Chapter Forty-Six: Who Could Possibly Outshine You, Young Master!

Li Yunjie turned at the sound. Only then did he notice that Su Qingmeng, contrary to her usual self, had abandoned her crisp high ponytail. Her jet-black hair cascaded over her shoulders like a waterfall, unexpectedly revealing a touch of gentle beauty.

“She truly is a beauty in the making,” Li Yunjie thought to himself with a sigh.

The group took their seats and waited for the server to bring their meal.

“What are you staring at?” Su Qingmeng asked, her tone sharp.

“It’s nothing,” Li Yunjie replied with a light chuckle. “This hairstyle actually suits you quite well.”

Su Qingmeng’s eyes flickered, but she pretended not to have heard him.

Breakfast consisted of plain porridge, steamed buns, and pickled vegetables. The group quickly finished their meal.

Mounting their horses, they set off.

They had not gone far from the inn when the sound of approaching hoofbeats echoed from behind. Li Yunjie felt a vague sense of unease.

“Young master, are you headed south of the river?”

Sure enough, the young woman in a pink dress, riding a white horse, drew level with their group. Li Yunjie merely nodded coolly, not daring to reply, afraid she would say something inappropriate again.

The woman in pink gave a knowing smile, snapped her whip, and sped off.

“My name is Yun Qiwu. We’ll meet again!”

Only when she rode off into the distance did Li Yunjie breathe a long sigh of relief.

“She’s truly persistent,” he muttered.

Inside the carriage, Su Qingmeng’s voice was cold. The black sword scabbard had, at some point, shifted aside the curtain, its gaze chilly upon Li Yunjie.

“You saw it yourself,” Li Yunjie sighed. “I did nothing to provoke her! Is it my fault for being handsome?”

Su Qingmeng snorted. “Who could be more handsome than you, young master?”

…

Dusk.

South of the river.

The afterglow of the setting sun spilled across the flagstones, filling the water town with a gentle, refined air.

Li Yunjie leapt down from the carriage and gazed around. Willow trees and painted bridges, gauzy winds and emerald veils, it was a scene right out of a painting.

“The ancients did not deceive me,” Li Yunjie murmured, full of emotion. “The scenery south of the river is truly breathtaking.”

Unlike the bustling splendor of the capital, the customs and life here brimmed with the warmth of the everyday world.

Inside the carriage, Su Xiyan, curious, lifted the curtain and poked her head out—not to admire the view, but because she’d caught the scent of delicacies along the way.

“Come on down,” Li Yunjie called, stopping the carriage by a small eatery on the street.

Su Xiyan hopped out eagerly and hurried inside to order a serving of osmanthus sticky rice lotus root.

“Keep an eye on her. There’s a restaurant ahead—I’ll go reserve us some rooms,” Li Yunjie said to Su Qingmeng.

With that, he and Eleven walked a few dozen paces along the stone road.

Just as he reached the restaurant entrance, urgent hoofbeats thundered down the street.

“Clear the way! Move aside!”

A young man in fine clothes, brandishing a long whip, charged through the crowd on horseback. People scattered in panic, some street vendors too slow to dodge were knocked aside by the horse’s hooves.

Li Yunjie frowned, quickly grabbing the carriage to pull it aside, but the road was narrow and the carriage wide. The startled horse forced them to block the street.

Luckily, the rider managed to rein in his mount in time; the horse reared high, barely avoiding a collision.

“Are you looking for death?” the young man snarled, eyes blazing. “Can’t you see how narrow the road is?”

“You’re the one riding so fast—what, are you racing to a funeral?” Li Yunjie shot back.

“Insolence!” The young man’s rage flared. “How dare you speak to me like that? Do you know who I am?”

“I don’t care who you are,” Li Yunjie retorted coldly, unyielding. “Didn’t you see you’ve run people over?”

With that, Li Yunjie moved past the youth and helped an old man who had fallen behind him to his feet.

“Enough with your nonsense. Apologize if you should, pay compensation if you must!”

The young man scoffed, casting a mocking glance at the old man. “Old man, tell this gentleman—was it me who knocked you down?”

The old man rose unsteadily, dusted himself off, and forced a bitter smile. “Sir, I fell on my own. It wasn’t the young master’s fault.”

Li Yunjie’s brow furrowed even more deeply, anger burning within him. He was about to speak out, but the old man gripped his hand tightly, holding him back.

With a cold snort, the young man said, “If I didn’t have urgent business today, I’d teach you a lesson myself!” With that, he spurred his horse and rode off, leaving a cloud of dust behind.

“That man is far too arrogant,” Eleven muttered, coming up beside Li Yunjie.

Li Yunjie took a deep breath, suppressing his anger, and asked the old man gently, “Are you all right, sir?”

“It’s nothing, nothing,” the old man replied, waving his hand, though a trace of helplessness flashed in his eyes. “Thank you, young man.”

“Who was that?” Li Yunjie asked in a low voice.

The old man sighed. “He is Song Zeye, son of the Jiangnan Prefect Song Yongnian.”

“No wonder he’s so overbearing,” Li Yunjie said coolly. “A local tyrant, then.”

The old man clasped his hands and advised, “Young master, it’s best not to provoke him, lest you invite trouble.” With that, he turned and left.

Li Yunjie nodded slightly and watched the old man go.

“What happened?” Su Qingmeng arrived a moment later, frowning.

“Nothing,” Li Yunjie replied lightly. “Just a stray dog throwing its weight around.”

…

At the restaurant.

In a private room.

Gong Qingfeng and Lin Mao stood by the window, having witnessed the entire scene.

“Master,” Lin Mao said calmly, “that young man just now—he must be Young Lord Li.”

Gong Qingfeng nodded, a faint smile on his lips. “He does indeed have the bearing of Prince Li in his youth. Truly, heroes emerge young.”

Lin Mao frowned and asked, “But this Young Lord Li shows no sign of scholarly aura—he seems more like a man of action. How could he have written such elegant lines as, ‘Drunk, I forget the sky in the water; a boatful of dreams presses down the Milky Way’?”

Gong Qingfeng’s expression darkened, and he tapped Lin Mao on the back of his head. “I told you not to judge by appearances!”

Lin Mao instantly realized his mistake and bowed. “Your student admits his error.”

Gong Qingfeng sighed. “I have taught for decades—why have I never produced a student capable of such poetry? How shameful…”

As he spoke, he glanced sideways at Lin Mao, growing more irritated the longer he looked. He simply turned away.

Lin Mao, seeing the look of disdain on Gong Qingfeng’s face, felt somewhat aggrieved. Hadn’t his master failed to compose such lines as well?

“Master,” Lin Mao ventured, bowing again, “on this lecture tour to Jiangnan, do you intend to take the young lord as a disciple?”

Gong Qingfeng paused, then asked in a low voice, “Was it that obvious?”

Lin Mao explained, “You haven’t left seclusion in years, but after receiving a letter from Minister Su, you suddenly decided to come to Jiangnan to lecture. And just now, your eyes lit up upon seeing the young lord. It wasn’t hard to guess.”

“At least you’re not entirely slow,” Gong Qingfeng chuckled. “I had planned to go to the capital after my lectures. But now that Young Lord Li has come to Jiangnan himself, I’m spared the trip. Only—” Here, hesitation flickered across Gong Qingfeng’s face. “I wish to take him as a student, but he may not wish to take me as a teacher.”

With that, silence fell between them.

…

Jiangnan.

Pingle Street.

Within a humble little courtyard, a plainly dressed young man held freshly purchased rouge in his hand, a blissful smile on his face.

“My dear—”

“Look what I brought you!”

He pushed open the door.

Hanging from a white silk sash tied to the beam, the tattered body of a woman met his eyes.