Chapter 50#
Cassia Wine Pei:.#
Mei Xiu frequented the pleasure quarters year-round; even if not a master gambler, he was well-versed in such games. Pei Xiting, on the other hand, had never been seen in a gambling den before.
This gamble should have been a foregone conclusion, but Pei Xiting was far too composed and at ease. Mei Xiu’s heart actually began to waver a little. Yet, thinking it over, he had nothing to lose—what was there to fear? So he grabbed the dice cup and said, “One round decides it. Do you dare?”
Pei Xiting replied succinctly, “How shall we play?”
What a pose of a master. Mei Xiu sneered, “I know you haven’t seen much of the world, so I won’t make it too hard on you—wouldn’t want it said I bullied you. We’ll just compare sizes. Higher number wins… Zong Si’er, why are you shaking your head and sighing? Are you trying to jinx me or what?”
Zong Yu, standing behind Zong Rui, spread his hands and said with a smile, “How would I dare? I was just getting excited at the thought of seeing the Young Marquis’s superb gambling skills.”
“Is that so?” Mei Xiu believed him and burst out laughing, tilting his head back. He raised an eyebrow at Pei Xiting. “Kid, you go first or me?”
Pei Xiting gestured with his hand. “Young Marquis, please.”
Mei Xiu didn’t stand on ceremony. Rolling up his sleeves, he grabbed the dice cup, shook it expertly, and slammed it down. The attendant beside him lifted the cup and announced, “Five, five, six!”
“… " Qing Lingling pressed her lips together, unable to sit still any longer. She stood up and walked over to Pei Xiting, intending to help him shake the cup.
“Hey, you think I’m dead?” Mei Xiu’s brows shot up, his tone laced with malice. “Your Princely Heir is still sitting here, Lingling. Don’t get too bold.”
“Lingling and I are just friends.” Pei Xiting looked at Mei Xiu and suddenly smiled at him. “Though Lingling is popular, Young Marquis shouldn’t assume everyone has dirty thoughts or covetous intentions, right?”
He was alluding to what Mei Xiu had said at Baoci Temple. Mei Xiu gritted his molars and said, “Your turn to shake—”
Before he finished, Pei Xiting had already scooped up the dice cup. In a dizzying blur, he slammed it down and flipped it open casually.
“Three sixes! A leopard!” Qing Lingling hopped with joy, beaming like a flower. She slapped the table, making the wine cup by Zong Rui’s hand tremble. But she didn’t notice, her eyes fixed on Mei Xiu. “Young Marquis, a bet is a bet!”
“How is that possible!” Mei Xiu shot up, staring at the dice in the cup, all showing the same number—three sixes.
Was this something Pei Xiting could actually roll?
Mei Xiu refused to believe it. “That’s pure luck!”
“Luck is part of gambling. What’s wrong with relying on luck? Young Marquis, why don’t you go outside and ask the heavens why they favor Xiting over you?”
Qing Lingling’s words came out in a rapid-fire burst, landing on the table like a barrage. Mei Xiu stomped in fury, charging over to teach this little wretch a lesson.
Zong Yu reached out and blocked him, not letting Mei Xiu pass.
Zong Rui took a slow sip of wine, unhurried, and patted Mei Xiu’s arm with a smile. “Alright, let me discipline her.”
He glanced at Qing Lingling. “How do you speak to the Young Marquis?”
“Yes, I was out of line,” Qing Lingling bit her lip and looked pitifully at Mei Xiu. “Please, Young Marquis, be merciful and overlook my offense. I wouldn’t dare again.”
“I’ll believe you when pigs fly!” Mei Xiu, irritated by this affected creature, snorted coldly and returned to his seat. He pressed down on his crooked floral brocade headband, glaring at Pei Xiting. “I admit defeat. But I want another round with you.”
Pei Xiting nodded and played one, two, three… eight more rounds with Mei Xiu.
After the ninth round, Mei Xiu threw down the dice cup, along with the dice, and said, “You’re a wolf in sheep’s clothing!”
Pei Xiting looked utterly innocent, his delicate brows slightly furrowed. “But I never said I couldn’t play. I thought the Young Marquis wanted to agree with me in his heart but put on a tough face, so he proposed this gamble to let me win discreetly.”
“… " This man had no shame. Mei Xiu pressed his hand to his philtrum, giving himself a quick first aid. He took a moment to compose himself. “Fine, what business do you want to discuss with me?”
Pei Xiting scanned the room. Mei Xiu said impatiently, “Everyone out.”
Soon, everyone in the room except Qing Lingling filed out.
“I’d like to ask the Young Marquis to abandon the idea of taking Pei Qinghe as a concubine. In return, I can offer you a piece of news that will bring you much greater satisfaction.” Pei Xiting said.
“What could be more satisfying than having a beauty in your arms?” Mei Xiu dismissed it, looking Pei Xiting up and down with malice. “Don’t tell me Pei Wenshu is offering himself in his sister’s place? If so, I’d be quite happy.”
Shangguan Jie took a sip of wine, his expression sour. Only Zong Rui across from him noticed and smiled, shaking his head.
Such trash talk went in one ear and out the other for Pei Xiting. He calmly uttered a name: “Mei Yi.”
Mei Xiu’s expression shifted slightly.
Mei Yi was the eighth child of the Mei family, born to Mei Hou’s second wife. Though still inferior to Mei Xiu, the legitimate eldest son, if Mei Xiu were gone, Mei Yi would be the most qualified heir.
But that wasn’t the main reason Mei Xiu loathed him.
Mei Yi’s mother was originally the younger sister of Mei Hou’s first wife. While visiting her sister at the residence, she and Mei Hou got entangled. At the time, her natal family, seeing the still-childless wife and the flock of predatory concubines in Mei Hou’s household, persuaded the wife through her parents: “She’s your own sister, raised together—closer and more trustworthy than outsiders. Just accept your sister’s devotion. She’ll be a support in the future.”
The wife, looking at her earnest mother, her stern father, and her tearful sister, nodded.
The sister entered in glory and became pregnant that year with Mei Yi. Soon after, the wife also conceived Mei Xiu. The sisters gave birth around the same time, but their paths diverged sharply. The sister recovered quickly, still radiant and alluring. The wife, however, fell into melancholy, growing despondent. With countless beauties in the household, Mei Hou soon stopped visiting the wife’s courtyard.
The wife bore it all as usual. Everyone outside praised Mei Hou’s wife for her gentle virtue, a true lady of a noble house. But little Mei Xiu knew—his mother had gone mad.
When the wife passed away, Mei Xiu lay beside her sickbed and asked, “Do you hate it?”
Back then, Miss Wang had fallen in love with Mei Hou at first sight. Moonlit trysts, solemn vows—everyone called them a perfect match, well-suited in status. Everyone in the Wang family knew their daughter’s heart had stirred, that she had pined for Mei Hou until her soul ached. In private whispers among sisters, the younger one had held the wife’s hand, envious and blessing: “Sister and the Marquis are a match made in heaven—forever together, in lasting love.”
But what came later? Hate? Wang Hui hated deeply—hated Mei Hou for his fickleness, her parents for their lack of grace, her sister for her faithlessness, and hated Mei Xiu… for tethering her broken heart, for chaining her broken life—unable to live in peace, unable to die and let go.
The wife died with her hatred. In mourning white and red-eyed, Mei Xiu stormed into the study, shouting that Mei Hou could take any woman as his second wife, except for Wang Qing. He was cursed out by his father and never called him “Father” again.
As for Wang Qing and Mei Yi, mother and son were like a string of sharp, foul thorns lodged in Mei Xiu’s throat from childhood to adulthood.
— Pei Xiting had struck the snake at its vital spot.
Mei Xiu’s gaze turned dark. “What do you mean?”
“Mei Yi is going to take the autumn imperial exam. I heard he’s also gotten to know Miss Qu. If he succeeds in either, especially the latter, he’ll make a huge splash.” Pei Xiting said.
Mei Xiu snorted. “Is there really a girl in the Qu family so blind? That bitch’s bastard son, two-faced through and through, and they think he’s a fine branch?”
Zong Rui, well-informed, added, “It’s Qu Lan. Even the Empress knows.”
Mei Xiu’s expression soured. He stared at Pei Xiting. “Out with it. What’s your price?”
“Mei Yi keeps a mistress outside. She’s already pregnant.” Pei Xiting smiled slightly, raising the stakes. “Her name is Xiao Chunhong. She used to be close with Wang Yelai. Later, she used Wang Yelai as a stepping stone to board Mei Yi’s boat, bewitching him into buying a villa outside the city and cherishing her like a precious heart.”
Mei Xiu was stunned for a moment, then burst into laughter. “Damn it, Mei Yi has a mistress? Our refined, elegant, gentlemanly, modest, and noble gentleman is keeping a mistress on the side while chasing after Qu Lan, and this mistress is his own cousin’s woman? Hah!”
“My fourth sister is fine, but for the Young Marquis, she’s just a momentary novelty. Mei Yi, however, is a different matter.” Pei Xiting toyed with the dice, speaking unhurriedly. “They say Miss Qu Lan is straightforward, a straight shooter. People like her despise duplicity and double-dealing. If the Young Marquis tips her off right now, she’ll surely thank him for helping her see the truth and cut her losses in time.”
That way, Mei Yi could no longer climb the Qu family. If this shook his composure, the autumn exam would be difficult too. Both paths would crumble at once. He’d surely collapse.
Shangguan Jie, who had been silent, looked at Pei Xiting and said, “That’s a ruthless strike.”
“He dared to do it, so why should he be afraid of being exposed?” Pei Xiting sighed leisurely. “How can I be blamed?”
“Exactly! He made his own bed—he deserves it!” Mei Xiu was practically dying of laughter, wiping tears of mirth as he pointed at Pei Xiting. “Alright, it’s a good price. I’ll do business with you!”
“Thank you, Young Marquis.” Pei Xiting gave him the address. Seeing Mei Xiu couldn’t wait to set off, he reminded him, “To catch a thief, you need the loot. To catch adultery, you need both parties.”
Mei Xiu paused mid-step. “Right, right, right, right…” He turned back and clapped Pei Xiting on the shoulder. “Our past grievances are settled!”
The Young Marquis left in high spirits, his face beaming. Pei Xiting was about to take his leave when Shangguan Jie’s voice stopped him. “How did you know about this?”
Pei Xiting met his gaze. “What do you think, Young Marquis?”
“You uncovered this lead while investigating Wang Yelai,” Shangguan Jie narrowed his eyes slightly. “You still hold a grudge against Wang Yelai.”
“Back on Mount Chaohua, he tried to kill me. On Lanyin Street, he tried to kidnap me. Shouldn’t I hold a grudge? They say know your enemy and you’ll win a hundred battles. Since I resent him, naturally I’d want to know him inside out, to be prepared. What,” Pei Xiting looked Shangguan Jie up and down, feigning unease, “is the Young Marquis seeking retribution for his lackey?”
Shangguan Jie smiled instead of getting angry. “How could Wang Yelai compare to Pei Wenshu? If Pei Wenshu wants to strike or kill, he should rely on his own skill. Not only will I not stop you, I’ll applaud—hoping only that Pei Wenshu will give me a good face.”
Pei Xiting squinted, expressionless. “What does the Young Marquis mean by that?”
“I adore Pei Wenshu,” Shangguan Jie stepped forward until he stood before Pei Xiting, leaning slightly to look at him. “I want to win your favor.”
No one in the room spoke. Zong Yu was baffled, Zong Rui wore an ambiguous smile, Qing Lingling’s eyes were wary. Everyone watched Pei Xiting.
Well, switching tactics, were they? When force didn’t work, try softness? Pei Xiting looked at Shangguan Jie suspiciously. Those starry eyes were bright and dark—objectively quite good-looking—but he remained unmoved. “Are you sick?”
“… "
Everyone was stunned. No one expected that when the Young Marquis finally turned tender as water, he’d receive such a response. And Pei Xiting’s tone was hesitant, as if he genuinely suspected illness.
The brothers from Prince Ning’s household burst out laughing, thoroughly amused. Qing Lingling laughed too but worried Shangguan Jie would fly into a rage and lay hands on Pei Xiting.
Shangguan Jie gritted his teeth inwardly, about to say more, when Pei Xiting pushed his chest aside and walked away.
Qing Lingling wanted to chase after him, but Zong Rui’s voice stopped her.
“Lingling,” Zong Rui looked at her, still smiling. “It’s raining outside. Don’t run around.”
Qing Lingling bit her lip and stood still, not daring to go out.
“What a day. Two good shows in a row.” Zong Rui stopped looking at Qing Lingling, raised his cup, and took a sip of wine. He looked up at the dazed Shangguan Jie and chuckled. “Jinhe, stop staring. He’s already gone.”
Shangguan Jie snapped out of it but didn’t answer. He simply raised his hand to touch the tip of his nose, where a faint scent of citrus and camellia oil lingered—the fragrance from Pei Xiting’s hair.
That same day, Mei Xiu sent someone to the Pei residence to apologize, saying only that the Fourth Miss Pei was too refined and talented to be made his concubine, and thus the matter was dropped.
Pei Yan and Wang Shi were baffled, annoyed by the Young Marquis’s frivolous unreliability. But since the marriage had never been confirmed, they could only exchange pleasantries and let it go, though a hint of regret lingered.
For the mother and daughter, it was a new lease on life. Concubine Li immediately wanted to thank Pei Xiting, but her daughter stopped her.
Pei Qinghe dabbed at her tears, thinking it over, and said, “Third Brother saved me, but he’s thwarted Father and Madam’s plans. If Concubine goes to him now and arouses their suspicion, it will only cause Third Brother trouble.”
Concubine Li came to her senses. “That makes sense. Then we…”
Pei Qinghe said, “A great kindness need not be repaid in words. Even if our power is limited, there will be a time to repay.”
Her tone was gentle, but her eyes were firm. Concubine Li couldn’t help but shed more tears. The two held each other, weeping with joy in their survival.
On the other side, Mei Xiu had caught Mei Yi’s tail. He waited patiently for three days until Mei Yi, under the pretense of an outing with classmates, detoured to the villa to dally with Xiao Chunhong.
Mei Yi had just dropped his trousers when Mei Xiu kicked the door open. Mei Yi’s face turned ashen. Worse, behind Mei Xiu stood Qu Lan.
Qu Lan, bold in love and hate, tear-streaked as she was, didn’t hesitate. She ordered the Qu family servants to drag Mei Yi from the bed and beat him soundly, severing all ties.
Mei Xiu was pleased to see the mother and son humiliated, but he also had to respect Qu Lan’s wish not to let the scandal tarnish the Qu family’s reputation. So he abandoned the idea of making it public.
Unexpectedly, Xiao Chunhong had another story.
“The servants tried to grab her, but she leaped off the bed, kicked them aside, and fled. If Zong Si’er, whom I’d brought along to watch the fun, hadn’t stopped her in time, she would’ve gotten away!”
Mei Xiu picked up the water cup on the table and took a drink. Seeing Pei Xiting staring at him, he was startled. “What are you looking at me for?”
The Young Marquis was in a great mood, having reaped a bountiful harvest. He headed straight from the outskirts back to Lanyin Street to report the results to his strategist Pei Xiting, truly wiping the slate clean between them.
Pei Xiting propped his chin on his hand, lazy. “I’m waiting for you to finish.”
“Oh.” Mei Xiu put down the cup, leaned across the table, and stared at Pei Xiting. “Guess what happened next? That Xiao Chunhong could actually trade blows with Zong Si’er! Even though she was subdued, how could a common prostitute have such skill? She’s clearly trained in martial arts!”
Pei Xiting looked thoughtful. “Oh?”
“And that’s not all. We found a knife under her bed!” Mei Xiu slapped the table. “That woman is trouble!”
Pei Xiting asked, “Where is she now?”
“At the Dasi prison,” Mei Xiu said.
Pei Xiting said, “Oh, I see.” His tone carried a clear “You may take your leave now.” Mei Xiu gave a light snort, didn’t linger, and strutted out like a victorious rooster.
Pei Xiting didn’t see him out. He leaned back into the bamboo chair. The courtyard gate opened and shut again. He stared at the gray-blue sky, lost in thought, and before he knew it, his eyes closed.
In the haze of drowsiness, the gate creaked open again. Pei Xiting tilted his head but didn’t open his eyes, mumbling, “You’re back…”
“Who’s back?”
A cold voice descended from above, like raindrops hitting Pei Xiting’s face. He snapped his eyes open and turned his head. Standing by the bamboo chair was none other than the Crown Prince.
Though he had long invited the Crown Prince to visit his courtyard, His Highness observed propriety and distinction, unwilling to casually enter a subordinate’s home. So seeing him now, Pei Xiting was dazed and unsure, thinking it might be a dream.
He had been dreaming of the Crown Prince a lot lately.
All sorts of dreams, clean and unclean, bizarre and strange.
Yuan Fang said it was “what you think by day, you dream by night.” The physician said they couldn’t cure lovesickness here and suggested he go to a temple, tie a love knot, and pray to the Moon God for a sign.
Pei Xiting hadn’t gone to pray. He accepted the Crown Prince in his dreams without resistance. Now, looking up at the Crown Prince, he blinked several times to make sure it was the real deal.
“How did Your Highness come here?” Pei Xiting pushed himself up with the armrest and bowed properly.
The Crown Prince said, “Taking a walk.”
Little King ran in from the doorway, squeezed between its master and Pei Xiting, wagging its head and tail, rubbing against both their calves, and even bumping Pei Xiting with its rump.
Pei Xiting chuckled. While inviting the Crown Prince to sit, he ruffled the round head by his leg and said, “There’s osmanthus wine inside. Would Your Highness like a cup?”
Osmanthus was in season, but the Crown Prince hadn’t had a cup yet. He said, “Alright.”
“Wait a moment.” Pei Xiting left those words and headed inside, Little King following behind.
The Crown Prince surveyed the small courtyard. By the well on the left were two watermelons and a small bamboo basket of radishes Pei Xiting didn’t like. On the empty ground beside them was a small table covered with books laid out to dry. In the corner were bamboo poles for drying clothes, with Pei Xiting and Yuan Fang’s garments hanging in a row.
On the right, the rose trellis was half-wilted, half-blooming, still gorgeous—clearly well-tended. But there was an empty patch in front of the wall, as if something were missing.
Pei Xiting came out of the house with Little King. The little tiger held its head high, proudly sporting a cute little watermelon hat on its head. It seemed delighted and curious, parading around in front of its master.
The Crown Prince said nothing, only reached out to adjust the hat. Little King rubbed against his hand, then trotted off contentedly.
Pei Xiting poured wine for the Crown Prince. “I got this from a mysterious master chef. It’s delicious. Your Highness, have a taste.”
To his surprise, after one sip, the Crown Prince said, “Wine brewed by Chef Wei.”
“So Your Highness has been fed by Uncle Wei too.” Pei Xiting sat down beside the Crown Prince.
“He brews it every year and buries it under the big tree outside the Longhe Department kitchen. When the time comes, he digs it up for everyone.” The Crown Prince glanced at Pei Xiting, who was drinking cup after cup, aware that this man had become the kitchen’s new favorite. Recently, they’d been cooking fish more often.
Seemed that if Pei Xiting wanted, he could easily make himself liked—by anyone, regardless of age or gender. Oh, and add a little tiger to that list.
Uncle Wei knew Pei Xiting didn’t like overly sweet wine, so he’d specially chosen these two jars. Pei Xiting had chilled one and left the other out, to have a small cup before bed to help him sleep.
Little King wandered around the yard and then slowly ambled out. Pei Xiting watched it go. “It’s fine letting it wander out like that?”
“No worries. Shaoyun will keep an eye on it.” The Crown Prince took a sip. “Yuan Fang isn’t here?”
“He’s obsessed with making meat pies lately. He went to apprentice at Li Meat Pie’s place. Won’t be back until late.” Pei Xiting said. “Does Your Highness need to see him?”
The Crown Prince said, “No.”
“Alright.” Pei Xiting refilled the Crown Prince’s cup. He was about to ask if His Highness needed some snacks to go with the wine when a knock came at the door.
“Is Pei Wenshu in?”
The voice was gentle—it was Doctor Su from next door.
Pei Xiting asked the Crown Prince’s permission, then got up and opened the half-closed door. “Doctor Su, His Highness is in the yard.”
Doctor Su was briefly surprised but quickly composed himself, following Pei Xiting into the yard.
Pei Xiting gently closed the door. He turned to see Doctor Su greeting the Crown Prince. The two seemed acquainted; the Crown Prince called him “Chongyan.”
Pei Xiting suddenly remembered: the Crown Prince’s type in looks was Doctor Su.
Su Chongyan exchanged a few words with the Crown Prince, then turned to Pei Xiting. “Pei Wenshu, didn’t you ask me yesterday to prescribe a formula to clear the heart and reduce internal heat? Here.”
Pei Xiting took the small medicine bottle, feeling a bit guilty. After all, the “culprit” making him need medicine and causing three doctors to fail to cure him was sitting right beside him.
But as a skilled actor, Pei Xiting kept a straight face. He thanked Doctor Su and said, “Won’t you stay for a few cups, Doctor Su?”
“No need. I have to see a patient tomorrow. I need to go back and review the medical records. Can’t drink.” Doctor Su bowed to the Crown Prince, nodded farewell to Pei Xiting, and left.
Pei Xiting sat back down and set the medicine bottle aside. The Crown Prince glanced at it. “What illness is this, that it’s been so long without improvement?”
Pei Xiting dared not say, “Ever since I read those storybooks, I’ve been restless and can’t stop.” He only said, “I’m not sick. Just getting overheated. Maybe it’s the autumn dryness.”
He didn’t look sick, so the Crown Prince didn’t press further, only humming in acknowledgment. “Have you finished copying the ‘Yue Ren Ge’?”
Expecting Pei Xiting to brush it off again, he was surprised when the man raised an eyebrow, smugly went into the house, and returned with a thin booklet, placing it before him. “Please inspect.”
With that, he sat back down, adopting an air of calm self-assurance, ready for inspection.
The Crown Prince withdrew his gaze and opened the booklet, checking page by page. To his surprise, Pei Xiting hadn’t been diligent at the start and sloppy at the end. Every page was the same, written with care.
Pei Xiting hadn’t expected the Crown Prince to check page by page either. Whether it was leisurely leisure or strict rigor, he couldn’t tell. He watched, captivated.
He had seen countless beautiful faces since childhood and had a face that earned compliments everywhere he went. So his standards for good looks were finicky. He could recognize and acknowledge someone’s beauty, but rarely marveled at it. Yet the Crown Prince was truly captivating in every way.
So captivating that with a pair of exceptionally beautiful yet exceptionally cold eyes, he made Pei Xiting stumble and fall, losing himself completely, unwilling to turn back.
Deep indigo descended like ink. The night wind blew, stirring Pei Xiting’s restless heart. He watched the Crown Prince, who lowered his eyes to flip pages, pouring all his attention into the book while sparing him none. Unconsciously, Pei Xiting drank cup after cup.
The sound of page-turning and wine dripping interwove, one note chasing the next. Neither spoke. The candles in the yard flickered in the wind.
Suddenly, a “clink”—the wine cup fell, slipping from pale fingertips, rolling to the edge of the table, barely staying on.
Unbeknownst to himself, Pei Xiting had drained an entire pot of wine. What had gone down smoothly now hit him with a belated force. He finally closed his eyes, no longer looking at the Crown Prince. The Crown Prince finally lifted his gaze to look at Pei Xiting.
Those restless eyes were shut, their drunken flush buried in folded arms. The Crown Prince closed the booklet. After a moment, he stood and walked to Pei Xiting’s side.
He reached out and brushed a strand of hair from Pei Xiting’s face. His fingertips traced from the soft brows down to the warm cheek. Pei Xiting seemed to sense it, humming drowsily, rubbing his face against his own arm.
The Crown Prince watched for a long time. He drew back his hand to leave, but a hand caught his sleeve. Pei Xiting bumped his head into the Crown Prince’s arm, fumbling to hold on, clinging tightly.
Pei Xiting smacked his lips twice and murmured in a hoarse voice, “Don’t go…”
That round head, like a fierce little cannonball, crashed forward with a thud that made the Crown Prince’s heart jolt.