Chapter Thirty-Three: Boss, You’re Up to Something [Part Two]

Ever since arriving in this ancient era, I have been tormented by its surroundings, convinced I would simply rot away here. Yet when I reached the Southern Lanling Prefecture, its environment astonished me; I never imagined there could be a city in antiquity without the stench of urine—a city that was actually sanitary.

But now, I understand. I must have been mad to think there was sanitation in the ancient world!

What on earth is this? God, Jesus, Heaven, Buddha—anyone—please tell me what the hell is going on here?

Because I saved Yu Nizi, Wang Jingze was overjoyed. Last night, upon hearing that Yu Nizi’s entire escort had been wiped out, Qi Guli immediately dispatched two thousand troops to search for her whereabouts. Wang Jingze was heartbroken. Today, when Ming Tian safely escorted Yu Nizi back, Wang Jingze was beside himself with happiness and hosted a feast for Ming Tian and his companions, introducing them to several dignitaries.

But what kind of feast was this? What sort of joke was being played?

Why was the appetizer peeled raw ginger dipped in salt? Why ginger? What are these people’s taste buds made of? Is my physiology somehow different from everyone else’s?

The four dignitaries had not yet been introduced. The only familiar face, Wang Jingze, was elegantly shoving a chunk of ginger, roughly a third the size of his fist, into his mouth. Crunch, crunch. The ginger juice soaked his beard, and his expression suggested he was thoroughly enjoying himself.

Dear heavens! Could you not enjoy it so much? It’s ginger, not watermelon!

On my left, An Luo was devouring piles of ginger slices, stuffing so many into his mouth that his head shook with every chew.

An Luo, you too…

On my right, Yin Chan stared bewildered at the ginger in her bowl, tentatively tasting a small piece and struggling to swallow it.

“Do you want mine? Take it all.” Ming Tian, expressionless and calm, silently pushed his bowl toward Yin Chan.

“No, thank you.” Yin Chan forced herself not to gag, pushing the bowl back and offering her own in return.

“You don’t need to thank me.” Ming Tian pushed the bowl back again.

The entire spacious room was permeated with the sharp aroma of ginger.

“Brother Guli, this ginger has such robust flavor—it truly is a rare culinary delight!” Wang Jingze exclaimed, raising a toast to an elderly man beside him, who appeared to be at least sixty, his brows and hair white.

“If you like it, Jingze, that's all that matters,” replied Qi Guli, adding a piece of ginger to his wine and toasting Wang Jingze in return.

Are you people even human? Have I truly crossed into the ancient past, not some strange alien world? Robust flavor? Ginger? If this is a delicacy for you, please, have someone cut out my tongue right now. I beg you.

“Hey? Brother Ming Tian, why aren’t you eating?” Wang Jingze noticed Ming Tian's untouched ginger and, curious, approached, “Is the ginger not to your liking?”

Brother, why meddle at a time like this? How am I supposed to save face?

“No, no, it's perfectly to my liking.” Knowing the rules of the table, Ming Tian hurriedly picked up a piece of ginger, shut his eyes, stuffed it into his mouth, and nodded furiously, “Delicious, delicious!”

Ahhh! It burns! My mouth, my tongue—somebody check, I think my whole jaw is falling apart! Just kill me now, anyone, please!

With a cup of wine nearby and a mouthful of ginger threatening to destroy his mind, Ming Tian desperately gulped it down.

Yin Chan tried to stop him, but it was too late.

Many modern people say: it was better in the old days—the food had no additives, it was healthy, green, and environmentally friendly.

But at this moment, Ming Tian wanted to shout: To hell with your health, your green, your environmentalism!

Modern products may be unhealthy, but at least manufacturers put effort into improving flavor. Don’t think your homebrew tastes good just because you made it yourself—the ingredients have been cultivated for centuries, with countless additives! Do you even know what bad rice and inferior tools make in wine? It’s spicy! It tastes like alcohol mixed with sour rice water!

A pungent, fiery flavor, lacking the sweetness of rice wine.

As soon as it entered his mouth, with the ginger’s intensity, Ming Tian felt as if sulfuric acid poured down his throat, burning all the way to his rear, then shooting back up like a fiery blaze, exploding through his skull!

“Cough…” The burn was severe; Ming Tian strained to hold back, covering his mouth as the wine sprayed from his nose and eyes.

This instantly froze the lively atmosphere at the table.

All eyes were on Ming Tian.

Now he'd truly embarrassed himself! After years of navigating social gatherings, he never expected to be defeated by a piece of ginger.

Looking at the four dignitaries and the stunned expression of An Luo beside him, Ming Tian felt his dignity vanish.

But the next moment, the crowd erupted in hearty laughter, so intense it made his scalp tingle.

“Hahaha, Brother Ming Tian, you’re truly giving us face!” Wang Jingze, laughing so hard his belly ached, managed to give Ming Tian a thumbs-up.

Even the others, including the elderly Qi Guli, stroked their beards and nodded at Ming Tian in approval as they laughed.

What was happening? Why were they laughing? Was it mockery, or something else? Why the thumbs-up? Are we really of the same people?

“This young brother Ming Tian obviously can’t drink, yet he still braves it for the sake of etiquette. He’s a man of principle,” remarked a sharp-eyed, strong-browed middle-aged man whose robe was embroidered with the name Pan Yang. He must be Chen Xianda, Duke of Pan Yang.

That must mean the silent, pallid, rather gloomy man was Xiao Yaoguang, the Prefect of Yangzhou.

Ming Tian realized: they thought he couldn’t drink, but was forcing himself for their sake.

What kind of logic was that? Honestly, the thought processes of ancient people are very different from ours.

Seizing the opportunity, Ming Tian spat out the ginger, “I truly can't drink, but seeing esteemed gentlemen so capable, I wanted to try—and ended up making a fool of myself. Please forgive me.”

“You're too modest, young brother Ming Tian.” Wang Jingze cheerfully took Ming Tian’s ginger bowl and wine cup, called for a servant, and nodded approvingly at Ming Tian, “So young, yet so sensible—and such a handsome fellow. Now I understand why Xin Zhu favors you.”

Xin Zhu—so Wang Jingze calls the Lady of Jiangmen Xin Zhu, and her father is the emperor’s sixth uncle, meaning her surname is Xiao. So her full name must be Xiao Xin Zhu.

Ming Tian was quietly delighted, finally learning the full name of the one he admired.

Soon, a maid came to wipe the table and brought a bowl of plums preserved in malt sugar.

At last, sunshine for Ming Tian’s wounded soul.

Ah, finally something normal to eat… Thank heaven, you haven’t lost all sight.

“By the way, Brother Ming Tian, is it?” Chen Xianda spoke up, “I hear you’re the groom chosen by Xin Zhu?”

Ming Tian nodded, “Yes, I’m heading to the capital to meet the Lady and receive imperial approval.”

At this, Chen Xianda’s smiles faded, replaced by an impenetrable gloom.

Upon hearing this, even Wang Jingze and Qi Guli set their cups aside, as if pondering something grave.

The atmosphere chilled instantly, with only the perpetually grim-faced Xiao Yaoguang continuing to eat and drink in silence.

“Hey, is the main course not here yet?” After three cups, Xiao Yaoguang grew impatient, showing no regard for the others, slamming his chopsticks down, “Why is it so slow? Qi Guli, is this how you host a guest?”

At his words, the joy drained from the other three faces; they bowed their heads in silence.

Ming Tian sensed something was amiss.

Yin Chan had told him that the Prefect of Yangzhou was a first-rank official in the Southern Qi dynasty; everyone present was first-rank. In theory, Xiao Yaoguang should rank lowest among the four.

But now, it was clear the other three were beholden to him somehow, allowing Xiao Yaoguang to assert dominance and disregard them.

Why did their faces fall when they heard I was the groom? What connection did they have with Xiao Yaoguang?

After eating two plums and regaining his sense of taste, Ming Tian silently observed the unfolding situation.

Then Wang Jingze, apparently unable to hold back any longer, slammed his palm on the table, sending all the wine cups tumbling.

“Hmph! Xiao Yaoguang, we’ve shown you enough respect these past days. If you refuse to be courteous, and now act so brazenly in front of the younger generation, do you take me, the Grand Marshal of Wu Xing, for nothing?!”

…