While Shen Quebai and Meng Jiaze were talking, the woman took a seat across the table, cast a flirtatious glance at Shen Quebai, and said, “I am Madame Jin.”
“What? It’s actually Madame Jin?!”
The room gasped in unison.
This Madame Jin was the female tycoon who dominated the Xuandu gambling scene, winning ten out of ten bets. It cost over a hundred gold coins just to get her to play, hence the nickname “Madame Jin.” Since Zhu Han had secured her services, it was no wonder he was so arrogant! Looking at the other side… everyone instinctively looked at Meng Jiaze, as if he were already a one-armed man.
Zhu Han sneered and made a slashing motion toward Meng Jiaze.
Meng Jiaze rubbed Shen Quebai’s shoulder, gritting his teeth as he said, “To think it’s her… no matter, Quebai, don’t be afraid, don’t be afraid…”
Shen Quebai really wanted to say: You’re the one who should be afraid! He suppressed the pain, nodded toward the person across the table, and said, “Shen Quebai.”
Madame Jin smiled at him, playing with the dice, and said, “The two honorable gentlemen just bet on ‘big.’ Why don’t you and I switch to betting on ‘small’? One round to decide the winner, how about it?”
“Fine.” Shen Quebai said, “As long as the total is small, I win?”
“Correct.” Madame Jin’s arm flickered, her wrist moving beneath a thin layer of gauze so fast it looked like a wisp of smoke. Snap! She set the cup down and signaled, “Please, Young Master.”
Shen Quebai picked up the dice cup, but suddenly his shoulder felt heavy, nearly causing him to lose his grip.
Yan Chao, who was watching from the side, stepped forward and pulled the mentally distracted Meng Jiaze away, saying, “Little Marquis, are you on the opponent’s side? Don’t make things worse.”
“Ah…” Meng Jiaze looked at the wrinkle he had pinched into Shen Quebai’s clothing, realized what he’d done, and hurriedly pressed his palms together in a prayer-like apology toward Shen Quebai.
Shen Quebai shook the cup, set it down, and said, “Your turn, Miss.”
That’s it?
Madame Jin raised an eyebrow, “Young Master, are you truly finished?”
Meng Jiaze leaned in anxiously and whispered, “Quebai, let me confirm one more time: we don’t have any grudges, right? I didn’t happen to pick an undercover agent sent by the opponent, did I?”
Shen Quebai pushed his face away and said to Madame Jin, “Truly finished. Open the cup.”
Hearing this, Madame Jin leaned back. The dealer stepped forward and hooked the dice cup away. The crowd gasped—the three dice were stacked on top of each other, all showing the same face: a single pip.
“A pillar reaching for the sky!” Zhu Han stepped forward, “Smallest possible total! Little Marquis, you lost!”
The sweat on Meng Jiaze’s forehead finally dripped down, tracing a path past the tip of his nose; he licked his lips and tasted the saltiness. He had no great skills, just a penchant for wastrel’s fun. He had been here shouting for Zhu Han to pay his debt, only to end up losing an arm, becoming a naked joke.
Resentment and fear tore Meng Jiaze apart, but he stood his ground in that confined space, not retreating a single step, saying, “Open it!”
The dealer looked at Shen Quebai and deftly hooked the dice cup.
“If you don’t hit the southern wall, you won’t turn back, Little Marquis. I think you…” Before Zhu Han could finish speaking, Madame Jin, who had been sitting before him, suddenly stood up. The crowd looked with her, only to see that Shen Quebai’s dice cup also showed a “pillar reaching for the sky” three dice stacked, all showing the same face.
“Another tie!”
The crowd was astonished, their gaze at Shen Quebai shifting to that of someone looking at a master of hidden arts.
“No…” Madame Jin said with a trembling voice, “It’s not a tie.”
Everyone crowded around the table and saw that the top die didn’t show one pip—it showed nothing at all!
The top die had been sliced into two halves with a “one-to-nine” ratio. The thin “one-part” slice had flipped over, revealing only the inner core of the die, with no pips carved onto that surface.
The dealer reached out to flip over the thin slice—it was indeed a “one.”
“How is this possible!” Zhu Han shoved through the crowd and rushed to Shen Quebai, “You cheated! You dare to scam me!”
Meng Jiaze crashed into him like a young calf, shielding Shen Quebai, his voice boisterous enough to set off fireworks, “I said it before, as long as the total is small, you win! You’re allowed a pillar reaching for the sky, but you aren’t allowed to have a pillar-less sky?”
“You, you scammed me!” Zhu Han grabbed Meng Jiaze’s arm, his eyes splitting with rage as he hissed at Shen Quebai, “Shen Quebai, don’t you dare forget, you carry the surname ‘Zhu’ now! You dare to conspire with them to harm me!”
“I am entered into the Zhu family jade records as ‘Shen Quebai,’ not ‘Zhu Quebai’.” Shen Quebai felt he was being an incredibly sore loser and frowned, “Besides, even if I carry the surname Zhu, it is Zhu Hexing’s Zhu, not your Zhu Han’s Zhu.”
This was a fact, but to Zhu Han’s ears, it sounded like: “You, Zhu Han, are not Zhu Hexing.”
Zhu Han hesitated, “You look down on me too?” He stepped back, incredulous, “By what right do you look down on me? Among all the high-ranking families in Xuandu, your life is the cheapest a dirty thing played with by men, no different from a castrated eunuch—by what right do you look down on me! How dare you…”
“Shut your mouth!” Shen Quebai stood up abruptly. He had never heard such explicit humiliation; he blushed from his face to his neck, his entire body trembling as he leaned on the table.
Meng Jiaze turned to support him, stammering, “Que… Quebai, don’t get angry. He has a filthy mouth, a corrupted mouth, he…”
Shen Quebai brushed off his hand, stepped forward toward Zhu Han, and forced him to retreat a step. “I, Shen Quebai, am a man seven feet tall, upright and honorable; how can I let you humiliate me like this!” He reached out and grabbed Zhu Han’s arm, “Come with me to the palace gates to kowtow and settle this before the throne!”
What Zhu Han had just said was what many people thought, but thinking it was one thing; saying it out loud was another. Moreover, what he had just said humiliated not only Shen Quebai but also the eunuchs! And standing right before the Emperor was Yu Banhu a man even high-ranking ministers treated with great respect!
Zhu Han’s arrogance vanished; regaining his senses, he felt a wave of emptiness and hurriedly shook off Shen Quebai’s arm, “Who is going with you!”
Shen Quebai stumbled back two steps from the force of the rejection. Yan Chao stepped forward to support him, and only then did he notice that Shen Quebai wasn’t just trembling with anger tears of rage were actually streaming down his face.
Damn it, even Yan Chao couldn’t tell if it was real or fake for a moment!
The veins on Shen Quebai’s forehead bulged, his phoenix eyes were brimming with tears, his face felt like it had been seared by fire, and his lips were deathly pale, blood constantly oozing from where his teeth bit down. Meng Jiaze watched, feeling both pained and guilty. He immediately drew Rong Yi’s sword again and said aggressively, “Zhu Han, you low-life, honor the bet!”
Zhu Han was pointed at by the sword, “I…”
“What now?” Even Rong Yi stopped trying to persuade them, his voice cold, “Does the Young Prince intend to renege on his debt?”
At this moment, anyone who spoke would get covered in filth. The crowd watched their noses and focused on their hearts, heads down, eyes shifting, refusing to look at Zhu Han. Zhu Han’s chest heaved, but he refused to speak. Just then, a young voice interjected.
“We are all friends; why make such a scene?”
A man in brocade robes emerged from the stairs, revealing a face with handsome, sharp features. The crowd was startled and hurriedly offered their respects: “Greetings to the Fifth Prince!”
“Private gathering, no need for formalities.” Song Chengyu brushed past Zhu Han, reached out to support Shen Quebai’s arm, and turned to glare at Zhu Han, “Look at you, you’ve angered my little cousin to this state? Come over and apologize at once!”
Song Chengyu was born to Consort Qi, the nephew of Marquis Yongding, Shen Ruozhong; naturally, he should call Shen Quebai “little cousin,” but everyone present knew that Zhu Han had always been on good terms with the Fifth Prince. On the surface, Song Chengyu was protecting his little cousin, but in reality, he was giving Zhu Han a graceful way out.
Zhu Han naturally understood. He stepped forward and performed a perfunctory bow, “Cousin-in-law, my apologies. I was overcome with anger just now and spoke nonsense. Please don’t take offense.”
Song Chengyu turned to look at Shen Quebai, affectionately saying, “Little cousin, he just has a dirty mouth. Please forgive him once. Once everyone has talked it out, we can all be friends in the future—why must there be swords drawn? The elders have to meet each day; if there’s a thorn stuck between them, how are they supposed to conduct themselves?”
Shen Quebai pressed his lips together, looking neither at Zhu Han nor Song Chengyu, and simply said, “In that case, let it be.”
Song Chengyu smiled and was about to speak when Meng Jiaze suddenly spoke up, “My father passed away long ago, so I don’t have to worry about meeting the Prince of Jin or considering all this.” He gripped the sword hilt, “Isn’t the Fifth Prince here just to protect Zhu Han? Who are you trying to fool with all these high-sounding words?”
Oh, my little grandfather, don’t be so blunt! The crowd felt like weeping.
Song Chengyu did not look angry. He said, “Although Marquis Ning’an has passed, the Empress Mother manages the harem, which is already tiring work. Does the Little Marquis not worry for her?”
“Worrying about my aunt is my business, and today’s wager has nothing to do with the Fifth Prince.” Meng Jiaze pointed the sword at Zhu Han, “Honor the bet; it’s honorable to lose. If you don’t want your honor, today, for the sake of you having the surname ‘Zhu,’ as long as you kowtow every step of the way from here, shouting with every kowtow, ‘I, Zhu Han, am lower than a beast,’ all the way to the Prince of Jin’s estate, I will spare you, how about that?”
Zhu Han was about to vomit blood, “I…”
“He does not agree.”
Another guest arrived to stir the pot. Shen Quebai turned his eyes and saw Ting Yuan come up the stairs.
The nobles in the room watched as Ting Yuan bowed first to Shen Quebai, then to Song Chengyu, saying, “My Prince has said: honor the bet.”
“By what right!” Zhu Han retreated, “He wasn’t the one gambling…”
“The Prince has said that now that he is the head of the Zhu clan, it is not yet the Young Prince’s turn to humiliate the family name.” Ting Yuan said calmly, “Yan Chao.”
Zhu Han sensed something and retreated sharply to run, but Yan Chao was as fast as a piercing wind; his hand rose and the blade fell.
A scream tore through the Xiangsi Terrace, and a splash of hot blood splattered onto Meng Jiaze’s face. He blinked his eyelashes, slowly turned his head, and found his hands empty.
Yan Chao took out a handkerchief, wiped the blood away, held the sword with both hands, and returned it to Rong Yi.
Rong Yi’s expression tightened; he didn’t reach out, so Yan Chao simply sheathed the sword back into the scabbard at his waist.
The wastrels in the room, after a moment of shock, all simultaneously turned into lit firecrackers, scattering in every direction with loud, chaotic noise. Ting Yuan stepped steadily forward through the pushing crowd and said to Shen Quebai, “Young Master, the Prince is here to take you back to the estate. He is waiting for you downstairs.”