Tao Xiaomi felt truly exhausted. For roughly half his life, he had spent his time explaining to people why he was called Xiaomi.

When Cao Lie asked whether Xiaomi was really his name, he nodded, and out of habit was just about to explain — only to find that Cao Lie had already lost interest in hearing any explanation.

Cao Lie was the sort of person who found the name amusing but was not the least bit curious about it. So Tao Xiaomi, poised to launch into his usual explanation, found himself at a loss — because he had genuinely grown used to the fact that his name prompted him to introduce every sibling in his family.

Cao Lie looked at him, seemed to read something, and asked: “You just opened your mouth — were you about to explain to me why your name is Xiaomi?”

“Didn’t the Marquis want me to explain?”

“Don’t make life so hard on yourself. When someone asks ‘Is your name really Xiaomi?’, all you need to say is yes. If they insist on an explanation, tell them it’s none of their damn business.”

Tao Xiaomi was stunned.

This was the first time he had ever met someone quite like Cao Lie — so blunt, so direct.

“Next time someone asks why you’re called Xiaomi,” Cao Lie continued, “besides ‘none of your damn business,’ if they want to hear more, they’ll need to pay for it. Why waste your time and energy explaining for free?”

Tao Xiaomi was stunned again.

He decided this man had a very distinctive personality.

Cao Lie bent over and smelled his bowl of broth but did not drink it. “It’s quite good,” Tao Xiaomi offered.

Cao Lie made a noncommittal sound and still didn’t drink.

Tao Xiaomi, recently assigned to work under Cao Lie, felt he ought to learn more about his new superior. “Does the Marquis not like lamb broth?”

“When I’m not eating something,” Cao Lie replied, “it’s usually for one of two reasons: I’m not hungry, or the thing is cheap.”

He looked at the broth again.

Tao Xiaomi thought: this Cao Marquis is not just distinctive — he has a slight affliction. But somehow it wasn’t annoying; it was almost endearing.

“What’s the most expensive thing the Marquis has ever eaten?”

Cao Lie glanced at him without answering. Tao Xiaomi understood the look in those eyes perfectly: *none of your damn business.*

So he stopped asking and put his head down to drink his broth, which he genuinely thought tasted quite good.

Cao Lie sat there saying nothing, eating nothing, as if simply waiting for Tao Xiaomi to finish his meal.

This made Tao Xiaomi feel self-conscious. He hastened his pace.

“No rush.”

Cao Lie looked back toward the Hongbin Tower, then rose. “You eat. I’m going to look around for a better spot.”

By “better spot,” he meant somewhere that afforded a better vantage point for watching the Hongbin Tower.

This was only their second day in Anshi County, and Cao Lie had already identified the Hongbin Tower as suspicious within a single day. Keeping it under undetected surveillance required the right position.

The reason they were drinking lamb broth in this little shop was because Tao Xiaomi had said the location was ideal. But Cao Lie clearly found it unsatisfactory — perhaps simply because he found the broth unsatisfactory.

Tao Xiaomi sat eating and waiting. After about a quarter-hour, Cao Lie still hadn’t returned, and Tao Xiaomi was debating whether to go look for him — when Cao Lie came back through the door, holding a small box.

“Here.” He handed the box to Tao Xiaomi. “Keep it safe.”

Tao Xiaomi was about to ask what was inside, but remembered that look in Cao Lie’s eyes, and thought better of it.

“It’s yours,” Cao Lie said.

Now Tao Xiaomi was even more curious. He instinctively opened the box — found what appeared to be cowhide paper — shook it open, looked at it, and froze.

It was a property deed.

In the quarter-hour Cao Lie had stepped out to “find a better spot,” he had bought the opera house next door.

Tao Xiaomi had noticed the opera house before entering the broth shop. A four-story timber building. Enormous footprint.

“…Given to me?”

Tao Xiaomi swallowed. This didn’t feel real.

“That broth shop had a decent position, but it’s too small to be worth my while,” Cao Lie said. “The opera house next door was passable.”

He turned and walked out. “Let’s go.”

Tao Xiaomi hurried after him. “Marquis, where are we going?”

“To your house, to sleep.”

“To my house?”

*My house is in Qingzhou — now renamed Lianshan Circuit — that’s ten thousand li from here…*

Then it dawned on him. His house was right next door. The opera house was his now.

Inside the box, besides the deed, was a purchase contract — with Tao Xiaomi’s name written on it as the new owner.

Only now did he understand. No wonder the Marquis had just asked whether Xiaomi was really his name. He hadn’t been curious about the name at all — just needed it for the contract.

Walking behind Cao Lie, Tao Xiaomi muttered half to himself: “If you really needed to buy a place, the broth shop would’ve been sufficient — would have cost much less.”

Cao Lie glanced back at him. Tao Xiaomi fell instantly silent, reading in those eyes the familiar: *none of your damn business.*

He had assumed “going to sleep” was something Cao Lie said offhandedly, but when they reached the opera house, Cao Lie genuinely found a spot and went to sleep.

The original owner was still clearing his things out, and his beaming expression as he greeted Cao Lie made it clear he had been paid handsomely.

Tao Xiaomi had been about to follow Cao Lie upstairs, but noticed that two men were always at Cao Lie’s side — when Cao Lie went to rest, one took up position at the top of the stairs, the other stood outside Cao Lie’s door. He didn’t venture up.

One of the two was about Tao Xiaomi’s age — probably not yet twenty.

The other appeared to be in his fifties or sixties, white-haired, deeply wrinkled.

Tao Xiaomi had caught their names from when Cao Lie had spoken to them.

The younger one’s surname was Xiye — a rare surname. With Tao Xiaomi’s experience, he could make a guess: a surname like that was found only in the southwestern reaches of Shuzhou, near the semi-wilderness border. Before the Chu dynasty was founded, when the Zhou Son of Heaven was weakening, the Marquis of Jiangxia — enfeoffed in Shuzhou — had borne the surname Xiye, and his domain had covered that southwestern region. Cao Lie addressed the young man only by surname, calling him “Xiye,” so Tao Xiaomi never learned his given name.

The older man looked weathered beyond his years, every wrinkle on his face a testament to what he had endured. His surname was Dongwu — another oddity that Tao Xiaomi had never encountered. He didn’t know this old man’s background. But Cao Lie had addressed the man by full name, and if Tao Xiaomi’s memory was right, it was Dongwu Guiming.

The old man was not particularly short, but he was extraordinarily thin — the kind of thin that made you think, if he removed his clothes, there would not be a person underneath but a withered branch.

Though Tao Xiaomi was young, he had been around long enough to recognize, at first glance, men one should not casually provoke.

Cao Lie had made it clear beforehand: in the Capital Circuit, Tao Xiaomi’s role was to serve as the link to the court. Whatever Cao Lie did, and how he did it, would be handled by Cao Lie’s own people — Tao Xiaomi was essentially an outsider. His Majesty had told him plainly before departure: do whatever Cao Lie tells you; don’t try to interfere.

So Tao Xiaomi assessed his own function in this mission: he was a messenger, or rather — someone His Majesty wanted on Cao Lie’s side, perhaps needing someone to relay Cao Lie’s communications, or simply to be a witness to how Cao Lie operated.

That “witnessing” was not the same as surveillance — it was more like keeping a record. Using Tao Xiaomi’s eyes to document what Cao Lie did and how.

Cao Lie had brought a considerable number of people, but his group had dispersed before entering Anshi County. The bodyguards traveling with Cao Lie directly numbered about thirty. Xiye and Dongwu Guiming were the two of highest standing among them.

Beyond those two, a pair of others caught Tao Xiaomi’s attention — a man and a woman.

The man appeared to be around thirty, scholarly and refined-looking, with a book perpetually hanging from his sash — always partially read, always different. Proof he was genuinely reading, not carrying it as an accessory.

The woman appeared to be in her twenties, and the impression she gave was… dangerous. Her figure was small and delicate, her face fresh and pure, yet the aura emanating from her was nothing like what such a girl ought to project — it was a threat. Every time Tao Xiaomi looked at her, he felt he wasn’t looking at a person but a female leopard, a she-bear, a tigress.

From every indication, the people Cao Lie had brought were men and women he had subdued during his time in Shuzhou.

This filled Tao Xiaomi with deep admiration, and with even more curiosity about Cao Lie. What kind of man arrives in Shuzhou alone, pacifies the entire regional jianghu, and then, in so short a time, wins the loyalty of people like these?

While Tao Xiaomi was downstairs absorbed in these thoughts, the original owner of the opera house finished packing and took his leave. He brought only valuables — barely any clothes — which said everything about the price Cao Lie had paid.

About another quarter-hour passed, and then the scholarly man led a few people out of the opera house, carrying a sheaf of papers.

Tao Xiaomi asked for one. The scholar handed it over without hesitation and walked straight out the door.

Tao Xiaomi read it: a notice that the opera house had changed ownership and was recruiting a new performance troupe.

An opera house needed performances, of course. The main revenue came from tea and gratuities — but without a good troupe, there would be no revenue from tea or gratuities.

Finding himself bored, Tao Xiaomi dragged a stool to the doorway and sat.

He watched a stream of people leaving the Hongbin Tower across the street, each one pausing to look the opera house over as they passed. He knew they had already been informed of the change in ownership.

By afternoon, the scholar returned — and he had genuinely brought back a performing troupe. Not a small one either: forty or fifty men and women of all ages.

The scholar pointed at Tao Xiaomi. “This is the proprietor. Pay your respects.”

Every member of the troupe bowed. “Greetings, Proprietor.”

This left Tao Xiaomi thoroughly at a loss.

—