Cuckoo Pavilion!

One of the capital’s most famed brothels!

At this moment, inside an elegant private room.

Several young men sat around the table, each flanked by a companion girl.

“Brother Lin, why not go beat that Xia Chen up? ‘Heaven-and-earth genius’—what a pompous boast!”

A youth in purple robes eyed the young man at the head, waving a fist as he spoke.

“Daring to drag Chief Grand Secretary Lin through the mud—he’s got the guts of a bear and leopard!”

“A snot-nosed brat who doesn’t know his place!”

“Hmph, a crude warrior—what culture could he have? Shamelessly chasing fame now!”

…

The room erupted in clamor—these youths, all sons of the capital’s elite, their fathers or grandfathers court heavyweights.

“With the Emperor involved, this likely holds some truth, but crowd-talk’s surely bloated it!”

Lin Zihan, the green-robed youth at the head, shook his head slowly, his mind clear.

“Besides, he’s from the Marquis of Zhendong’s line. Us scholars—when push comes to shove, who’d beat who’s still up in the air!”

Lin Zihan set down his wine cup, tone calm but eyes betraying a flicker of feeling.

“Still, I’m curious—what’s Xia Chen got to earn His Majesty’s summons and public praise? Given the chance, I’d test him myself!”

The group exchanged glances—Lin Zihan’s head stayed cool, but as Chief Grand Secretary Lin’s legitimate son, his father’s honor stung him deep.

“Princess Yaoguang’s lately planning a Literary Gathering, inviting the capital’s famed talents. Why not invite this Xia Chen too? Then we’ll see if he’s got real skill or just a fame-chasing clown!”

Liu Bo unfurled his fan, smiling faintly, voice even.

Seated beside Lin Zihan, his father was the Minister of Works.

“It’s Princess Yaoguang’s first Literary Gathering—how could we invite a crude warrior? This is a scholars’ affair!”

Someone shook their head—the mere thought of sharing it with a rough warrior sullied the event’s purity.

These years, tensions between the scholar-led civil faction and the martial nobility had sharpened—each side sneered at the other.

One saw brute strength, no refinement; the other, ink and empty words, no substance!

“Great idea! Speaking of, Princess Yaoguang’s tied to this Xia Chen big-time!”

A glint sparked in someone’s eye—oh, that scene would be a show!

The words soured the room—like swallowing flies.

Imagining the radiant Princess Yaoguang betrothed to a crude warrior, heads shook in silent unison.

A quiet ache settled in!

…

“Lords rule, vassals serve, fathers command, sons obey—there’s something to it!”

Not far from Cuckoo Pavilion, in another brothel’s secluded room.

Five middle-aged men sipped wine, nibbling steamed perch—a capital delicacy new this year—each with a young, lovely girl behind.

A bearded, stern man spoke low.

“Brother Lu, is this line as grand as you claim?”

A man beside Lu Yun frowned, sensing its merit but missing the crux.

“Brother Lu studied under Great Confucian Kong Song, second in our exam year—his scholarship runs deeper than ours!”

Chen Zhizhong chuckled, yanking the pretty girl beside him into his lap, his hand naturally settling on her curves.

“Since dusk, passing the Imperial Academy, I overheard young students debating this phrase—didn’t think much of it then.

“Now here, everyone’s buzzing about it. This afternoon’s palace chatter spread citywide so fast—doesn’t that strike you as odd?”

Lu Hao didn’t answer directly, tossing a question to the four instead.

“Brother Lu, you mean someone’s fanning the flames?”

Chen Zhizhong’s eyes lit up, catching the thread, then circling back to lords rule, vassals serve, fathers command, sons obey—suddenly, it clicked.

“Who in the capital could broadcast an imperial audience this quick, making it the talk of the town?”

“Brother Lu, you’re saying…”

Faces grew grave, words trailing off—they dared not finish.

“Only the Lamplighters could pull that off!”

Lu Hao sighed, though he knew deep down it was Emperor Wen’s order—without it, the Lamplighters wouldn’t dare.

Sharp minds, honed by imperial exams, pieced it together too.

“Lords rule, vassals serve, fathers command, sons obey.

“Each role set, every soul bound by duty—this could echo through ages!

“If Xia Chen truly coined it, that’s colossal!”

Lu Hao sighed again—those words alone could etch Xia Chen into history, recited by scholars for generations.

Even if scholars balked, future rulers would hoist him into the annals with fanfare.

Faces shifted—really, that grand?

Only Chen Zhizhong tracked Lu Hao’s drift, curiosity swelling for this scion of the Marquis of Zhendong.

…

Next dawn!

Morning sun rose!

Xia Chen brimmed with vigor, his quilt tented high—a perfect pyramid, an artwork.

He flung it off, pressed his vigor down, and unleashed a night’s pent-up torrent.

After washing up, he grabbed the Lamplighters’ badge and stepped out of the Marquis of Zhendong’s estate.

“Young Master, straight to the Lamplighters or what?”

Xia Qian trailed, buzzing with glee.

He’d dreamed of shining in the Imperial Guard—now, so soon, he’d plunge into the thrilling Lamplighters, the stuff of legends!

Who in the capital hadn’t grown up on tales of their eerie reach?

Xia Qian had—ghostly, omnipresent Lamplighters! Now he’d join his Young Master among them—how could he not thrill?

“No rush—first to the Imperial Guard to set things straight!”

Xia Chen strode east, steady. The Lamplighters mattered, but the Imperial Guard couldn’t be shrugged off—five years hence, they’d anchor the Gate-Seizing Coup!

He’d planned to root himself there, laying seeds early—then plans flipped. Barely flexing, Emperor Wen yanked him to the Lamplighters.

It scrambled his board!

But… small potatoes!

No matter the shift, he held the reins!

Plus, the Lamplighters’ dungeons piqued him—unless memory failed, some talents who’d blaze in the Empress’s era languished there now.

Xia Chen smiled.

A belly full of grand schemes!