Chapter 26: My Pants Fell Down!

When Jiang Luan slipped out of his room, the moon was already high in the sky. Instead of returning to the East Wing, he headed toward the kitchen.

Prince Suping had always lived an exquisite life. Because he often stayed up late to accompany his son in his studies, he had developed a habit of eating a midnight snack. Usually, at this hour, the kitchen would be simmering a small pot of red date and pork bone soup or a creamy crucian carp soup. However, tonight, the Prince had given orders to prepare only a bowl of mung bean soup to reduce internal heat.

The cook, finding this task easy, had just finished washing the mung beans when he saw Jiang Luan stroll in with his hands clasped behind his back.

"Young Mistress," the cook said respectfully.

Having spent the last few days cooking for Qi Yuheng, Jiang Luan had become quite familiar to the kitchen staff.

"Brother Li, you are still busy in the kitchen at this late hour. Thank you for your hard work," Jiang Luan said.

"Not at all, it's just my job," the cook replied with a smile.

It must be said that the cook had developed quite a favorable impression of the new mistress. Although the entire Qi manor gossiped that Jiang Luan was dissolute, arrogant, and lacking in virtue, after a few days of contact, he had found the young master to be very easy to talk to. Most importantly, he possessed a superb talent for cooking.

While the cook held the new mistress in high regard, Jiang Luan felt a sense of pity for him. This wasn't just a "996" work schedule; this was being on call twenty-four hours a day, all year round without a break! Being so severely exploited yet accepting it as a matter of course—bosses must surely love such useful employees.

"I have already written down the recipe for the spicy beef strips we discussed a few days ago," Jiang Luan said. "Feel free to come to the East Wing to pick it up when you have a moment."

Just as the cook had been observing the new mistress, Jiang Luan had been evaluating the head chef of the Qi manor. After all, besides the "Money Comes" shop, he had also taken over a restaurant. Although he hadn't inspected it in person yet, Jiang Luan already had a rough plan; he just lacked an experienced manager. Using recipes to win someone over wasn't a bad idea.

The cook’s eyes lit up, and he thanked him repeatedly before asking, "It is so late, may I ask why the Young Mistress has come to the kitchen?"

"The small kitchen in the East Wing has already had its fire put out," Jiang Luan said calmly. "I'd like to borrow your stove to simmer some old duck soup."

"Please, go ahead, go ahead."

The cook immediately pushed the Prince’s mung bean soup to the back of his mind, eager to see Jiang Luan demonstrate his skills. It was hard to imagine how a young man who had spent his life in the inner chambers could have mastered so many strange and wonderful recipes, all of which tasted surprisingly good.

Jiang Luan specifically selected an old duck with white feathers, bled it, skinned it, removed the innards, cleaned it, and chopped it into large pieces. He then took out a jar of sour radishes he had pickled a few days prior, chopped them along with some ginger, and used pork fat to grease the bottom of the pot. He stir-fried the duck, sour radishes, and ginger together. Once the duck had taken on some color, he transferred it to a clay pot, added a medley of seasonings, ginseng, and angelica root, and left it to simmer on the stove.

After an hour, the resulting duck soup was a creamy, milky white and smelled incredibly enticing. Yet, Jiang Luan was still dissatisfied with how slowly it cooked. "I really need to build a blower one of these days."

The cook tasted a spoonful and exclaimed in surprise, "A freshly slaughtered duck, yet there is not the slightest trace of gamey odor?"

"Because I stir-fried it beforehand with the ginger and sour radishes," Jiang Luan explained briefly. He glanced at the other pot on the stove. "What is that simmering?"

"The mung bean soup for the Prince," the cook replied.

"The Prince is having that for his midnight snack?" Jiang Luan asked, appearing surprised. "Why not ladle out half a pot of this duck soup and send it along? Lin-ge and I won't be able to finish it all anyway."

He said this with such natural ease, and coupled with the rumors flying around after the recent literary gathering about the "reconciliation between mother-in-law and daughter-in-law," the cook thought nothing of it, assuming Jiang Luan simply wanted to show his "filial piety" to Prince Suping.

No sooner had Jiang Luan left the kitchen with half a pot of duck soup than Huazhao walked in to collect the mung bean soup.

"Miss Huazhao," the cook said, "I also prepared a pot of old duck soup tonight. Please take it along to the Prince."

"Very well, thank you for your hard work," Huazhao replied without a second thought, and she returned to the quarters carrying both ceramic pots.

Jiang Luan stood hidden in the shadows, watching Huazhao leave with an expressionless face. His own portion of duck soup sat on a nearby stone, already half-cooled.

***

Huazhao returned to the Prince’s residence and set the food down. "Prince, your midnight snack."

Prince Suping was in the process of removing his makeup and said faintly, "How are the arrangements?"

"After Qi Baili met with the Old Master, he returned to his chambers to rest," Huazhao reported. "The 'news' has also been spread. I believe there will be a good show to watch tomorrow."

"Very good." Prince Suping nodded, gathered his long hair to one side, and walked over to the desk. He glanced at the midnight snacks and frowned. "Why are there two pots? What is in that one?"

"It is the old duck soup simmered in the kitchen," Huazhao said. "I assume it was made for the Old Master, but since there was plenty left over, I brought it along."

Prince Suping was impatient. "Did I not say I only wanted to drink mung bean soup tonight?" Since drinking the spiked tea two hours ago, the Prince had felt a burning sensation in his heart. In the dead of winter, he kept craving things to reduce the heat, which was why he had requested the mung bean soup.

Huazhao offered to take it away, but the Prince caught a scent and walked over to lift the lid. Inside, the broth was rich and fragrant, with a milky white appearance and several ginseng whiskers floating on the surface.

"The kitchen's craftsmanship seems quite decent tonight," the Prince hesitated. "Leave it for now."

"Yes."

***

At that moment, Jiang Luan was squatting in a corner, feeding a cat. He had added plenty of good things to the duck soup—ginseng and angelica root used without restraint—simmering it into a potent bowl. He wasn't worried that the Prince wouldn't be tempted. It was just a pity that he couldn't drink such "stimulating" food himself... and Qi Shaolin, being a young man full of vigor, should also avoid such tonics. It was better to let the stray cat have it.

Just as Jiang Luan stood up after feeding the cat, he heard someone say, "It smells so good..."

He didn't know which glutton had followed the scent and was now trying to steal food from a stray cat. Jiang Luan didn't pay much mind and started to walk away, but the person blocked his path.

The man was holding a dim lantern and shone it on Jiang Luan’s face, laughing drunkenly. "Where did this little beauty come from? Did you fall from the sky?"

The man was dressed in expensive clothing, his face plain and unfamiliar; he was likely a guest who had drunk too much at the banquet and lost his way in the manor. However, the man's drunken state immediately triggered Jiang Luan's vigilance. Unable to pass, Jiang Luan said politely, "Excuse me, please move."

"Young Master Jiang?"

In the pitch-black night, even in his drunken state, the man recognized him. Jiang Luan breathed a sigh of relief, thinking the man wasn't too far gone. But in the next second, the man reached out with a grin.

"Word around town is that Young Master Jiang is quite the flirt. Would you be willing to crawl into this brother's bed?"

Jiang Luan’s face darkened as he dodged the man’s lunge. "Sir, open your eyes and look properly. This is the Qi manor."

The man let out a drunken hiccup and said with dissatisfaction, "My eyes aren't blind... Isn't it extra exciting to steal someone's wife in their own home?"

*Good heavens!* He played that dirty?

Jiang Luan’s mouth twitched. "Brother, you are drunk and confused."

"Do you think I don't know who you are?" the man chuckled lecherously. "Don't put on this act of false virtue with me!"

Jiang Luan felt a chill; the way the man spoke suggested he might actually know him. The man, fueled by alcohol, tried to grab him again, and once more, Jiang Luan easily dodged him. But strangely, even though the drunkard’s movements were sluggish, Jiang Luan couldn't seem to shake him off. Every time he tried to leave the corner and get to the path, the man would use his footwork to force him back.

Could it be that the man was playing cat-and-mouse on purpose? Jiang Luan’s heart sank. Who exactly was this person? Was he truly drunk, or was it a ruse?

"You smell so good," the man said with a grin. "Enough games, let me have a kiss."

Jiang Luan tried to dodge as he had before, but this time it didn't work. Just as he moved, the man somehow changed direction and Jiang Luan bumped right into his shoulder. The man pulled him into a tight embrace, puckering his lips to kiss him.

*Damn it!*

Jiang Luan grew desperate. He snatched a tree branch and jabbed it toward the man’s face.

"What a cruel heart!" The man grabbed Jiang Luan’s hand and let out a dramatic cry of heartbreak. In the next second, he chuckled again, "Spicy temper—I like it."

*Good grief... how can someone be this greasy?*

"Get lost!" Jiang Luan felt his stomach churning and nearly vomited on the man.

The man reached out to tease him again, but suddenly his expression froze. He grabbed Jiang Luan and dodged to the side. A gust of wind from a fist whistled past, missing its mark. A person had appeared where they had just been standing.

"Who are you?" The man’s playful demeanor vanished, replaced by a cold tone.

The assailant was a tall, thin figure in black, wearing a mask and a bamboo hat, covered from head to toe. The attacker didn't speak; after missing the first blow, he followed up with a sweeping palm strike. The man sneered and dodged again.

To his surprise, the attacker’s target wasn't him. As the palm wind passed, it hooked onto Jiang Luan’s belt.

"Wait, my pants!" Jiang Luan shouted.

He was spun around twice. Although he was yanked away from the man, his belt had been ripped off, and he had to hold his trousers up with his hands.

"Here to snatch someone?" The man, blood boiling, stopped paying attention to Jiang Luan and focused on fighting the black-clad figure.

It was the first time Jiang Luan had seen two martial arts masters fight up close. It was nothing like the mud-slinging scuffles of his childhood; he found it instantly exhilarating. Fearing no chaos, he began to shout instructions from the sidelines. "Use your leg! Sweep his legs... Yes, that's it! Punch him in the head! Dislocate his jaw, take it right off... Brother, you’re awesome! Hit him, hit him!"

The man knew exactly who Jiang Luan was cheering for, which only made him angrier and more determined not to lose. However, the black-clad figure parried every move, playing a defensive game. The man felt that victory was within his grasp, yet every lethal strike he threw was easily neutralized, which left him feeling incredibly stifled.

Clearly not wanting to prolong the fight, the black-clad figure flashed to Jiang Luan’s side, hoisted the noisy boy onto his shoulder, took a few running steps, and leapt effortlessly over the wall, exiting the battlefield.

"Hey!" Jiang Luan was startled and screamed, "Put me down!"

The black-clad figure ignored him, leaping onto the rooftops and "parkouring" across the beams.

"You bastard!" Jiang Luan couldn't take it anymore. "My pants fell off!"

He wasn't lying. As his trousers flapped in the wind, Jiang Luan felt his bare backside exposed to the cold air, and he was filled with shame and indignation.