"Are you telling me to give my name just because you asked?" Chu Ying sneered. "Who do you think you are?"
"Well said! Hey, Geng, who *do* you think you are?" Xu Feilong repeated, a flicker of genuine appreciation for Chu Ying rising in his heart.
"Hmph! I suspect you’re just too gutless to give it!"
Geng Mingzhong, trembling with rage, forced a laugh. He looked at Chu Ying’s seat and scoffed, "Almost forgot—anyone capable of sitting in that spot couldn't possibly be anyone of consequence. No wonder you’re too cowardly to state your name."
He took a step forward, leaned in close to Chu Ying, and whispered a threat: "Listen, kid, this is between me and Xu Feilong. You have no business interfering. Be smart and don't overreach, or the consequences will be... Ouch!"
Suddenly, he jerked backward, let out a cry of pain, and stumbled away while clutching his nose.
Once he regained his balance, he glared at Chu Ying with gritted teeth, his eyes burning with fury. "How dare you! You actually hit me!"
With a loud clatter, a group of men behind him surged to their feet.
"You’ve got some nerve, kid! You’re courting death, striking Brother Mingzhong like that!"
"Stay calm, Brother Mingzhong. As your friends, we will naturally see that justice is served."
Seeing the group closing in, Xu Feilong hurriedly stepped in front of Chu Ying, his voice wavering slightly: "You... you lot better not try anything stupid..."
"Relax, Brother Fat Dragon. They wouldn't dare."
Just then, a hand patted his sturdy shoulder. Chu Ying stepped past him, showing not a hint of fear; in fact, a playful smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
"Ha! What did he say? He thinks we don't dare lay a finger on him?"
"Kid, do you know we own the streets of the Capital? You think we’d be afraid of a nobody like you?"
"Stop wasting breath. Let's just beat him into a pulp."
The crowd stared at him as if he were a complete idiot. As young nobles, once they banded together, there were very few people their age in the Capital they couldn't bully.
"Wow, how terrifying. I’m so scared. Since I can’t afford to offend you, I’ll just stand right here and let you hit me." Chu Ying stood his ground with nonchalant ease and spread his hands. "But I’ll warn you in advance: I have a very low pain threshold. If any of you touches me, I’m going to scream at the top of my lungs."
"I’ve said my piece. Gentlemen, please, proceed."
The group glanced at one another, but not a single person made a move.
Chu Ying’s words had brought them to their senses. What kind of occasion was this? Was it a place where these young nobles could run wild? The court officials were already present, and Emperor Chu was about to arrive; the atmosphere was strictly formal. If Chu Ying really did make a scene and began shrieking, he would certainly be finished, but there was no way they would escape punishment either. More importantly, with so many civil officials present, if they used this as an excuse to attack the reputations of their fathers, it would implicate their entire families.
One for many—Chu Ying wouldn’t lose either way.
*Damn it, what a suicidal tactic.* The crowd felt their teeth ache with frustration, but they were forced to restrain themselves.
Geng Mingzhong looked at the smirking Chu Ying, wiped the blood from his nose, and was forced to swallow his pride. He felt as though ten thousand horses were trampling through his heart. He had lorded over the Capital for years, yet this was the first time he had been bested by a complete nobody.
*Who exactly is this kid?!*
***
**Chapter 19: Kindred Spirits**
"Brother, well done! That’s the first time I’ve ever seen Geng Mingzhong eat humble pie." Seeing Chu Ying vent his frustration for him, Xu Feilong couldn't help but give a thumbs-up. He then scoffed, "That guy acts so arrogant just because he passed the imperial examination. Hmph! Do we, the nobility, need to take exams? Is being 'learned' so great? Didn't he conspire with others to swindle my money back then..."
Chu Ying listened to his rambling, feeling that this disdain from a poor student toward a top scholar had a distinctly sour flavor. In an era where knowledge was monopolized by the upper echelons, having talent was, indeed, a big deal. However, for the sake of coin, Chu Ying had to half-heartedly agree: "Brother Fat Dragon is absolutely right. What is 'learning' anyway? It’s not like you can spend it as cash. His Majesty should be here soon; let's sit down and talk."
"Brother, you hit the nail on the head." Xu Feilong felt as if he had found a soulmate. He glanced toward the front of the hall, then walked over to the very last seat and plopped down.
"Uh... Brother Fat Dragon, that’s not right, is it? Didn't you say you wanted to swap seats with me?" Chu Ying was stunned.
"Why swap? I feel like I've known you for a lifetime. How could I take your seat? Let me shoulder the humiliation of this last-row seat. You don't need to feel bad for me." Xu Feilong waved his large hand, completely intoxicated by his own nobility.
*Feel bad, my foot! I had one foot out of the door, and you're not even paying up anymore? You damned freeloader...* Chu Ying was filled with regret. If he had known, he wouldn't have bothered fishing for a bribe. *What a loss, what a total loss!*
Just then, the fat man’s jovial voice came again: "By the way, brother, you helped me out so much, and I still haven't asked your name?"
"My surname is Chu, given name Ying."
"Chu Ying? Hmm... the imperial surname! Are you perhaps a member of the royal family?"
Having spent ten years in the Cold Palace, Chu Ying was so obscure that the fat man didn't recognize the name. He thought for a moment and shook his head. "Probably not. If you were royal, why would you be sitting in a place like this? Maybe you're a distant relative of the clan?"
"Something like that." Chu Ying nodded and took a sip of wine. That was about the weight he held in the Emperor's heart, anyway.
"No wonder! Brother Chu, you and I both see fame and glory as dirt. We are truly—uh, what was that idiom? 'Kindred... something'?"
*You’re the 'something.' Your whole family is the 'something.' No education is truly terrifying...* Chu Ying smiled slightly. "It’s 'kindred spirits.'"
"Right! Kindred spirits on the same path! Come, I must toast you for that." Xu Feilong slapped his thigh and lifted his wine cup with both hands. Unexpectedly, a mocking voice floated over from the front row:
"My god, did I hear that right? Two uneducated fools calling themselves 'kindred spirits' and claiming to view fame as dirt? Everyone, isn't that hilarious?"
Geng Mingzhong was the type who held a grudge. Unable to win back his pride with force, he used his status as a successful examination candidate to humiliate the two regarding their lack of scholarship. This triggered a wave of laughter.
"Ha! The fox who can’t reach the grapes calls them sour. They’d love to have fame and glory, if only they were capable of passing an exam!"
"So-called 'the ignorant know no fear.' Like summer insects that cannot comprehend ice, how could these illiterates understand the beauty of knowledge?"
"Two clowns. Brother Mingzhong, why bother stooping to their level? You're just lowering the status of us scholars..."
Xu Feilong hated nothing more than being mocked for his lack of learning. He slammed his cup down, stood up, and roared: "What are you laughing at? You think you’re the only ones who are 'scholars'? Who are you looking down on?"
"Heh, everyone knows you, Xu Feilong, can’t even recite the *Thousand Character Classic* from your childhood studies. How dare you call yourself a scholar?" Geng Mingzhong didn't hide his contempt. He taunted, "Fine, don't say we didn't give you a chance. If you can compose a poem right here and now, we’ll admit you’re a scholar from this day forward. How about that?"
"Isn't that just nonsense? If I had that kind of ability, would I be sitting in the very last row?" Xu Feilong felt the sting of the insult and nearly cursed aloud.
"Heh, all you can say is that you're too stupid. You can't even write a poem, so you can't blame others for laughing at you."
"Bullshit! Is it that I'm stupid? I just never had the time to study." Xu Feilong’s fat cheeks trembled as he defended himself with great seriousness: "I have several thousand taels of pocket money every month. I spend all my time just figuring out how to spend it—where would I find the energy for anything else?"
As soon as these words left his lips, a wave of envy, jealousy, and resentment washed over him. A Great Chu prince only received an annual stipend of a little over ten thousand taels, and that had to cover the entire estate. This guy, on the other hand, spent more than an entire princely household all on his own.
*The vile scent of money. Fatty, are you sure you don't live in Versailles?*
Still, he decided then and there that he would make this man his friend—not because of his thousands of taels of monthly spending money, but simply because he appreciated the man's sense of loyalty.
With that, Chu Ying stood up abruptly, looking ready to go to bat for Xu Feilong: "Brother Fat Dragon, why explain yourself? As the ancients said: 'Those with talent but no virtue are but villains.' You look at these people—they might act refined and speak of elegant literature, but when it comes to true talent and scholarship, they aren't necessarily any better than you or me."
"Who are you calling a villain?!" Geng Mingzhong and his group were incensed, glaring at him with murderous intent.
"Whoever thinks they're a villain, that's exactly who I'm talking about."
"You!"
Geng Mingzhong took a deep breath, suppressing his rage. "Chu, cut the sarcasm. You say we lack true talent? Then may I ask, what degree do you hold?"
"None. I have no titles." Chu Ying saw no need to hide it.
"I knew it! Brother Chu, we truly are kindred spirits." Xu Feilong looked at Chu Ying with deep, sympathetic eyes. He felt they had met far too late. *This is great! From now on, I won't be the only illiterate among the nobility. Happiness!*
*Who the hell is your kindred spirit? I have a Master's degree in Applied Sciences! We are not the same.* Chu Ying twitched his mouth and squeezed out a smile. "Brother Fat Dragon is absolutely right."
Before he could finish, Geng Mingzhong laughed contemptuously: "Ha! Two nobodies, and you still claim you’re not uneducated? With your status, how dare you question our talent?"
"We like it that way, so what?" Xu Feilong retorted, unconvinced. "Since you like to brag so much, if you've got the guts, go win against the Prince of Donglan at the Great Debate today!"
"Heh, what of the Prince of Donglan? I am a successful candidate of the Great Chu. Why would I fear a prince from a small state?" This was exactly what Geng Mingzhong wanted. He didn't hold back his boast: "To tell you the truth, the only reason I came today is to defeat this Prince of Donglan and uphold the prestige of our Great Chu."
"Brother Geng is mighty!" His companions cheered.
However, a discordant voice rang out right at that moment: "You can't win."
"What did you say?" Geng Mingzhong glared at Chu Ying, feeling belittled.
"I said, you cannot defeat the Prince of Donglan," Chu Ying repeated, enunciating every word.
"Is that so?" Geng Mingzhong laughed in spite of his rage. "Chu, you’re so sure? Then, do you dare make a bet with me?"
***
**Chapter 20: Do You Dare to Bet?**
Geng Mingzhong had stood out among the noble youth by passing the imperial examination at a young age and had always been arrogant. Being slighted by a nobody now, he naturally wanted to regain his pride, and incidentally, settle the score for the punch he took earlier.
However...
"Villains are generally known for breaking their word. Why should I bet with you?" Chu Ying had never been one for trivial spats; without a tangible benefit, he wouldn't dream of betting.
"What? Are you afraid?" Geng Mingzhong kept goading him, unwilling to give up.
"I am afraid—afraid that some people might welch on their bet," Chu Ying countered.
"You! Fine, fine! For that insult alone, I accept this bet!" Geng Mingzhong, in a fit of rage, unclipped the jade pendant from his waist and displayed it. "This is an heirloom worth at least a thousand taels. If I welch, this piece is yours. Conversely, if I defeat the Prince of Donglan, you both must kneel and apologize to us in front of everyone. Do you dare?"
Chu Ying inspected the pendant. It was lustrous and moist—a rare piece of quality. He felt a surge of interest, though he smiled on the surface. "A thousand taels for us to kneel and apologize? Wouldn't you be the one losing out?"
"Cut the crap! Do you dare or not?"
Chu Ying didn't answer immediately. Instead, he turned to Xu Feilong. "Brother Fat Dragon, I want to take this bet. Are you willing to trust me this once?"
"I... I..." The fat man wanted to refuse. After all, the rumors said Geng Mingzhong was highly talented. But thinking of how Chu Ying had stood up for him, his blood began to boil. "Brother Chu, you’ve helped me so much today. I, Xu Feilong, already consider you a brother. Today, I’ll risk it all for a friend!"
"Thank you for your trust, Brother Fat Dragon."
Chu Ying turned back to Geng Mingzhong and held out his palm. "You heard him. Hand over the pendant."
"Hmph, I'm just letting you hold it for now. Once I defeat the Prince of Donglan, I'll be sure to get it back." Geng Mingzhong sneered, having his men pass the jade to Chu Ying, acting as though he couldn't possibly lose.
Just then, a shrill, high-pitched voice cried out: "His Majesty has arrived!"
The ground shook as thousands of silver-clad Imperial Guards appeared at the perimeter, escorting a magnificent golden carriage into the center of the plaza.
"Long live His Majesty..." The officials and scholars present rose to pay their respects.
"Rise."
Emperor Chu, dressed in a bright yellow dragon robe, carried an air of effortless authority. He waved a hand and sat directly in the middle of the purple-gold screen at the head of the hall. His gaze swept across the crowd, and a rare hint of a smile appeared on his face. "The heavens are kind today. You all have arrived quite early."
His gaze landed on Song Juran, and his smile grew warmer. "Heh, Prince of Donglan, I know you have come to study. Today, I have invited the scholars of Great Chu to sit and discuss academics with you for mutual benefit. Tell me, have you prepared?"
"Hmph! 'Mutual benefit,' my foot. Inviting so many people at once—they clearly want to bully the few with the many," Song Shishi muttered, pouting her red lips.
"Do not speak nonsense." Song Juran gave her a look and stood to salute the Emperor. "I thank Your Majesty for the banquet and for the opportunity to exchange ideas with the scholars of Great Chu. I am deeply grateful for Your Majesty's kindness." As the prince of a vassal state, he had to present himself as a subject before the Emperor.
Emperor Chu was satisfied with the response. "I have long heard that you are overflowing with talent despite your youth, and are known as the number one scholar of Donglan. I look forward to seeing it for myself."
"Your Majesty is too kind. In the presence of so many peers of Great Chu, my meager knowledge will likely only make me a laughingstock."
No sooner had Song Juran finished speaking than a wave of contemptuous laughter erupted from the nearby seats of the scholars.
"Heh, at least he has some self-awareness. Donglan is but a tiny state; what kind of scholar could they possibly produce? To claim the title of 'number one'—if he were in our Great Chu, he probably wouldn't even pass the provincial exam."
Since ancient times, literature has had no definitive 'first.' The scholars present were all arrogant, proud individuals; none were willing to submit to another, let alone an outsider. Song Juran’s status as a Donglan prince did not scare them off; rather, it stoked their ambition to defeat him. The logic was simple: the fastest way to become famous is to challenge an existing celebrity and defeat him in his strongest field.
By noon, the Emperor gave the word, and the banquet officially began. At the same time, the bet between Chu Ying and Geng Mingzhong spread among the noble youth. A bet of several thousand taels was not a small sum for them, and they began whispering excitedly.
"They really bet?! This Chu fellow is far too cocky. Brother Mingzhong is a successful candidate; he’ll definitely give the Prince of Donglan a run for his money."
"Heh, this is what they call 'the ignorant know no fear.' Brother Mingzhong isn't just an exam candidate; he was the tenth-ranked on the list last year. It’d be hard for him to lose."
"Can't help it. If someone is stupid to a certain degree, no one can save them."
The mockery was one-sided; no one was optimistic about Chu Ying and Xu Feilong.
In truth, they couldn't be blamed. The reason Chu Ying dared to make the bet was because of his encounter at the Taibai Tower; Song Juran had left a deep impression on him. The Donglan prince appeared gentle and refined, but he was truly profound; he tossed out classical references with ease. He was an absolute standout among his peers. Unless the great scholars of Great Chu personally intervened to bully the younger generation, this group of blowhards wouldn't necessarily be able to suppress him.
Of all the people present, Chu Ying was likely the only one who believed Song Juran had a chance to win.
The banquet continued, but most people’s minds were no longer on the food and wine. Those with clear eyes knew the true highlight of the banquet was the debate between the two nations. As time passed, the banquet drew to a close, and a strange atmosphere began to brew among the Great Chu scholars. They looked at Song Juran with eager eyes, wanting to be the first to challenge him, but fearing public humiliation, no one dared to stick their neck out.
As they watched one another, Geng Mingzhong, already slightly tipsy, slammed his wine cup down, stood up, and pointed at Chu Ying and Xu Feilong with a disdainful laugh: "Didn't you two question my scholarship? Watch closely—I'll be the first to go up. When the Prince of Donglan is defeated, you two just wait to kowtow and admit you were wrong."
He puffed out his chest and walked to Song Juran. He cupped his hands casually, his eyes filled with provocation: "Greetings, Your Highness of Donglan. I am Geng Mingzhong from the Capital. I passed the imperial examination by imperial grace in the twenty-first year of Xuanhe. I am honored to participate in the debate between our two nations. I have a question—I wonder if Your Highness could enlighten me?"
Seeing him step up first, the guests set down their cups and chopsticks; even the Emperor and his officials turned their attention. Countless curious gazes gathered on them.
The main event had begun.
"He actually had the nerve to go up first. Brother, we aren't going to lose, are we?" Xu Feilong began to lose his nerve.
"Don't worry. With Song Juran’s level, Geng Mingzhong doesn't stand a chance," Chu Ying said with a smile, showing no sign of tension.
"Song Juran?" The fat man stared at Chu Ying for a few seconds. "Brother, why are you so sure? Could it be that you know the Prince of Donglan?"
"We had a brief encounter." Chu Ying recalled.
"Heh, Brother, can you talk for five minutes without bragging? With your status as a low-ranking noble, you know the Prince of Donglan? Are you qualified? You think you’re a prince of our own dynasty?" The noble youths nearby scoffed at Chu Ying's words, not a single one willing to believe him.
"Heh, and if I were a prince of the current dynasty, would that be so glorious?" Chu Ying’s lips curled in a bitter smile. He turned his attention back to Song Juran.
He gently rubbed the mutton-fat jade pendant, feeling the silky texture against his fingertips, and his mood brightened. *Could this Brother Song be my lucky star? How is it that every time I see him, I end up with a gain?*