satisfied burp.

———

At the sword-forging workshop, although Liu Xianyang had not officially become Master Ruan’s apprentice, everyone could see that Master Ruan valued the tall youth greatly. Otherwise, he would not have personally taught him how to forge sword bars by hand. These days, not everyone was allowed to enter that row of sword-forging rooms.

During the midday break, a young man who had been a ceramic kiln worker ran up to Liu Xianyang, saying that someone was looking for him. He winked and acted playfully, saying that a beautiful woman, even more beautiful than the ladies of Fortune Street, had come to find Liu Xianyang.

Liu Xianyang followed him with a carefree smile, but his mood suddenly became heavy.

Sure enough, a slender woman was standing by a well. The strong young men digging the well and moving earth around her were working with extra vigor.

As Master Song Jixin would derisively say, Liu Xianyang was indeed a bumpkin. But whether a woman was beautiful or not had absolutely nothing to do with whether or not she had been educated or could read. Perhaps the tall youth didn’t know that the general, vague notion of “beautiful” actually contained something called “charm,” especially a dignified and inwardly seductive charm, which was particularly captivating.

The character *mei* (媚, charm), if broken down, originally meant “a daughter who paints her eyebrows.”

The woman before him, whose name and background were unknown, had delicate eyebrows like the antennae of a moth, and her forehead was like a cicada, broad, square, smooth, and full.

Today she had come alone, without any air of questioning or intention of acting aggressively. Liu Xianyang breathed a slight sigh of relief.

However, no matter how beautiful this dignified and elegant woman was, Liu Xianyang wouldn’t deny it. If he had met her on the street in the past, he might have whistled a few times. But that didn’t mean that Liu Xianyang would be moved. The woman in the tall youth’s heart was, and always would be, the maidservant from Mud Bottle Alley.

Liu Xianyang led the beautiful woman toward a small stream, his tone firm. “Madam, if you’re here to try and persuade me to sell you that family heirloom, I advise you not to even open your mouth.”

The woman smiled sweetly and said, “Don’t be in such a hurry to refuse. Let me explain the advantages and disadvantages to you clearly, and then you can make a decision.”

The tall youth’s expression didn’t change, and he pretended to be relaxed, but in reality, his heart had instantly sunk to the bottom.

In the distance, a girl squatted on the threshold of a sword-forging room, holding a bowl of rice. The white rice was piled up into a mountain peak, towering over the edge of the large white bowl. She was gobbling it down, and after eating the “mountain peak,” she happily revealed the braised pork hidden beneath it. Her entire being radiated happiness. She secretly turned her back to the man sitting on the other side of the threshold, chewing slowly, and asked, “Dad, aren’t you going to do anything about that country bumpkin seductress?”