Cheng Jinzhou reined in his steed. His Anyama stood tall, and with his own height added, they towered over two meters. Peering down, he could barely see the prone figures, who seemed utterly lifeless.
"Meng Two, you alright?" Naturally, Cheng Jinzhou wouldn't check on an enemy first.
"Thank you for your concern, Third Young Master. Just banged my leg." Meng Two retrieved a short cudgel from the ground, his face stubbornly maintaining a cool facade.
Watching Meng Two pick up the weapon, Cheng Jinzhou exhaled in relief. He'd feared the man might draw his boot dagger—had that happened, the arterial spray could've jetted two meters from his thigh.
Zhao Quanfu stormed forward with his entourage, radiating hostility. Though maintaining noble composure—hands clasped behind his back—a lackey-like figure jabbed a finger toward Cheng Jinzhou's nose, taunting venomously, "Who's house brat dares act up here?"
"And whose house do you hail from?" Having gained the upper hand and injured an opponent, Cheng Jinzhou's tone turned disarmingly mild—though his roving eyes drifted toward Liu Qingshuang.
At heart, he was a man nearing twenty. Such a fair, delicate girl—even if merely a budding beauty—left him struggling for self-restraint. His physical impulses seemed to override reason under the influence of his sickly original body.
Physiological urges always overpower reason.
Liu Qingshuang was classical loveliness incarnate, her clear, intelligent eyes radiating unusual freshness. She observed Cheng Jinzhou with studied curiosity, lips pressed faintly together, thoughts unreadable.
Zhao Quanfu's dozen followers fanned out ominously, one even nocking an arrow. Meng One and Meng Two tensed. The lackey smirked upward. "Know well, this is Zhao Quanfu—firstborn grandson of the Prince of Naling!"
"What relation is Zhao Yeyu to you?" Cheng Jinzhou suddenly recalled the youth who'd defied him in the private school.
"You know my younger brother?" Facing others, Zhao Quanfu remained flawlessly noble—chin high, posture pristine though somewhat pointless.
"Boy, sucking up now's too late!" Slaves loyal to Ah-Hu and Ah-Bao shouted insults at Cheng Jinzhou, their sneers polished by arrogance.
Next to a prince's grandson, Cheng Jinzhou's manners were barbaric. Ignoring the lackeys, he cut off Zhao Quanfu's indrawn breath: "You two really share the same stupidity. The Zhao Family Fools."
He punctuated the insult with mocking finger-pointing.
Zhao Quanfu choked back fury while his minions jeered. Liu Qingshuang signaled her maid nervously; she'd brought two guards herself.
Cheng Jinzhou turned righteous boldness toward her: "Are you from the manor, my lady? I've not seen you in the Cheng estate."
For pretty girls, he always made time.
"No." Liu Qingshuang's lips quirked in amusement. Studying Cheng Jinzhou's thin frame, curiosity flickered—this father-praised youth, previously unimpressive yesterday, seemed unexpectedly complex.
His opponent's manner didn't shatter Zhao Quanfu's aristocratic veneer. He casually nodded; a lackey hefted a training blade. "Your Highness, this insolence demands punishment."
His gang chorused eagerly, "We volunteer!"
Perfectly choreographed, their practiced expressions feigned righteous dueling fervor—but only against one man.
Zhao Quanfu savored Cheng Jinzhou's unease. "Spare us rural titles. 'Prince's grandson' suffices. But your request is granted."
The lackeys chuckled, flanking Cheng Jinzhou. "Lucky you—no astrologers are here. Let's loosen your bones."
Meng One and Meng Two tightened grips on their weapons. Ordinary soldiers facing over a dozen manor guards could hardly shield Cheng Jinzhou unscathed.
Open combat meant guaranteed injury.
As Liu Qingshuang readied to intervene, dust rose anew across the training grounds.
Cheng Jinzhou flashed a grin. His reckless gallop had forced servants to chase him; this delay finally brought reinforcements. Arching a brow at Zhao Quanfu, he declared, "I am Cheng Jinzhou—legitimate third-generation descendant of the Cheng family's Qing lineage."
Zhao Quanfu frowned. He hadn't anticipated Cheng reinforcements, and now vastly outnumbered, attacking the master's grandson was unwise.
Abruptly, recognition dawned. "...Lord Liu appointed you?"
He swallowed future son-in-law unsaid.
"Indeed." Cheng Jinzhou studied Zhao Quanfu's theatrics—a textbook hypocrite and wastrel. Such a life, he mused as a modern soul, seemed enviably perfect: inheritance included.
Restraining fury, Zhao Quanfu gave Liu Qingshuang a minimal nod. "Let's leave."
He'd pursued her to Shaonan to claim this blossoming prize. Her father's refusals hadn't deterred him—and now, seeing Cheng Jinzhou's apparent ignorance of Liu Qingshuang? Preventing their exchange became paramount. To let them speak would offer his flower to another's hands.
"Compensation first." Cheng Jinzhou blocked him, pointing at the fallen steed. "That purebred costs a fortune."
Zhao Quanfu's veins bulged, yet noble decorum held. "That nag's no purebred! Besides"—he gestured to his injured man—"this duel injured my retainer."
"A commoner can't duel nobility. Nor challenge a noble's servant without permission." The Daxia Dynasty's archaic hierarchy thrilled Cheng Jinzhou. Deliberately misconstruing, he affected magnanimity: "Let the audience decide."
Dust-covered servants arrived.
Nearly a hundred men recognized Cheng Jinzhou and bowed reluctantly, flipping the numbers advantage instantly.
Trapped, Zhao Quanfu strained for grace before Liu Qingshuang. "State your demand."
"You said compensation. How scatterbrained." Cheng Jinzhou shed noble airs for teasing irreverence.
Snickering servants made Zhao's party flush and glance down.
Like swallowing flies, Zhao Quanfu surrendered. "What sum?"
"For a purebred stallion? At least two thousand taels." Cheng Jinzhou eyed the shaggy, nameless creature.
True to princely upbringing, Zhao Quanfu masked rage with dignity. "Two hundred for this 'purebred.'" He stressed the label sarcastically.
Liu Qingshuang stifled a smile. Eager to observe Cheng Jinzhou's methods, she stayed silent—Daxia's society allowed curiosity, but direct assessments were rare. Her maid twitched impatiently, face as expressive as modeling clay.
Two hundred taels in silver notes—equivalent to carrying 50,000 modern cash. Knowing accusations might force mutual punishment, Cheng Jinzhou finally nodded. "Fine. Seeing you're an educated nobleman, I'll give you a tenfold discount. Remember, that means you pay one-tenth—not short one-tenth."
Zhao Quanfu snorted, handing over the notes. To Liu Qingshuang, he offered a silent departure gesture.
But the seemingly twelve-year-old Cheng Jinzhou gazed at Liu Qingshuang with undisguised curiosity. "Miss, please stay—why haven't our clans met?"
Zhao Quanfu burned to smash Cheng Jinzhou's face and rip up the notes. But preventing their coded exchange had cost him both silver and pride. The price of preventing their shared secret seemed far too steep.