Chapter 11

By dusk the next day, the grain transport ship docked at Ma's Wharf in Tianjin.

Tianjin, a bustling hub of trade and commerce, lay at the intersection of three major waterways. The docks were a hive of activity, with countless ships of various sizes crowding the river. Transport vessels laden with goods lined up in orderly rows, while workers on the docks hurried about, embodying the prosperity of the region.

Yin Chengyu stood on the deck, observing the scene for a long while before disembarking at a leisurely pace.

Awaiting him at the pier was an impressive entourage led by Wan Youliang, including the Tianjin Garrison Commander, the Governor of Hejian Prefecture, and the Magistrate of Jinghai County, along with their numerous attendants. The moment Yin Chengyu stepped ashore, they approached with eager smiles and obsequious greetings.

“Greetings, Your Royal Highness.”

“Long live His Royal Highness!”

Officials of all ranks bowed and flattered, their faces adorned with ingratiating smiles. To an outsider, it might have seemed that Yin Chengyu had arrived for a pleasure trip rather than an investigation into the corrupt salt administration of Changlu.

“No need for formalities,” Yin Chengyu said with a slight nod, his gaze calmly sweeping over the crowd. He silently matched each face to a name from his memory.

Wan Youliang, a stout man with a protruding belly that strained his crimson official robes, stepped forward with an exaggerated grin. The gold-laden belt around his waist looked ready to snap at any moment.

“Your Highness, after your arduous journey, I have arranged a banquet at Nanchuan Pavilion to honor your arrival. I hope you will grace us with your presence.”

Yin Chengyu had met Wan Youliang before. Back then, Wan Youliang had been a plump but genial-looking middle-aged man. In just two years, he had transformed into his current bloated state. The sight of him now was enough to elicit a faint flicker of disdain from Yin Chengyu, though he quickly concealed it.

“The ship is inconvenient. I’ll head to the guesthouse to change first,” he replied flatly. Then, glancing through the crowd, he casually added, “I don’t see Imperial Censor Fang. Where is he?”

Wan Youliang’s smile faltered for a split second before he forced it back. The folds of flesh on his face trembled as he explained, “Your Highness, there was a fire at the Salt Commission’s offices recently. Censor Fang suffered minor injuries and is recuperating.”

“Is that so?” Yin Chengyu’s tone was indifferent, as though the question had been a passing thought. Without further comment, he gestured to Wan Youliang. “Lead the way.”

The guesthouse, a three-courtyard compound requisitioned from the Salt Commission, was simple and unadorned. The furnishings, while elegant, carried an air of deliberate austerity that clashed with royal expectations. Yin Chengyu said nothing about it and entered the residence with his entourage.

Commander Xue Shu deployed fifty elite guards from the Four Camps to secure the premises, ensuring it was impenetrable. The rest of the soldiers were temporarily stationed at the garrison.

By the time Yin Chengyu emerged in fresh attire, Xue Shu had completed his patrol arrangements. As Zheng Duobao remained busy settling the luggage, Xue Shu accompanied Yin Chengyu to the banquet.

“Wan Youliang has ill intentions. Must Your Highness attend the banquet?” Xue asked in a low voice.

Yin Chengyu smirked. “They’ve gone to such lengths to stage this spectacle. If I refuse, how will the play continue? I must see what schemes they’ve hidden in their gourd.”

This life was already diverging from the previous one.

This time, with his intervention, the Zhao family orphan had petitioned the court en route, and Fang Zhengke had sent a memorial to the capital shortly after arriving in Tianjin. The exposé of corruption in the Changlu salt administration caught Wan Youliang off guard, but it also alerted him.

The Salt Commission’s archives were burned, and Wan Youliang could easily deny everything. His elaborate staging today was nothing more than a desperate attempt to mislead.

From the moment Yin Chengyu stepped ashore, Wan Youliang had presented an image of a well-managed and orderly Tianjin—a facade meant to deceive.

“Let’s go.” Yin Chengyu adjusted his cloak and walked out at an unhurried pace.

*

Nanchuan Tower, the largest restaurant in Tianjin, had been cleared out in advance today to welcome Yin Chengyu, leaving no other guests in sight. The manager, eager to please, led the group upstairs to a private room.

Yin Chengyu took the seat of honor, while Xue Shu stood silently by his side, eyes downcast and demeanor composed.

The banquet unfolded as expected—wine, food, and entertainment. Musicians and dancers entered gracefully, led by a stunning performer who approached Yin Chengyu to pour his drink. She wore a Hu-style dress, her bare arms smooth and pale, her figure accentuated by a translucent gauze that clung to her form. Her eyes, shimmering with unspoken intent, lingered on him.

With a faint smile, Yin Chengyu took the cup from her hand and raised it toward the gathered officials. “A toast with all of you.”

Neither rejecting nor accepting the gesture outright, he kept his intentions unreadable, leaving the officials guessing.

The officials exchanged wary glances, unsure if their scheme had worked. At 17, the Crown Prince had neither taken a consort nor accepted concubines—a curiosity for someone of his age and status. Banking on youthful desire, they had arranged for a courtesan from Yangzhou, hoping either to entangle him or gauge his stance.

Their minds raced with strategies, prompting them to become even more attentive and accommodating.

Yin Chengyu, unfazed, welcomed every toast and spoke highly of Tianjin’s splendor, effortlessly setting a lively, cheerful tone for the banquet.

Xue Shu, standing beside him, observed silently. The prince smiled and drank, one cup after another, his demeanor warm and approachable. Yet, Xue Shu’s gaze darkened as it shifted to the dancers, each exuding allure. The one who poured the wine, in particular, stood out—a beauty crafted to captivate any man.

Xue Shu knew the type. His rough past had shown him how such women could enthrall men.

The prince had smiled at her just now. Did he like women like that?

The thought sparked a flicker of anger in Xue Shu, though he forced it down.

Such vulgar charms could never match His Highness.

By the time the banquet ended, the moon had climbed high into the sky.

Yin Chengyu, clearly tipsy from the night’s drinks, was escorted to his carriage by the officials. Wan Youliang, grinning, pointed to the accompanying dancers. “Your Highness, I noticed you traveled without personal attendants. Though these women may lack refinement, they can serve as handmaids during your journey. Allow them to accompany you.”

Yin Chengyu leaned against his temple, eyes half-closed, giving no response as if too drunk to care.

Taking his silence as consent, Wan Youliang signaled to the dancers, who began following the carriage. To Wan Youliang, once they were in, the prince would have no choice but to accept them.

Xue Shu’s face darkened at the sight.

Casting a sharp glance at Wan Youliang, he spoke in a chilling tone. “Lord Wan must be unaware—on our way here, two assassins infiltrated the entourage, intending harm. Though they were dealt with, there’s no guarantee others didn’t slip through. His Highness’s safety is paramount, and anyone attending to him must first undergo thorough interrogation by the Four Guards Battalion. I doubt these delicate ladies could withstand it.”

His frosty gaze swept over the dancers, each shivering under its weight. Even Wan Youliang couldn’t suppress a flicker of fear.

The assassins Xue Shu referred to were Wan Youliang’s own scheme—meant for reconnaissance, not assassination. Yet their grisly deaths haunted Wan Youliang’s thoughts. He stiffened, unsure if the prince had evidence but unwilling to take further risks.

With no choice, Wan Youliang retreated, watching as the prince’s carriage rolled away.

The vehicle wound its way back to the temporary residence. Only then did Yin Chengyu straighten, his eyes clear and sharp. He glanced at Xue Shu, his lips curling in faint approval.

“Well done.”

He was undeniably tipsy but far from losing consciousness. Pushing Xue Shu forward to respond on his behalf was merely a tactic—he wasn’t ready to confront Wan Youliang head-on just yet.

Xue Shu pressed his lips together, studying him for a moment before saying, “Those people aren’t worthy of Your Highness.”

It was bold, almost insolent. Yin Chengyu shot him a lazy sideways glance. “My affairs are none of your concern.”

Despite the sharp words, he didn’t appear truly angry—he’d heard such remarks countless times in his previous life. The memory of that past stirred a faint irritation in him, and he cast a withering look at Xue Shu.

Others aren’t worthy, but you think you are?

“Come here and massage my legs.”

Watching Xue Shu lower his eyes and obey, Yin Chengyu finally felt his mood ease. As the carriage rocked gently, he closed his eyes and drifted off.

The wine tonight was deceptively strong. Though he’d started out mildly buzzed, the unsteady rhythm of the carriage ride brought the alcohol surging back, leaving him with a heavy drunkenness by the time they arrived.

Zheng Duobao, alarmed by his condition, hurried to prepare a sobering drink.

Xue Shu helped Yin Chengyu to his room, seating him by the bed before attempting to remove his cloak and outer robe.

Feeling hands brushing against his neck, Yin Chengyu blearily opened his eyes and met that all-too-familiar face.

Those hands swiftly undid his cloak and moved to his outer robe. Their owner, however, remained perfectly composed, not a thread out of place.

Again. Always like this.

A sudden surge of anger flared in his chest. Yin Chengyu shoved him away, his furious gaze blazing. “How dare you?!”

Caught off guard, Xue Shu stumbled onto the edge of the bed, eyes wide with confusion.

“Your Highness—”

“Did I say you could speak?”

Yin Chengyu snapped coldly, gripping the bedpost as he stood. A bitter smile curled his lips as he glared down at Xue Shu.

Now towering over him, the shift in dynamic soothed his temper slightly. Leaning down, he grabbed Xue Shu’s chin, their faces mere inches apart. “You’ve always watched me. Tonight, I’ll inspect you. Let’s see if you understand the meaning of respect and rank.”

He released his grip, straightened, and ordered with icy authority, “Take off your clothes. Yourself.”

Xue Shu stared at him, uncertainty flickering in his dark eyes. For a moment, he hesitated.

Yin Chengyu’s patience snapped. “What? Do you need me to help you?”

Xue Shu shook his head, his lips pressed into a tight line to suppress the storm raging within him. His gaze locked onto Yin Chengyu, dark and turbulent, yet his actions remained obedient. Slowly, he began unfastening his robe.

Yin Chengyu’s gaze swept over him without reservation, lingering briefly on the lean, toned lines of his torso. He scoffed. “Nothing special. Why the need to hide like it’s some great secret?”

His irritation spiked again, and he waved dismissively. “Enough. Get out.”

Xue Shu paused, unsure if he’d misheard. But seeing Yin Chengyu’s impatience, he stopped, calmly redressed, and left without a word.

The tension in his neck and the blood roaring in his veins betrayed the storm raging within him.

———Author’s Note: Xue Shu: I swear I’ve never looked at His Highness like that. Yin Chengyu: (Scoffs.)