SBMT Chapter 43

The Green Snake Tribe’s offering of a beauty was arranged behind the scenes by the White Wolf Tribe.

 

After hearing that Chu Zhao had married a man, Emperor Cheng’an had stopped worrying about him-but how could they allow that?

 

Chu Zhao, this heaven-sent war god of Great Qi, was a thorn in their side. If they couldn’t defeat him on the battlefield, they’d use cunning. Throughout history, many great generals who didn’t die in battle fell victim to the phrase “achievement too great, threatening the sovereign.”

 

The White Wolf Tribe wanted to constantly remind Emperor Cheng’an that even without inheritance rights, Chu Zhao commanded the respect of troops on all borders and foreign nations. If the emperor’s hatred for Chu Zhao was strong enough, even if he didn’t kill him, he would think twice about using him.

 

After the Green Snake man spoke, the White Wolf Tribe’s heir, Getu, calmly waited for the emperor’s reaction.

 

The emperor’s expression did darken for a moment, but quickly changed after he looked at Chu Zhao.

 

He even seemed somewhat nervous.

 

What was happening?

 

Getu didn’t understand and followed the emperor’s gaze.

 

Then he realized that the emperor wasn’t so much looking at Chu Zhao as at the man beside him.

 

That man was incredibly beautiful-more beautiful than anyone Getu had ever seen, like the endless flowers of the holy mountain, brilliant and gorgeous, or like clouds atop a golden peak, unreachable.

 

Sitting with Chu Zhao, this must be Shen Ziqin, Chu Zhao’s newly wedded consort. But why were the emperor and other officials all focusing on Shen Ziqin first?

 

Shouldn’t they be looking at Chu Zhao?

 

Getu was confused.

 

Had they missed something in their intelligence gathering?

 

Shen Ziqin mourned his lost osmanthus sugar cake, but only for a moment, as he realized he had become the center of attention.

 

 

The stares were so obvious, it was impossible for him to ignore them.

 

Shen Ziqin’s mind stirred; the hand he’d meant to lower simply stayed pressed to his chest.

 

-Who knew, he might have to put on an act later, so he might as well start getting into character.

 

He tore his gaze away from the osmanthus sugar cake on the floor, eyes lowered, not looking up. There was no way anyone from the Green Snake Tribe was getting into the prince’s residence; he’d already decided that if he needed to act later, he’d just cry over the sugar cake.

 

But the next second, a fresh plate of osmanthus sugar cakes appeared right in front of him.

 

Shen Ziqin blinked.

 

Chu Zhao had only tried one from his own plate-he wasn’t particularly fond of sweets, but after tasting it, he knew it was something Shen Ziqin liked, so he hadn’t touched the rest.

 

Seeing that Shen Ziqin’s dessert plate was empty, he simply handed over his own.

 

It was also a way to comfort him, to keep him from feeling bad.

 

Sigh, he really does like me this much.

 

At such a formal banquet, everyone else was strictly following etiquette; only Chu Zhao would so openly and directly feed someone.

 

Shen Ziqin stared at the osmanthus sugar cake, pressed his lips together, and tasted a hint of sweetness-not just from the cake.

 

His heart felt warm and helpless: Sigh, it’s hard to stay sad now.

 

Emperor Cheng’an, watching Chu Zhao’s gesture and Shen Ziqin’s now-calm demeanor, finally spoke: “Sixth, what do you think?”

 

“Sixth” sounded like an insult, but ancient people didn’t get the meme.

 

Chu Zhao stood up, not bothering with proper form, and bowed casually: “Your Majesty, I refuse.”

 

The White Wolf Tribe’s heir, Getu, narrowed his eyes. The Green Snake Tribe’s beautiful man looked up with tears in his eyes, pitifully gazing at Chu Zhao: “Prince Qin, I’ve admired you for years-please, have mercy on me.”

 

To be fair, he was indeed very attractive; quite a few men in the court who liked men were already staring. During the dance, he’d worn a short costume, showing his lean, muscular waist, and now, acting so vulnerable, he was even more tempting-people wanted to pull him into their arms and comfort him.

 

Unfortunately, Chu Zhao was not only blind but had a heart of stone.

 

“Thank you for your affection, but am I supposed to show mercy to everyone who likes me?” Chu Zhao dropped his hand, posture relaxed but back straight. “By that logic, do I also have to offer my face to everyone who hates me so they can slap it?”

 

The Green Snake man panicked: “I’d never dare…”

 

“How many people admire me, I don’t know,” Chu Zhao said, every word slow and clear, “but those who hate me could probably line up from the foot of Mount Hohhot to the top.”

 

The Green Snake man shivered, and Getu immediately raised his wine cup, laughing loudly: “Your Highness jests! We sons of the northern steppe respect heroes above all. Whether we’ve fought or not, your bravery is admirable! Now that we’re all subjects of Great Qi, we respect the invincible Prince Qin even more. This cup, I toast to you!”

 

Emperor Cheng’an’s eyelids drooped as he slowly turned his prayer beads.

 

Getu had one thing right-military power was a thorn in the emperor’s side. Right now, he was only slightly reassured about Chu Zhao; it wasn’t as if he truly trusted him.

 

For now, he had no reason to kill Chu Zhao, and someone had to command the troops-better in royal hands than anyone else’s. But if everyone only listened to Chu Zhao and not the emperor…

 

The prayer beads in Emperor Cheng’an’s hand had nothing of Zen about them.

 

Chu Zhao stared at Getu, unmoving, his gaze sharper than a blade. When their eyes met, it was as if swords clashed in the air. Just then, Shen Ziqin raised his teacup and stood up.

 

The fragrance of tea swept away the tension, bringing a sense of calm.

 

He seemed a bit weak, his voice low, but the room was so quiet that everyone heard him clearly.

 

“If you’re toasting the prince, I should join you. But my health is poor, so I’ll use tea instead of wine.”

 

Chu Zhao heard his voice and wanted to turn his head, but held back. Getu’s gaze shifted to Shen Ziqin: “This must be the prince’s consort-truly, seeing is believing.”

 

Shen Ziqin smiled like a clear spring but didn’t respond directly. He said, “You all admire Great Qi’s heroes, but at the root, it’s because you admire Great Qi itself. So, this cup shouldn’t just be for the prince.”

 

Getu was stunned, but before he could reply, Shen Ziqin quickly cut him off: “Why not raise this cup to His Majesty, wishing him health and long life, and to Great Qi and our neighboring countries-may we enjoy peace and friendship for years to come!”

 

Chu Zhao’s eyes flickered. Only then did he bend and lift his wine cup, and the second prince, Chu Zhaoyu, echoed Shen Ziqin, raising his own: “Well said, consort. To His Majesty, to Great Qi!”

 

The third prince, Chu Jinxu, also stood, and the officials began to follow suit. With everyone moving, the rest joined in, and all the officials raised their cups in unison: “To His Majesty, to Great Qi!”

 

A cold glint flashed in Getu’s eyes. He glanced at Chu Zhao, who gave him a half-mocking smile-he knew there was no way out of this toast now.

 

Getu: “…To His Majesty, to Great Qi!”

 

Practically forced by the situation, Getu drank the toast. He realized he’d underestimated Consort Shen Ziqin.

 

No wonder all the Great Qi people had looked at him earlier-he was more formidable than he seemed?

 

Not quite.

 

They were just remembering the palace gate incident, waiting to see how Shen Ziqin would react.

 

Only Zhou Danmo was fanning himself with shining eyes and a flushed face, overflowing with inspiration-if not for the banquet, he’d have grabbed paper and started sketching on the spot.

 

With a few words, Shen Ziqin had deftly resolved Chu Zhao’s trouble. Look at that composure, look at how well-matched they are!

 

Even Bai Junxing, who’d said he’d think about it, was starting to waver.

 

A match made in heaven-how could he not write about it?

 

Emperor Cheng’an’s expression eased a little, and in the grand scene of all the officials celebrating, the Green Snake man was left kneeling on the floor, not daring to make a sound, as if everyone had forgotten about him.

 

But his sister grew anxious. When the toasts were over, she quietly pleaded, “Your Majesty, what about my brother…”

 

After Shen Ziqin finished his tea toast and sat down, he seemed unsteady and swayed a bit. Chu Zhao quickly reached out to steady his shoulder, but Shen Ziqin turned his head and began to cough.

 

The emperor’s gaze had just shifted to the woman for less than half a second before snapping back to Shen Ziqin in alarm.

 

Shen Ziqin sighed inwardly, thinking that since he’d set up the tolerant “main consort” persona at the palace gates, he had to keep up the act. Then he saw the third prince, Chu Jinxu, quietly shoot him a look.

 

Shen Ziqin’s mind turned, and as he coughed, he said, “If the prince likes him, of course I… cough, cough… But the prince just now already…”

 

The third prince, Chu Jinxu, immediately stood up and grinned: “Hey now, if he doesn’t want him, I do! Why not come with me?”

 

Though he was in formal dress today, he’d piled on so many random ornaments that he still looked gaudy and flashy. He grinned mischievously, completely shameless.

 

“Look, I’m the prince’s older brother, and older brothers are always better, right? I’ve only got fifty beauties in my back courtyard-still not full-and none as good-looking as you,” Chu Jinxu deliberately fluttered his fan and winked at the Green Snake Tribe’s man. “Come with me and you’ll eat well and live well.”

 

Chu Jinxu wasn’t bad-looking, but his behavior ruined his image. The poor Green Snake man’s scalp tingled, and even the woman was so shocked by “fifty beauties” that she was left speechless.

 

The third prince was famous for being a playboy; Great Qi’s officials were used to it.

 

Emperor Cheng’an gave a half-hearted scolding: “Third, behave yourself in public! What are you doing?”

 

Chu Jinxu just grinned cheekily and sat back down. The emperor waved his hand, signaling the eunuchs to escort the Green Snake people out-clearly, the matter was closed.

 

Shen Ziqin coughed a couple more times, and Chu Zhao bowed to the emperor: “Your Majesty, Ziqin isn’t feeling well. Please allow me to take him out for a short rest.”

 

The emperor was eager for Shen Ziqin to leave-he definitely didn’t want him fainting at the banquet and ruining the mood-so he immediately agreed. The eunuchs moved to lead the way, but when Prince Qin turned his gaze, his face serious, they quickly lowered their heads, waiting for his orders.

 

Chu Zhao said, “Bring the plate of osmanthus sugar cakes.”

 

The eunuchs thought it must be something important and were stunned: huh?

 

But Little Fuzi was quick-witted and immediately responded, “Yes, sir! What are you all waiting for? Go get the food box!”

 

Shen Ziqin kept his head down, pretending to be unwell. Since Chu Zhao was holding him by the shoulder, he leaned in closer and whispered, “Isn’t this a bit much?”

 

“What’s the problem?” Chu Zhao didn’t care. “Can’t have you going hungry.”

 

Shen Ziqin had actually eaten plenty-he was probably the most diligent diner at the banquet tonight; the chefs would have been moved to tears.

 

But thinking of the irresistible taste of osmanthus sugar cake, he felt he could manage more. Main course for one stomach, dessert for another-no problem.

 

Little Fuzi led them to a side hall to rest, set down the food box, and before leaving, gave Chu Zhao a hint: “Your Highness, this courtyard is quiet-you can rest easy here.”

 

In the palace, walls have ears. Little Fuzi was the third prince’s man; his words meant there were no imperial spies here, so they could speak freely.

 

Chu Zhao nodded in understanding, and Little Fuzi bowed and left.

 

Out of sight of others, Shen Ziqin immediately stood up straight-no aches, no pains, no more coughing.

 

His “illness” was indeed very flexible.

 

Shen Ziqin opened the food box and found that, besides the osmanthus sugar cakes, there were several dishes inside. Little Fuzi was thorough.

 

Shen Ziqin handed Chu Zhao a pair of chopsticks: “You didn’t eat much at the banquet-have a few more bites.”

 

Chu Zhao didn’t stand on ceremony, took the chopsticks, and started eating, pushing the plate of sugar cakes toward Shen Ziqin. Shen Ziqin took small bites and said, “They were after you tonight.”

 

In the original story, there was a plot where foreigners tried to set up Prince Qin during a hunting contest, but tonight’s scene hadn’t been mentioned.

 

“They were trying to put me on the spot.” Chu Zhao thought of something and chuckled. “No matter whether I accepted or not, the emperor would have been displeased. But he focused so much on you, he forgot to vent his anger at me.”

 

Chu Zhao poured tea for both of them and clinked cups with a crisp sound: “You’re not just my strategist-you’re my lucky star, Little Marquis.”

 

Shen Ziqin grinned, clinking cups with him. The osmanthus sugar cakes were too round to pick up with chopsticks, so he just used the wax paper to eat. It was the perfect time to remind Chu Zhao: “They’re up to no good-there might be more tricks, especially in the hunting field in the next few days.”

 

“Some things aren’t my choice. I never even wanted to fight in the first place, but I ended up as marshal.”

 

After eating and drinking his fill, the unease Chu Zhao had felt from being watched by the White Wolf Tribe’s heir faded. He lounged, propping up his face, watching Shen Ziqin eat sugar cake, his eyes smiling, his look especially focused in the lamplight: “But now I have you by my side-none of them are as clever as you.”

 

Shen Ziqin blushed at the compliment, shrank back, and nibbled at the cake. When he finished the last bite, Chu Zhao said, “Hey, you’ve got some sugar powder on your lips.”

 

Shen Ziqin: “Hm? Where?”

 

He reached for a handkerchief, but before he could turn his head, he felt a warm touch on his lips.

 

Shen Ziqin’s eyes widened in shock.

 

Chu Zhao had actually reached out and wiped his lips.

 

As soon as he did it, Chu Zhao seemed to realize what he’d done, his hand freezing in midair.

 

Their eyes met, both seeing the shock in the other’s gaze.

 

Chu Zhao jerked his hand back as if shocked, not even caring about the sugar powder on his fingertips, and tried to look composed: “Just a casual gesture… don’t overthink it.”

 

Shen Ziqin: “…Mm.”

 

But this time, Shen Ziqin really did overthink it.

 

Especially that last line from Chu Zhao-it was so obviously suspicious, it only made things worse.

 

With the warmth still lingering on his lips, Shen Ziqin’s mind, which had never indulged in romance, finally sparked to life-his internal radar blaring, heart pounding.

 

Is it really normal to be this close to your strategist?

 

Something definitely feels off!

 

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(advanced chapters available on kofi)