Chapter 622: Pressing Hard, a Painting, a Poem

Jia Yu and the other two heard these words, and a flicker of anger flashed in their eyes.

As students of Chongshan Academy, they possessed a scholar's integrity.

Didn't this act by the Thirteenth Prince amount to bullying with power?

Human nature often leans toward siding with the weaker party.

Though Xie Guan was a Shuzi of the Xie family, his status was even lower than theirs, yet now he had become the object of their shared indignation.

Facing the pressure of a prince, and one backed by the powerful Prince of Yan, the three men seethed inwardly but dared not speak out.

Zhou Yuner's beautiful eyes blazed with fury.

Chen Mu scanned the crowd, absorbing every expression, then fixed his gaze on Xie Guan, his tone laced with arrogance and contempt.

"Xie Guan, what do you say?"

"If you compose a poem for me today, this matter is settled."

"If your poem is good, my sixth brother has a few guest positions open—if you beg me, I'll let you take one."

Chen Yong softly reminded him: "Thirteenth brother, have you forgotten? Master Guan has not yet begun his studies—he's merely a child, with no official title or merit."

Chen Mu merely smiled faintly, his voice tinged with mockery: "What's the worry? My sixth brother's estate is vast—what's a few idle mouths to feed?"

Yuan Yue continued cracking sunflower seeds, her eyes curious as she watched the boy across from her.

The Thirteenth Prince's words carried an inexplicable air of disdain.

Those present felt a pang of resignation—such things were commonplace in Bianjing.

What good is talent if you're not of the Nine Surnames? They don't care!

Though Xie Guan had just made Bianjing tremble with three poems, at the peak of his glory, Chen Mu's words would ensure rumors spread across the city tomorrow, whispers and slander swirling endlessly.

If such poetic talent came from a scion of the Nine Surnames, the halls would be packed with guests, music and dance would fill the air, and all would rush to offer congratulations and stoke the flames.

But if it came from someone outside the Nine Surnames, humiliation was inevitable.

The gates of the Nine Surnames towered into the clouds, their rules rigid and unyielding—no matter how brilliant a scholar from a humble family, he could never cross that chasm.

Zhang Yuanlai gazed at the splendid brocade robe of the Thirteenth Prince, embroidered with golden dragons, and felt a deep pang of reflection, recalling his years in Bianjing.

A stranger with no connections, he had barged into Bianjing with reckless confidence, believing his talent would surely make him stand out in this glittering city.

But reality had struck him like a hammer.

In Bianjing, the power of the Nine Surnames ran deep—official posts, business, everything was tightly controlled by them.

Over the years, he had stumbled, bruised, and smashed into countless walls.

Men like him, from humble origins, could only survive by clinging to the breath of the Nine Surnames.

Chen Mu noticed Xie Guan's calm expression, glanced at the three men beside him—no fear, no flattery—as if he hadn't heard a word, and a flicker of displeasure stirred within him.

"Refuse the cup of wine? Then drink the cup of punishment!"

Chen Yong cut in smoothly: "Thirteenth brother, hold your anger."

He turned to Xie Guan with a gentle smile: "Master Guan is close to Yunzhi—he's practically my friend."

"Thirteenth brother, could you honor my request and let this go? You've always loved that stable I own on Yulong Street, haven't you?"

"Shall I give it to you?"

Chen Mu frowned slightly—he was no ignorant prince; at ten, he had joined his sixth brother, the Prince of Yan, in the military.

This eleventh prince, Chen Yong, was the son of an imperial consort, his maternal clan backed by Prime Minister Su Xiang, a powerful northern aristocratic family—though not as illustrious as the Nine Surnames, still formidable.

Among the twenty-odd princes, Chen Yong was famed for his immense wealth, the only son, and since childhood frail and ill, he was deeply cherished by his mother.

He owned multiple properties in the exorbitantly priced city of Bianjing.

Recently, the Prince of Yan had sent Chen Mu over a dozen prized steeds from Changsheng Tian in the north.

Chen Mu adored horses, treasuring them as jewels.

But his own stables were already full—he sought to acquire a new stable on Yulong Street.

In the Warring States era, horse farms were vital for supplying warhorses and transport.

These farms were located where fodder and water were abundant, with strict training and selection protocols for the horses.

At that time, private horse breeding was strictly forbidden—any discovery meant severe punishment.

But!

With the rise of the Great Qi, the need for warhorses and labor horses declined. Under Qi's prosperity, Bianjing became the epicenter of horse racing culture.

Horse racing surged in popularity—nobles and commoners alike were obsessed.

The wealthy sons of Bianjing all owned private stables.

Yet land in Bianjing was scarce, especially on Yulong Street, where the Nine Surnames held sway—every inch was priceless.

Either the price was absurdly high, or no suitable land existed at all.

Thus, Chen Mu's stable purchase had remained unresolved.

Unexpectedly!

This eleventh brother, Chen Yong, seemed to have known he was searching—and now offered to gift him a stable on Yulong Street.

It was clearly a gift tailored to his desires, for a stable on Yulong Street was worth a fortune.

Chen Yong smiled warmly, his tone generous: "The stable also has over a dozen carefully selected grooms—I'll give them to you too, as a small token from your elder brother."

Chen Mu's eyes lit up, yet he laughed: "Isn't that stable your most cherished possession? You're always visiting it—now you're giving it to me? Isn't that a gentleman stealing what another loves?"

His visit today was ostensibly to demand a poem—but he had deeper intent.

He had learned that Xie Guan had offended the Second Prince, Chen Feng, by refusing to paint for him.

He could never side with the Second Prince.

Chen Mu and Xie Yu were cousins; Lady Yuan of the Xie family was his "auntie."

He had come at her request—to humiliate and crush Xie Guan.

His gaze returned to Xie Guan, cold and assessing: "Besides—is it worth it, for a mere Xie family Shuzi?"

"That stable is worth tens of thousands of gold."

Chen Yong smiled: "Thirteenth brother, give me a clear answer."

Chen Mu hesitated.

On one hand, the stable he had long desired; on the other, his auntie's repeated orders to humiliate Xie Guan today.

The Prince of Yan had the full backing of the Xie family, and the struggle for the throne was fierce.

He dared not offend them lightly.

Zhou Yuner, seeing this, exhaled inwardly in relief—this eleventh prince, Chen Yong, had unexpectedly come to their aid.

Such a priceless stable, used as a favor.

What scheme did this obscure prince in Bianjing truly harbor?

Chen Mu looked at Xie Guan and slowly said: "Since my eleventh brother pleads for you, if you apologize, I'll let this drop."

Thus, he would gain the stable he wanted and avoid offending Lady Yuan and the Xie family—a perfect solution.

Li Xiangjun, hearing this, felt a slight easing of tension—this matter seemed to have found a peaceful resolution.

As courtesans, though they had some fame in the brothels, before true power-holders, they were powerless and insignificant.

Chen Yong smiled and thanked Chen Mu: "Thank you, thirteenth brother."

Chen Mu crossed his arms and gave a slight nod.

All eyes turned to Xie Guan.

Yu Ke remained silent.

Chen Yong also fixed his gaze on Xie Guan, recalling his first impression of him at the Qunfang Banquet.

The Lady of the Sima family had treated him with deep respect; Zhang Yunzhi and others had shown him great regard.

And just now at the banquet, Xie Guan had composed three setting poems—each masterful.

He had already resolved to befriend him.

Though frail, he harbored great ambition.

That was why, when he saw Chen Mu descend from Yaoxian Pavilion seeking Xie Guan, he had gladly joined him.

Chen Mu noticed Xie Guan remained calm, as if the conversation before him held no relevance.

"What?" Chen Mu's voice turned icy. "So Master Guan refuses to acknowledge my brother's kindness—and has no regard for me at all?"

The atmosphere froze instantly.

Li Xiangjun laughed lightly, trying to ease the tension: "Master Guan, Prince Mu is the Prince of Yan's younger brother—he has noble grace. Don't waste Elder Brother Yong's goodwill."

Jia Yu looked anxious and whispered to Xie Guan:

"Master Guan, a true man knows when to yield—nothing is truly insurmountable."

Zhang Yuanlai knew Xie Guan's nature well—motherless since childhood, he was precocious, thoughtful, and meticulous, never slipping up.

Yet even so, when Wu Tong was in danger at Daguan Garden, he had immediately revealed his edge.

He knew when to advance and when to retreat!

Now, facing this moment, Zhang Yuanlai wondered:

How would the boy choose?

【Facing this, you decide…】

1. Agree to apologize to Thirteenth Prince Chen Mu. (Hint: May affect the future.)

2. Refuse to apologize to Thirteenth Prince Chen Mu. (Hint: May affect the future.)

3. Ignore them. (Hint: May affect the future.)

4. Paint a painting and compose a poem to repay Elder Brother Yong's gift of the stable. (Hint: May benefit the future.)

5. End direct participation. (1/3)

The great cauldron within Yu Ke's heart-sea rang out, spilling forth myriad rays of rosy light, the characters upon it slowly settling into stillness.

Yu Ke looked at the options above; from the hint, all three could be directly eliminated.

It's not time to end yet—【Direct Participation】.

Only one option remains—select it directly.

4. Paint a painting and compose a poem to settle the matter of Chen Yong's horse farm. (Hint: May benefit the future.)

Yu Ke shook his head and said coolly:

"Composing poetry at the Group of Beauties Banquet is merely protocol; I, Xie Guan, am merely following the rules."

"What fault is there?"

"If there is no fault, how can there be any need for an apology?"

Upon hearing Xie Guan's words, all present could not help but look astonished.

It was like publicly humiliating Chen Mu.

Li Xiangjun also wore an expression of helplessness; the previously calm Xie Guan had suddenly become so foolish.

To speak so bluntly—wouldn't it leave Prince Chen Mu with no face to save?

Chen Yong furrowed his brows slightly.

After hearing this, Chen Mu's face darkened, then he suddenly smiled. "Eleventh brother, it seems this young master Xie truly looks down on Your Highness."

Chen Yong paused, then said: "Thirteenth brother, since young master Xie refuses to apologize, let it go."

"As for the horse farm, I shall bear the expenses for the next ten years—how is that?"

Chen Mu raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised.

The annual cost of a horse farm is already enormous—feeding men and horses alike is extremely expensive.

Is Xie Guan worth it to Chen Yong?

Especially those prized horses—they eat only the finest fodder, even grass seeds transported from the north and specially cultivated in Bianjing, at exorbitant cost.

After thinking it over, Chen Mu said: "Fine. I'll give eleventh brother this favor."

"Let this matter drop."

Li Xiangjun saw Chen Yong's action—clearly, he was rescuing Xie Guan.

At that moment!

Xie Guan's voice rang out: "Prince Yong, how much is this horse farm worth? And what is the total cost for ten years?"

All turned to look; they saw Xie Guan had risen from his seat and stepped forward to stand before Zhang Yuan and the others.

Though puzzled, Chen Yong still answered: "Last year, a horse farm on Fish and Dragon Street sold for two million two hundred thousand taels—just for the land. My farm is larger and better situated; its value is naturally higher, and it's priceless even if you have the money."

"As for annual expenses—fodder, grooms' wages, and miscellaneous costs—it's likely ten thousand taels."

At these words, all present gasped.

A single horse farm could cost so much? Ten years' expenses were a astronomical sum—truly astonishing.

Yu Ke nodded slowly and said, "Then altogether, that's four million taels."

Hearing this, Chen Yong felt a flicker of doubt—he could not understand why Xie Guan asked this.

Four million taels—enough!

Xie Guan's gaze swept over the crowd, finally settling on Chen Yong, and he said coolly: "Then, Prince Yong, I am deeply grateful for your kindness. But though I, Xie Guan, am of humble birth, I cannot bear to owe such a heavy debt."

"I shall repay you, Your Highness."

Hearing this, Chen Mu felt a wave of mockery rise in his chest. As a member of the imperial family, he could not afford such silver for this horse farm.

Yet Xie Guan—a mere illegitimate son of the Xie family—how dare he speak so casually of purchasing a horse farm?

Zhang Yuan knew well Xie Guan's position within the Xie Fu; he understood Xie Guan could not possibly possess such wealth.

Yet when he saw Xie Guan's expression remained calm as ever, a strange sense of reassurance rose within him—he knew young master Xie always acted with restraint, never doing anything without certainty.

Yu Ke walked to the yellow-wood desk, gently moved aside the previous paper, then turned to Zhou Yuner and said: "Yuner, please grind more ink for me."

Zhou Yuner blinked in surprise, gazing at Xie Guan's gentle, serene expression, her heart trembling once more.

Meanwhile, Jia Yu edged closer to Xie Guan, his face full of confusion, wondering what purpose grinding ink now served.

Yu Ke looked around the room and said slowly: "Today, Xie Guan intends to paint a painting and compose a poem—and boldly set the price at four million taels."

His voice was not loud, yet each word clearly reached every ear in the hall.

Like a stone dropped into still water.

Four million!!

Zhou Yuner's red lips parted in shock.

Jia Yu and the other three froze, as if unable to believe their ears.

Zhang Yuan and Feng Yaya exchanged glances, both eyes filled with astonishment.

Hearing this, Chen Mu shook his head, a cold smirk curling his lips: "Xie Guan, don't let your imagination run wild. A painting and a poem worth four million taels? Your audacity is staggering."

In contrast, Chen Yong stared at the blank sheet of paper, lost in thought.

(End of Chapter)