Qu Yunmie returned to the tent with the letter in hand. He first removed several of the heaviest pieces of armor from his body, then sat down on the mat with a loud clunk and began huffing and puffing as he wrote a letter to Xiao Rong.

Three days later, the letter reached Xiao Rong. As he looked at the entire page filled with Qu Yunmie’s version of “You need to eat well,” he narrowed his eyes slightly.

Without any hesitation, Xiao Rong went straight to the residence of the Buddha’s Son and opened with a direct question. “Did you betray me?”

The Buddha’s Son glanced at the letter in his hand, remained silent for a moment, and then said, “Strictly speaking, I didn’t betray you. I was merely carrying out the King’s orders.”

Xiao Rong gritted his teeth but, in the end, only gave a cold snort and said, “Double agent.”

Then he turned and left. Mijing looked at his departing figure for a long time before replying with a jab of his own. “Birds of a feather.”

 

…

 

From that day on, Xiao Rong’s appetite seemed to increase a little. Though he still didn’t eat much at each meal, he had at least resumed eating three times a day. Seeing this, the others at the palace weren’t as worried anymore.

Xiao Rong thought they were overreacting, but that was because he still didn’t fully understand this era. In this time period, appetite revealed a lot.

When medicine was underdeveloped, people often fell ill without warning and sometimes even died without ever showing symptoms. To judge whether someone’s health was deteriorating, people first looked at their complexion, then at their appetite.

Many people became increasingly frail after a sudden drop in appetite and eventually died.

Xiao Rong himself had always been physically weak, so it was no wonder everyone was particularly concerned.

Now things were better. People were still worried, but no longer overly so.

 

＊

 

The days passed one by one, and in the blink of an eye, it was the Mid-Autumn Festival. At that time, it was not yet called Mid-Autumn but rather “Zhongqiu.” No matter what it was called, being the day with the biggest and brightest moon of the year, it had always been one of the Central Plains people’s favorite festivals.

Now that the Mid-Autumn Festival had arrived, even amidst a chaotic world, Xiao Rong wanted to relax. He gave a holiday to most people in the palace and local government. For those who weren’t given time off, he distributed some money and fruits, trying to make everyone happy on this festive day.

Zhang Biezhi invited Xiao Rong to go play on Baibao Street with him and his sister. Xiao Rong felt it wouldn’t be appropriate to go alone, so he brought along the two palace children, Xiao Yi and Danran. Song Shuo insisted on tagging along, and Difa Ceng brought a team of guards to ensure their safety.

Until that day, Xiao Rong had only heard of Miss Zhang by name and had never seen her in person. Finally, he saw what she looked like—a beautiful woman with delicate features. Since she has never suffered much hardship, she appeared especially gentle and serene. The two children were fine, but both Xiao Rong and Song Shuo instinctively stood up straight and saluted her together.

“Greetings, Lady Jian.”

It was also the first time Miss Zhang (by marriage she is Lady Jian) had met the two. She smiled softly and curtsied slightly. “I greet Mr. Xiao and Mr. Song.”

Knowing her presence made them uneasy, she walked a few steps ahead and smiled at Danran. Danran immediately approached her with familiarity and introduced herself.

Behind her, Xiao Rong paused for a moment before suddenly saying, “Jian Qiao is a lucky man.”

Song Shuo awkwardly shifted his legs and muttered, “What’s so great about that? I’ll marry someone even gentler and more generous in the future.”

Zhang Biezhi, who had been checking their belongings, suddenly let out a loud, sarcastic snort. He deliberately walked over to Song Shuo and sized him up from head to toe, with particular attention to the top of his head.

Then he curled his lip mockingly and let out another sarcastic snort.

Song Shuo: “…”

Xiao Rong looked at him and kindly said, “Maybe you didn’t understand what he meant. I can explain it to you. The first snort meant ‘You’re a toad trying to eat swan meat.’ The second meant, ‘Wow, there are toads this short?’”

Song Shuo: “…”

They were all bad people!!

 

…

 

Recently, a few more entertainment venues had opened on Baibao Street, offering singing and dancing. As long as they didn’t offer “that” kind of service, Xiao Rong didn’t interfere. If the singing and dancing were good, he was happy to spend money there.

However, since he had children with him today, and was unsure whether any adult content was involved, they didn’t go in.

They first browsed several shops. Taking advantage of discounts, they bought things they liked. Xiao Rong bought Xiao Yi a set of calligraphy tools, and for Danran, a set of Central Plains clothing. Danran had always worn Butewu-style clothing, but Agusheja never let her wear Central Plains outfits—not out of principle, but simply because they didn’t know how to make them. The Northern Army and the Butewu people had only become wealthy this year, and before that, they wouldn’t have spent so much on clothes.

They bought large bags of goods and had the guards send them back to the palace. Then the group went to a restaurant.

The notice board was updated every few days, posting life tips, recipes, and common knowledge. Restaurant owners would get up early on update days and rush to copy down new recipes to share with their cooks.

Each restaurant’s version of a dish would differ, and to beat the competition, they’d all make special improvements. Some changes were trivial, but others created new dishes with excellent taste.

Today, Xiao Rong was the patron generously ordering every dish on the menu. This was the biggest restaurant on Baibao Street and currently the most popular place in Chenliu City. Coincidentally, it was owned by one of the powerful aristocratic families.

The manager had seen Xiao Rong before and quickly offered him a free meal. After all, Xiao Rong was their benefactor. He didn’t even need to ask the owner—he had the authority to make that decision himself. Even if he had asked, the result would’ve been the same. Without Xiao Rong pushing them to open the shop, they wouldn’t have made so much money.

The manager knew that Young Master Xiao was a gentleman and wouldn’t take advantage of them, so he had prepared to insist multiple times, but Xiao Rong’s eyes lit up.

“Free? Great. Does that include drinks? If so, bring each of us a pot of osmanthus wine.”

Manager: “…”

He stared blankly at Xiao Rong, who had already turned to sip his tea. Zhang Biezhi was grinning but became annoyed seeing the manager still standing there. “What, you regret it?”

The manager snapped out of it and shook his head rapidly. “No, no.”

Zhang Biezhi said, “Then why aren’t you serving the food? If we miss the show, don’t even think about entering the Best Business of the Year competition!”

Manager: “…”

The manager stumbled away dazed, while the waiters quickly brought out dishes and wine. Behind the counter, the manager took mental notes.

Their place was fine. Even with a free meal, it didn’t cost much, but the owner was about to open a rare goods shop with the Qiuci caravan, and everything there was extremely valuable. Next time he saw the family head, he had to remind him—never be too polite with people from the Northern Army! Otherwise, they’d suffer big losses!

 

…

 

The restaurant sold wine by the pot, each pot only holding about two taels. One pot per person was just over a pound. Xiao Rong took one sip just to taste it. Danran did the same. Xiao Yi drank one cup—at his age, no one restricted him, but Xiao Rong, citing health reasons, told him not to drink too much. Xiao Yi always listened to him, so he only drank a little.

The rest was divided among Zhang Biezhi and the others.

What surprised Xiao Rong was that Miss Zhang drank one cup after another without showing any sign of intoxication. She even commented to her brother on the wine, concluding that it wasn’t home-brewed but bought from a nearby village. She could smell a faint earthiness mixed in with the osmanthus aroma, which gave it a unique flavor.

Xiao Rong: “…”

Everyone’s alcohol tolerance was better than his.

Once they had eaten and drunk their fill, the group headed to their next stop: the theater.

That day marked the premiere of a new act. The theater was extremely busy. Previously they performed twice a day, but now it was four times. Two new plays and two old ones.

The theater manager was actively recruiting new performers. Some had experience in singing or dancing, others knew nothing, but that was okay. They followed the traditional theater guild model, letting veteran performers take apprentices. Talented ones got minor roles right away, less talented ones started with chores.

Xiao Rong asked if Nanyong wanted to collaborate. It wasn’t just about giving them something to do—he was only one man, and the scripts weren’t written just for the people of Chenliu.

Rumor had it that imitators outside the city were already copying their performances and using his script “Return the Corpse.” There was no concept of copyright yet. If someone could replicate a tune or story, no one thought it was a problem.

Xiao Rong was actually happy to see his play spread all over the country—it saved him the trouble.

The release of the third act’s performance was just before the Northern Army was set to depart. Xiao Rong had specifically arranged this act to stir morale and strengthen everyone’s resolve before the campaign.

The sixth act—set to be released during the Mid-Autumn Festival—was the warmest yet. The family temporarily settled, the brothers built a straw hut where only their little sister slept the first night. Still, they were happy. The eldest brother even met a local girl, and they got married. Nothing bad happened from beginning to end, and smiles never left the audience’s faces.

Xiao Rong watched the performance with the others, thoroughly enjoying it. Reading the script had been one thing—watching the actors brought a completely different feeling.

When the act ended, Xiao Rong left with the others. As he passed a table, he exclaimed in surprise, “Yaozu?”

Zhao Xingzong: “…”

He had been enjoying himself, but now his mood instantly soured.

He no longer corrected others on how to address him. He just stood up with a bitter expression and said, “Mr. Xiao, Mr. Song.”

 

Edited by: Antiope

 

Support translation: