He Yu adjusted his light blue silk robe adorned with bamboo leaf patterns before stepping down from the carriage.

Looking up, he saw the words “Drunken Immortal Tower” in black lacquer with golden accents. In the corner, a small seal bore the inscription “Qingxi Sanren,” the pseudonym of the former head scholar of the Hanlin Academy, Lin Guanlan.

A personal guard approached him and whispered, “Young Master, should I accompany you…”

“No need.” He Yu interrupted before the guard could finish. “Ji Jianming is not that kind of person. If he wanted to harm me, he has plenty of ways to do so without resorting to a bustling tavern like this.”

“Understood.” The guard nodded and retreated, joining a few others to park the carriage in the square beside the tavern.

He Yu entered the Drunken Immortal Tower with his servant.

Ji Yong’s attendant was waiting for He Yu in the hall. Upon seeing him, he stepped forward with a smile and bowed, inviting him to the third floor: “Our young master is waiting for you in the Cang Hai Pavilion.”

The Cang Hai Pavilion was the best private room in the Drunken Immortal Tower, occupying an entire floor. Dining there required at least two or three hundred taels of silver, and reservations were necessary.

He Yu chuckled softly. What was Ji Jianming up to, putting on such a grand display?

As he moved through the tavern, familiar faces greeted him. He was a regular here.

He Yu absentmindedly exchanged pleasantries, his mind drifting back to the day he wrote couplets, recalling the way Ji Yong looked at Dou Zhao. His eyes sparkled with an intensity that seemed to burn with fire. A strange feeling flickered in his heart, but he quickly dismissed the unsettling emotion.

Marriage was a matter that required parental consent and a matchmaker’s words.

Feeling somewhat reassured, He Yu smiled as he ascended the stairs.

Ji Yong stood by the window, the open shutters framing him against the colorful cloisonné glass, enhancing his tall and upright figure in a light blue robe.

He Yu mused to himself that Ji Jianming was quite a character.

Ji Yong turned to face him, his handsome face devoid of a smile, his expression cold as he greeted, “You’ve arrived!”

He Yu nodded lightly, sauntering to the window. With a swift motion, he opened his folding fan, waved it a couple of times, and then pointed to a bustling shop across the street. “How many times have you been to the Drunken Immortal Tower, Ji? The sugar-coated peanuts from Yao’s Fried Goods across the street are excellent. Everyone who comes here buys a bag. No matter how the Drunken Immortal Tower prepares them, they can’t compare. I’ve tried to buy their recipe several times but never succeeded. People in the capital say it’s the Drunken Immortal Tower that made Yao’s Fried Goods famous…” His tone carried a local superiority, aiming to diminish Ji Yong’s presence.

Ji Yong smirked slightly, a smile that was neither genuine nor dismissive, and ordered his attendant, “Go, buy a bag of Yao’s sugar-coated peanuts for Young Master He.”

The attendant complied and left.

Suddenly, Ji Yong swung his fist, striking He Yu squarely in the face.

Caught off guard, He Yu exclaimed, “Ouch!” as he covered his face, stumbling into a nearby armchair. The chair remained still, but the teacups and teapot on the table clattered to the ground. He Yu cried out again, trying to steady himself against the armrest, but in the process, he revealed a face covered in blood, making it hard for anyone to see where he was injured.

As Ji Yong threw his punch, two attendants who had followed He Yu upstairs shouted “Young Master!” and lunged at Ji Yong. Suddenly, seven or eight burly men emerged, swiftly subduing He Yu’s attendants and preemptively stuffing cloth into their mouths.

“This is a personal matter; you’re not allowed to interfere!” Ji Yong coldly admonished the attendants, advancing toward He Yu with another punch.

Having been in the saddle for too long, He Yu had become quite agile. He quickly ducked behind the armchair, calling out for his guards, though he didn’t scream for help.

Ji Yong chuckled inwardly. The good thing about aristocratic young masters was that even in life-and-death situations, they still cared about their image.

He pursued He Yu, grabbing his collar and delivering a punch to his abdomen.

At that moment, He Yu had regained his senses. The punch Ji Yong had landed on his face had left his nose throbbing, his eyes watering, and his vision slightly blurred. Instinctively, he bent his knees and charged at Ji Yong’s lower body.

Both men grunted as they collided, tumbling to the ground, and then scrambled to their feet, grappling with each other.

Ji Yong and He Yu were of similar age; one adhered to the principle of “a gentleman uses words, not fists,” while the other, pampered and privileged, were equally matched in their scuffle, neither gaining the upper hand.

Fortunately, the patrons of the Drunken Immortal Tower were all of high status, and despite the ruckus on the third floor, no one came to investigate. A few attendants peeked curiously from the hallway.

By the time He Yu’s guards burst in, both combatants were nearing exhaustion.

He Yu’s guards aimed to rescue their master, while Ji Yong’s guards, having received prior instructions, were determined to prevent any interference, leading to a chaotic brawl between the two groups.

The tavern’s manager, witnessing the fray, was at a loss for whom to assist. Both were sons of noble families; Ji Yong was a scholar, a refined gentleman, and surely wouldn’t have struck first. He Yu appeared somewhat dissolute but was known for his generosity, not the type to act without reason. As he observed the heated exchange between the guards, he realized the tavern’s bouncers couldn’t intervene. He decided to instruct the second manager, “Close the door. If they call for us, we’ll go in.”

The second manager understood and personally shut the door to the Cang Hai Pavilion.

Seeing his guards arrive, He Yu felt a wave of relief. He pushed Ji Yong away and plopped down on the floor, finally speaking, “Damn it, Ji Yong! You don’t hit faces when you fight! You bastard, how dare you hit my face!”

Ji Yong, equally fatigued and having achieved his goal, sat down on the floor, panting. “You can hit others’ faces, but I can’t hit yours?”

“I didn’t hit anyone’s face!” He Yu wiped the blood from his face, indignantly retorting, “Don’t slander me!”

“Me slandering you?” Ji Yong’s earlier calm was quickly replaced by agitation. “The Fourth Miss of the Dou family is already betrothed to the Wei family, and you meddled, making her a laughingstock! She’s caught in the middle, nearly driven to despair!”

The Fourth Miss of the Dou family driven to despair? That couldn’t be true!

He Yu felt a surge of disbelief, but seeing Ji Yong’s earnest expression, he hesitated, unsure. After all, he had only met Dou Zhao a few times and was reluctant to accept the worst.

Ji Yong seized the moment, pressing on, “Aren’t you just looking for a backer? A good man doesn’t rely on family wealth, and a good woman doesn’t wear a wedding dress without merit. Can’t you strive for something better? Must you rely on a woman to compete with your brothers…”

He Yu’s ears flushed with embarrassment, and he retorted, “What nonsense are you spouting? The Fourth Miss of the Dou family is a wonderful person…”

“Indeed,” Ji Yong scoffed, “the two ancient cypress trees in front of the Guozijian are also quite nice. Why don’t you take them home?”

“You…” He Yu, flustered and angry, shot back, “When did the Dou family’s affairs become your Ji family’s concern?”

“I’m not like you,” Ji Yong replied proudly. “Aside from being the son of He Ge Lao, I have no other identity. I am Ji Jianming of Yixing. What does the Ji family have to do with it? If I want to inquire, I will; if I don’t, they’re just passersby.”

How arrogant!

He Yu was at a loss for words but suddenly felt a desire to befriend Ji Yong.

He murmured, “If I wanted to rely on a woman, there are plenty of options. I wouldn’t need to focus solely on the Fourth Miss of the Dou family. I never intended to make things difficult for her… The Wei family isn’t any good either…”

Seeing He Yu’s sincere words, Ji Yong recognized his concession and softened his tone. “I know; I’m not just trying to provoke you. The Wei family is indeed not good. They’re a mess. If Dou Zhao marries them, she’ll likely end up working like a servant to help them recover their losses. It’s a world apart from your family. But the problem is, that Dou Zhao is fixated on her late mother’s wishes. You can’t disregard her feelings, can you?” He sighed deeply, adding, “She lost her mother at a young age, living in fear under her stepmother, always watching her elders in the East Mansion. It’s already hard enough for her. If you stir up trouble now, think about it—how will she fare? Just the spittle from those inner courtyard women could drown her.”

He Yu lowered his head, remaining silent for a long time.

He must be reluctant to give up on Dou Zhao.

Ji Yong watched him, mentally cursing He Yu a thousand times, his frustration slightly easing. “Say something! The Wei family has decided not to return the token to the Dou family or your He family. The highest bidder will win… Are you still not satisfied with the chaos? What if your father thinks it’s not worth it and walks away? What will happen to Dou Zhao? What has she done? Just because her father was your father’s student, she’s caught in this mess… Are you still a man? If it comes to it, I can help you deal with your brothers later…”

He Yu gritted his teeth and asked Ji Yong, “If I step back, will the Fourth Miss of the Dou family marry Wei Tingyu?” His tone carried a hint of reluctance, not inquiring how Ji Yong would help him with his brothers, only wanting to know Dou Zhao’s future.

Ji Yong felt an inexplicable discomfort in his heart. “Of course, she’ll marry Wei Tingyu! Who else would she marry?”

“Fine!” He Yu declared loudly, “I accept this matter!” His response was decisive, displaying a man’s boldness.

At that moment, Chen Quishui had returned to Zhen Ding. He stood in Dou Zhao’s flower room, gazing at a peony bud about to bloom, worry etched on his face. “If the Wei family comes to propose, will the young lady agree to this marriage?”

Dou Zhao was watering the long leaves of the mountain orchid with a spray bottle, answering nonchalantly, “Did they accept the medicinal herbs I sent to the Marquis of Jining?”

“They accepted them,” Chen Quishui replied. “But I sensed that the Marquis seemed rather indifferent…”

Before leaving, Dou Zhao had instructed him to send two thirty-year-old ginseng roots to the Marquis of Jining. He thought these roots held significant meaning, but the Marquis merely smiled and thanked him, having them collected. Chen Quishui believed the Marquis didn’t grasp Dou Zhao’s intentions and had mentioned it, only to receive a hint of disdain in return.

“As long as they received them, that’s enough,” Dou Zhao said, setting down the spray bottle casually. “Whether they use them or not is their business.”

Regarding the principle that young boys should not enter the inner courtyard, one can refer to those sparsely populated parks; when the management is lacking, it’s easy to exploit the gaps. As for whether Ji Yong’s actions align with the standards of noble young masters, that will become clear in time.