Blossom

"Eight horses, five champions..."

In the most elegantly decorated reception hall, the raucous shouts of a drinking game typically heard among laborers and peddlers rang out.

Yet Ji Yong appeared completely unperturbed as he rolled up his sleeves and pointed at the wine cup before Song Mo.

Without a word, Song Mo smiled and drained his cup in one gulp.

The hall again echoed with cries of "Seven Stars Shine."

This time, it was Ji Yong's turn to drink.

Ma Youming glanced at his untouched cup, then at the pile of wine jars stacked in the corner, whispering to Dou Zhengchang: "What's going on here? I haven't had a single drop yet."

Flustered, Dou Zhengchang hastily raised his cup: "Let me drink with Lord Ma."

But Ma Youming shook his head, covering his cup with his hand. "Let's not break the rules—that would spoil the fun."

Dou Zhengchang flushed crimson, awkwardly admitting: "I don't know how to play the finger-guessing game. Perhaps we could try a drinking game instead?"

A flicker of amusement crossed Ma Youming's eyes as he scratched his head. "But I don't know any drinking games—I only know how to play the finger-guessing game!"

"Then... what should we do?" Dou Zhengchang fretted.

Truly, too much book learning has dulled his wits!

Ma Youming sighed inwardly.

What to do?

The solution was simple: separate these two.

Otherwise, on such a joyous occasion, if they got drunk, wouldn't that just cause trouble for the Zhao Family?

He grumbled to himself.

Slapping Song Mo on the shoulder, he said cheerfully: "Young Lord, how about I play a few rounds with Minister Ji? Watching you drink so heartily makes me itch to join."

But the usually generous Song Mo chuckled and pushed him away. "You're a guest here. Today, Minister Ji is the honored guest—you'll have to be patient."

Aren't you a guest too?

Ji Yong muttered inwardly, then said with a smile: "One more drinker or two makes no difference to me. Why not play the Three-Person Finger-Guessing Game? Young Lord, there's no need to keep Lord Ma at arm's length."

His implication was clear: he wasn't afraid even if Song Mo brought in reinforcements. He only worried Song Mo might refuse to save face.

Song Mo wasn't about to fall for such obvious bait. Smiling, he replied: "It seems Minister Ji isn't very familiar with the Three-Person game—each round is independent. Your suspicions are quite unfounded."

A veiled jab at Ji Yong's lack of courage.

Ji Yong scoffed and raised an eyebrow at Ma Youming.

Though Ma Youming had indeed considered teaming up with Song Mo, he was straightforward by nature and respected strength above all. He wouldn't stoop to petty arguments, nor would he let Ji Yong's sarcasm bother him. Raising his cup, he declared: "This cup, I'll drink first to show respect," thus formally joining their game.

This time, however, it was Ma Youming who had to drink.

Both Song Mo and Ji Yong glared at him.

Embarrassed, Ma Youming suggested: "Maybe we should try a drinking game after all?"

Ji Yong curled his lip. "I doubt the Young Lord would agree."

Song Mo smiled faintly, his expression reserved yet warm: "As your host, whatever pleases Minister Ji is fine by me. But these cups are too small—let's use bowls instead."

Ji Yong smirked coldly. Noticing a set of dominoes on a nearby table, his eyes gleamed as he called for a maid. After ordering several large bowls, he casually picked a few dominoes and placed them on a black lacquer tea tray decorated with golden begonia flowers. "Let's use these dominoes as prompts. Each of us will compose a seven-character verse—what does the Young Lord think?"

Dou Dechang, who had been sitting quietly all this while, suddenly spoke up.Drinking games were the forte of scholars.

Moreover, people of this era diligently studied the Four Books . Few devoted effort to poetry, so much so that even Seventh Uncle couldn’t bear to test Song Mo—proof that his literary skills were mediocre. Regardless, Song Mo was still his brother-in-law, and Ji Yong’s notorious cunning was well-known. Who could guess what schemes he harbored? He couldn’t just stand by and watch Song Mo suffer in silence!

"The more participants in a drinking game, the merrier," Dou Dechang said, pretending not to grasp the situation as he smiled. "Shall I join in?"

Song Mo could tell Dou Dechang was trying to shield him and was even more reluctant to let him get dragged into this.

He took the tea tray and flipped all the dominoes face-down, smiling. "Then I’ll be the game master?"

Dou Dechang had no choice but to push the tray toward Dou Zhengchang instead. "Let my elder brother be the game master! I’ll drink with Cousin and… and Fourth Brother-in-Law!"

Though Song Mo consistently addressed him as "Brother-in-Law," Dou Dechang had grown accustomed to calling him "Fourth Brother-in-Law." But under Ji Yong’s cold gaze, he tactfully switched to the more respectful "Fourth Son-in-Law."

Ji Yong’s expression darkened slightly, but he didn’t press the issue, gesturing for Dou Zhengchang to draw a tile.

Dou Zhengchang looked—it was A Branch of Spring .

This rule was troublesome but not obscure. The question was whether Lord Ma could keep up.

Worried, he glanced at Ma Youming, who was unfamiliar with drinking games, then recited, "Snow-capped valleys lush with powdered green," and downed a bowl of wine.

A standard line, just like his own.

Ma Youming, embarrassed, smiled at Dou Zhengchang and offered, "Jade steps of the thatched hall, fragrance hidden," before drinking.

This took Dou Zhengchang by surprise.

Ji Yong followed with "Emerald pond, apricot rain spreads brocade white," then turned his gaze to Song Mo.

Song Mo leisurely drank his wine and replied with a smile, "Willow’s last leaves, flowers dance free."

Though the verse didn’t mention winter outright, it used spring imagery to evoke the season.

Ji Yong’s eyes sharpened.

Dou Zhengchang and Dou Dechang exhaled in relief.

Dou Dechang drained his cup and recited, "Sun-warmed tung blossoms fill sleeves with wind."

The banker had lost.

Dou Zhengchang accompanied him with a large bowl of wine, then drew another tile— One String .

Ma Youming’s lips curled almost imperceptibly.

The Young Lord excelled at these refined drinking games, though he was less skilled at finger-guessing.

For Minister Ji to challenge the Young Lord at his own forte—he was bound to lose.

The room soon filled with recitations.

Before long, Dou Zhengchang had downed seven or eight large bowls, his face flushed crimson as if blood might drip from it.

Unable to bear it, Ma Youming took over the tea tray and became the banker.

Now it was his turn to drink.

Ma Youming silently cursed.

Why were all these Dou relatives so formidable? It seemed whoever took the banker’s role was doomed.

Fortunately, his alcohol tolerance was high—he wouldn’t be overwhelmed easily.

Ji Yong began citing classics, adding a new rule with each tile drawn, eventually restricting the poetry to the Four Books and Five Classics .

Song Mo remained composed, his jade-like face unflushed as he elegantly drank and played along. Only poor Dou Dechang struggled, barely managing a line, while Dou Zhengchang was too drunk to make sense. Ma Youming simply accepted the penalties.

Half an hour later, only Song Mo and Ji Yong remained sober in the Reception Hall.

Ma Youming, still somewhat clear-headed, grabbed a maid who entered to refresh their cups and whispered urgently, "Go inform your mistress at once." The startled maid stifled a scream and scurried out in a panic.Before long, the master of ceremonies arrived and said to them with a smile, "The bride's entourage will be here shortly. Gentlemen, please proceed to the tea room for a few cups of tea and discuss how to accompany the groom in drinking later."

Ji Yong stared fixedly at Song Mo, unmoving like a mountain.

"Lord Ji, today the groom takes precedence. Why don't we arrange another day to share a few drinks at Zhao Zishu's place in Qianfo Temple?" Song Mo stood up, nodding meaningfully at him before turning to leave the Reception Hall.

Ji Yong's face darkened with anger.

Ma Youming, his vision blurred, watched Song Mo depart and staggered to his feet to follow. "Young Lord, where are you going?" he called out.

Song Mo steadied Ma Youming and instructed Chen He, "Lord Ma has had a bit too much to drink. Inform the steward to arrange a place for him to rest."

Chen He respectfully acknowledged the order and moved to assist Ma Youming.

But Ma Youming suddenly became agitated, flailing his arms and nearly striking Chen He in the face.

"I'm fine, I'm fine!" He tried to grab Song Mo's arm but failed several times, his vision too hazy to see clearly. "Young Lord, I actually came here to find you... but never got the chance. You don't know how unbearable my days have been lately... Young Lord, I know you're a clever man. You move through the palace as if it were your own home. I just want to ask for your guidance... I may not be smart, but I'll follow a wise man anywhere... through fire and water, I'll follow you..."

He thumped his chest loudly.

However, just as Ma Youming uttered the words "You move through the palace as if it were your own home," Song Mo noticed Ji Yong and the master of ceremonies emerging. Without dwelling on Ma Youming's words, he sharply reprimanded Chen He, "Hurry and find Lord Ma a suitable place to rest," then strode away.

Chen He half-dragged Ma Youming out of the hall.

Ji Yong's gaze turned icy.

The oblivious master of ceremonies remarked enviously, "A man like the Duke of Yingguo's heir truly lives a life worth living. Look at Lord Ma—a third-rank military officer—yet he still pledges loyalty to the Young Lord... They say the Young Lord is only seventeen this year. Meanwhile, others his age are still burning the midnight oil, striving for fame and success. Even if they pass the imperial exams young, achieving what the Young Lord has would likely take them a lifetime of effort!" His tone grew wistful by the end.

Ji Yong remained silent, his eyes growing colder as he watched Song Mo's retreating figure.

The Grand Training of Culture had earned the Emperor's praise. Yu Li, not claiming all the credit, commended his fellow compilers before the Emperor, especially the youngest among them, Ji Yong. With his title of Tanhua (third-place scholar) and sharp intellect, Yu Li saw great promise in him and sought to foster goodwill, praising him particularly.

Pleased, the Emperor summoned Ji Yong for a casual conversation.

Ji Yong thought the matter concluded there.

Yet, a few days later, the Emperor issued an edict ordering the Imperial Academy to compile the Combined Training of Zhou Rituals , specifically appointing Ji Yong to assist in the revisions.

His great-grandfather was overjoyed upon hearing the news and advised him, "This is an opportunity—one that could etch your name in history. You must seize it well."Both his uncle and father were overjoyed, one nearly emptying the house of its finest treasures to lay before him for choosing; the other treading so lightly as if afraid the slightest sound might disturb him, which only served to irritate him further. He longed for someone to talk to, yet everyone around him echoed the same praises: "At such a young age, not only have you earned the title of Tanhua (third-place scholar), but you’ve also twice been chosen to assist in compiling anthologies prefaced by the Emperor. The literary world of our dynasty is certain to remember your brilliant contributions."

The implication was clear—even spending a lifetime as an editor in the Imperial Academy would be a source of pride.

Today, Yu Li summoned him and repeated the same tedious lecture, leaving him utterly disheartened. He brooded over the thought of being trapped in the Imperial Academy, day after day, year after year, revising books, and decided he’d rather die than endure such a fate.