How does a person fill their stomach when they have no money?

Zhang Zhixu watched as Chen Baoxiang exited Zhaixing Tower, weaving through a series of turns until she reached a household that was hosting a flowing banquet. With practiced ease, she handed her counterfeit gift to the people at the entrance.

“I’m from the bride’s side of the family,” she said, greeting them with unhurried composure, even exchanging pleasantries.

Zhang Zhixu: “……”

Isn’t this just swindling free food and drink? And judging by how practiced she looks, this clearly isn’t her first offense.

Vanity is one thing, but how can she be so morally bankrupt!

“Hey, isn’t that Miss Baoxiang?” someone suddenly called out.

Chen Baoxiang turned her head and saw Pei Rumei waving at her from not far away: “Sister Baoxiang, you came to drink at the Pei family sister’s son’s full-moon banquet too.”

It just so happens to be the Pei family’s banquet?

She quickly looked in that direction — and sure enough, Pei Ruheng was standing nearby. Even a jade-green crown couldn’t contain the elegance of his features as he gazed toward her from across the way—

Is this fate?

Chen Baoxiang clasped her hands over her heart and silently cried out—

I can come out for a free meal and still run into the man of my destiny!

Zhang Zhixu was utterly speechless: Shouldn’t it be because you can’t read? The name placard outside clearly had the host’s name written on it.

She pretended not to hear him. Straightening her skirt, she hurried over to pay her respects: “What a coincidence — I came with family to attend the banquet. I never expected to run into all of you.”

“As it happens, there’s still an empty seat at our table,” Pei Rumei said warmly. “Sister, why not let your family know and come sit with us to play the drinking game?”

Chen Baoxiang was just about to agree when Pei Ruheng beside her said: “There are no extra seats. You miscounted.”

“Ah?” Pei Rumei glanced between the table and Chen Baoxiang, slightly flustered. “Then… if we add another stool, surely no one would mind.”

“I would mind.” Pei Ruheng’s expression was cold and indifferent. “Don’t go pulling just anyone over.”

“……”

Zhang Zhixu watched, and finally couldn’t resist asking: This is what you meant when you said he seems quite interested in you?

Chen Baoxiang didn’t find it the least bit awkward — on the contrary, she was utterly self-assured: Immortal, you don’t understand. Men always say the opposite of what they mean. The more he acts like this, the more it shows he has feelings for me—

There’s actually such a theory?—

Truly, just wait and see.

Chen Baoxiang pulled Pei Rumei along and sat down at the table, shamelessly declaring: “Sister Pei has been blessed with a precious son — surely you wouldn’t want to dampen the mood, Young Master? Come now, pour the wine.”

The other guests at the table weren’t sure who she was, and none of them spoke up. There was disgust in Pei Ruheng’s eyes, but given that it was his own elder sister’s occasion, he ultimately didn’t have her dragged away.

A Jade-Pillar Recorder brought up the drinking game tallies.

Chen Baoxiang glanced to the side and spotted the silver-gilded vessel with intertwining branch patterns, crane motifs engraved upon it in lifelike relief — it resembled a candle holder, and beneath it was a golden tortoise.

“What a fine piece,” she admired.

The Jade-Pillar Recorder was just about to compliment her discerning eye, when he heard her next words: “The symbolism is wonderful too — a golden tortoise, as in a golden tortoise son-in-law, no?”

A burst of laughter erupted around the table. Pei Ruheng finally turned his face in her direction—

Immortal, he looked at me!—

That looks more like a glare.

Zhang Zhixu had never been glared at with such an expression in this lifetime. The man’s face practically had the words written on it: How dare someone as illiterate and uncouth as you presume to sit at the table of Confucian scholars.

Chen Baoxiang didn’t understand any of it and was still laughing along with the others. Zhang Zhixu, however, couldn’t swallow the indignity, and drew out a drinking tally. With a glance, he read aloud: “Poor yet free of flattery, wealthy yet free of arrogance — the penalty falls to two players.”

“My apologies to everyone — I’ve drawn the penalty tally. I’m afraid I must ask Young Master Pei and the gentleman across from him who was laughing so heartily to drink together.”

The laughter at the table cut off abruptly.

Zhou Yannian, seated across the way, stared blankly, then looked Chen Baoxiang up and down: “Miss is familiar with these Analects drinking tallies?”

“Nothing remarkable about them.” Zhang Zhixu spoke through Chen Baoxiang’s lips. “I’ve played with these four or five years ago.”

“Four or five years ago?” Pei Ruheng’s voice turned cold. “This golden-tortoise jade-pillar drinking set was exclusively used within the palace four or five years ago.”

There was no way she could have been inside the palace.

Chen Baoxiang broke into a cold sweat. Zhang Zhixu, however, remained perfectly composed: “There are more tallies to draw after this one — if you won’t drink, Young Master, you may remove your outer robe and run two laps around the courtyard.”

The implication was clear — someone who truly knew these rules would know that option existed.

Pei Ruheng gave Chen Baoxiang a suspicious look, then clinked cups with Zhou Yannian and drank it all in one go.

After drinking, he drew another tally.

“Learning that falls short cannot afford to pause — drink seven parts yourself.” Zhang Zhixu read it aloud for him, clapping with a smile. “Young Master, what good fortune.”

Pei Ruheng furrowed his brow but could only drink most of another cup.

From that point on, Chen Baoxiang displayed an unprecedented streak of extraordinary luck, drawing tally after tally:

“A lady speaks seldom, but when she speaks, she hits the mark. This toast falls to the one I choose — I’ll have Young Master Pei drink this cup.”

“Riding fine horses, wearing light furs. When one is dressed in such fine attire — ten parts — this cup goes to Young Master Pei again.”

“If one has faults, others will surely know. Place the cup in the new position, five parts — Young Master Pei, it’s you again.”

Before many rounds had passed, Pei Ruheng’s eyes had already grown hazy with drink.

Chen Baoxiang stared wide-eyed as the very people who had harbored reservations about her not long ago now wore expressions of open admiration.

“Sister, you’re incredible!” Pei Rumei clutched her arm with excitement. “You called out the penalty rules faster than the official Recorder who presides over the drinking game.”

The Immortal had gone quiet — seemingly tired.

Chen Baoxiang quickly picked up the thread: “It’s nothing, really. I only have the advantage of familiarity.”

As she spoke, she leaned in toward Pei Ruheng and blinked at him: “Young Master, are you drunk?”

Pei Ruheng truly was drunk — and not only did he fail to push her away, he even glared at her with a touch of vexation.

His dark, jade-like eyes, drowning in intoxication, carried the faintest haze behind their reproach — the look made her heart tremble.

“Shall I help you go rest somewhere?” she asked softly.

Zhang Zhixu watched as Chen Baoxiang, heedless of the man’s struggling and protests, simply hauled him off toward the garden to get some fresh air. Pei Rumei followed at first, but at the garden gate, the young girl showed admirable tact: “I’ll rest my feet here.”

Chen Baoxiang flashed her a grin and helped Pei Ruheng inside.

Zhang Zhixu had a fleeting moment of thinking she was truly going to abduct a nobleman in broad daylight.

But once they found the pavilion and sat down, Chen Baoxiang only asked: “Are you alright?”

Pei Ruheng looked at her with a furrowed brow, clearly at a loss.

Chen Baoxiang let out a sigh, and said with some hesitation: “Yesterday at the Roasted Tail Banquet at Leyou Plain, I ran into your uncle Cheng Huaili. Knowing he’s always been good to you, I went over to offer him a toast.”

“But then an assassin broke in, and your uncle… I was afraid you would be upset, and afraid that if you heard it from someone else, you’d hold it against me.”

“Pei Lang, we are mutually devoted to one another — we absolutely cannot have this kind of misunderstanding.”