The Young Marquis is Ruining the Court! - Chapter 2

Running away was a concept that sounded simple in theory but proved incredibly difficult in practice.

For starters, Chi Zhou’s knowledge of this world was limited to the few locations described in the original novel. Beyond that, the Ningping Estate was crawling with eyes; there was no way the servants would allow a Marquis to simply vanish into thin air.

Worse still, after the Old Matriarch learned about his recent overnight stay at a brothel, she had assigned him two more maidservants. They were called “attendants,” but in reality, they were wardens.

He was being watched like a hawk.

But he had no choice. The wedding date was looming.

The Old Matriarch didn’t dare let him run wild again, lest he end up sleeping in another pleasure house or squandering a fortune on some famous socialite. Under the very shadow of the Imperial Palace, any scandalous news would travel fast. Regardless of what the soon-to-be-wed Sixth Prince might think, it would be a slap in the face to the Royal Family and would surely provoke the Emperor’s ire.

In the three days since he transmigrated, Chi Zhou had rejected no fewer than ten invitations. A quick glance revealed their nature: a new pleasure boat had launched on the river, featuring famous dancers from the south; someone’s garden pear blossoms were in bloom, accompanied by aged wine and popular opera troupes…

Each invitation ended with the same phrase: We humbly hope the Marquis will grace us with his presence.

Debauchery, extravagance, and pure hedonism. Chi Zhou didn’t know whether to mock the original host for his self-destructive path or to conclude that “birds of a feather flock together” this idiot had surrounded himself with an entire circle of fools.

Did these people really have zero respect for the Sixth Prince?

Initially, Chi Zhou had no intention of going. He was terrified that a single misstep now would become the blade that executed him later. However, once he decided to flee, he realized these places weren’t entirely useless.

The gathering spots for the capital’s noble youth and the haunts of famous entertainers were always the hubs where information traveled fastest and farthest.

What Chi Zhou needed most right now was knowledge about this world. At the very least, he needed to find out which provinces had lax governance or were remote enough that he could hide for twenty years without the Emperor’s men knocking on his door.

The late-February wind still carried a bite, whistling through the gaps in the windows. After a moment of hesitation, Chi Zhou reached out and reopened the letters he had previously cast aside.

“Master.” The door to the private cabin opened from the outside. A man walked in quickly, rounding an elegantly decorated screen to bow before a man in green sitting by the window.

“News from the Eastern Palace. The Crown Prince left the palace at a quarter to three. He is traveling via Chenghua Street and will board a ship at the next pier.”

Xie Mingjing was holding an azure-glazed Ru-ware teacup. His thumb brushed over the delicate “tortoiseshell” crackle of the glaze. Hearing the report, he didn’t even look up. “Understood.”

The pleasure boat drifted lazily along the river. The spring breeze stole through the window slats, fluttering the hair at the young man’s temples.

Noticing that the secret guard remained standing after the report, Xie Mingjing paused his examination of the teacup. He looked up, his eyes prompting: “And?”

Shadow Three maintained his usual frozen expression, showing no emotion, but his voice held a trace of hesitation: “Shadow Seven spotted the Marquis’s carriage on Chenghua Street as well. It seems… they are also heading toward the pier.”

The pleasure boats had hit the water earlier that afternoon, circling the capital along the Xuanxing River. They stopped at various piers to allow people to board and disembark for their revelry.

It wasn’t hard to guess why someone would head to the pier at this hour.

Soft, decadent music drifted in, accompanied by a sweet melody. Xie Mingjing continued to toy with the teacup as if it were a priceless piece of official porcelain fit for a palace banquet, rather than a common item found on any pleasure boat.

A second later, the beautifully fired porcelain shattered along its glaze lines. Fragments rained onto the floor.

A sharp shard sliced across his thumb, leaving a sudden crimson trail.

Xie Mingjing looked down, swept a disgusted glance over the cut, and casually rinsed his hand in a copper basin on a nearby stand.

The trace amount of bright red blood swirled into the clear water, quickly diluting into a soft, gentle pink. A chilling voice, somewhere between a sneer and a sigh, finally uttered the first words since the door had opened: “He managed to hold back for three whole days. That must have been a real struggle for him.”

Shadow Three didn’t dare respond. He silently lowered his head to clean up the shards, waiting for Xie Mingjing to finish washing before taking the basin out to change the water.

A secret guard’s eyes were sharp. He knew perfectly well that the cup hadn’t shattered because it hit the floor.

It fell because it had already been crushed.

When he liked something, he would hold it in his palm and observe it minutely, as if a meaningless crack could be reimagined into a graceful landscape painting. But when he no longer cared for it, he would crush it with a casual squeeze, unbothered by the shards pricking his hand, letting it fall into the abyss of total destruction.

Shadow Three didn’t return after changing the water. Xie Mingjing sat back on the daybed by the window, staring out at the shimmering river through the diamond-patterned lattice.

The Xuanxing River ran through the inner city, a canal dug by some forgotten dynasty to create a waterway through the northern capital.

Green willows and peach trees lined the banks. It was the season of willow buds and peach blossoms. Leaning against the window frame, Xie Mingjing watched coldly as a few children, looking no larger than beans, played an annoying game of hide-and-seek around the trees. They knocked blossoms to the ground, and the tiny, half-opened pink flowers were swept up by swaying willow branches before tumbling into the river.

Once they were gone, there was no telling if the current had carried them away or if a fish had swallowed them whole. Not a trace remained, as if they had never existed at all.

An inexplicable wave of irritability surged within him. Without a second thought, Xie Mingjing pulled the window shut and lay down on the daybed to sleep.

A few broken flowers. Who cares? Let whoever wants to find them, find them.

“These flowers are blooming so beautifully; it’s a pity to snap them off now,” Chi Zhou said with a smile to a child waiting bored by the pier.

He took out some pastries he’d had Ming Xi buy on the way, unwrapped the oil paper, and held them out. His voice was warm: “The boat won’t be here for a while. Have something to eat while we wait. Don’t bully the flowers; they’re much smaller than you.”

They were just “babies,” shy buds that had only just appeared after the spring rain, only to be plucked before they could even bloom.

Since he was dealing with toddlers who barely reached his knees, Chi Zhou wasn’t stern. He simply used the snacks to lure them away from the poor peach trees.

One impatient child, fearing his friends would finish the snacks, bolted toward the treats, tossing the peach branch he had just broken onto the ground.

Chi Zhou had already handed the package to the oldest child. Seeing the discarded branch, he stepped out of the crowd and picked up the roughly snapped twigs.

A long strip of brown bark had been torn away, revealing the sap-filled, pale green heart of the wood. A few unbloomed flowers clung to the branch, suddenly homeless.

Chi Zhou picked them up. He knew they were unlikely to survive, but he instinctively trimmed the jagged ends and found a quiet spot to tuck them into the soil.

The earth by the river was moist from the recent rain, and the branches were easily replanted.

Chi Zhou patted the soil firm around them, whispering: “One, two, three, four… Alright, your names are Peach One, Two, Three, and Four. Happy housewarming. Live well, okay?”

A willow branch swayed in the wind, brushing against the top of the twigs without knocking a single bud loose.

Chi Zhou smiled and tapped Peach One: “Look, your neighbor is saying hello.”

…I’ve gone mental.

As soon as the words left his mouth, Chi Zhou couldn’t help but roast himself internally.

The pier was packed. From the moment the Ningping carriage stopped at the roadside, he had been swarmed by waves of people. Yet, with so many people trying to talk to him, he had run off to play “house” with some twigs that probably wouldn’t survive the hour.

For a moment, Chi Zhou wondered if leaving the estate had been the right move.

He didn’t even recognize anyone’s face!

Why did other transmigrators get systems and memories, while he only had the plot of an ongoing web novel? Even if there was no system, he had inherited the body; why couldn’t he inherit the original host’s brain? He felt like he had developed sudden face-blindness.

Just then, a gust of wind blew, and a willow switch “smacked” him right in the face. Chi Zhou winced, clutching his cheek, and immediately retracted his previous thought.

Actually, never mind. That guy’s brain…

It probably had less capacity than the koi fish currently blowing bubbles at fallen petals. Aside from drinking and carousing, what did that guy actually do?

What a waste of a heroic family legacy, Chi Zhou thought for the thousandth time.

“Master, the boat is coming!” Ming Xi finished distributing the snacks and squeezed through the crowd to his side, his expression filled with youthful excitement.

He was only about fifteen or sixteen, and in Chi Zhou’s eyes, he was just a big kid.

Chi Zhou had used “buying books” as his excuse to leave the estate, dragging Ming Xi through various bookstores all day. Now, he was happy to let the boy have some fun on the pleasure boat.

But before Chi Zhou could even smile, he saw the “big kid” frown. Ming Xi took out a handkerchief, knelt to dampen it in the river, and marched over. Without a word, he grabbed Chi Zhou’s hands and began scrubbing the dirt off while muttering: “Master, how old are you? Why are you still playing with mud? If people see this, they’ll think the Marquis’s house has fallen into poverty.”

His voice was low and the surroundings were noisy, but he spoke just loud enough for the words to be audible—or not. It was hard to tell if he intended to be heard.

Chi Zhou had noticed over the past few days that this kid loved to nag. He had the age of a fifteen-year-old but the personality of a sixty-year-old. Yet, he could mutter incessantly while perfectly executing every task assigned to him.

It was quite a feat.

Chi Zhou decided to pretend he hadn’t heard his servant “chirping” about his master in public.

By the time Ming Xi finished cleaning his hands and straightened his clothes like he was dressing a doll, the pleasure boat had docked.

Chi Zhou looked out, and just as the crowd was starting to make him dizzy, he noticed a grand carriage parked a short distance away. There was a three-meter “dead zone” of empty space around it. The noble youths who had previously tried to suck up to him were now hesitating, looking like they wanted to approach but were held back by something.

Chi Zhou tilted his chin up. “Whose carriage is that?”

Ming Xi, who was rinsing his handkerchief, glanced over. It only took him two seconds to reply: “The Crown Prince’s.”

He sounded certain. Chi Zhou was taken aback. He looked closer at the carriage, which wasn’t much different from the others, just slightly larger. “Does it have his name written on it?”

“No,” Ming Xi said, wringing out his handkerchief until not a single drop fell, then casually tying it to the willow branch where Peach One lived. “The Crown Prince loves elegance. He has a weakness for beautiful scenery, beautiful people, and beautiful things. Like this—”

Ming Xi nodded toward the boat. “A pleasure boat with gold-lacquered paint, famous artists, custom-fired ceramics, an insane budget, and a high-profile reputation, carrying famous opera singers for its maiden voyage? Of course he’s coming.”

He then gestured toward the group of idling dandy nobles. “Besides, those people have noses like dogs. If they smell a meat bone, they’re dying to bite. If they’re hesitating like this, who else could be inside but one of the royals?”

Ming Xi’s last sentence was very quiet, as if he knew it was a bit improper to say.

Chi Zhou once again pretended not to notice that he was likely one of the “meat bones” being referred to. He looked at the handkerchief tied to the tree, then at the carriage that supposedly held the Crown Prince. After a moment of hesitation, he decided to ask about the thing that bothered him more: “Why did you tie your handkerchief there?”

Ming Xi’s tone was flat, as if he had been worn down by life: “It’s a marker. I’m afraid that one day when you’re drunk, you’ll ask me where the ‘four beautiful maidens’ you rescued by the Xuanxing River are, and demand I take you to see them.”

Chi Zhou: “…?”

What kind of legendary character was the original host, exactly?

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