Chapter 173: Three Leaves Kill Twelve Scholars
That day.
No clinking of wine cups.
No wild, unrestrained behavior.
It was a very formal birthday banquet.
Unexpected.
The invited guests came holding their noses.
Official He, the public relations officer, also received an invitation. He found out that Commander Jiang’s eldest son was born in the Year of the Rat, so he pooled public funds with his own money and went to a jewelry store to have a solid gold rat, the size of a real rat, crafted as a birthday gift.
Because it was a life-sized gold rat and solid, Official He had truly put in effort and money, paying a high cost. Although some was reimbursed by public funds, he had still dipped into his own pocket, and the crafting fees and such were not insignificant.
Therefore, when presenting the gift, he didn’t even cover it with a box; he specifically tied a ribbon around it.
When the gift was announced— “Official He: one solid gold rat!”
It was quite impressive.
The handsome Commander Jiang even politely smiled, took his hand, and spoke with him for a while.
As expected, money can make anyone smile.
Commander Jiang smiled and said, “We were able to settle down in the Prefecture City thanks to Official He’s hard work, and now you’ve even sent such a valuable gift. I am truly grateful.”
Official He’s slightly hunched back straightened considerably.
“You are too kind, it is only right. I wish Young Master Jiang a long and healthy life.” After speaking, Official He felt a bit awkward.
This was the first time he had wished a son a long life in front of his own father; he felt something was off about it.
Then he heard Commander Jiang say, “My son-in-law will also have his birthday next month. Official He, you must come; we are all family.”
Official He:…
He pulled out one hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead. Surely the gift for next month could also be reimbursed by public funds? This was all part of the corruption budget, right? It should be, right?
“I understand, I understand. Then I shall send another life-sized solid gold rat to make a pair.”
But he saw Commander Jiang shake his head repeatedly.
“No, no, no. My son-in-law was born in the Year of the Ox.” (Note 1)
Official He rolled his eyes and nearly fainted…
Meng Shaoxia, who was born in the Year of the Ox, suddenly felt his ears itch.
He wondered who was talking about him behind his back.
Could it be that his parents were missing him?
It was possible.
Come to think of it, he hadn’t been back in a long time. Should he go back to visit his relatives and let his parents and grandmother see little Yu’er?
They would definitely be very happy.
The guests came to present their birthday gifts, holding their noses and pretending to be very happy.
As a result, they saw that Zi Wenxin and Gong Qichi had actually come.
The atmosphere suddenly became much more serious.
After all, everyone still had a deep impression of when Great Marshal Zi led his troops into the city.
Zi Wenxin had also done something that made everyone’s head smoke with anger.
When the Rebels entered the city, a group of scholars scolded them.
He hosted a banquet and invited both famous and not-so-famous scholars to debate, setting up two teams.
The topic: Should the current Emperor’s reign exist?
The winners would get carriages, horses, and official positions among the Rebels. The losers would be beheaded immediately.
But the problem was that the winning team’s argument was “The current Emperor’s reign should exist and has its merits.”
This was a bit sudden and absurd.
Zi Wenxin’s view was that it didn’t matter what the argument was; one had to win, and win first before discussing anything else.
In any case, this Zi Wenxin was also one of the famous figures in the Prefecture City.
Gong Qichi went without saying, the number one lackey of the Rebel Great Marshal Zi.
He struck wherever he was pointed; despite being a top scholar, he was fiercer than a stray dog.
The powerful and wealthy guests who arrived all put away their arrogance and reluctance, becoming much more obedient, their smiles even sweeter.
Just drink some tea and eat some food; treat it as attending a tea party, having a casual chat, and building rapport. Thinking of it this way, the gifts they gave didn’t seem like such a loss.
It was just that the food and drink at this banquet looked a bit light.
It didn’t look like a rich family, or the upper echelons of society, where tables were filled to the brim and plates were piled high.
The plating was focused on the idea: “If you don’t starve to death, it’s my loss.”
Every dish was very small, very refined.
There was even a bowl of soup with only three vegetable leaves floating in it. There were twelve people at the table; this was a bit excessive. How were they supposed to share it?
Three leaves to kill twelve scholars?
This clear, watery soup—who were they looking down on?
Did they think their gifts weren’t generous enough?
When they saw servants wearing white clothes and white hats approaching with knives, they were even more startled.
They wouldn’t slaughter people, would they? That shouldn’t be the case; they had given gifts, and very generous ones at that.
It turned out that the servant used a knife to fish out the three leaves, cut each leaf into three pieces to make four strips, and then served each person a bowl of soup with one small strip of leaf.
Under the smiling gaze of the knife-wielding person in white clothes and a white hat.
Everyone gave face and picked up their soup to drink.
“Damn it!”
“Excellent!”
“Damn!”
A mouthful of soup went down their throats.
Curses just floated out.
When something is truly delicious, there is no time to compose poems or find allusions to praise it; the most intuitive “Holy sh*t” is the instinctive reaction.
This soup was so fresh it made them think of their mothers, their first loves, their cousins, their aunts next door, that courtesan who sold her services but not her art, and their childhood days.
In short, it left an endless aftertaste.
It was just a mouthful of soup.
Then they ate that strip of vegetable leaf.
It was surprisingly full of the soup’s deliciousness, plus the sweetness of the vegetable leaf itself. The leaf was cooked just right—not too mushy, not too hard—chewing with a crisp freshness, yet it was very gentle on the teeth.
It fully considered the situation for many people who didn’t have good teeth.
One vegetable leaf—no, only one strip of vegetable leaf.
It was only the first dish.
It made people savor the taste endlessly, their eyes turning red.
It was a bit too exaggerated.
The calm Zi Wenxin looked at the crowd, feeling that the officials and powerful figures of the Prefecture City were becoming better at acting.
Look at them, was it necessary? It was just a bowl of soup.
It was practically an invisible prop performance.
Too moving.
I didn’t see you all get this emotional when my godfather was around.
He took a sip of soup in a leisurely manner.
Then he drank the soup in silence.
Ate the vegetables in silence.
Ate the meat in silence.
Ate the wild onions he didn’t like before in silence.
Drank the soup in silence.
Silence was the best expression; if you spoke, the food would be gone.
Of course, one must scroll on their phone while eating—oh no, watch a song and dance performance.
At this time, the Jiang Mansion’s song and dance performance began.
“Boom!”
Everyone was jolted awake!
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