Chapter 8: Oh No, I Can't Keep It Together Anymore!
Chen Cong was embarrassed, but out of the corner of his eye, he suddenly glimpsed a figure at the doorway, furtively carrying a wooden basin.
His eyes brightened instantly.
A savior!
“Stop right there!” he called.
“Young Master,” Zhi Hua saw Chen Cong rushing over, squeezed out a smile uglier than crying, and hurriedly raised the wooden basin in her hands, “For washing up.”
“Wash your head!” Chen Cong patted his waist to make sure the wooden tablet was still there, then took it off and thrust it right in Zhi Hua’s face. “You! Read again—what’s written on this?”
Zhi Hua shrank her neck, stammering, “Green... green sleeves.”
Chen Cong glared. “Didn’t you say it meant being sold into slavery?”
If he hadn’t been clear-headed and asked Boss Cao a few extra questions, this boundless fortune, this unparalleled beauty, would have all slipped through his fingers!
Zhi Hua dared not meet Chen Cong’s eyes, bowed her head and whispered, “Young Master... this servant, this servant knows her guilt.”
Cao Rong covered her mouth and laughed softly. “Silly, whose slave contract is engraved on fine sandalwood, strung with jade wind chimes?”
The early morning sunlight filtered through doors and windows, bathing the girl in a faint golden glow. Her silk dress shimmered, her beauty rivaled the flowers. Every frown or smile stirred the heart, leaving thoughts restless.
Chen Cong considered himself no stranger to beauty, yet even he nearly lost his composure.
Such a calamity of a girl—no wonder his future father-in-law had looked so confident yesterday!
To think father and son-in-law would resort to the wiles of a beauty—how shameless.
While Chen Cong inwardly scorned Cao Cao, his body honestly moved to bow respectfully toward Cao Rong.
“I have yet to thank you face-to-face for saving my life. I have nothing to repay you with but myself, if you would not disdain me, Miss.”
Cao Rong waved her hand. “I wouldn’t, I wouldn’t. Hurry and eat!”
Hmm?
Chen Cong eyed her suspiciously.
This woman didn’t play by the rules.
Ordinarily, after one offers themselves, the other should blush, lower her head, perhaps stomp her foot—showing a maiden’s grace, yes? But two brisk “wouldn’t”s—what was that? Was she a female rogue?
But he rather liked her boldness.
Two wheat cakes, a plate of lamb, a few cabbage leaves, and half a warmed jug of plum wine.
Chen Cong finished it before he could even catch his breath, as if his teeth hadn’t been filled.
Cao Rong propped her head, watching him eat.
“Father says your writing rivals Ban Gu, and your skill with bow and horse surpasses Xiang Yu.”
“Indeed, your father’s words are absolutely right.”
“Tch—shameless. You don’t even know the characters. How could you compose beautiful prose?”
Chen Cong stretched, wishing for a satisfied belch, but he was too hungry to manage it.
Beautiful prose? If you can’t write it, you can always copy it.
Such a shallow woman.
“Listen well. ‘In the north there is a maiden, peerless and alone. One glance topples a city, another topples a nation. Should you not know that cities and nations may fall, such beauty is rare to find.’ How is that?”
Cao Rong blinked. “Isn’t that Li Yannian’s Song of the Maiden? I can even sing it.”
Chen Cong frowned. “Who is Li Yannian?”
Cao Rong burst out laughing. “Brother of Lady Li, Emperor Wu’s favored concubine. Skilled in music. You don’t know who he is, yet you recite his song? Where’s your music from?”
Luckily, Chen Cong’s skin was thick—otherwise, he’d have been mortified.
He’d copied a poem but hadn’t even gotten the era right.
Forget it, better not recite poetry. It’s too easy to slip up.
Just go for strength—compose a grand fu to salvage his dignity!
Chen Cong rolled up his sleeves, hands behind his back, pacing to the window, gazing skyward at a forty-five degree angle.
The first line of “Rhapsody on the River Goddess”—what was it again?
He only remembered, “Graceful as a startled swan, lithe as a swimming dragon.”
He could recite “Preface to the Pavilion of Prince Teng,” the greatest parallel prose of all time—after all, it was tested in the college entrance exams—but it didn’t seem fitting now.
“Memorial to Yueyang Tower”? “Departure Memorial”? “Letter of Chen Qing”? “Peach Blossom Spring”? “Longzhong Strategy”? Or “Inscription of the Humble Room”...
Problem was, he’d rolled up his sleeves—if he didn’t recite something, he couldn’t back down.
“May I ask, are you Chen Cong, styled Zining?”
A voice as ethereal as an immortal’s poured into his ears, moving Chen Cong almost to tears.
He looked toward the sound, and saw outside the side room a youth, seventeen or eighteen, bowing to him.
“I am! May I ask who you are?”
“Cao Ang, styled Zixiu. Before leaving the manor, my father instructed me to show Brother Zining around. Is it convenient now?”
Chen Cong rejoiced. “Convenient! Very convenient!”
“Zining~” came a coy call from inside.
He turned back—the woman’s face now devoid of the earlier teasing, replaced by a pitiful, innocent look. Her beautiful eyes blinked, full of silent pleading, as if they could speak.
Chen Cong felt his scalp tingle, so he strode to the window, leapt through it as if running a hundred-meter hurdle, nearly crashing into Cao Ang.
Cao Ang blinked. “Brother Zining, were you chased by a dog?”
Chen Cong paused. “You actually saw through it.”
Just then, Cao Rong hurried out, carrying the ceremonial cap and robe she’d prepared for Chen Cong.
...
Familiar side gate, familiar street.
Two hapless comrades stared at each other.
Ahem!
“Ha, haha.” Cao Ang forced a couple of laughs, pulling out a handkerchief to wipe away two streams of nosebleed.
“My sister’s behavior is unseemly, Brother Zining. Forgive me. But Rong-er’s nature is gentle and frugal—perhaps something you said agitated her.”
“You’ve got nerve to say that! If you hadn’t mentioned being chased by a dog, would I have gotten beaten?”
Chen Cong groaned, rubbing his panda eyes.
Clearly, his eyelids hadn’t grown tough along with the rest of him...
Fortunately, Cao Rong had left him some dignity—she threw him the ceremonial cap and outer robe at the end. Otherwise, he’d have been forced to stroll the streets in his undershirt.
......
......
Grand Tutor’s residence, main hall.
“Hahaha, Cao Cao! My favorite Commandant of Cavalry—look at you, even you have been shamed by a treacherous slave!”
His belly could hold ten bushels, his face was full of ferocious flesh like a lion or tiger, and when he laughed, the hill-like fat shook violently.
When Dong Zhuo laughed, all the servants lowered their heads.
But the messenger from the Cao household was a fool, unaware that the demon lord’s rewards and punishments were dictated by whim, his actions guided solely by mood.
One moment he could be as gentle as spring, the next as fierce as a storm.
Yet he naively thought he could share Dong Zhuo’s joy and sorrow, and foolishly stepped forward.
He forced a smile. “Grand Tutor, see clearly—the scandal is so great, the clear-minded despise Cao Cao, so he can only cling to you for survival.”
“Hmm?” Dong Zhuo slowly opened his eyes and gazed at the kneeling slave. “Why do the upright despise Mengde?”
“Because the Cao residence suffered the disgrace of a wicked slave bullying his master,” the Cao household slave replied as if it were obvious.
“Father-in-law,” Li Ru entered from the outer hall, glanced at the doomed slave, and said, “Commandant of Cavalry Cao Cao requests to resign. Here is his letter.”
Dong Zhuo’s face darkened. He casually tore up the resignation letter. “Come, drag this traitorous slave out and flay him alive. Send his head to Mengde, and grant him ten beauties and five chests of gold, silver, and jade—to honor his loyalty and courage.”
The slave’s eyes widened in terror, but before he could speak, the armored guards dislocated his jaw and dragged him out like a dead dog.
“Father-in-law is wise.”