Chapter Seventy-One: Maid Zhaoyu (Part Two)

Mingtian saw that the woman named Zhaoyu trembled slightly, as if struck by some blow; her body was weak, yet her hand gripping the knife tightened noticeably. After a moment, observing her reaction, Mingtian was certain.

“You are Master Zhaoke’s…?”

“You really do know my father.” Zhaoyu raised her head, a sliver of vigilance shining in her moon-bright eyes. “This jade Buddha was crafted by my mother for my father. It could never have been given away. Lord Marquis, what has happened to my father?”

Mingtian felt all eyes fixed upon him. Looking at Zhaoyu, her eyes were already blurred with tears. She must have guessed what had happened.

Mingtian had always respected Zhaoke deeply; guilt and regret haunted him over Zhaoke’s death. Without another word, he untied the red corded jade Buddha, and together with the delicious gold medal and Zhaoke’s memorial tablet from his pouch, he handed them all to Zhaoyu.

Facing her father’s memorial tablet, Zhaoyu’s face turned deathly pale.

“Lord Marquis… my father…” Zhaoyu’s voice trembled so much she could barely hold her knife, which fell to the ground with a clang.

“Your father… Uncle Zhaoke…”

Mingtian pursed his lips, searching for the right words, pausing briefly.

“Uncle Zhaoke was the greatest chef I’ve ever met. He was a hero.”

Mingtian briefly explained to Zhaoyu the story between himself and Zhaoke. The jade Buddha and the gold medal belonged to Zhaoke. Now that he was gone, it was only right to give them to Zhaoyu.

Zhaoke, pitifully, was only a cook; his burial was arranged by the eunuchs, not by Mingtian, who only held his memorial tablet.

“Father… father…”

Upon hearing Mingtian’s words, Zhaoyu’s strength crumbled. With a thud, she could no longer suppress her grief and knelt, clutching the tablet tightly to her chest and weeping in agony.

Her cries tore through the silence, heart-wrenching. The gold medal in her hand creaked under her grip, as if declaring the tragic life of this great chef, and echoing the cruelty of the era.

“Zhaoyu…” Xiao Xinzhu stepped forward, gently patting her shoulder. “Be strong.”

“Sister Xiao…” Zhaoyu threw herself into Xiao Xinzhu’s arms, her voice hoarse with sorrow.

Xiao Xinzhu’s clothes were quickly soaked with tears.

Only Zhaoyu’s sobs remained. Everyone seemed to be mourning, the silence unbroken.

The next day, at dawn, on the city road’s carriage.

The group that looked like bandits turned out to be Zhaoyu’s people. After revealing their true identity, they traveled with Mingtian—five carriages in total, twenty-two people including Mingtian and his companions.

Mingtian sat in the carriage, feeling much better after taking the motion sickness medicine prepared by Yin Chan. He didn’t vomit, but after a sleepless night, his eyes were rimmed with dark circles, nearly squinting like two equal signs.

Across from him, Yin Chan and An Luo leaned against opposite sides of the carriage, sleeping.

On Mingtian’s side…

What kind of routine is this?!

What is going on here? Lace? Wonderful. If the emperor steals my woman, I could accept it—after all, he’s a man, which only proves my future bride’s charm. But now, women are stealing my woman? What is happening?!

Beside him, Zhaoyu lay curled up on Xiao Xinzhu’s lap, like a child, sucking her thumb, her eyes red from crying, murmuring “Father” even as she slept.

And Xiao Xinzhu—my future wife—was gently stroking Zhaoyu’s small head, as tenderly as she stroked Mingtian.

What is with this strong lily vibe? Why do I smell an overwhelming squid aroma? Wife, could you not smile so beautifully? I am your husband! Your smile should be mine to protect!

Lily romance—Mingtian liked it, after all, before crossing over, his favorite coming-of-age dramas were about lily relationships. But now, watching his own wife pamper Zhaoke’s daughter Zhaoyu, completely ignoring him!

Though he knew the bond between them was likely pure sisterhood, Mingtian couldn’t help but feel he’d swallowed two vats of vinegar.

Isn’t the normal routine supposed to go like this?

Zhaoyu, exhausted from crying, seeks comfort, then leans on the shoulder of the benefactor who avenged her father—me. Then, the noble lady, tired as well, leans on my other shoulder!

Thus, I collect both beauties, starting my ancient harem journey, gathering the world’s beauties! Three hundred sixty-five days a year, never repeating a night of favor!

This should be the proper way to open a transmigration story, right?

A transmigrator should die of kidney failure, shouldn’t he?

But now? My wife ignores me for Zhaoyu?

I heard my wife used to be a maid, right? The kind who served her?

And you, Zhaoyu—why seek comfort from my wife? I am your benefactor, am I not? My arms are wide open, why not enter them?

“Xin… Xinzhu.” Unable to bear it, Mingtian tried to strike up a conversation…

“Shh.” Xiao Xinzhu didn’t even glance at him. “Little Yu just fell asleep. Don’t wake her. Besides, Lord Marquis, I’m tired too.”

Tired? Great!

Mingtian offered his shoulder: “Come, lean on me…”

With a thump, Xiao Xinzhu rested her head against the carriage wall, falling asleep before Mingtian could finish.

In the lonely carriage, only Mingtian remained, arm still raised to his shoulder.

I understand now…

I am destined to be alone forever!

The carriage rocked, traveling westward.

Their destination was the city closest to Jiankang: Yangzhou, the old nest of Yangzhou Prefect Xiao Yaoguang.

But Xiao Yaoguang was in Jiankang now; going to Yangzhou mattered little.

It was said that after the noble lady was chosen as the crown prince’s bride, Zhaoyu gathered these dozen people, originally planning to assassinate the emperor, only for the noble lady to be rescued first.

But how could this little maid summon a dozen robust warriors to risk their lives for her?

Watching Zhaoyu sleep, even if she was Master Zhaoke’s daughter, Mingtian couldn’t help but remain alert.

Last night, Zhaoyu said Yangzhou was Xiao Yaoguang’s territory, and Xiao Yaoguang was Emperor Qi Ming’s confidant; everyone in Qi knew who the next emperor would be.

So, resistance groups appeared among the people to oppose Xiao Baojuan.

Zhaoyu was one of Yangzhou’s resistance members.

But Mingtian, jealous though he was, wasn’t so foolish as to believe this.

It was a lie!

Mingtian didn’t know history well, but Yin Chan had told him: Qi’s rebellion happened after Dong Hunhou ascended, instigated by Huangmen Shilang Pei Shuye, who died of illness and was succeeded by his son Pei Zhi.

Later, Champion General Cui Huijing would revolt in Shouyang.

All messy history, political matters, with little to do with commoners.

So Zhaoyu was lying.

However, Mingtian didn’t think she meant harm to the noble lady, or she wouldn’t bring so few people and risk storming the palace.

Reasonably, Zhaoyu wanted to protect the noble lady by other means, which is why Mingtian agreed to travel with them.

He hoped nothing more would go awry.

Mingtian waited expectantly.

Wait—did I just set another flag?

By the way, Yangzhou was famous for its cuisine, with ten renowned delicacies; I wonder how many have been invented by now.

Mingtian couldn’t help but swallow.

Wait—

Thinking about food, Mingtian suddenly realized something very bad.

I haven’t had a proper bowel movement since entering the palace!

…

Warning: This is not a drill. The next chapter is nuclear, and the fallout is ongoing! Please prepare tissues and insurance!