The Yanxia Empire’s capital, Chang’an, a majestic city nestled in Guanzhong.
In the first month of Hongde’s fourth year, Chang’an welcomed a flurry of goose-feather snow. Countless homes stood like chess pieces, with twelve streets crisscrossing. Brothels and gambling dens lined the lanes, and at the heart was a bustling tavern-teahouse.
The front hall roared with voices, patrons coming and going. Three or four ruffians huddled in a corner, a brazier warming their feet, their talk lively.
“Did you hear? Recently, Guandong troops moved secretly, several units heading to Luoyang’s armory. Even Chang’an’s Mingde Gate has extra guards,” one said.
“The western regions broke their oaths, borders in chaos. Wei King Ji Yang’s leading the campaign… Recruitment notices are plastered at the market. Even blind Old Zhang gets it. What’s there to discuss about this mess?” another grumbled.
“Then what’s worth talking about? Damn it!” the interrupted ruffian snapped, hoping to convince his friends to enlist.
In this world, chances to rise were rare, but war was a sure bet.
Years ago, Wei King Ji Yang, a mere thug, seized the chaotic Spring and Autumn wars, campaigning with Taizu, earning a fief and kingship.
Today, even the Xiao clan’s patriarch showed him deference.
“Forget the Wei King. That Heir from Ye City’s more interesting,” another ruffian said, smirking.
Ears perked up among tea drinkers and peddlers. Gossip trumped war’s grimness.
“That’s risky. He’s in the capital now,” someone cautioned.
“What’s with the hush? It’s just that dog Ji Yanqing, a bullying bastard, worse than a beast,” a striking white-robed youth said, sipping tea, slamming his cup, and loudly condemning the Wei King’s Heir.
“Sir, I can’t join in on that,” a ruffian said warily.
Gossiping about the Heir was fine for small talk, but such insults could cost heads if overheard.
“Speak freely. I’ll take the blame,” the youth said, rising. His hair was pinned, his sword-like brows sharp, his peach-blossom eyes captivating.
“Hmph, don’t overestimate yourself,” a ruffian scoffed, seeing only a naive scholar, his Imperial Academy badge conspicuous.
“I’m surnamed Ji…” Ji Yanqing said, fanning an ivory fan.
His words struck like thunder. The ruffians paled, terrified.
Few in Yanxia bore the surname Ji, and the Heir was one.
Seeing their fear, Ji Yanqing pulled a stool, sitting without a trace of princely arrogance, smiling, “Don’t worry, I’m not tied to that dog Ji Yanqing. I’m Ji San, a mere ink-grinding page in the Prime Minister’s Mansion.”
“Master Ji San, apologies for the offense. Please forgive us,” a ruffian said, bowing with newfound flattery.
As they say, beat a dog, check its master.
Prime Minister Liu Sili held Yanxia’s court in his grip. Even his servants rose with him.
In the mansion, they’re lackeys; outside, they’re lords.
“Since Master Ji San says so, we’ll speak freely,” a ruffian said, emboldened as if backed by half the Prime Minister’s Mansion, losing his caution. “The Wei King fought with Taizu to unify the realm—such heroism, such might. They say like father, like son, but I say not!”
He sipped tea, continuing, “Years ago, the Wei King and Duke Yan pledged a betrothal in their tent, binding the Ji and Chu clans. Everyone thought the Heir and Miss Chu were a match made in heaven, but who knew Ji Yanqing was such a useless, frivolous wastrel, haunting pleasure houses daily.”
“Rumor has it he didn’t even spare eighty-year-old grannies!” Ji Yanqing chimed in, seizing the chance to tarnish himself further.
“Damn it! Who knew the Heir was such a beast? No wonder Chu’s second daughter defied the Wei King to break the engagement. With her stunning beauty, scholarly grace, and Radiant Sun Realm cultivation, how could such a heaven’s daughter be defiled by a wastrel like him?” a ruffian said.
“When Ji Yanqing saw Miss Chu’s breathtaking beauty, he fell hard, groveling like a maid, practically drooling…” another added.
“Spill it! What happened?” someone urged.
“Of course, Miss Chu found him repulsive, mocking him to know his place. But Ji Yanqing clung like a leech…” the ruffian continued.
“Pah! Lick-dogs deserve bad ends!” another spat.
“What a ruin to the Wei King’s legacy,” they sighed.
Someone countered, “But I heard the Heir had backbone. After Chu’s humiliation, he went to Yanyun to break the engagement…”
“Bullshit!” Ji Yanqing slammed the table, interrupting. He’d spent years making himself despised, yet someone dared whitewash him?
His smear campaign needed work—more budget for the Bronze Sparrow tabloids.
“I know for a fact Ji Yanqing couldn’t let go of Chu Qingyao’s peerless beauty. He knelt at Duke Yan’s gate, begging her to reconsider, claiming it was a ‘break-off’ to save face,” Ji Yanqing said confidently, as if he’d witnessed it.
“How pathetic,” a ruffian said.
“Not just his shame—he’s disgraced the Wei King entirely!” Ji Yanqing critiqued himself, as if he weren’t the target.
In truth, in Yanyun, he mostly bonded with Duke Yan Chu Che, strengthening Ji-Chu ties, praising the Duke, and gifting calligraphy.
In days, they were nearly sworn brothers.
As for Chu Qingyao…
On his first day at Duke Yan’s, Ji Yanqing tore their betrothal contract before her, burned it to ashes, and left without a glance.
In the original story, Chu Qingyao was aloof, despising flattery. Winning her required true skill or high cultivation.
For the talentless Heir, with his abysmal aptitude, it was a pipe dream.
Poetry fame was viable, but he wasn’t interested.
If he couldn’t win her, why bother?
Beyond romance, befriending Chu Qingyao was for her clan’s influence. So, he bonded directly with Duke Yan, skipping the middleman.
She disliked her fiancé, so he wouldn’t grovel.
The Wei King’s Heir had no taste for masochism.
As the crowd chatted, a gilded black carriage stopped silently at the tavern.
An elderly man with graying temples stepped out, spirited and bearded, entering with calm dignity and a hint of authority.
“Others laugh at my madness; I laugh at their blindness,” he said coldly, exuding natural威严.
Seeing his face, Ji Yanqing’s eyelids twitched but quickly normalized.
He bowed, “Uncle Liu, long time no see. All well?”
“Who’s this, Master Ji San?” the ruffians asked.
“Liu Li, just a minor aide in the Wei King’s Mansion,” said Liu Sili, Yanxia’s Prime Minister, Grand Scholar of Hanlin, and Co-Regent of the Secretariat, Marquis of Xin.
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