No one knew how long had passed before Mao Zhongcai, still breathing heavily, picked up another jug of wine, tilted his head back, and began gulping it down.

By the time Feng Jiu’er and the others reached the upper floor, they heard a “clang” — the sound of a wine jug striking the table.

“Mao Linye, what do you mean by this?” Mao Zhongcai’s roaring voice carried out.

In the corridor, the Madam raised her hand, signaling the people behind her to stop.

Qiao Mu stopped walking; Feng Jiu’er and Gong Xinyue stopped as well.

“Second Brother, what do you mean by that?” came Mao Linye’s voice next, calm and unruffled.

Inside the room, Mao Zhongcai stared at Mao Linye, his face full of fury. “I knew it — I never should have come here!”

“Weren’t you also forced to flee for your life?” Mao Linye said, lightly holding his wine cup, glancing sideways at Mao Zhongcai.

Mao Zhongcai drew a sharp breath, his eyes burning with thick fury.

“No matter what, Plains City was our father’s life’s work. Now more than half of it belongs to others, and you can’t just sit back and do nothing!”

Mao Linye’s lips curved slightly, neither pleased nor angered.

“That was your father. Not mine.”

Mao Zhongcai looked at his profile, his eyes flickering, growing more serious. “You’re the eldest son — how can you say something like that?”

“Oh, is that so?” Mao Linye met his gaze. “Are you certain the eldest son of the Mao family is me, and not you?”

“You’re more than a year older than me — isn’t that a plain fact?” Mao Zhongcai coughed lightly, withdrew his gaze, and picked up the wine jug.

This time, rather than drinking straight from the jug as before, he picked up a cup and poured the wine into it instead.

“I am older than you, yes, but unfortunately my mother didn’t have your mother’s methods, did she?” Mao Linye took a light sip of wine.

“Don’t forget how your mother stole away my father, who is now dead, back then — how your now-dead mother drove my own birth mother to her death.”

“Don’t forget what state this town was in when you all had me exiled here.”

There was a loud “bang” — the sound of the cup striking the table, even louder than before — yet Mao Linye’s face still bore a faint smile.

Mao Zhongcai trembled, the flesh on his body shuddering.

He didn’t want to deny it — right now, he truly did want to kill someone.

He never imagined that he, who had lived in glory and comfort for half his life, would end up like a tiger stripped of its mountain, bullied by mere dogs.

But no matter how much resentment welled up inside him, Mao Zhongcai still held it back.

Then again, with a body shaped like a pig, and having risen only by relying on his father — was he really a tiger to begin with?

Mao Zhongcai coughed lightly, his tone noticeably weaker than before.

“Back then, if father hadn’t deliberately groomed you and sent you to this godforsaken backwater, would you have achieved what you have today?”

“Everything you have now was granted to you by our father and my mother. Don’t you forget that debt of gratitude!”

“Heh.” Mao Linye gave a dry laugh. “So, I should be thanking you both?”

Mao Zhongcai’s scalp prickled again under Mao Linye’s gaze, and without meaning to, he set aside more and more of his pride.

He stood and personally poured wine for Mao Linye.

“Elder Brother, whatever happened in the past — right or wrong — wasn’t your fault or mine. We were both victims. Don’t hold onto it.”

“That girl earlier — if you like her, then I’ll give her to you. I truly do like her a great deal, but I can wait. I’ll wait until you’re done playing with her, then you can pass her to me.”

“You, Second Brother, don’t even mind wearing my castoffs — so what do you have left to be angry about?”

“Come, drink this cup. Let’s put the past behind us.”

Mao Zhongcai sat back down and poured himself a drink as well.

“Right now I still command over sixty thousand troops — more than what you have.”

“I know you’ve done quite well for yourself these past years too — with both men and wealth. If we brothers join forces, we can surely drive the outsiders away.”

“Come, Elder Brother.” Mao Zhongcai raised his cup.

Feng Jiu’er’s hearing was better than most people’s, and of course she could hear their conversation clearly.

Just as she’d suspected, these two brothers truly did not get along.

It was better this way — if they’d been on good terms, that wouldn’t have boded well for their side at all.

Inside, Mao Zhongcai’s laughter rang out; there was no telling whether Mao Linye had actually drunk the wine or not.

Seeing the situation seemingly ease, the Madam waved her hand again.

“Let’s go.”

The Madam walked on, and the three of them followed, stepping forward as well.

Feng Jiu’er shot a glance at the flamboyant woman walking ahead and helplessly withdrew her gaze.

Going in now, there probably wasn’t much worth listening to anymore.

Besides, she really didn’t want to face the man inside — was that so wrong?

Whether Feng Jiu’er wanted it or not, what was bound to come would come regardless.

Besides — how could one catch the tiger cub without entering the tiger’s den?

“Go announce that I’ve arrived,” the Madam said, arriving at the entrance of the private room, waving the silk scarf in her hand.

“Come in,” Mao Linye’s voice carried out from inside.

“Right away, boss.” The Madam shot a glance at the still-startled guard and turned to look back at the people behind her.

She merely gave Qiao Mu a faint smile before turning and walking forward with alluring steps.

“Little sister, come in with me and serve. You two, just stand guard inside — and don’t forget your place!”

Before stepping through the door, the Madam still didn’t forget to add that warning.

Feng Jiu’er, Qiao Mu, and Gong Xinyue said nothing, but there was a tacit understanding between them.

Either way, they wouldn’t let Feng Jiu’er face the men inside alone. Going in with her offered far more opportunities than waiting outside.

“Boss, City Lord, I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.” The Madam arrived between the two men and immediately knelt down, pouring them wine.

“Little sister, clean up what’s on the floor and then come serve.”

“Yes, yes.” Feng Jiu’er meekly replied, and knelt down at once, picking up the broken shards of the wine jug piece by piece.

Mao Zhongcai truly was a dog that couldn’t stop eating filth, even when given the chance to change.

Just moments ago he’d been furious enough to want to kill someone, and had just promised he could wear his brother’s castoffs — yet the moment he saw Feng Jiu’er again, his eyes nearly bulged out of his head.

Mao Zhongcai watched her small frame approach him and reached out at once, grabbing hold of Feng Jiu’er’s soft, tender little arm.

Feng Jiu’er abruptly froze mid-motion, her body shrinking back, stammering, “M—my lord, I… I need to clean up. Please… let go, could you?”

Feng Jiu’er finally managed to squeeze out a complete sentence, and when she looked up, her large, bright eyes were veiled with a thin film of tears.

The tears swirled in her eyes, stirring pity in anyone who saw them.

Feng Jiu’er was, of course, doing this on purpose. She didn’t mind at all if Mao Zhongcai refused to let go — she wouldn’t mind in the least if these two brothers kept fighting over her.

She would never admit to being scheming — only women who toyed with men’s feelings were scheming, and did these two men even have any real feelings? They were nothing but two beasts thinking with the lower half of their bodies!

It had to be said — Feng Jiu’er’s “scheme” was proving remarkably easy to carry out.

A beautiful, captivating face paired with a pitiable, delicate expression was not something ordinary men could resist.

At the very least, Mao Zhongcai certainly couldn’t!

—