Chapter 477 Housewarming Banquet

Chapter 477: The Housewarming Banquet

The whole routine went off without a hitch—clearly something he had practiced.

The gazes of those officials unconsciously drifted to Wuliji standing beside him.

The man was simply too tall. Standing among a crowd of Central Plains people, he looked like a mountain suddenly rising from a plain—impossible to miss even if one tried.

His face was sharply defined, with high brow bones and deep-set eye sockets. By any measure, he looked nothing like a Central Plains man.

Someone finally couldn't help but ask, "And this is...?"

Cheng Ge's smile faltered for a moment before returning.

"Oh, this is a friend I met in Yuanzhou," he said, letting out a soft sigh. "Back then, when I was ambushed, I was fortunate enough to be saved by this man—it's the only reason I survived."

The moment the officials heard this, their expressions shifted from curiosity to awe, and the looks they gave Wuliji grew more serious.

Cheng Ge continued, his voice carrying just the right note of wistfulness: "His life has been hard. No father, no mother—all alone in this world."

As he spoke, he grabbed Wuliji's hand and shoved up his sleeve, revealing a patch of gruesome scarring on his forearm.

The scarred skin glowed faintly pink in the sunlight, like bark scorched by fire—wrinkled, twisted, and utterly out of place against the rest of his arm.

His fingers traced lightly over the scar, gentle to the touch. "Because he bears a striking resemblance to the Di people, he was bullied by his fellow villagers since childhood. This was burned into him by those vicious neighbors."

A collective gasp rippled through the room.

"Outrageous!"

"What kind of heartless people would do such a thing!"

"He should report this to the authorities! They must be severely punished!"

The officials' voices grew louder and louder, each one more indignant than the last.

Cheng Ge dabbed at the corner of his eye, feigning emotion, then reached out and clasped Wuliji's wrist.

"He hasn't seen much of the world, so I hope you gentlemen will be understanding."

Everyone nodded in agreement, expressing their understanding and showering Cheng Ge with praise for his gratitude, his chivalry, and for being exactly the kind of man His Majesty valued.

The compliments surged in like waves, one after another, washing over Cheng Ge from head to toe.

Lin Nanshu, standing to the side: "..."

Lin Nanshu watched Cheng Ge dab his eye, clasp his wrist, and lament his life story—the whole performance flowing as smoothly as water, more polished than any acting troupe he had ever seen.

The corner of his mouth twitched slightly before settling into an expression that said, "You're spouting complete nonsense, but I won't call you out on it."

"The feast is starting," he said, stepping aside to clear the way. "Grandfather is waiting inside."

Cheng Ge nodded, patted Wuliji's arm, and strode inside.

The banquet was laid out in the main hall—over a dozen tables arranged in rows, with rosewood furniture, silver vessels, and jade cups. Quite the sight.

Lin Zhufeng stood by the head table, directing servants on where to set the chopsticks. When he saw Cheng Ge enter, the perfunctory smile on his face finally warmed with genuine feeling.

"The Marquis has arrived," he said, raising a hand in greeting. "Come, have a seat here."

He patted the back of the chair beside the head table, his voice pitched just loud enough for the entire hall to hear:

"For your extraordinary service in the royal rescue, the Marquis must not be given short shrift. Lin Nanshu will keep you company."

Everyone nodded in approval. Lin Nanshu grunted in acknowledgment and took the seat beside Cheng Ge.

Wuliji was seated on Cheng Ge's other side and settled in quietly.

Seeing this, several senior court officials smiled and made their way over to the head table as well.

Suddenly—

"His Highness Prince Jing has arrived—His Highness the Prince Heir has arrived—"

The announcement rang out sharp and drawn out, like a knife slicing through the warm, lively air of the hall.

Everyone froze for a moment, then got to their feet.

Prince Jing had rarely involved himself in state affairs in recent years, but he was still a prince of the blood—his rank alone commanded respect.

Prince Jing strode in wearing a deep purple robe embroidered with a python, Zhou Yinyun following behind him.

Zhou Yinyun was dressed properly today, but the moment he stepped through the door, his eyes locked straight onto Cheng Ge.

"We pay our respects to Prince Jing," the crowd said, bowing.

Prince Jing waved a casual hand. "No need for formalities. I'm just here for a drink."

With that, he had his gift brought forward—a pair of antique vases from a bygone dynasty. Lin Zhufeng thanked him and invited Prince Jing to take the head seat.

Prince Jing sat down at the head table, and Zhou Yinyun followed behind. He glanced at the seats at the head table, then at Cheng Ge's table, and turned to Lin Zhufeng:

"Lord Lin, that table's too crowded. I'll sit over there instead."

Without waiting for Lin Zhufeng's reply, he walked straight over to Cheng Ge's table and took an empty seat.

Cheng Ge's right eyelid twitched. The corner of Lin Nanshu's mouth twitched too.

Wuliji looked down at the chopsticks in his bowl and kept his head down.

Everyone began to take their seats.

The Chief Justice of the Court of Judicial Review was about to sit across from Cheng Ge when Zhou Yinyun casually stretched his leg out, forcing the man to chuckle awkwardly and find another seat.

The Vice Minister of Rites found a seat off to the side, already scheming about how he might cozy up to the Marquis later.

Just as they were about to dig in—

"Prince Zhenbei has arrived—"

Cheng Ge had just picked up a piece of meat with his chopsticks. His hand froze mid-air, his mouth hung open, and his whole body seemed to hit pause.

The hall got to its feet again in unison.

Everyone thought to themselves: What kind of demon wind is blowing today, to have blown in even the Buddha that is Prince Zhenbei?!

Cui Ji walked in from the entrance, wearing a dark robe with subtle patterns, his pace unhurried.

The crowd moved to bow, but Cui Ji waved a hand. "No need for formalities. I'm running late."

"Please, Your Highness, this way." Lin Zhufeng quickly stepped forward to escort him to the main table.

Cui Ji glanced at the main table, then at Cheng Ge's table.

"No need, that one's fine over there." He walked straight to Cheng Ge's table and took the empty seat beside Zhou Yinyun.

The official originally seated there, quick-witted, raised his cup with a smile, saying "I'll just go sit over there," and hurried off without looking back.

The piece of meat on Cheng Ge's chopsticks was still hovering in midair, and it had gone cold.

His eye twitched twice. He shoved the meat in his mouth, chewed a couple of times—tasted like cardboard.

Lin Nanshu poured him a cup of tea and slid it over wordlessly. Cheng Ge gave him a small, crooked smile.

Everyone settled back in, and the Vice Minister of Rites scooted over one more seat.

The atmosphere warmed back up—chopsticks started moving, cups started clinking, and the sounds of toasting and chatter returned.

Cheng Ge took a deep breath, grabbed a piece of fish, and just as he opened his mouth—

"The Crown Prince has arrived—"

The whole hall went quiet for a beat, then everyone scrambled to their feet with a rustle of fabric.

Cheng Ge's chopsticks froze midair, and the fish nearly slipped off.

He stuffed it in his mouth with lightning speed, cheeks bulging as he stood up with everyone else.

Still chewing, he mumbled the greeting along with everyone else.

"We pay our respects to the Crown Prince—"

Zhou Zhan wore a dark python robe and a jade crown, every inch the Crown Prince from head to toe.

His gaze swept over everyone's heads and landed square on Cheng Ge's fish-stuffed cheeks. The corner of his mouth twitched, then he looked away like nothing had happened.

"I hope I'm not intruding," he said calmly. "Lord Lin, I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all, not at all! Your Highness honors my humble home with your presence!" Lin Zhufeng hurriedly invited him to the main table.

Zhou Zhan glanced at the main table—Prince Jing sat there, giving him a slight nod.

He then looked at Cheng Ge's table: Lin Nanshu sat on the left, Zhou Yinyun beside him, Wuliji on Cheng Ge's right, Cui Ji across from him, and one empty seat remained, just diagonally across from Cheng Ge.

"That one's fine over there," Zhou Zhan said, walking straight over and sitting down. "I like a lively crowd."

Lin Zhufeng: "???" Was that seat blessed or something?

The man originally sitting there was Academician Wang of the Hanlin Academy, who'd already gotten up on his own.

With a smile, he said "Please, Your Highness," and squeezed in at the next table as fast as he could.

Cheng Ge finally set down his chopsticks.

Before him lay a table full of dishes—chicken, duck, fish, cold plates, hot stir-fries, everything imaginable—but he had a feeling he'd never get to eat this meal.

Lin Zhufeng stood by the main table, taking in the scene at Cheng Ge's table.

His eye twitched a few times. Finally, he took a deep breath and turned to instruct the steward: "Send a few more dishes over to that table."

The steward nodded and scurried off.

Everyone finally sat down again.

The atmosphere was livelier than before, but beneath the liveliness, something subtle lurked.

Like a pot of boiling water—bubbling merrily on the surface, while who knows what's cooking underneath.

Cheng Ge's hand reached for his chopsticks, then pulled back.

He looked at the dishes, then at the people at the table, and decided to wait a little longer.

His gut told him this meal wasn't over yet.

Sure enough.

He hadn't even gotten a firm grip on his chopsticks when—

"The Emperor has arrived—"

The entire hall went dead silent, as if doused with ice water. Why the hell was the Emperor here?!

"Long live the Emperor! Ten thousand years!" Everyone dropped to their knees in unison, a dark sea of bowed heads.

Cheng Ge knelt on the ground, forehead pressed against the cold floor tiles, thinking: I'm screwed! Heaven itself wants me dead!

Emperor Zhou Mingqi came in plain clothes—no dragon robe, no imperial entourage—just walked in quietly, like an ordinary guest arriving for a meal.

Yet the crushing weight of a man used to being in power spread through the room the moment he stepped through the door.

"Rise, all of you," he said unhurriedly. "I just came for a drink today. No need for formalities."

Everyone got up, legs still a bit shaky. The Emperor says he's here for a drink—easy to say, but who'd dare take that lightly?

Lin Zhufeng rushed over and started inviting the Emperor to the main table again.

"That table looks lively," Zhou Mingqi said, glancing toward Cheng Ge's direction with a casual tone. "I'll sit over there."

The people at the main table: "???"

Zhou Mingqi walked straight to Cheng Ge's table. The Chief Justice of the Court of Judicial Review, who'd been sitting there, quickly dashed to the next table, whispering, "Scoot over, scoot over."

Zhou Mingqi hiked up his robe and sat down. Cheng Ge immediately ducked his head, trying to make himself invisible.

He felt less like a guest at a banquet and more like the main course.

The other tables were already in full swing—cups clinking, dishes passing, lively and warm.

Like a thick quilt, it smothered the silence at this eight-sided table in an airtight cocoon.

Cheng Ge glanced around the table—nobody had touched their chopsticks—

Leisurely footsteps sounded from the doorway, along with an utterly casual voice—

"Oh, everyone's already here? This prince is running late."

All eyes snapped toward the entrance, then froze.

Yun Xunyu stood in the doorway, folding fan in hand, dressed in a brilliant crimson robe—absolutely resplendent.

He stood there, eyes curved into crescents, looking for all the world like a groom at his own wedding—just missing a big red flower pinned to his chest.

The hall fell silent for a beat, then every head swiveled toward Lin Zhufeng at once: You actually dared to invite this guy? Are you out of your mind?

Everyone present knew Yun Xunyu's reputation. The outrageous things he'd done were as numerous as fish in the sea—too many to count.

Yun Xunyu sauntered in on his own, giving his folding fan a twirl. The hem of his crimson robe dragged a long trail across the floor, like a trail of fire burning across the ground.

He stopped before Lin Zhufeng, cocking his head slightly. White hair slipped from his shoulder, cascading over the red robe—the red and white a stark, eye-catching contrast.

"What's this?" he said, his voice lazy and laced with amusement. "Not welcoming this prince, Grand Tutor?"

Lin Zhufeng's inner thought: Welcome you? In your dreams!

Lin Zhufeng's gaze instinctively shot toward the Emperor. Zhou Mingqi sat with a teacup in hand, taking a slow, unhurried sip—unshakable as Mount Tai, steady as a rock.

Lin Zhufeng turned back, his frozen smile already thawing into warm enthusiasm.

"Third Prince jests," he said, stepping forward with a booming, hearty voice. "Your Highness's presence delights this old man to no end."

Yun Xunyu snapped his fan shut, tapping it lightly against his palm, his smile as warm as a spring breeze in March. "Glad to hear it, then."

With that, he sauntered over to Cheng Ge's table.

He walked with a lazy, swaying gait, the hem of his crimson robe dragging a long arc across the floor.

The last official at that table, already bracing himself, wore a "I get it! I get it!" look and squeezed over to the next table with surprising ease.

Yun Xunyu reached Cheng Ge's table and settled into the one empty chair.

His crimson robe fanned out, a glaring splash of color amid the sea of plain garments.

He set his fan down, adjusted his cuffs with slow, deliberate movements, as comfortable as if he were in his own living room.

Then he looked up and winked at Cheng Ge with his right eye, his eyes and brows crinkling with a smile.

Cheng Ge's body went stiff. He sat there, spine ramrod straight.

Both hands planted primly on his knees, eyes glued to the plate of osmanthus cakes in front of him.

One thought consumed his mind: If I crawled under the table right now, could I pretend I was never here?

The vibe at the table was beyond weird—no one touched their chopsticks, no one spoke.

Zhou Mingqi moved first. He picked up a piece of osmanthus cake, set it on his own plate, and took a bite.

Seeing this, Cheng Ge finally picked up his chopsticks from the table.

He grabbed a bite of the closest dish without even looking and shoved it in his mouth.

The others also began eating with studied nonchalance, and the mood settled into something passably harmonious.

Wuliji sat to Cheng Ge's left, his bowl barely touched except for a smear of sauce—clearly he hadn't eaten much.

Cheng Ge noticed and figured Wuliji probably wasn't used to the cuisine of Great Zhou.

After a moment's thought, he reached for the cumin lamb at the corner of the table, scooped up a generous portion, and placed it on the plate in front of Wuliji.

"Try this," he said. His voice wasn't loud, but in the silence of that table, it rang out clear as a bell.

No sooner had the words left his mouth than he felt a chill creep up the back of his neck.

He looked up to find every person at the table had stopped mid-bite, all eyes fixed on him.