“My lord, with gongs and drums roaring, firecrackers popping, and the people lining the streets cheering, just a few steps like this and it feels like we’ve swallowed an immortal pill—light as feathers, soaring to the heavens. When you topped the imperial exams and rode through the streets as the champion, it must’ve felt this exhilarating, right?”
A personal guard squinted, every pore radiating pride and satisfaction, speaking to Zhu Ping’an with a sigh of awe.
“Not even close to this,” Zhu Ping’an replied, shaking his head with a smile.
“Really? But that was the top scholar title!” The guard sounded skeptical.
“Topping the exams and parading on horseback—back then, the people just watched, admired, soaked in the good fortune, and urged their kids to study harder. How could that compare to now? Today, the people’s gratitude is real, heartfelt—they recognize us, support us, love us, welcome us. That feeling back then? It wasn’t even a tenth of what I feel now.”
Zhu Ping’an explained with a warm smile.
“I get it now! Heh, we might not have topped the exams, but right now, it’s like we’ve won ten champion titles!” The guard’s mood lifted even higher, grinning like he’d hit the jackpot himself, chuckling foolishly.
A few steps later, as if guided by instinct, Zhu Ping’an glanced up at a wine house window by the road.
*“Painted eaves soar toward southern clouds, pearl curtains roll back the western rain.”*
The elegant room faced the street, its carved sandalwood window flung open. There stood someone he’d dreamed of day and night.
Bewitching yet ethereal, unmistakably pregnant, her eyes twinkling with a smile.
Their gazes locked—four eyes meeting across a moment that felt like a century.
It was as if they were back in Shanghe Village and Xiahe Village, or reliving the wedding night when he lifted her red veil.
It was Li Shu.
Behind her, the round-faced maid Baozi, along with Qin’er, supported the heavily pregnant Li Shu with care. They poked their heads out, buzzing with excitement as they watched Zhu Ping’an below, greeted by the people’s drums, gongs, and cheers.
Baozi and Qin’er were beside themselves with glee, as if the crowd’s adulation was for them.
They basked in reflected glory.
Zhu Ping’an smiled and waved. Li Shu raised a delicate hand in return—everything unspoken yet understood.
“My lord! My lord!”
The guard behind him was puzzled—why had Zhu Ping’an stopped?
“You blind idiot, why’re you yelling?” Liu Dadao couldn’t help but smack the clueless guard on the head.
“What’d I do?” The guard rubbed his head, aggrieved and confused.
“What’d you do? You’re so dense, you’ll die one day and not even know why!” Liu Dadao gave him another whack.
Only then did the guard look up, catching a glimpse as the carved window shut.
“Let’s go,” Zhu Ping’an said with a smile, waving the group onward.
The procession resumed.
Inside the wine house’s elegant room, after Zhu Ping’an moved on, Li Shu let out a soft “ouch.” With Baozi and Qin’er’s help, she sat down, a sheen of sweat dotting her forehead.
“Miss, are you alright? Aunt Wang! Aunt Wang, come quick—something’s wrong with Miss!” Baozi and Qin’er panicked, tending to Li Shu while shouting for help.
“I’m fine, I’m fine. The little ones might’ve sensed their dad’s here—they’re so excited, kicking up a storm. It’s making my belly ache,” Li Shu said with a casual smile, rubbing her swollen stomach.
“Still, Aunt Wang should check!” Baozi and Qin’er insisted, dead serious.
Right on cue, Aunt Wang arrived. She took Li Shu’s pulse and smiled gently. “Miss, it’s not the babies being too excited—it’s you. You got a bit winded from the thrill, and the babies felt cramped, so they’re moving more. It’s nothing serious. A bowl of crucian carp tofu soup will replenish the amniotic fluid and calm them down.”
No sooner had she spoken than Baozi and Qin’er brought over the soup—one holding the bowl, the other spooning it to Li Shu’s lips.
“More? I just had a bowl—it’s kinda fishy,” Li Shu protested, covering her mouth.
“You’ve got to drink it!” Baozi and Qin’er, now fully on Aunt Wang’s side, fed her spoonful after spoonful, brooking no argument.
Zhu Ping’an and the Zhejiang troops hadn’t gone far when the victory feast site came into view—a wharf repurposed with rows of windproof, insulated makeshift tents. Tables lined the space beneath.
Copper braziers burned fiercely under the tents, their charcoal flames warming the air.
Dozens of chefs, aided by scores of assistants, manned giant woks, cooking up a storm. The sizzle of oil and the aroma of wine, meat, and vegetables filled the air.
“Lord Zhu, brave soldiers, here’s the victory feast! Please take your seats. The setup’s a bit rough, but I promise plenty of good wine, fine dishes, and hearty meat. Sit down—the food’s coming right up!”
Prefect Shang stood with his officials at the entrance, bowing to invite Zhu Ping’an and the troops in.
“Brothers, join me in thanking Prefect Shang and the officials for arranging this feast!” Zhu Ping’an called, leading the soldiers in a salute.
Prefect Shang and the officials hurriedly stepped aside, unwilling to accept the gesture, waving humbly.
“Lord Zhu, you’re too kind—we can’t accept this! It’s us who should thank you. Without you leading the Zhejiang troops to protect Suzhou, our city would’ve fallen to the pirates—plundered and ravaged. All hundreds of thousands of us in Suzhou owe you our lives!”
“Truth be told, Suzhou owes you at least three feasts. First, at Fengqiao Camp, you led the troops to crush over ten thousand pirates, shattering their morale and boosting ours—that’s one feast owed. Then, when Wang Jian chased the pirates, fell into their trap, suffered heavy losses, and surrendered, leading them to our gates—if you hadn’t exposed their treachery in time, helped us wipe out the pirates inside, and driven off those outside, Suzhou would’ve been lost. That’s two. And now, pursuing them beyond the city, ambushing them at the river, setting the forest ablaze—you nearly wiped them out, capturing their leader Chen Dong, leaving only Xu Hai and Ma Ye with a few hundred stragglers. That’s three!”
“This belated feast hardly expresses our city’s gratitude. More thanks will follow!”
“Please, Lord Zhu, soldiers—take your seats!”
With that, Prefect Shang grabbed Zhu Ping’an’s arm, ushering him to the head table.
The other officials followed suit, guiding the soldiers to their places.
*Crackle, pop!*
Firecrackers burst, signaling the start of the feast. Chicken, duck, fish, game, seafood, and every delicacy imaginable flooded the tables.
