Chapter 49#
The Bet: Young Pei Is a Reliable Lad.#
Half an hour had passed since the Crown Prince set down his brush after copying a volume of the Sutra of the Earth Store Bodhisattva’s Fundamental Vows. A guard entered, took the thin booklet, and carried it to the shrine in the hall for offering.
Yu Shaoyun promptly served hot tea. The Crown Prince lifted the lid, took a sip, and said, “Invite Marquis Mei in.”
Pei Xiting, who had been lying drowsily on the bamboo mat, jolted awake, stretched lazily with a yawn, and sat up. “Your Highness, should I take my leave?”
“You’ve beaten someone else’s child—do you still need to avoid them?” The Crown Prince glanced at the slouching, hazy-eyed figure and said flatly, “Sit up straight.”
Pei Xiting snapped upright, his eyes blazing with sudden alertness as he stared straight ahead.
Yu Shaoyun, standing by the table, chuckled to himself, thinking: Auxiliary Pei may seem cold and aloof in public, but he sure knows how to put on a show.
Soon, Marquis Mei entered the small chamber with light steps, and bowed before the table. “Your Highness, I truly should not disturb you, but upon hearing of my son’s unruly behavior, I was deeply worried and could only beg to apologize in person. At this moment, the boy is kneeling outside, awaiting your reprimand.”
“Marquis, you’ve waited long enough—have a seat,” said the Crown Prince. “As for Mei Xiu, let him kneel a while longer to calm his mind. He’s sturdy enough; his legs won’t break.”
Marquis Mei dared not show any sympathy for his son and quickly assented. Turning his head, he noticed a young man in a crimson robe with jet-black hair, strikingly radiant, sitting on the bamboo couch opposite. “This must be Auxiliary Pei, I presume?”
The “butterfly” style of young Marquis Mei’s flashy dress seemed inherited from his father. The present Marquis Mei, clad in a multicolored brocade robe that nearly blinded Pei Xiting, looked like a charming, aging dandy.
Pei Xiting braced his hands on the couch and stood up, clasping his hands in a polite bow. His demeanor was gentle and refined, a far cry from the fiery scuffle he’d had with Mei Xiu on the hillside earlier.
“Auxiliary Pei is young and bold, sometimes too reckless—I’ve been too busy with official duties to reprimand him properly,” the Crown Prince said, turning to Pei Xiting. “Xiting, offer your apology to Marquis Mei.”
A guard entered with hot tea. Pei Xiting, limping slightly, immediately stepped forward, took the tea, and offered it to Marquis Mei. “Today I was rash and impulsive, leading to a conflict with the young marquis. I am deeply remorseful and humbly apologize to you, Marquis, and await your reprimand.”
Marquis Mei eyed the seemingly respectful and obedient young man and chuckled inwardly: What a good little pretender!
But the Crown Prince had clearly voiced his protection, so how could he, a marquis, presume to reprimand him?
This Pei boy, of unknown origin, had somehow gained such favor with the Crown Prince? Marquis Mei felt both puzzled and uneasy, yet he forced a benevolent smile and accepted the tea.
Still, he dared not drink it yet. Turning to the Crown Prince, he said, “Your Highness, you flatter me. Auxiliary Pei seems perfectly well-behaved and sensible. It is I who have failed in educating my son, indulging his arrogance and rudeness. It is truly my fault.”
The Crown Prince leaned back slightly in his chair, looking at ease. He gestured for Pei Xiting to return to his seat. “A little scuffle among youths is nothing serious,” he said, settling the matter with one sentence.
Marquis Mei breathed a sigh of relief and finally took a sip of tea. But just as the tea went down, the Crown Prince asked, “With the autumn examinations approaching, do any of your sons plan to take them this year?”
Marquis Mei quickly replied, “Three, Your Highness: my fifth, eighth, and ninth sons.”
The Crown Prince gave a slight nod. “The ninth is taking them for the first time, isn’t he? How old is he now?”
“Twenty-one, Your Highness.”
“A good age. I’ve looked at his essays—concise and refined. Have him prepare well and not relax just before the crucial moment.”
Marquis Mei’s heart leapt with joy. But before he could assure the Crown Prince on his son’s behalf, the latter continued, “And what about Mei Xiu? How are his studies?”
“…” Marquis Mei fell silent.
Pei Xiting, watching from across the room, was amused.
Mei Xiu was the tenth son, already almost twenty, yet he hadn’t even passed the county-level exam. But as the legitimate son and heir, he was the most lavishly supported in the entire Mei family.
Another marquis’s heir, Shangguan Jie, also disliked studying, but he was a military champion and held a respectable position in the Imperial Guard. Another dandy, the heir of Prince Ning’s mansion, Zong Rui, was even more noble, yet he had voluntarily transferred to the Ministry of War’s Logistics Department two years ago, climbing mountains and crossing rivers to repair fortifications and suppress bandits, working his way up to a fifth-rank post. Another wanderer, Zhao’s heir, frequented pleasure houses but still managed his duties at the Ministry of Public Works for construction projects across the country, occasionally even serving as an imperial commissioner. Compared to all of them, young Marquis Mei looked the most worthless.
But the real irony was within his own family. Mei Jiang, the seventh son, had passed the highest imperial exam at twenty-one, yet Marquis Mei had never valued him. Now that “duck” had soared into a phoenix, while Mei Xiu, the golden egg, remained stubbornly unhatched.
Marquis Mei felt as though he were sitting on pins and needles, barely maintaining his composure. The Crown Prince looked at him and smiled, his tone fairly mild. “Indulging a son is not loving him. You cannot neglect your duty to advise and discipline him, nor act like a hands-off master who only forges a gilded nest and a silver treasury. The Mei family is large; Mei Xiu will have to uphold it in the future. You are still in your prime—don’t spend all your time adding new sons. You need to properly teach the children you have.”
Marquis Mei, who had just welcomed his eighteenth son, flushed and chuckled sheepishly. “Your Highness is right. I will remember this and go back to thoroughly spur that little beast into doing something worthwhile!”
“Above all, staying away from brothels and debauchery would be a start. He’s young, but his eyes are puffy and his face looks dissipated—what kind of image is that? He hasn’t even married his legitimate wife yet. What decent lady would want to marry him later?” The Crown Prince tapped the lid of his teacup. “The Empress Dowager used to say that Mei’s Xiu was mischievous but still likable. Go home and straighten him out. Don’t disappoint Her Majesty and me.”
Marquis Mei rose hastily. “I will take your words to heart, Your Highness, and will not fail the teachings of the Crown Prince and Her Majesty.”
The Crown Prince nodded. “Take him back. Let him rest for two days before letting him loose again.”
Marquis Mei respectfully bowed and withdrew. Pei Xiting quickly hopped off the bamboo couch on one foot, hobbled over to the Crown Prince, and began fanning him with a thin book. “Thank you, Your Highness.”
The Crown Prince looked at him. “What made you dare to hit Mei Xiu? Who gave you the nerve?”
“I didn’t know he was Mei Xiu when I hit him,” Pei Xiting answered truthfully.
“If you had known,” the Crown Prince asked, “would you still have hit him?”
Pei Xiting pursed his lips. “No.”
The Crown Prince saw through him at once. “You don’t mean that.”
Pei Xiting was honest. “I was afraid that if I meant it, I might upset Your Highness.”
The Crown Prince shook his head and said nothing more. For some reason, Pei Xiting suddenly thought of his grandfather. When he used to get into trouble, the old man would first settle the external matter, then discipline him behind closed doors—never truly harsh with him.
The Crown Prince, true to his word, really meant to protect him, even shielding him in front of Marquis Mei. Pei Xiting should have been happy to have such strong backing. But somehow, he couldn’t muster pure joy. Mixed in was an indescribable feeling.
It felt like being pricked by a needle—only a tiny hole, unnoticeable at first glance, but sharp and persistent.
Pei Xiting mulled over this feeling on the mountain, while Yu Shaoyun kindly carried him down. He kept mulling it over in the carriage, all the way home. When he finally returned to his small courtyard, he tossed and turned on a bamboo chair for a long while, until he finally figured out a bit.
The Crown Prince, with his generous and open-hearted nature, didn’t hold Pei Xiting’s illicit desires against him. Instead of pushing him away, he nurtured and protected him. Now, if Pei Xiting still harbored those desires, it would be truly improper.
“Then just don’t show it,” Yuan Fang said casually, sweeping dirt from under Pei Xiting’s lounge chair with a broom. “I think you’re just unwilling to let go.”
Yuan Fang hit the nail on the head, and Pei Xiting didn’t deny it. He stared at the stars and moon in the sky, grumbling that they were hung too high—within sight but out of reach.
But he still wanted them.
He had tried to pluck them once and failed, yet he still wanted them.
The greatest distance in the world wasn’t being unable to see them; it was seeing them, occasionally touching them, yet never getting closer. Pei Xiting rather mawkishly thought: if the Crown Prince had simply kept him at arm’s length, it would have been better. Unable to see or touch, no matter how much he yearned, he could do nothing. But now, it was crueler than offering Yuan Fang a feast of fragrant, varied steamed buns and meat pies but forbidding him to take even a bite.
Pei Xiting sighed, his eyes so plaintive that Yuan Fang’s arms broke out in goosebumps. “Don’t you usually just go with the flow?”
“Exactly,” Pei Xiting scratched his head.
In the past, when he saw friends cry and moan over love, lost in melancholy, he couldn’t understand it at all. He thought: the world is full of people, and good ones are like radishes in a field—one after another, each better than the last. Why make such a fuss?
Besides, love isn’t the only thing in life. There are so many delicious foods, fun pastimes, and beautiful sights. Aren’t they better than a lost ex-lover?
Now, Pei Xiting was still a single man, but he finally felt some empathy. No wonder love was a classic theme in art and literature—even unrequited love could stir up so many emotions, so many inspirations!
And so, the painter Pei had a sudden inspiration.
Over the next half month, Lu Mang would see Auxiliary Pei across from him passionately painting away, not knowing what. He would giggle, hesitate, daydream, get excited… each day’s emotions were complex and varied. Occasionally, even a look of springtime appeared on his face.
Something was up with Auxiliary Pei—Lu Mang concluded.
One rainy day, the downpour pattered incessantly outside the hall. Lu Mang didn’t go to the Eastern Palace to borrow documents. Instead, he took a book and silently sidled up to Pei Xiting, casting a quick glance at the paper in front of him.
“You’re painting a spring scene?” Chief Clerk Lu exclaimed in shock, staring at the two kissing figures on the paper.
“Is a kiss considered a spring scene?” Pei Xiting hadn’t bothered to hide his work from Lu Mang, so he didn’t mind him looking. “This is a picture book,” he declared.
He glanced at Lu Mang meaningfully. “Compared to storybooks, it’s just a difference between writing and drawing—nowhere near as explicit.”
Lu Mang, completely unaware that his secret identity had been exposed, cleared his throat. “So it’s a… homoerotic picture book?”
“Yes,” Pei Xiting said with innuendo, “with so many handsome gentlemen around me, I’ll never lack for material, right, Chief Clerk?”
Lu Mang cleared his throat again, louder this time.
Pei Xiting worriedly reached out and patted Lu Mang’s back, feigning ignorance. “Chief Clerk Lu, are you feeling unwell?”
Yes, Chief Clerk Lu’s heart was unwell—too empty. He patted Pei Xiting’s hand in return, smiling. “Thank you for your concern. I’m fine.”
“Glad to hear it.” Pei Xiting smiled back, withdrew his hand, and continued painting.
Lu Mang gazed at the two men on the paper. Pei Xiting’s skill was undeniable—the images were harmonious, beautiful, and vivid. His heart stirred. “Auxiliary Pei, are you keeping this picture book for yourself or giving it away?”
“I haven’t thought about it. Just killing time, painting occasionally,” Pei Xiting said.
But you look deeply engrossed in it, Lu Mang thought. His eyes flickered. “Since you know storybooks, have you heard of an author called the ‘Scholar of the Wind and Moon’?”
“Of course. I’ve read his latest story, The Pomegranate Flower Night Record.” Pei Xiting looked up at Lu Mang and smiled slightly. “That character Yang Pei in it—he resembles me a bit.”
Good heavens, Lu Mang began to sweat. “Is that so?”
“Not only that. I think Xi Zong and…” Pei Xiting glanced outside, then raised a hand to cover half his face and whispered to Lu Mang, “also resembles His Highness.”
Oh my ancestors, Lu Mang’s heart was pouring sweat, but he forced a laugh. “Re-really?”
“Just my guess. Probably a coincidence,” Pei Xiting shrugged, his tone light. “After all, who would be so bold as to write a homoerotic story about the Crown Prince?”
Lu Mang plopped down, bumping into Pei Xiting. Meeting Pei Xiting’s unconcerned smile, he chuckled. “Then… does His Highness know?”
“Of course not,” Pei Xiting said without hesitation. “Why would the Crown Prince read romantic fiction, let alone homoerotic stuff?”
Right, exactly! That’s why I dared to write it! Lu Mang roared inwardly, finally calming down. But one concern remained.
“Auxiliary Pei, does it bother you that Yang Pei resembles you a little?”
Chief Clerk Lu pretended to ask casually, forcing a smile, but under the eyes of the Oscar-worthy Pei, his acting was clumsy.
“Not at all. It’s not like my name was used,” Pei Xiting reached out and patted Lu Mang’s shoulder. “Besides, I read it too. If he stopped writing, what would I read?”
Ah, joy! Lu Mang’s heart settled completely. He patted Pei Xiting’s shoulder back. “Auxiliary Pei, you’re magnanimous! Don’t worry—the Scholar of the Wind and Moon never abandons a story for no reason.”
“Oh,” Pei Xiting drew out the syllable, “so Chief Clerk Lu is his loyal reader?”
“Mutual understanding,” Lu Mang smiled, elegantly. “We have mutual understanding, Auxiliary Pei.”
Pei Xiting found it amusing. Just then, someone came from outside—the head cook, Uncle Wei.
Uncle Wei, true to his name, was mainly responsible for feeding the tireless youths of the Crane Cage Department and occasionally assisting Dr. Su in nourishing their stomachs.
A native of Yejing, Uncle Wei knew many cuisines and changed the menu daily. One of his fish dishes, in particular, had captured Pei Xiting’s heart. Pei Xiting was handsome, with a sweet tongue that didn’t feel forced. Despite his noble bearing, he had no airs, endearing himself to Uncle Wei. Lately, he had become the “kitchen darling.”
Sure enough, as soon as he saw Uncle Wei, Pei Xiting cried out, “Uncle, what delicious food have you made for me today?”
“Tonight, there’s osmanthus steamed shad!” Uncle Wei, his feet wet from rain, didn’t step inside but called out to Pei Xiting from the doorway. “I’m just passing by to deliver a message. Someone’s at the gate looking for you—your family’s Concubine Li.”
Pei Xiting thanked him, put on his shoes, took an umbrella, and left the document building, leaving Chief Clerk Lu pestering Uncle Wei for crab.
Concubine Li was Pei Yan’s third concubine. She had a daughter, and neither caused trouble. They lived cautiously in the Pei mansion. Pei Xiting had never met her before, but he knew she was on good terms with Bu Suying. He suspected her sudden visit meant something had happened to Bu Suying.
His ankle wound had mostly healed, but it still ached when he walked quickly. By the time he reached the side gate, his right foot throbbed.
Concubine Li rushed forward as soon as she saw him and dropped to her knees with a thud. Pei Xiting knew then that it wasn’t Bu Suying—he breathed a sigh of relief. But seeing her posture, it was clear she had a serious request.
“What are you doing, Concubine Li? Get up quickly.” Pei Xiting bent down to help her up. “Take your time and speak.”
Concubine Li scrambled to her feet, not bothering to brush off her skirt. “Third Young Master, I beg you to save Qinghe.”
Pei Xiting handed her a handkerchief. “What’s wrong with Fourth Sister? Wipe your tears and tell me slowly.”
“Thank you, Third Young Master…” Concubine Li roughly wiped her tears and explained. It turned out that the Pei family had agreed to betroth Qinghe—to none other than Mei Xiu.
“The Qingyuan Marquis’s mansion may be rich and powerful, but we don’t want to crawl at their feet! A woman taken as a concubine spends her life bowing and scraping. Qinghe has ambition—she studies well at the academy, writes beautifully, and her teacher often praises her. She wants to become a female official.”
Concubine Li began crying again. Her swollen, walnut-like eyes couldn’t hold back the tears, blurring Pei Xiting’s face.
“I don’t ask her to marry into a high family or become successful. I only want her to live in peace and happiness, and then I can die content. But that young Marquis Mei—he’s a wastrel and a libertine! Word is he has vicious proclivities in the bedchamber. If Qinghe really goes to that house, she’s going to her death!”
Pei Qinghe had begged her father and the legitimate wife to no avail. She hadn’t thrown a tantrum—only reddened her eyes and stubbornly declared she would rather die than marry. But could Concubine Li bear to watch her die?
“Second Young Master is studying in the courtyard. Madam has people watching him, so I can’t get close. I could only come out under the pretext of burning incense and beg Third Young Master… I know this is an awkward request, but I truly have no other way! Please, Third Young Master, think of something to save us!” Concubine Li tried to kneel again, but Pei Xiting held her up. She grabbed his arm as if it were her last lifeline.
Pei Xiting looked into her desperate, hopeless eyes. “Does Fourth Sister know Mei Xiu?”
“No, they don’t know each other! They’ve never even exchanged a word!” Concubine Li said. “Someone from the Mei mansion came, saying that young Marquis Mei saw Qinghe at the academy and took a fancy to her, wanting to take her as a concubine. Madam and the master couldn’t refuse—no, they wouldn’t refuse! They only care about currying favor with the marquis’s house and adding glory to the Pei family. They don’t give a damn about Qinghe’s life or death!”
She wept quietly, silently, her back bending as if she was pouring out all the energy of half a lifetime.
Pei Xiting didn’t consider himself a saint, nor even a good person. He had no bond with this mother and daughter. But watching the sobbing Concubine Li, he suddenly thought of Bu Suying.
If the “Pei Xiting” of the original story had told Bu Suying what was going to happen, would she have been just as desperate and heartbroken?
Probably. That’s why “Pei Xiting” never said a bad word to Bu Suying, even before his suicide.
Pei Xiting’s silence stretched on in Concubine Li’s eyes. A moment seemed like eons. Just as she was about to sink into utter despair, those red but cool lips parted slightly. The young man spoke in a calm tone:
“Don’t worry, Concubine Li. I’ll handle this.”
The rain poured heavily, with few pedestrians on the streets. Tea houses and taverns had half-closed their doors, but inside, business continued as usual.
Mei Xiu had nothing to do that day, but it wasn’t convenient for him to go out riding and having fun. So he invited some friends to the Mandarin Duck Pavilion to throw dice.
Strangely enough, after half a month, the young marquis was finally visiting a pleasure house for the first time, and he kept his belt tight. None of the courtesans or male prostitutes managed to undress him. The courtesans teased that the young marquis had turned over a new leaf. Mei Xiu only laughed bitterly, too afraid to say that the Crown Prince had personally overseen his private life.
The Crown Prince rarely meddled in his subjects’ private affairs, let alone their children. But Mei Xiu remembered one time when he was a child. He had gone to the palace and said something wrong, causing his mother to kick him to the ground. The Fifth Prince (not yet Crown Prince) walked over and picked him up. Dusting off his robe without a care, the prince politely asked his mother not to be angry. She agreed, her tone sweet and apologetic, but once at home, she shrieked and twisted his ear until it bled.
Mei Xiu had hidden under his covers, bleeding ear in hand, crying and complaining that the Fifth Prince shouldn’t have been kind to him. But to this day, he remembered those deep, bright eyes.
Around an eight-sided table were Mei Xiu, Zong Rui, Zong Yu, and Shangguan Jie. Green Bell sat behind Zong Rui, clutching an embroidered pouch, sewing a golden osmanthus branch with her head down.
A few courtesans and male prostitutes were also in the room, all fresh and pretty. Mei Xiu’s eyes were pleased, and so were his hands. He had already slipped them into the skirt of the courtesan in his lap.
The courtesan, aroused, leaned against him with soft moans. Zong Rui and Shangguan Jie focused on the dice, but Zong Yu, sitting opposite, grew uncomfortable. “I’ll pay for a private room for you two. Deal?”
Mei Xiu, thick-skinned, didn’t blush. Instead, he mocked Zong Yu. “Little Fourth, you’re hopeless. Your Highness the Heir, teach your little brother.”
“I can’t,” Zong Rui drawled lazily. “Our family rarely produces a love-struck fool. Can’t let him break.”
Lady Zhao had wanted to arrange a marriage for Zong Yu and had tried every trick to lure him back. But as soon as he returned, his first words were: “I have someone in my heart. I will marry no one else!”
Lady Zhao asked, “Which noble lady is that?”
Fourth Young Master Zong said, “A commoner.”
Lady Zhao’s elaborate headpiece shook so much that she couldn’t say anything but “No!” Princess Ning, helpless, left it to the prince to decide. Before his father, Fourth Young Master Zong stood his ground, refusing to back down. If the heir hadn’t kicked the cane out of the prince’s hand, the fourth young master might have had his legs broken.
The Ning Mansion had many servants, and Fourth Young Master Zong had a loud voice, so the family disgrace spread far and wide in days. Even the Empress Dowager sent word to the Ning Mansion: don’t beat the child; talk it out.
But no matter how they reasoned, Zong Yu stuck to those eight words. Both sides remained deadlocked.
Now, Green Bell couldn’t help but glance at Zong Yu. She really hadn’t expected a love-struck fool to emerge from a noble house in Yejing.
Sensing her gaze, Zong Rui glanced sideways. “Like what you see?”
With other people present—though not many, and none strangers—Green Bell didn’t dare defy Zong Rui. She was afraid that if he got angry, he’d press her onto the table and do as he pleased. So she quickly picked up her wine cup to feed Zong Rui.
He snorted coldly, pushed her hand away, and told her to scram.
Green Bell didn’t argue. She moved to the couch behind him. Immediately, a male prostitute took her place, cooing, “Let me serve you, Your Highness.”
Zong Rui didn’t send him away. Green Bell huffed, then caught Mei Xiu’s gaze. She didn’t look away, returning a glare.
This little minx, Mei Xiu gritted his teeth.
At that moment, someone knocked and entered—a waiter. Not daring to lift his head, he announced, “Young Marquis, Third Young Master Pei requests an audience.”
Green Bell’s hand paused mid-stitch. She looked toward the door.
Mei Xiu was playing “lip-cups” with the courtesan in his lap. His ass twinged at the name—half a month ago, his father had caned him a few strokes, and they still seemed to whistle with vigor!
The courtesan looked up with hazy eyes, only to see Mei Xiu’s expression turn fierce. Then she was tossed aside. As she cried out, Mei Xiu pretended not to hear, staring straight at the door. “Oh, a distinguished guest! Please, invite him in!”
Shangguan Jie toyed with the dice, looking at the door. A man in a crimson robe with a black sash walked in, as pure as he was bright, like a burning cloud floating in. Since their parting in Ningzhou, this was the first time he had seen Pei Xiting.
Of late, Shangguan Jie had been perturbed. His elder brother, Shangguan Ming, had made a foolish mistake, was tied up by their father in the ancestral hall, and beaten to death. Luckily, the family hadn’t been implicated. But Shangguan Jie felt nothing for his brother—except for a sense of sordid lust. Instead, his mind kept dwelling on Pei Xiting.
When Pei Xiting returned to the capital, he had left a letter for Zhao Fan, warm and polite, with that intimate “Xingjian” address. Shangguan Jie, seeing the letter “not yet put away” on Zhao Fan’s desk (which he had accidentally glimpsed), felt displeased at the hypocritical smile on Zhao Fan’s face.
Could it be that Pei Xiting, naive and inexperienced, had actually been charmed by Zhao Fan? Why else would he be cold to himself but call Zhao Fan “brother” and get along so well?
Shangguan Jie couldn’t figure it out. The contrast in Pei Xiting’s treatment of the two gnawed at him. But Pei Xiting had been holed up in his office all this time, rarely going out. He hadn’t had a chance to ask. Now, unexpectedly, they met.
Shangguan Jie’s gaze was wolfish, but Pei Xiting pretended not to notice. He greeted everyone in turn, then turned to Mei Xiu without preamble. “I hear the young marquis intends to take Pei Qinghe as a concubine.”
“That’s right. So what?” Mei Xiu smiled insolently. “Third Brother-in-Law… oh wait, I’m taking a concubine, not a wife, so you don’t qualify as brother-in-law, Third Young Master Pei.”
Pei Xiting looked at Mei Xiu like he was a flea. “My sister and I aren’t so fortunate. I’ve come to discuss a business deal with you, Young Marquis.”
“Huh, interesting.” Mei Xiu leaned back in his chair, grinning. “But if I discuss business with just anyone, it would degrade my worth, wouldn’t it?”
Pei Xiting didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he looked at the dice on the table. Zong Yu raised an eyebrow and voluntarily gave up his seat.
“Xiting,” he said, “sit down.”
The casual address made everyone in the room glance at Pei Xiting, surprised that he was acquainted with Zong Yu too.
Pei Xiting thanked him and sat down directly. Looking at Mei Xiu across from him, he said, “Then let’s make a bet. If I win, you talk with me. How about it?”
“Can you afford to lose? Don’t go losing your pants, now.” Mei Xiu’s eyes lit up. “This is good!”
He slapped the table, pointing at Pei Xiting. “I’ll bet! If you lose, you strip off your pants and lie down. Dare you?”
The words were familiar—a retort to Pei Xiting’s earlier challenge. Pei Xiting didn’t speak, but Green Bell suddenly stood up. Mei Xiu turned to look at her but said nothing, clearly waiting for Zong Rui to scold the impolite little toy.
“Your retort, I accept,” Pei Xiting said, not waiting for Zong Rui. He extended his long right index finger, gently rolled the dice cup over, and smiled at Mei Xiu. “The bet is on.”