Chapter Twenty-One: In the Midst of Fierce Confrontation

“Calm down? How am I supposed to calm down? All the crystals at home have been stolen! How could I possibly stay calm now?” Feng Jingzhe’s booming voice rang out, instantly drawing the attention of everyone present. If not for Sun Fatty using the full weight of his body to hold him back, Feng might have already thrown himself into a brawl.

“Third Brother, Sister-in-law really has nothing to do with the Fourth Prince. She went to Longxi six years ago, and she was just a thirteen-year-old child then…”

Sun Fatty regretted his words the moment they left his mouth. He cursed his own loose tongue and wished he could slap himself right there.

“When Xuan Yue left Chang’an, she was only thirteen—am I not aware of that? And in your eyes, am I really such a petty man?” Feng Jingzhe’s anger eased a little, but at this moment, everyone around seemed to think exactly that.

“What? Why are you all looking at me like that? What do you know about any of this? Not long ago, I was tied up with stones and thrown into the Bian River. I nearly drowned, and barely managed to claw my way back to life. The very next day, I was falsely accused and dragged to the magistrate’s office by that fake Lady Wang. Now, at last, I know who was behind it all…”

His words sent a stir through the crowd. No one had heard about Feng Jingzhe being thrown into the river before, and now countless eyes turned in unison to the Fourth Prince, who calmly raised his cup and sipped his wine.

Nearly everyone was secretly wondering if the Fourth Prince, provoked by the imperial betrothal, had indeed tried to kill Feng ahead of time. Considering the rumors that the Fourth Prince had even dared to defy the Emperor over the marriage, framing someone for murder seemed hardly out of character.

As for Feng Jingzhe, his ruckus was deliberate—a preemptive strike, so that if anything happened to him in the future, everyone would immediately suspect the prince. Whether or not the Fourth Prince had anything to do with his past poisoning and near-drowning, from now on, even if he tripped over a mosquito’s leg, the Emperor would likely hold the prince accountable.

Better yet, to clear his own name, the illustrious Fourth Prince might even assign someone to protect him.

What caught Feng Jingzhe by surprise, though, was that when he mentioned being tossed into the river, a fleeting look of astonishment flashed across the prince’s face at the neighboring table. It meant nothing concrete, but it did make Feng’s suspicions waver a bit.

“Third Brother, you mean the one who threw you into the river was…” Sun Fatty realized his blunder and quickly clamped his hands over his mouth, his eyes darting nervously toward the prince.

His heart thudded wildly. When he’d first made his choice, he hadn’t guessed the water ran so deep in these affairs. But was it too late to distance himself now? All of Chang’an knew the young master of ‘Food is Heaven’ and Feng Jingzhe were as close as brothers.

“Third Brother, whatever happens, you have my full support. But royalty is royalty—let’s not act rashly!” Sun Fatty had decided to go all in, to stay loyal no matter what. This show of brotherhood moved Feng Jingzhe, who, not one to waste an opportunity, decided to add another layer to his own disguise.

A man so intent on marrying into wealth that he’d dare compete with a prince over a woman—such a persona would surely make the high and mighty let their guard down.

“Hmph, he’s just a prince, not the crown prince. My wife could take on ten thousand of him and win—what’s there to be afraid of?” Feng Jingzhe’s reckless words startled everyone, and all at once, the crowd found reasons to avert their eyes. The lively murmur of conversation resumed—those pretending to chat did so with renewed enthusiasm, those joking grew even more boisterous.

The brief disturbance in the hall went unnoticed by the courtesans upstairs, whose attention was fixed solely on their appearances. For Su Hongluan, her earlier dilemma about whether or not to serve the dishes vanished the moment the Fourth Prince took his seat.

Gu Beichuan was right below. The courtesan contest hadn’t even started, and she was already ninety percent certain of victory. Others would display their singing and dancing, hoping to earn coins and votes from wealthy patrons. But the renowned scholar Gu Beichuan only needed to compose a poem for her, and by morning, Tang Hongdou’s name would echo throughout Chang’an.

Compared to winning the title with money, this was infinitely more refined. Invitations from nobles and merchants would flow in endlessly.

“Brother Lingyou, I truly apologize. If not for me, you wouldn’t have had to endure today’s baseless accusations…” Gu Beichuan lifted his cup and drank as a self-imposed penalty.

“It’s nothing, Brother Beichuan, don’t trouble yourself. Spring brings fine rain—one or two annoying bugs on the road are inevitable. It’s only a shame that this bug is making a fuss on my account, disturbing your good mood.”

“Hahaha! Enough, enough, let’s not get caught up in courtesy—come, let’s drink!”

Gu Beichuan was nothing if not a free spirit. He raised his cup in a toast, and Fan Zihui, seated beside him, stood up quickly, flustered and sweating ever since he’d arrived.

Who could blame him? Sitting across from him was none other than the Fourth Prince himself—one of the most powerful men in the land. His own sister was merely the secondary wife of the Minister of War, a connection that, in comparison, hardly counted for anything. If he could have found the nerve to slip away to the latrine, Fan Zihui would have done so in a heartbeat. Competing for the same woman as the prince was like lighting a lantern in the privy—nothing good could come of it.

While Fan Zihui sat awkwardly, Young Master Feng felt a wave of nausea, as if he’d swallowed a fly. For at that moment, Zheng Yongxiang, eldest son of the Zheng family, approached with a broad smile, accompanied by a man who could only be trouble.

“Aha! I knew you’d be here tonight, Brother Feng. Looks like Miss Zixuan is certain to win the title of Courtesan Queen.”

Zheng Yongxiang helped himself to a seat and surreptitiously glanced at the neighboring table, his grin growing ever wider.

“So it’s Brother Zheng! What a coincidence. If I’d known you were on the guest list, I wouldn’t have come to join the fun.”

“Brother Feng, you’re too modest. All of Chang’an knows you’re running a business that can’t lose. When it comes to wealth, I can only bow my head.”

Zheng Yongxiang emphasized ‘can’t lose’ deliberately. As expected, Zhao Lingyou at the next table slammed his cup down, and a shadow hidden in the corner of the hall quickly slipped outside. Less than fifteen minutes later, the man returned to his seat, his behavior indistinguishable from any other guest.

At the same time, the music in the hall changed its rhythm. A woman with heavy makeup, a large red peony atop her head, swayed her hips onto the stage.

Her appearance signaled the official opening of Chang’an’s once-in-three-years Courtesan Queen Competition.