The Young Marquis is Ruining the Court! - Chapter 21

Once March passed, the late spring chills in Jindu became rare. The cool morning and evening breezes, touched by the warm sunlight, began to carry a hint of warmth.

Xie Jiu sat in the courtyard. Before him were the flower seedlings Chi Zhou had fussily bought from the market and planted one by one a few days ago. Surprisingly, they had taken root and were now attracting fluttering butterflies.

Camellias, gardenias, roses, hydrangeas…

He had turned this weed-choked yard into a competitive floral display and then promptly washed his hands of it, leaving only Jin Ge, that silly dog, to chase butterflies through the low bushes.

When Lu Zhongyuan was led in by Ying San, this was the scene that met his eyes. For a moment, he looked pained, as if he couldn’t bear to watch. “This is a purebred frontier wolfhound. Do you have any idea how brave and battle-hardened its parents were? How did you manage to raise it into such a dim-witted dog?”

Hearing this, Xie Jiu glanced at him coldly but said nothing.

Lu Zhongyuan froze slightly. His gaze swept inconspicuously around the courtyard before he sat down opposite Xie Jiu. He reached for the Go stones on the stone table and began to place a piece.

Seeing his movements, Xie Jiu didn’t really want to engage. But Jin Ge’s barking at the butterflies was stupid, the rustling of the leaves in the wind was annoying, and the mingled scents of the flowers in the yard were chaotic.

After a long silence, he frowned, picked up a white stone, and tossed it onto the board as if out of spite.

Lu Zhongyuan smiled at the gesture. As they played, he said leisurely, “Word has it the Sixth Prince is so disheartened by having to marry into the Marquis’s estate that he hasn’t just skipped the Imperial Study lately, he hasn’t even stepped out of his own Shende Hall.”

A playful smile danced in Lu Zhongyuan’s eyes. “I didn’t know since when so many varieties of flowers were planted inside Shende Hall?”

Xie Mingjing’s movements faltered, and he gave him a warning look.

Lu Zhongyuan wasn’t intimidated. He arched an eyebrow and met his gaze with a grin. “Is your heart cold because you have to marry, or are you wallowing in self-pity and melancholy because someone won’t marry you?”

Standing nearby, Ying San shuddered. He thought to himself that people associated with the Ningping Marquis Estate were truly different, casually tossing out words that invited death. Yet, the Master actually managed to restrain his anger.

Xie Mingjing’s style of play had always been ruthless. Right now, he was too lazy to speak, so he focused entirely on strangling the black stones on the board. Eventually, Lu Zhongyuan rubbed a stone between his fingers, staring down at the board for a long time before letting out a soft laugh and dropping the piece back into the bowl.

“I can’t beat you anymore, Jiu Jiu.”

Xie Mingjing immediately frowned, shooting him a displeased look.

Lu Zhongyuan said, “What? Your Marquis is allowed to call you that, but I’m not? I am, at the very least, half a teacher to you.”

Lu Zhongyuan’s gaze drifted past him toward the distance.

Speaking of which, this new second-ranked scholar was already twenty-three this year, several years older than Chi Zhou. He hadn’t taken the Imperial Examinations until he was twenty-two, and he had secured the second place on his very first attempt, making him a true chosen one of heaven. Moreover, at his level, the top few scholars were all much the same, it was hard to rank one above the other.

Once, when Lu Zhongyuan was drunk, he had hugged a wine jar and cursed at Chi Zhou and Xie Mingjing, saying the old Emperor just couldn’t stand that he was a Lu and refused to let him be the top scholar.

At that time, Chi Zhou, his peach-blossom eyes hazy with wine, asked, “Then why didn’t he just kick you out of the top rank entirely?”

Lu Zhongyuan gave a snorting laugh and said with disdain, “I’m a once-in-a-generation genius. He might have had the heart to do it, but has he asked the papers I submitted?”

Chi Zhou had laughed until he couldn’t stand up straight, saying through his mirth, “Lu the Second, oh Lu the Second, you’re going to use up all the bragging rights for the entire Lu family lineage all by yourself.”

Lu Zhongyuan laughed along. “Chi the Second, oh Chi the Second, if you can find one more living soul from my Lu family to come out and brag, I’ll shut my mouth.”

Back then, Xie Mingjing had sat just like this, watching the two drunks for fear they would overindulge, listening to their banter without being able to interject a single word.

His surname was Xie. He was the biological son of the old Emperor. That point alone dictated that they each had their own agendas. From the very beginning, they were never on the same path.

Xie Mingjing’s expression grew increasingly gloomy. He didn’t even notice his fingers tightening until he nearly crushed a white stone into powder.

It wasn’t until Lu Zhongyuan sighed and waved a hand in front of his eyes that he snapped out of it. “Come back to us. Are you going crazy again?”

Xie Mingjing blinked, emerging from his memories. The twilight before him had gradually replaced the moonlight.

Sitting opposite him, Lu Zhongyuan felt both helpless and puzzled. “I told you long ago you’re a madman. Why does Chi Zhou insist on thinking you’re a poor, bullied little thing?”

At five years old, he knew how to kill with a borrowed knife. At seven, he could break a sibling’s leg and walk away unscathed. Was Chi Zhou blind? Where exactly did he see a little bird that needed to be kept in the palm of his hand, chirping and pecking for food?

While Lu Zhongyuan had been talking to himself the whole time, Xie Mingjing finally spoke in a soft voice, “He knows.”

Lu Zhongyuan blinked. “Hmm?”

Xie Mingjing said, “He knows I’m a madman.”

Xie Mingjing stood up and left the small courtyard.

Lu Zhongyuan called out behind him, “Where are you going?”

Without looking back, Xie Mingjing replied, “Back to the palace.”

Since Chi Zhou wasn’t coming here, waiting here or waiting in the palace made no fundamental difference. This courtyard full of flowers would bloom in succession, one batch after another, but if Chi Zhou didn’t come, their blooming had no meaning. All that color was just an irritation to the heart.

**

Chi Zhou hadn’t gone to Jifu Lane for five or six days straight. For the first few days, seeing him not go out, Ming Xi had asked indirectly if he’d had a fight with Master Xie. Later, seeing his Young Master’s listless mood, he stopped asking entirely. Instead, he took silver from the treasury on his own initiative to pay off the shopkeepers and craftsmen who came to the door.

Ming Xi was a bit of a miser. Even though the money belonged to Chi Zhou, it pained him to hand it over. While feeling the sting, he grumbled secretly, unable to understand why, if they weren’t going to live in the vast Marquis Estate, the Sixth Prince wasn’t comfortable living in the princely residence he’d been given upon leaving the palace. What kind of game were these two playing, buying a two-entry house so far away? Did they really intend to live there in the future?

Ming Xi felt he was born with the soul of a poor man, he didn’t understand the whims of royalty and nobility at all. Maybe they just had too much money and were looking for ways to burn it, he thought privately.

On this day, after paying off another craftsman, Ming Xi returned to Shuanghua Pavilion. Chi Zhou was sitting in the yard reading a novel, a plate of sliced peaches by his side. These were early-ripening varieties that had been rushed from the south by fast horse just yesterday. Only two crates had been sent to the palace as tribute. Emperor Chengping had specifically ordered people to pick out ten or so of the largest, plumpest ones to be sent to the Ningping Marquis Estate right after they were recorded by the Internal Affairs Bureau.

Eating a peach, Chi Zhou asked Ming Xi with feigned casualness, “Where did you go?”

Ming Xi replied, “A clothing shop in the west of the city said the two sets of summer clothes you ordered a few days ago are finished. They’ve already been delivered to Master Xie’s place, so they brought the receipt here to settle the payment.”

Chi Zhou stopped chewing. He remembered the things he had ordered for Xie Jiu. In truth, he couldn’t even remember exactly what he’d bought. Whenever he saw something beautiful, he couldn’t help but want to heap it onto the boy, even agreeing to production times that stretched into next year.

Thinking about it now, there were probably quite a few shops that would come to the estate to claim their final payments in the future. The peach in his mouth suddenly lost its sweetness, turning a bit astringent.

Chi Zhou frowned, put down his fork, swallowed the slice of peach, and stood up to go inside.

Ming Xi blinked and called out after him, “Young Master, these peaches won’t taste good if they sit for too long!”

Chi Zhou said indifferently, “You eat them.”

He didn’t think there was anything wrong with giving such imperial gifts to a servant in the house.

Entering the room, Chi Zhou opened the wardrobe. He first looked at the small bundle he had packed, thought for a moment, and then closed it again.

The house deeds and land titles were all in the storeroom. Chi Zhou went in and looked around, picking out a few that wouldn’t look too conspicuous even if they went missing.

This wasn’t something he could let Ming Xi handle. While it was still early, Chi Zhou left the estate himself. He followed the addresses on the deeds, gave instructions at each location, then found a bookstore nearby to buy envelopes before heading to the government office alone.

It had to be said that the original owner’s identity was very useful. At the very least, even though the officers were about to clock off, they immediately sharpened their focus when they saw him. Before Chi Zhou could finish a cup of tea, the business was done.

He arched an eyebrow, feeling a heavy weight lift from his heart. He was always worried that with a past like Xie Jiu’s, life in Jindu would be difficult. Chi Zhou didn’t know if he was registered as a slave, but there was a high probability he wouldn’t be able to enter the civil service exams, and it was a toss-up whether he was even literate.

As for manual labor, Chi Zhou found the thought of a refined “big cat” like Xie Jiu sweating under the sun quite irritating. As for other options, it seemed only business was left. But he had no capital and no connections, what kind of business could he do alone in Jindu? Besides, isn’t every business start-up fraught with difficulties, requiring one to endure slights and cater to customers while finding ways to smooth over relations?

Chi Zhou didn’t want to see Xie Jiu like that. He always felt this big cat should be sitting in a beautiful, exquisite house, with everything he wanted delivered to him without him having to lift a finger. That way, he could be raised until his fur was sleek and his demeanor was composed.

So, he had searched through the original owner’s properties and found a few shops that didn’t bring in massive revenue and weren’t worth the Marquis Estate making a fuss to reclaim, but were enough for a family to live comfortably in Jindu. He transferred these into Xie Jiu’s name. This way, even if he married and had a family in the future, he would be well-provided for.

Chi Zhou knew he had probably fallen for him, but he wouldn’t be around for long. He had to leave sooner or later.

With the transferred business contracts in his hand, Chi Zhou stood by the roadside. Everything was ready, but for a moment he hesitated, unsure how to get these few thin sheets of paper into Xie Jiu’s hands.

He had simply stopped going without a word, and Xie Jiu hadn’t come to ask why, as if they both had a tacit understanding. They treated the past few days of play as a young master’s whim, once he’d had his fill, he would just walk away without any entanglements.

This left Chi Zhou in a very difficult position. Should he go or not?

He thought as he walked, and getting distracted, his shoulder bumped into someone. Chi Zhou realized he had somehow reached the vicinity of the docks.

An elegant, exquisite painted boat was moored on the river. People on the shore were rubbing their hands in anticipation, eager to board, their eyes heavy with desire.

Chi Zhou had no interest in joining the crowd, but looking at that boat drifting quietly on the river and the excited people on the shore, a sudden surge of disgust rose from the depths of his heart.

He was tired of wasting time wondering if it would be embarrassing to suddenly run to Jifu Lane and give Xie Jiu a few business contracts. The thought that if he didn’t go, Xie Jiu might end up back on a boat like that after he ran away made Chi Zhou feel sick. Face was nothing important.

He turned to leave, but after two steps, he froze. Frowning, he turned back.

While the tourists were heading toward the boat, Chi Zhou headed toward the shore.

Willow branches swayed in the air. A grey-brown cloth strip had faded from the sun and rain, no longer as whole or clean as when he first saw it. Chi Zhou walked over slowly and stared at the base of the willow tree, his eyes widening.

He looked at the cloth on the willow. That was right, Ming Xi had tied it, saying he was worried he wouldn’t be able to find his way when he came to visit the “maiden in her prime” he had rescued.

He looked at the soil on the ground. That was also right. He remembered that when he was digging, there was a large stone nearby with a very smooth surface that served as a stone bench, and it was still there.

But… where was the “maiden in her prime”?

Where were Peach One, Peach Two, Peach Three, and Peach Four?

Chi Zhou’s brain felt like it was stalling. He stood there searching for a long time, even considering the possibility that the peach branches hadn’t survived and had died. But even if they were dead, there should be “corpses.” Where were the corpses? Where were the withered branches?

Where were his trees?

God damn it, how were there tree thieves in this gods-forsaken place?

Chi Zhou was completely stunned, regretting that he hadn’t come back the very next day to dig up the trees and plant them back in the estate.

Xie Mingjing managed to return to the palace before the gates were locked at sunset, only to encounter Xie Mingjiang accompanying the Empress Dowager in the Imperial Garden. Upon seeing him, the two smiled and beckoned him over.

Xie Mingjing lowered his head, walked over, and whispered, “Grandmother, Imperial Brother.”

Seeing him like this, the Empress Dowager’s smile faded. She said softly, “Are you still blaming me for arranging your marriage?”

As if frightened, Xie Mingjing quickly looked up at her with panic before immediately lowering his head again. His voice was even weaker but more urgent than before. “This grandson wouldn’t dare.”

The Empress Dowager looked down at him and sighed. She patted his submissively bowed head, her touch so light it was less noticeable than a breeze through his hair. “With this temperament of yours, you’re destined to suffer in the palace.”

Listening nearby, Xie Mingjiang stepped forward to support the Empress Dowager’s arm and smiled. “Grandmother, what are you saying? Xiao Liu’s personality is a bit quiet. Although Lady Jia passed away early, with the Empress protecting him and me looking after him, how could he suffer?”

The Empress Dowager gave him an affectionate look and said with a hint of reproach, “You can protect him while he’s young, but can you protect him for a lifetime?”

Xie Mingjiang’s eyes flickered slightly before he quickly masked it. He smiled and said, “As the Emperor’s eldest son, it is my duty to take care of my younger brothers and sisters. Of course, I will protect him for a lifetime.”

The Empress Dowager smiled, patted his hand, and said no more. She simply invited them both to join her at Jingfu Palace for dinner to enjoy some family time.

Before the feast began, Emperor Chengping arrived with the Empress. The whole family appeared to be a model of filial children, a harmonious couple, and peaceful grandparents. Only Xie Mingjing sat at the lower end like a ghost.

After the meal dispersed, he walked along the path in the Imperial Garden toward Shende Hall. The night breeze dissipated some of the wine’s influence, and the feigned cowardice and panic he’d displayed at the table vanished completely.

Suddenly, he felt a bit of regret. Did he not know what kind of person Chi Zhou was? In all these years, the number of times this man had inexplicably given him the cold shoulder was at least fifty, if not a hundred. Was it worth getting into a huff and running back to the palace just because he didn’t come to find him?

Now look at him, having sat through a suffocating meal for no reason.

Xie Mingjing’s face was so dark it could drip ink. The little eunuch following him didn’t even dare to breathe loudly. Once they returned to Shende Hall, the boy quickly scrambled away.

Emperor Chengping had assigned him this palace as a clear warning, and after sending him here, he hadn’t visited once. The Sixth Prince’s affairs were always insignificant, and no short-sighted servant would bother the Emperor with reports about him and risk his displeasure.

As such, very few people knew that the most remote and desolate palace in the entire Imperial City was actually filled with fruit trees.

Chi Zhou had a preference for cherry blossoms and camellias, always liking those flowers that fell in whole blossoms. When the flowers were gone, he would complain that after planting so many trees, he couldn’t even get a bite of fruit. Yet, the following year, he would rather plant another camellia in the courtyard than a peach tree.

Xie Mingjing was different. He insisted on planting trees that bore plump, sweet fruit. Peach trees, apricot trees, pear trees… He didn’t care whether the blossoms looked good when they fell, he only cared if he could get a bite of sweetness once the flowering season was over.

Xie Mingjing passed by four wobbly peach saplings that weren’t even knee-high, walked in a few steps, and squinted at the trees.

The sky was already very dark, and the early April moon was just a dim crescent, so he shouldn’t have been able to see anything. Yet, among the courtyard full of trees, he found a green fruit the size of a thumb. It was pitifully small, hidden among the peach branches, and he plucked it with a reach of his hand.

Xie Mingjing looked down at the green, unripe fruit. After a long silence, he bit into it fiercely.

It was incredibly sour, but the juice was also abundant. With one bite, the tart, astringent liquid flowed down the cracks of his lips. Unfortunately, before it could drip away, he swept it back with his tongue. It circled his mouth twice before sliding down his throat and into his stomach.

Xie Mingjing didn’t change his expression, taking bite after bite as if he wanted to crush the stone itself and swallow it. His expression was as sinister as a starving ghost consuming the finest delicacy to satisfy his hunger.

But once he finished, he stared at the stone for two seconds before throwing it back at the tree.

He said with displeasure, “Useless thing, sour to death.”

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