Chapter Twenty-Nine: Friends

Before Xiao Jide could let out a torrent of abuse, Zhao Xianzhi continued, his tone smooth and explanatory:

"I brought a bit more silver today to treat my sister to a stroll. Young Master Xiao, are you certain it went missing only after brushing past my servant? Have you searched the places you visited carefully?"

Xiao Jide’s anger seemed to freeze on his face. Before he could resort to sophistry, Zhao Xianzhi added, "To avoid any misunderstanding, why not have the shopkeeper send someone to help you look?"

As he spoke, Zhao Xianzhi gave Beilie a subtle look.

Beilie understood. Though his hand was still injured, the feeling of having his master stand up for him gave him the courage to push Xiao Jide’s servant aside. He grumbled with feigned indignation, "Why aren't you searching? You're acting on your own initiative and you've hurt me, you rascal!"

Xiao Jide, desperate for an excuse to vent his frustration, saw Zhao Xianzhi’s servant bullying his own. His temper flared like water hitting hot oil. Just as he opened his mouth to berate them, a banknote fluttered out from the sleeve of his pushed-about servant.

The note swirled in the air and landed at his feet.

The room fell into an instant silence. Everyone stared at the banknote on the floor, and even Xiao Jide looked stunned. In the quiet, he could faintly hear someone outside jeering recklessly, "Ha! Nothing left to say now, are you?"

Embarrassed to the core, Xiao Jide glared fiercely at his still-dazed servant. Unwilling to concede, he offered a stiff bow to Zhao Xianzhi. "It seems it was a misunderstanding. Young Master Zhao, excuse my discourtesy."

Before he finished speaking, he had already flicked his sleeves and stormed out. *Hmph! The future is long; we shall see who triumphs at the martial examinations!*

Zhao Xianzhi breathed a sigh of relief. It was fortunate that Meng Zhenyue had bought so much today that they had run out of cash and ended up putting everything on a tab, meaning no actual silver had been spent. He felt annoyed even thinking about it—was this supposed to be a good thing? He was still worried about how Meng Huaichuan would view him; since Meng Zhenyue had discovered this, Meng Huaichuan would surely find out as well. He hated that the favorable impression he had worked so hard to cultivate was being ruined by Meng Zhenyue.

He had a habit of rubbing his fingers together when thinking, and digging his thumb into his index finger when impatient. At this moment, he was pressing so hard his fingertip felt as though it might break, when Meng Huaichuan’s voice suddenly cut through the room.

"Zhenyue, you must not do this again. Look at how much trouble you’ve caused Xianzhi!"

Zhao Xianzhi was startled. His mind raced, and he considered accusing Meng Zhenyue of framing him. But before the words left his lips, he paused—it didn't sound like Meng Huaichuan was scolding him. He looked up to see Meng Zhenyue chugging a cup of tea with a sullen expression, her eyes fixed on him as she spoke to her brother.

"What else could I do? I figured he wouldn't dare provoke you, which is why I temporarily hid it on Beilie."

He then saw Meng Huaichuan silence Meng Zhenyue with a stern look. Turning to him, Meng Huaichuan bowed, his tone laced with reproach: "I apologize for the trouble. I realized someone had planted that item on Rusong when he was bumped into earlier. Zhenyue said she would handle it, but I didn't expect... that this was how she would handle it."

Zhao Xianzhi finally understood. Meng Zhenyue had suspected him, but what evidence did she have that the person who bumped into Meng Huaichuan’s servant was his man? Meng Huaichuan had always held him in high regard, so it was only natural he wouldn't believe Meng Zhenyue. Therefore, Meng Huaichuan’s favor remained intact. And was this guilt he felt toward him not a tool to be utilized?

Though the situation had been turbulent, the result remained largely in his favor. Had he been too flustered just now, or had he simply been too impatient due to recent setbacks? His mind hadn't been sharp enough.

With this thought, Zhao Xianzhi returned a triumphant look to Meng Zhenyue before bowing to return Meng Huaichuan’s gesture. "It is no matter. He is the son of Junior Preceptor Xiao. The Marquis of Chengwu’s estate recently had a minor conflict with the Junior Preceptor, so today's events were likely his doing. You were merely caught in the crossfire of the Marquis's estate."

He offered a final, reassuring bow. "Rest assured, Brother, I shall get to the bottom of this!"

While Zhao Xianzhi’s eyes were lowered in his bow, Meng Zhenyue and Meng Huaichuan exchanged a glance, their eyes filled with shared amusement. Her brother could not afford to burn bridges with Zhao Xianzhi just yet.

After a meal of dim sum and tea, where the three maintained a facade of harmony while harboring their own hidden agendas, they left the teahouse. Meng Huaichuan had to head to the martial arts academy, so he did not return to the Marquis’s estate with them. Before parting, Meng Zhenyue handed him a letter she had prepared in advance.

"This is for Yanyue. Even though she is coming here soon, I wrote it anyway."

Meng Huaichuan nodded and took it before walking away with long strides. Only after boarding the carriage provided for him by the Marquis's estate did he unfold the letter. When his sister had handed it to him, she had squeezed his hand, signaling that this was no ordinary letter.

After reading it, Meng Huaichuan furrowed his brows and muttered to himself, "Uncle..."

It seemed he would need to request leave for a few days to make a trip back to Xiaozhou.

Inside the main courtyard of the Marquis’s estate, the Marchioness listened to her servant’s report. She gripped her handkerchief tightly, thinking, *It is done!* Filled with joy, she hurried toward Zhao Zhizhi’s Huaxi Courtyard.

She hesitated for a moment before entering, wiping the smile from her face; her heart trembled as she stepped inside. Zhao Zhizhi was currently practicing a dance on the water pavilion, dressed in a white-to-pink gradient dance robe with tight sleeves and a cinched waist.

Seeing this, the Marchioness thought it was the perfect opportunity. She approached her daughter with a weeping expression, interrupting her dance. She touched her handkerchief to the corner of her eye and lamented, "Zhizhi, I have a dear friend from my youth... she has been deeply sorrowful lately. No matter how I try to comfort her, she remains inconsolable."

"Your dancing has improved so much with your diligent practice. Could you help your mother?" The Marchioness looked at Zhao Zhizhi with expectant, teary eyes. Her daughter was a talented dancer, and her movements were graceful and moving; whenever the daughter saw her mother sad, she would always offer to dance to ease her mind. The Marchioness knew that if she put it this way, her daughter would surely agree.

Not far from the water pavilion, Bing’er, from Meng Zhenyue’s courtyard, was secretly watching Zhao Zhizhi under the guise of picking flowers. Hearing the Marchioness’s words, she sensed something was wrong and was about to create a distraction to intervene, when she heard Zhao Zhizhi’s voice drift from the pavilion.

"Why is Mother’s friend so sorrowful?"

"Mother, you only find comfort in my dance because you love me. If that friend of yours does not appreciate my dancing, then even if I danced until my feet were ruined, it would be to no avail."

Zhao Zhizhi furrowed her willow-leaf brows, feeling anxious seeing her mother so distressed. Yet, she suddenly remembered what her eldest sister had said to her the other day.

The Marchioness was stunned by this response. Why was Zhizhi speaking like this today? Her eyes darted around, calculating. She looked at the surrounding servants, her tone sharp: "Bai Yuchan, you stay. Everyone else, withdraw."

She did not want anyone to see the side of her that would manipulate her own child for the sake of the Marquis's estate. Once the servants had left, she sighed and said to Zhao Zhizhi:

"She is currently studying the rare manuscript I brought over a while ago, but she cannot grasp its essence, which is why she is so heartbroken. If she could see your dance, perhaps she would understand the key to it."

Zhao Zhizhi nodded, an expression of realization dawning on her face. *So that’s it,* she thought. *Mother has been bringing me new dance scores to learn these past few days; it must have been for this friend all along.*

After a while, Bing’er, who had been dismissed, saw the Marchioness and the Second Young Miss emerge from the water pavilion. The Second Young Miss hadn't even changed her clothes; she simply wrapped a cloak around herself and left the estate with the Marchioness.

Bing’er rushed back to her courtyard to tell the servants who handled the purchasing to follow them out of the estate.