Tie Ci had originally been prepared to give up the room upon hearing about someone being unwell, but frowned at these words. Before she could speak, someone else downstairs said: “This brother, if you give up the upper room for Miss Li, the Li family of Linyang will owe you a favor.”
The Li family of Linyang? Tie Ci couldn’t immediately recall what this meant, but Chi Xue had already appeared beside her, saying softly: “Linyang is Elder Li’s ancestral home.”
Tie Ci suddenly understood. She saw a woman downstairs sitting surrounded by others like stars around the moon, supporting her forehead with her hand in a delicate, frail appearance—this must be the young lady from the Li family of Linyang.
Tie Ci recalled that Li Yuncheng seemed to have several brothers but no sisters. Among the Li family of Linyang in the capital, there was only Elder Li’s branch, with the rest remaining in their hometown. Although some held official positions, since she couldn’t remember them, they were probably not above fourth rank.
If so, she was merely the daughter of a minor local official, yet carried herself with such airs, truly believing herself to be a daughter of the Elder’s household.
However, seeing the other party did indeed look pale, and with only three upper rooms in this inn, she thought for a moment and smiled: “Since Miss Li is merely feeling unwell, we can vacate one room.” She was about to leave her room.
Chi Xue hurriedly stopped her: “Master, it should be us who gives way…”
Before she finished speaking, the door next to them suddenly opened. Murong Yi, who had just finished washing with his black hair hanging loose, poked his head out and said: “What are you talking about? If anyone’s giving way, naturally it should be your master.”
Chi Xue: “…”
Tie Ci: …Are you really shameless to this extent?
You just want to force me to share a room with you!
She left her room and nodded to Miss Li downstairs with a smile. Miss Li glanced at her, and seeing her appearance clearly, her tense expression softened somewhat. She slightly raised her chin as acknowledgment.
Tie Ci took no offense and was about to leave when Miss Li suddenly said: “There’s another room—why not give that to us as well?”
Tie Ci said: “My people need to stay there.”
Miss Li said: “They’re just servants. Which family’s servants stay in upper rooms? There are countless talented guests and nobles here—we can’t have them stay in second-class rooms. I’ll give you triple the money. Give up that other room too. The Li family of Linyang…”
Tie Ci calmly cut off her words: “Never heard of the Li family of Linyang. I only know Li Shen is from Linyang, but even if Li Shen came personally, he wouldn’t dare snatch my maid’s room.”
Complete silence fell below.
Murong Yi, who had been cheerfully waiting by the door since the talk of changing rooms began, was already impatient and reached out to pull her: “Hurry up and come in!”
Only then did the people below react, flying into a rage.
Miss Li stood up abruptly, shrilly saying: “How dare you disrespect the Elder!”
Someone else cursed: “In broad daylight, men and women sharing a room—shameless!”
Tie Ci was stunned, wondering how her world-class skill at disguising as a man had deteriorated to be seen through by such a group of fools.
It wasn’t until she saw Murong Yi’s face with his flowing hair and gorgeous beauty like three springs that she realized these idiots hadn’t seen through that she was a woman, nor that Murong Yi was a man.
They had gotten it exactly backwards.
Looking back, indeed those righteous gentlemen were looking at Murong Yi with expressions of “you are originally a beauty, but alas have fallen into the world of dust”—a mixture of amazement, heartbreak, and subtle disdain.
The women’s gazes were jealous. If looks could kill, Murong Yi’s face would probably already be crisscrossed with cuts.
Someone pointed at the two of them and said: “Innkeeper, how can you allow prostitutes into the inn to sell their services? We are ashamed to associate with such immoral people—quickly drive them out!”
Tie Ci sighed.
So this was the character of what was once the foremost academy, Mingquan.
She said: “Yes, it really is rather embarrassing.”
Before her words ended.
A tremendous crash.
A group of people suddenly appeared in the hall, silently throwing this group of young masters and misses along with their tables, chairs, and servants all out the door.
Tables, chairs, teapots, and stools clattered and crashed to the ground. The people didn’t cry out much—those who acted knew their limits, making loud noise but little harm. Even so, those sitting gray-faced in the dust were already stunned.
They looked up and through the demolished doorway saw that outstanding young man upstairs snap his fingers and say with a smile:
“Since we’re going to do shameless things, how can we let you watch? Tonight, don’t come in.”
Bang—Tie Ci closed the door.
Immediately behind her came faint fragrance and soft breathing, with that mellow, gorgeous voice tantalizingly close: “…Come then, let’s do shameless things.”
Tie Ci pushed back with her hand, pushing Murong Yi onto the bed. Murong Yi didn’t resist, sprawling across the couch, his eyes containing hooks that caught at her.
Tie Ci stepped forward and knelt between his legs. Murong Yi’s eyes brightened with wild joy. Next, Tie Ci shook out the bedding and covered his entire head and face.
Murong Yi’s voice sounded muffled and aggrieved under the blanket: “You said we should do…”
“Since you’re dissatisfied with me borrowing your room, I’d better go sleep next door.” Tie Ci made as if to leave.
Murong Yi quickly jumped up to stop her—at least with the person in front of him, sharing a bed, even if he couldn’t eat the meat, drinking some soup and getting some scraps would be good.
Young Master Murong felt his use of the word “scraps”… was quite inspired.
…
After one night, Tie Ci climbed up from the corner of the bed, aching all over. It wasn’t from doing anything romantic—purely because someone was restless in sleep, always trying to squeeze toward her, always wanting to roll her into his arms. She was afraid of heat and kept rolling toward the inside of the bed. After a night of internal and external entanglement, it was like fighting a hundred demons.
She had thought those people would continue making trouble, but unexpectedly the night passed peacefully. When Tie Ci opened the window, she saw it was empty below—they had actually left during the night.
Calculating the time, perhaps because the three-academy literary competition was pressing, and last night’s intervention had been so imposing that the other party couldn’t figure out their background and didn’t want to get entangled, so they left first.
Naturally, Tie Ci didn’t take these people and events to heart. Going downstairs for breakfast before continuing their journey, when she reached the ground floor, she saw the innkeeper timidly approaching, ingratiatingly asking what she wanted to eat, hastily calling the waiter to wipe tables and chairs, bringing various steaming foods, and finally sheepishly handing her a letter.
Opening the letter, Tie Ci’s eyes lit up—first praising the fine calligraphy.
Then she read the content.
The letter wasn’t long, apologizing for last night’s incident. The writer identified himself as a classmate of those people from last night, who hadn’t been present due to other matters. Upon returning and discovering the dispute, he had immediately persuaded his companions to leave and left this letter of apology. He also left specially made brick tea from Jiusui as compensation.
The calligraphy was dragon-hooked and phoenix-boned with flowing spirit, and rarely, the word choice and sentence construction showed both skill and style, yet without the ostentatious parallel prose that would make it pedantic. It even had a touch of intimacy and playfulness. To write a few brief sentences of apology to such effect—even having read through all the brilliant essays of the spring examinations, Tie Ci felt this showed extraordinary talent.
People with both talent and character always inspired goodwill.
Tie Ci’s gaze fell on the signature, which was quite unique—resembling the emblem of Mingquan Academy. She had also recognized those people’s identities last night through the emblems on their sleeves, but looking closely, this was different. Examining it carefully, the flowing water pattern was actually a combination of the seal characters “Chu” and “Bai,” quite distinctive.
The twin brothers from Mingquan Academy who had gradually risen to fame these past two years—one seemed to be called Chu Xingbai, the other Bai Xingchu. One took the father’s surname, one the mother’s.
Outstanding talents of Great Qian would always be compiled in Tie Ci’s records, but whether they could truly be remembered by the Crown Princess depended on their individual fortune.
Tie Ci had been puzzled about how those people had simply let the matter drop—it turned out there was the influence of this talented twin pair.
She put away the letter, thinking of the private letter Rong Pu had sent her. In his letter, Rong Pu had told her that the open prize for this three-academy literary competition was that those who performed excellently would directly enter the Imperial Study to serve, becoming the emperor’s close attendants, drafting imperial edicts and participating in central government affairs.
This was equivalent to imperial recruitment—reaching heaven in one step. Historically this was treatment reserved for renowned scholars and veteran literati. For young people to move the world with their talent and be chosen to serve at the ruler’s side, entering the central government directly—their future prospects would be limitless.
Though called selecting close ministers for His Majesty, it was actually selecting future young backbone officials and direct subordinates for her, preparing for the next step of abolishing the Ceremonial Directorate’s authority to review memorials in vermillion.
The imperial examinations were the proper path for scholars to advance, but the interests involved were complex with tangled factions, making selection difficult. In comparison, academy students who hadn’t yet been exposed to the treacherous politics of the capital could still be more pure.
So she needed to see for herself.
Continuing their journey afterward, when entering Qingyang Mountain, Tie Ci and Murong Yi specifically took a detour to Lingquan Village.
Thinking they might see old friends, they found only empty houses.
Master Dongde’s family, Lady Sun, A’Hei, the fishing old man Ming… all the people they had known during those brief days of recuperation were gone.
Looking at the empty village, Tie Ci’s expression was somewhat heavy.
During her time in Lingquan Village, she felt she had developed some genuine bonds. Afterward, she had even considered recruitment, but since these reclusive masters clearly didn’t wish to involve themselves in worldly affairs, she let it be.
In her view, as long as such a powerful force wasn’t her enemy, there was no need to completely eliminate them.
Now it seemed there were some ominous premonitions.
Murong Yi’s face was dark as water. Looking at the small shed of Master Dongde’s house where they had both lived, he glanced at Mu Si.
Mu Si whispered in his ear: “We did keep people watching… but we received no messages, and our people stationed here have also disappeared…”
In other words, the secret agents he had left to monitor Lingquan Village had been eliminated.
Murong Yi differed from Tie Ci. Tie Ci was magnanimous and open-minded—when Lingquan Village showed a neutral attitude, she dared to let go. But Murong Yi had an ambitious nature. Such a place where strong people gathered—if it couldn’t be used for himself, then it must be completely eliminated. Only when there was still room for recruitment at Lingquan Village had he not attempted to act, merely having them watched.
These so-called secret agents couldn’t hide from the Lingquan Village people, nor were they intended to. Because this was actually a hint—if Lingquan Village had no intention of causing trouble, they would naturally turn a blind eye.
But now the secret agents had been silently eliminated, indicating things had changed.