Chapter 11: Pretending Again
1095 Words
THE BANQUET BEGINS
The banquet opened with chilled fruit served in crystal dishes, each fruit infused with medicinal herbs a month prior—exquisite and nourishing.
Today, Hoàng Lãnh Thiên was putting on the full act of the “perfect son-in-law.” He had Bạch Long working overtime as an air conditioner for the entire State Preceptor’s mansion. After all, if you want to marry the wife, you’ve got to win over the in-laws first. A principle he’d once picked up from a random street-side romance novel.
“Here, here, A Nguyệt—have some grapes. I’ve already peeled them for you.”
He held out a plump grape, droplets of juice glistening on his fingertips. The State Preceptor glanced over. Normally, he would have stormed in to separate the little lovebirds, but this time he only clicked his tongue, brows furrowing slightly, and let it slide—busy hosting the banquet.
[The elder daughter was stolen already, now the younger one’s about to be eaten by a pig too. Heaven help me… That brat Lục Tiểu Tử, I’ll let it slide today only because I need his dragon to regulate the temperature.]
The State Preceptor’s heart was heavy with complaint. He downed several cups of wine to cool his temper, his gaze darting between the two “pigs” (his second son-in-law and his would-be third) gnawing on his precious daughters.
Mẫn Nguyệt opened her mouth obediently and accepted the grape—then teasingly licked the droplet of juice from his fingertip.
“Mmm… sweet.”
Lãnh Thiên’s entire face flamed scarlet. He yanked his hand back as if burned.
“Y-you… you… you—”
Words caught in his throat, each syllable smothered by the single brush of her tongue.
The emperor, sharp-eyed, noticed at once.
“My son, are you feverish? Your face is redder than a tomato.”
All eyes turned his way. Lãnh Thiên nearly wished for the earth to swallow him whole.
“F-Father, your son is fine… j-just a bit hot… yes, just a little hot—hah—”
No one bought his excuse. Everyone in the capital knew that whenever his childhood sweetheart teased him, he’d end up blushing like he was about to boil alive.
Meanwhile, across the table, the second prince had his face buried in Mộc Lan’s neck, showering her with kisses like nobody else existed.
Toward the end of the banquet, the empress gave the emperor a light nudge. Clearly, they had something planned.
“Lords and ladies, we have an important announcement. The second prince has officially proposed to Lady Tô Mộc Lan. Four months from now, we ask you all to attend the wedding banquet. As for Lady Tô Mẫn Nguyệt, now of marriageable age, if she finds someone to her liking, we shall gladly bestow a marriage decree as well.”
The emperor’s voice was calm, but his glance at Consort Nhan and at Lãnh Thiên carried obvious intent.
By the time the banquet ended, it was late. Guests departed one by one. Servants moved quickly to clean up. The moon shone bright, casting silver light on every stone tile of the courtyard.
“A Nguyệt, you heard what my father said, didn’t you? We could request a marriage decree.”
Lãnh Thiên tugged lightly at her sleeve, looking up at her like a pitiful little puppy begging for attention.
[He looks so pitiful… hmm, I should tease him a little.]
“Well… I am rather fond of the Prime Minister’s eldest son.”
Lãnh Thiên’s heart dropped straight into an icy abyss.
[No, no, that’s not true. She likes me. Only me.]
“You—you’re serious? Then what about me? I told you, I won’t be a concubine! I’m the main husband!”
His eyes were wet, his voice a little childish from too much wine.
She laughed softly, hugging him. “Alright, you’ll be the main husband.”
“But… but only me. You can only have me.”
He muttered as he buried his face in her hair, desperate to drown himself in her scent.
Then, about seven meters away, a gratingly familiar voice rang out—loud and arrogant.
“I’ve gone out of the city with both the Sixth Prince and Lady Tô before. Why, Lady Tô even fell right into my arms!”
It was Giang Thừa Tự, fanning himself smugly, acting as though the heavens themselves adored him. His words drew several raised brows, hinting at scandal.
“Well then, we shall rely on Young Master Giang’s care, hahaha.”
Another young noble bowed obsequiously, trying to curry favor. The Giang father and son grew more and more arrogant, hoping to reestablish ties and erase the disgrace of their five-year stipend penalty from the recent “incident” outside the city.
“Lady Tô even promised to follow me—obedient, virtuous, all according to the three obediences and four virtues. She only listens to me.”
Giang Thừa Tự was basking in his own lies when he heard it—thud, thud, thud. The ground-shaking sound of Bạch Long’s tail.
He turned just in time to see the dragon looming lazily, tail slamming beside him. His father was already sprawled on the ground, having been “lightly patted” twice across the face by that same tail.
“Now… what do you call a little dog and his father? Ah, that’s right—Giang the Big Dog.”
Lãnh Thiên’s voice was calm, almost friendly, but his smiling eyes radiated pure killing intent.
Mẫn Nguyệt added gently, her tone sweet as honey yet cold as ice:
“Seems Bạch Long likes you both. Why not play with him a while?”
At her word, Bạch Long obediently tossed the two men sky-high, slamming them back down again and again. Screams filled the courtyard.
“Sixth Prince, we were wrong!”
“Mercy, spare us!”
The two were battered b****y, vomiting from the force. Not crippled, perhaps, but close enough. No one dared to intervene. The emperor, empress, and Consort Nhan—those who could have stopped it—had already left. As for the sycophants who’d just been flattering them? They shrank into corners, too terrified to move.
The State Preceptor clapped Lãnh Thiên’s shoulder.
“Well done, son-in-law.”
He laughed heartily, clearly satisfied.
[Heheh, Father-in-law praised me.]
Lãnh Thiên grinned ear to ear.
The next day, no one knew exactly which remote wasteland the Sixth Prince had “graciously assigned” the Giang father and son to.
- Writer
