Blossom

He Yu adjusted his moon-white silk robe embroidered with bamboo leaf patterns before stepping down from the carriage.

Raising his head, he saw the three gilded characters "Drunken Immortal Tower" against a black lacquer background, with a small seal in the lower right corner carved with the ancient clerical script "Qingxi Hermit"—the pseudonym of the former Imperial Academy Chancellor Lin Guanlan.

His personal guard approached and whispered, "Young Master, shall I accompany—"

"No need." Before the guard could finish, He Yu cut him off. "Ji Jianming isn't that kind of person. If he wanted to harm me, he has plenty of methods—no need to choose such a bustling restaurant."

"Yes." The guard retreated, joining others to park the carriage in the square beside the building.

He Yu entered Drunken Immortal Tower with his personal page in tow.

Ji Yong's attendant Zi Xi was waiting in the lobby. Spotting He Yu, he stepped forward with a smile and bowed, inviting him to the third floor: "Our young master awaits you in the Canghai Pavilion."

The Canghai Pavilion was Drunken Immortal Tower's finest private room, occupying an entire floor. Dining there required at least two to three hundred taels of silver and a prior reservation.

He Yu chuckled lightly.

What exactly was Ji Jianming planning with such extravagance?

Someone came over to greet He Yu—he was a regular here.

Absentmindedly exchanging pleasantries, He Yu recalled the way Ji Yong had looked at Dou Zhao while writing spring couplets—his eyes blazing as if lit by fire.

A strange feeling flickered through him, but he quickly dismissed the unsettling emotion.

Marriage follows parental orders and matchmaker's words—proper wives are wed, while concubines are taken illicitly.

Comforted by this thought, He Yu ascended the stairs with a smile.

Ji Yong stood with hands clasped behind his back before the wide-open window, his tall, straight frame accentuated by the cloisonné enamel painted glass panes and his deep purple straight robe.

Truth be told, this Ji Jianming was quite a figure, He Yu mused inwardly.

Ji Yong turned, his handsome face devoid of warmth as he greeted coldly, "You're here."

He Yu nodded faintly. With leisurely grace, he strolled to the window, flicked open his folding fan with a snap, waved it idly twice, then pointed smilingly at a crowded shop across from Drunken Immortal Tower. "How many times have you visited, Brother Ji? Old Yao's Fried Goods opposite makes excellent candied peanuts—Drunken Immortal Tower's version can't compare. They've tried buying the recipe several times without success. Capital folks say this shop owes its fame to the tower..." His tone carried the distinctive superiority of a local, attempting to overshadow Ji Yong's imposing presence.

At this, Ji Yong's lips curled into a mocking half-smile as he instructed Zi Shang: "Go buy a bag of Old Yao's candied peanuts for Young Master He."

Zi Shang departed promptly.

Ji Yong turned and suddenly punched He Yu square in the face.

Caught off guard, He Yu cried out, clutching his face as he staggered backward into a grand preceptor's chair. While the heavy chair remained unmoved, the teacups and pot on the side table crashed to the floor with a clatter. With another yelp, He Yu grabbed his waist—nearly broken by the chair's armrest—now ignoring his face entirely. Only then did everyone notice his bloodied visage, the injuries too numerous to distinguish.As Ji Yong threw his punch, the two pages who had followed He Yu upstairs immediately shouted "Young Master!" and lunged at Ji Yong. Suddenly, seven or eight burly men appeared out of nowhere, not only restraining He Yu's pages with ease but also deliberately gagging them with white cloths they had prepared in advance.

"Personal grudges—no interference allowed!" Ji Yong shamelessly barked at the pages before swinging another fist toward He Yu.

Having spent much time hunting and riding, He Yu had developed quick reflexes. He rolled away and took cover behind a Grand Preceptor's Chair, shouting for his guards—though he refrained from screaming "Help!" at the top of his lungs.

Ji Yong sneered inwardly.

Noble young masters were all the same—even in life-or-death moments, they still cared about saving face.

He chased after He Yu, grabbed him by the collar, and punched him squarely in the stomach.

By now, He Yu had regained his bearings. The earlier punch to his face had left his nose throbbing and his eyes watering, blurring his vision. As Ji Yong seized his collar, he instinctively kneed him in the groin.

Both men groaned simultaneously, staggering and collapsing to the floor before scrambling up and lunging at each other again—soon locked in a messy brawl.

Ji Yong and He Yu were about the same age. One believed in "a gentleman uses his words, not his fists," while the other was pampered and accustomed to a luxurious life. In a fight, they were evenly matched, neither able to gain the upper hand.

Fortunately, the patrons of Drunken Immortal Tower were all distinguished figures of status. Despite the loud commotion on the third floor, no one came out to gawk—at most, a few pages peeked cautiously from the stairwell, acting on orders.

By the time He Yu's guards burst in, both men were already spent.

He Yu's guards rushed to their master's aid, while Ji Yong's men, having been instructed beforehand to prevent interference, naturally blocked them. Soon, both sides were embroiled in their own chaotic scuffle.

The head manager, who had hurried over right after He Yu's guards, took one look and didn’t know whom to pull apart—both were scions of noble families. Young Master Ji was a Recommended Man, a scholar and a refined gentleman—certainly not the type to throw the first punch. Young Master He might seem like a spoiled brat, but he was known for his forthrightness and wasn’t unreasonable. Seeing the guards fighting fiercely and the restaurant’s own security unable to intervene, the manager simply instructed his deputy, "Close the doors. We’ll go in when they call for us."

Understanding the hint, the deputy manager personally shut the doors to the Canghai Pavilion.

Seeing his men arrive, He Yu relaxed slightly, shoved Ji Yong away, and plopped onto the floor before finally speaking. "Damn you, Ji Yong! You don’t hit a man in the face, you bastard! You actually punched me in the face!"

Ji Yong, exhausted and having achieved his goal, didn’t press the attack. Like He Yu, he sat on the floor, panting. "You can hit others in the face, but I can’t hit yours?"

"Who the hell did I hit in the face?" He Yu wiped the blood from his face indignantly. "Don’t you dare slander me!"

"Slander you?" Ji Yong, who had just calmed down after landing two punches, immediately flared up again. "Fourth Miss Dou was already betrothed to the Wei Family, but you had to meddle and make her the target of gossip, leaving her with no way to face anyone—she nearly slit her own throat!"

Fourth Miss Dou slit her throat?

Impossible!He Yu instinctively felt this way. But seeing Ji Yong speak with such certainty, and considering he had only met Dou Zhao a few times, he began to waver in his conviction.

Seizing the advantage, Ji Yong pressed on: "Aren’t you just looking for a backer? A real man doesn’t rely on family inheritance, and a capable woman doesn’t depend on dowry clothes. Can’t you have some ambition? Do you really need to lean on a woman to fight your brothers?"

He Yu flushed crimson to the tips of his ears and retorted defensively, "What nonsense are you spouting? Fourth Miss Dou is a good person..."

"Of course she is," Ji Yong sneered. "The two ancient cypresses in front of the Imperial College are also quite nice—why don’t you uproot them and take them home?"

"You—!" He Yu was furious and humiliated. "Since when does the Dou family’s business require the Ji family to step in?"

"I’m not like you, whose only identity is being Grand Secretary He’s son," Ji Yong declared arrogantly. "I am Ji Jianming of Yixing. What does the Ji family have to do with me? If I want to involve myself, I will. If I don’t, they’re just strangers to me."

Such arrogance!

He Yu was left speechless, yet for some reason, he suddenly felt an urge to befriend Ji Yong.

Muttering to himself, he said, "If I wanted to rely on a woman, there are plenty to choose from—it doesn’t have to be Fourth Miss Dou. I don’t mean to trouble her... And that Wei Family is no good either..."

Seeing He Yu’s sincere tone, Ji Yong knew he had conceded and softened his own voice. "I know. I was just provoking you. The Wei Family is indeed worthless—shabby and in disarray. If Dou Zhao marries into that household, she’d likely be worked like an ox to fill their financial gaps. Compared to your family, it’s night and day. But the problem is, Dou Zhao is fixated on her late mother’s dying wish. How can you disregard her own will?" With that, he sighed deeply and added gloomily, "She lost her mother young, lived cautiously under her stepmother’s rule, and had to endure the scrutiny of the elders in the East House. She’s already had it hard enough. If you stir up more trouble, think about it—how could she possibly fare well? Just the gossip from the inner household women alone would drown her."

He Yu lowered his head and remained silent for a long while.

Was he reluctant to give up on Dou Zhao?

Watching him, Ji Yong cursed He Yu a thousand times in his heart, and only then did his inexplicable anger subside slightly. "Well? Aren’t you going to say anything? Now the Wei Family has decided neither to return the betrothal token to the Dou family nor hand it over to your He family—they’ll sell it to the highest bidder. Do you really want to make this mess even worse? What if your father decides it’s not worth the trouble and washes his hands of it? What happens to Dou Zhao then? What did she even do wrong? Just because her father was your father’s student, she’s now saddled with a plague she can’t shake off... Are you even a man? Fine—if it comes to it, I’ll help you deal with your brothers later..."

He Yu clenched his teeth and asked Ji Yong, "If I back out, will Fourth Miss Dou marry Wei Tingyu?" His tone still carried a trace of reluctance. He didn’t ask how Ji Yong would help him against his brothers—only about Dou Zhao’s future.

For some reason, Ji Yong felt a pang of discomfort. "Of course she’ll marry Wei Tingyu! Who else would she marry?"

"Fine!" He Yu declared loudly. "I’ll accept this!" His decisiveness carried a manly resolve.

※※※※※At this time, Chen Qushui had already returned to Zhen Ding. Standing in Dou Zhao's greenhouse, he gazed at a peony bud about to bloom and said with some concern, "If the Wei Family comes to propose marriage, will you really agree to this match, miss?"

Dou Zhao used a spray bottle to water the slender leaves of a mountain orchid, answering evasively, "Did they accept the medicinal herbs I asked you to deliver to the Marquis of Jining?"

"They did," Chen Qushui replied. "But from the way the Marquis of Jining looked... it seemed rather indifferent..."

Before her departure, Dou Zhao had instructed him to bring two thirty-year-old ginseng roots as gifts to the Marquis of Jining. He had thought these ginseng roots carried profound meaning, but the Marquis merely smiled in thanks and had them put away. Thinking the Marquis might not have grasped Dou Zhao's intention, Chen Qushui deliberately hinted at it, only to be met with a look of disdain from the Marquis.

"As long as they were delivered, that's enough," Dou Zhao set down the spray bottle and said nonchalantly. "Whether they find them useful or not is their business."