BY THE TIME Mo Xi and Mengze came in from the cold, the Great Hall was full of guests. As soon as Princess Yanping glimpsed them together, she bounded over, all smiles. "Jiejie, Brother-in-Law!" she said sweetly. "Wishing you peace and happiness!"
Mengze cleared her throat. "Little girls should learn to watch their tongues."
Mo Xi glanced at Princess Yanping. Her attempts at seducing him when he'd first returned to the capital were fresh in his memory, yet she was now trying to pretend nothing had happened. Her skin was really shockingly thick.
Yanping batted her lashes at him. "Heh heh, Xihe-jun thinks of my sister day and night. All you two are missing is a wedding, so what's wrong with me calling you my brother-in-law?"
"Yanping!" Mengze exclaimed.
"Okay, okay, I won't bother you two anymore." Yanping cast one last coquettish glance at Mo Xi. "Beautiful Brother-in-Law, see you later."
She disappeared in a cloud of scented powder, leaving Mo Xi and Mengze to look at each other in dismay and abject embarrassment. Mo Xi glanced at the water clock, then said, "His Imperial Majesty will be here soon. I'll help you to your seat."
Mengze smiled. "There's no need. I still need to find a few friends and make my greetings. Xihe-jun may attend to his own affairs."
With that, she left. Mo Xi stood in place and looked around for a moment, but Gu Mang was nowhere in sight. He frowned. Where did he go? Mo Xi could summon him with the slave collar, but he still wasn't fond of that object. Instead, he opted to search on foot, crossing the palace with long strides.
In the end he found Jiang Yexue talking to Gu Mang in a secluded corner. "What are the two of you doing here?"
Jiang Yexue turned at the sound of his voice. He replied mildly, "We happened to bump into each other. We're just chatting."
"What do you two have to chat about?"
Jiang Yexue smiled and didn't prevaricate. "You."
Mo Xi shifted his gaze to Gu Mang, but Gu Mang was looking down, fiddling uneasily with his sleeves. Just as Mo Xi opened his mouth to speak, he was interrupted by the herald's announcement behind them. "His Imperial Majesty has arrived!"
Mo Xi swallowed the words on the tip of his tongue and instead said to Gu Mang, "Time to go. Come with me back to our seats."
Once the emperor arrived, the New Year's Eve feast officially began. Naturally it was a glittering and sumptuous spectacle, with magnificent toasts and speeches full of praise. Dancers performed as the guests dined, and the sound of music filled the room. After the appropriate rites were performed, the banquet grew lively as the families toasted and flattered each other, warm smiles shining on their crowding faces.
The emperor relaxed into the cushions of his throne, a lazy smile on his face. "Gentlemen, we ask nothing of you but this. Be merry."
The crowd toasted their thanks, wishing good fortune upon the nation and the throne. It was a warm, joyous scene. After the third round, the nobles began to stroll throughout the hall and toast one another.
Murong Lian slouched in his seat, smoking his pipe. His peach- blossom eyes were downcast, his expression slightly tipsy but mostly weary. When Mo Xi glanced over at him, he discovered that Murong Lian was staring at Gu Mang through narrowed eyes, that hazy gaze hiding some indescribable emotion. "Here, Xihe-jun, I'll toast to you."
Changfeng-jun had come and brought his heart-mad daughter along. Mo Xi looked away from Murong Lian and made a toast to Changfeng- jun's longevity. After they exchanged the customary pleasantries, Mo Xi asked, "Has your daughter been feeling better?"
Changfeng-jun patted Lan-er's head, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiled. "She has. Medicine Master Jiang has been taking care of her ever since he returned. Truly, where would we be without him?"
Lan-er was so small her head barely cleared the feast table. Her eyes brightened at the sight of Gu Mang. "Da-gege!" she softly exclaimed in delight.
Gu Mang blinked, his blue eyes curving like spring leaves as he smiled. "Little dragonfly."
"Hee hee, my name is Lan-er, I..."
She didn't get to finish. The banquet was a gathering of loose tongues, and chatting with someone so notorious would do her no good. Changfeng-jun put a hand on his daughter's head, hinting that she should be quiet.
"Papa?" Lan-er asked in confusion.
Gu Mang was no longer as bewildered as he might have been. Now, he understood that he was a traitor, and traitors were disgraceful. And that was to say nothing of the things Jiang Yexue had just divulged to him.
In the past, the word traitor had not aroused any deep or visceral feelings in him. All he knew was that everyone's eyes contained an inexpressible hatred when they said this word. But when Mo Xi said it, that hatred seemed to be accompanied by an abyssal heartbreak. No wonder—he had only been seven. Like a wolf cub that hadn't yet learned to hunt. And because of the traitor whom his father had considered a brother, his father died such a grisly death.
So, Gu Mang had done exactly as that man had. No wonder everyone reviled him, treated him with disdain—a wolf that betrayed its pack deserved to be torn apart and eaten alive.
"Da-gege, are you upset...?"
Gu Mang's expression dulled. He lowered his head, sinking into his thoughts, and fell silent.
Lan-er was still young and naive. She thought he was spurning her because of her heart-madness and couldn't stop tears from welling up in her eyes. "Da-gege, we played together before, I—"
"That's enough, Lan-er." Changfeng-jun forced a smile and pulled her close. "Xihe-jun, we're off to toast a few other families. Wishing you peace and happiness." Then he hurriedly led his daughter away. The girl kept looking back with every step.
Mo Xi felt that something was off. He turned to look at Gu Mang. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." Gu Mang sniffled. "Happy New Year. I'll..." He did as the rest were doing, picking up a cup of wine from the table. "I'll toast to you too."
Mo Xi said nothing. Jiang Yexue, that meddlesome people-pleaser, had definitely told Gu Mang something he shouldn't. He refused to accept the wine Gu Mang held out to him. Mo Xi stared into those blue eyes, as if he wanted to peer past them straight into his flesh and bone. "Just what did you hear?" he asked through clenched teeth.
But Gu Mang hadn't time to say anything before another group of people came by to offer a toast. Mo Xi couldn't discuss such matters in front of others, so he had no choice but to perform the niceties. Being the highest-ranked general among Chonghua's aristocracy, he had no shortage of people coming up to rub elbows with him. The moment one group left, another took its place. Mo Xi wanted to grab Gu Mang and interrogate him, but he gradually realized that this was presently impossible.
"Xihe-jun, wishing you peace and happiness."
"Hear, hear—a toast, for Xihe-jun to achieve even more merits in the coming year."
Chonghua's nobles were numerous indeed. As each one came up to toast him, Mo Xi downed one drink after another, imbibing more than enough to make him tipsy. Unlike the honorable Wangshu-jun, however, Mo Xi's alcohol tolerance was respectable. Murong Lian was already thoroughly inebriated, slumping in his seat as he bit down on his pipe and took another drag of ephemera with hazy eyes.
But as the evening wore on, even Mo Xi was nearing his limits. And still more old nobles came forth to toast him. They were all grizzled seniors, his uncles and elders, so Mo Xi had no choice but to show deference, repressing his own discomfort to drink with them.
The high-ranking Northern Frontier Army officials sitting in the seats of honor watched from afar. One of them couldn't help but whisper, "Are they trying to get Stepdad so sloshed he faints?"
Someone else snickered, gloating. "Pfft, back when Xihe-jun was on campaign, we had to celebrate the New Year in the camp. He was the boss, and he refused to drink no matter who toasted him. One year, he even banned alcohol. Now that he's back in the capital, he doesn't get to call the shots anymore, ha ha! What goes around comes around!"
One of the others was positively gleeful over the thought. His eyes sparkled as he asked, "Guys, do you think Stepdad will get drunk tonight?"
"Woah! Now that would be a sight to see!"
"I've never seen Stepdad blackout drunk. Do you think he'll go nuts?"
"I think he'll just fall asleep!"
"Come on, why don't we bet on it! I bet that our stepdad will fall asleep and stay asleep!"
"I bet that he'll toss fireballs at people!"
"Bet high or bet low, but once you bet, let the money go!"
These army grunts didn't mean well, and those old nobles plying Mo Xi with wine didn't do it out of kindness either. They were of noble lineage, just like Mo Xi, so there were no class conflicts to speak of—but clan grudges and jealousy were no doubt present in spades. All of them wore the same blue-gold ribbon and had the same noble blood, so why was it that Mo Xi stood head and shoulders above their sons and grandsons? Mo Xi had lost his father young, and his mother had taken up with her dead husband's brother—family scandal upon family scandal. The Mo Clan should have long faded into irrelevance. Who could've expected Mo Xi to be tough as nails, enduring every hardship, persisting until he'd reached his current position of absolute dominance? What gave him the right?
Adding insult to injury, Mo Xi was not only accomplished on the battlefield, but was also a paragon of propriety. Putting him next to other pampered and spoiled scions of the same age was like comparing clouds and mud. Forget the old emperor—even the current emperor had nothing but praise for him.
Every young master born to a noble family had, at one point, been hauled out and compared to Xihe-jun. Even when these elders privately measured their children against each other, they'd always end up mentioning Mo Xi.
Someone would say, "Aiya, my son's growing up to be more and more handsome." To that, the other family would sourly respond, "Heh, not as handsome as Xihe-jun."
Or someone would say, "My boy's sure gifted! He blew up the academy's spiritual energy testing pillar at thirteen, ha ha ha!" To which the other family would snidely comment, "Heh, Xihe-jun blew them up at age ten. He burned down ten whole stone pillars; can your son do that?"
Yet another would say, "My son isn't great at much else, but his strength lies in his grace and refinement. Didn't His Imperial Majesty even praise him in court? Ah, as his dad, it sure feels good to hear it." To that, the other family would snark, "Heh heh, what's that next to Xihe-jun, the lotus blooming pure?"
What a curiosity it was. It wasn't like Xihe-jun was some immortal yet he spent all his days acting like he was above earthly matters. Did he truly not have a single speck of filth on him? Had he never made a single mistake? And so Mo Xi became the greatest grudge in these elders' hearts. Although many of them praised him aloud, in their hearts, they longed to see him make some mistake or cause some scandal. That way, their dearest little darlings at home could finally let out a breath of relief after years of suffering. Only then could they most sorrowfully, and arrogantly, lament: "Heh heh, told you so. This Xihe-shenjun is just a man after all."
That was why these nobles were enthusiastically plying Mo Xi with as much wine as possible. At first, the old bastards were just looking for some excitement, but their malice gradually rose to the surface. A drunk person might do or say something that they shouldn't, the old bastards thought. They couldn't get at any of Xihe-jun's real weaknesses like this, but maybe they could expose a flaw or two. What was he doing, acting so high and mighty?
When these crafty old foxes met each other's eyes, they knew what needed to be done without saying a word. Each of them was enlivened by the opportunity. As if waging a war of attrition, they began taking turns toasting Mo Xi.
"Xihe-jun, another! Ha ha ha, to your meteoric rise, to promotions and prosperity!"
"I've always taught my son to learn from Xihe-jun's example. Come, come! Top up Xihe-jun's cup!"
Mo Xi truly could not take much more. If they were his age or younger, he might be able to turn them away, but all these people were of his father's generation and wore warm and enthusiastic smiles. Neither etiquette nor atmosphere allowed him to refuse. As he downed cup after cup, even the rims of his phoenix eyes were reddening from the fumes.
The army ruffians of the Northern Frontier Army continued to mutter among themselves. "Another two cups and Stepdad's gonna fall over."
"Two cups? I think one'll do it."
"Stepdad looks like he really can't take any more..."
But Mo Xi could. He drank another full six rounds. By the time the seventh cup was pushed toward him, his face was pale, and he was on the verge of retching. "My apologies, Uncle Qin, I—"
The man's beady eyes shone as he earnestly pressed him. "Oh, Xi-er, I used to be comrades with your dad. We went through hell and high water together! With this cup of wine, I toast your father! You mustn't refuse— down it in one go!"
The others joined in, urging Mo Xi along. "Drink, drink! Like father, like son!"
"Drink for your father and his old friends!"
At this point, how could Mo Xi not know that they were taking turns to get him drunk, that they desired to see him humiliated? But Mo Xi's stubbornness rivaled iron. It would've been one thing if he couldn't tell what they wanted, but the instant he figured it out, the likelihood that he'd admit defeat dropped to zero.
His vision was blurring, filled with those greasy, grinning faces, those predatory eyes. A wave of heat roiled through his chest. His father. ..how did these people have the audacity to mention his father to him? Back when his father passed away, when his uncle had usurped power in the family, when his mother had remarried... how had all these people treated him? To a one they had shunned him, eager to wipe him from society like mud from the bottom of their shoe. Yet now the name of their "old friend" and "dear acquaintance" dropped freely from their tongue, and they went on about how they had held Mo Xi when he was little, taught him to hunt and ride...
Mo Xi's heart burned fiercely, the rims of his eyes reddening. A surge of obstinate fury abruptly engulfed him.
"Drink, drink!"
"Ha ha ha, the Mo Clan's alcohol tolerance has always been lousy. Reminds me of the late Fuling-jun—he couldn't handle a drop of wine either."
"Xi-er and Fuling are too similar."
How dare they mention him! These faces were like kindling in his heart. With a jug of wine, a handful of fire, a splash of bubbling oil, everything burst into flame. Mo Xi jumped to his feet, eyes fixed on the men in front of him.
Cowed by the terrifying sight of Mo Xi with his eyes scarlet, those elders' faces fell, their smiles frozen. They were still afraid of making Mo Xi truly lose his temper. Someone raised their voice, feigning calm. "Xihe- jun, you don't need to drink if you don't want to. Your father didn't like to drink either, you two..."
He was interrupted by a loud bang. Mo Xi had opened a jug of strong wine nearby with one hand, his gaze deathly fixed upon the speaker's face. He brutally lifted the jug, tendons white as he pushed it into the other man's arms. Then he opened a second jug for himself.
That old noble's jowls trembled as he forced his mouth into a fearful smile. "What does Xihe-jun mean by this?"
"I'm toasting Uncle Qin on behalf of my late father." Mo Xi bit out each word. He reached over with his other hand to firmly pat the old noble's wizened face. "I'll drain it," he said softly. "Uncle Qin had better not leave a single drop either. Whoever backs down is a rotten loser."
With that, he lifted the wine, closed his eyes, and tilted his head back to drink the entire jug.
By this point, the eyes on Xihe-jun were no longer limited to the crowd surrounding him—nearly everyone in the hall had been drawn in by his grand gesture. Stupefied, they craned their necks to watch this drinking contest.
Uncle Qin saw that Mo Xi had finished his jug. He looked down at the jug bigger than his own face and couldn't avoid swallowing nervously. A chill ran down his back. However, everyone was watching; he couldn't afford to take this lying down. He steeled himself and leaned back to chug. Unfortunately, he couldn't hope to match Mo Xi's resilience. After he gulped down half the jug, he couldn't take anymore. He doubled over and threw up. With a crash, the wine jug shattered on the ground.
Uncle Qin raised his head with effort, meeting Mo Xi's scornful and vicious gaze. Those phoenix eyes were scarlet from the wine, but remained clear through sheer force of will. They were like twin daggers.
Mo Xi's glossy lips parted. "Uncle, are you going to keep drinking?"
Uncle Qin shuddered. "No, no..."
Although he had admitted defeat, there were still others who thought Mo Xi would break under a little more pressure. Unwilling to give up now, they took up the challenge. In no time, another jug of wine was brought forward.
Just as Mo Xi was about to take it, someone grabbed hold of his arm. Through his bleary, reddened eyes, Mo Xi turned to look.
Gu Mang had gotten to his feet, his face clear and resolute. It was hard to tell if this was the Gu-shixiong of the past or the broken prisoner of the present. Gu Mang took the wine jug from him. "Why are so many of you ganging up on him?"