Chapter 3: The Entire Bill Is Paid by Lord Ying

He wore a coarse short jacket on top, with a tattered piece of burlap wrapped around his lower half—anyone could tell at a glance that he was no man of wealth.

Seeing this, Fan Zeng’s eyes betrayed open disdain. He waved his fan with a sneer and said, “Lan Feng, where did you dig up this servant? It’s one thing to spout wild boasts, but could he at least pay some attention to his appearance?”

From start to finish, Fan Zeng never deigned to look at Ying Shuo directly.

Jiang Lan Feng’s expression darkened at once and she retorted immediately, “Young Master Fan, this is Ying Shuo—Master Ying.”

“I specifically invited him here to treat Master Zhao.”

She hesitated for a moment, but then pressed on, “And I must ask you to mind your manners, Young Master Fan. Please address me as Miss Jiang.”

With that, Jiang Lan Feng took Ying Shuo by the hand, about to lead him towards the private room.

Ying Shuo had no intention of paying any mind to Fan Zeng. He simply turned, waved cheerfully to the fawning crowd, and followed after Jiang Lan Feng.

“Enjoy your food and drink, everyone! May your fortunes rise ever higher!”

“Well said!” came the enthusiastic response, cheers rising from the assembled guests.

Yet the moment everyone saw Jiang Lan Feng, the precious jewel of the Jiang family, so naturally take Ying Shuo’s hand in hers, Fan Zeng’s expression darkened further.

Jiang Lan Feng, one of the prized daughters of the Jiang family, holding hands with a man in broad daylight—and not just any man, but a penniless wretch in shabby clothes!

To be shown up like this in front of so many people! Was she telling him that he, Fan Zeng, was worth less than a pauper?

“Wait!” Fan Zeng naturally could not let them go so easily. He extended his fan to block their way.

“What do you want?” Jiang Lan Feng turned to him, her patience clearly worn thin.

She was already in a foul mood over her family’s opposition to her studies, and now, just as she had run into Ying Shuo and felt her luck might be turning, here was Fan Zeng—insufferable and shameless, ruining even a simple meal!

If he spoiled the mood and ruined her chance to have Master Zhao treated, she would never forgive him!

Sensing her irritation, the flames of jealousy in Fan Zeng’s heart burned all the hotter.

He narrowed his eyes, pointing his fan at Ying Shuo’s nose. “Lan Feng, don’t let yourself be fooled. The boy’s in rags, he clearly can’t afford to host anyone. He’ll probably have you pay for his meal in the end. And as for trusting a greenhorn like him to diagnose Master Zhao—who are you kidding? Even the imperial physicians have been stumped by Master Zhao’s illness!”

Imperial physicians?

“So the Jiang family’s influence runs that deep. And this Master Zhao must hold considerable power in court. If he can summon imperial doctors, then a hundred taels for a cure should be well within reach.” Ying Shuo gave no heed to Fan Zeng’s accusations; he simply lowered his head, lost in thought.

Noticing his silence, Fan Zeng thought he had frightened him and grew even more arrogant, practically jabbing his fan into Ying Shuo’s face.

“See that? He’s speechless—because I’ve exposed his true colors! He’s guilty, plain and simple!”

But Jiang Lan Feng had reached her limit. She snapped, her voice sharp, “Enough! Young Master Fan, out of respect for our past acquaintance, I’ve no wish to quarrel with you here. But if you persist in harassing my guest, don’t blame me for losing my temper!”

Her cheeks puffed with indignation—adorable even in anger. Where some might glare and bristle their mustaches, she only pouted and glared beneath her fringe.

Ying Shuo, seeing her childlike face flushed with anger, could not help wanting to pinch her cheeks. He praised her with a smile, “Miss Jiang, even in anger your natural beauty shines through—you’re positively charming.”

Jiang Lan Feng was momentarily taken aback. The fire in her eyes vanished, replaced by delight, and a rose flush crept across her cheeks. “Master Ying, you flatter me.”

Seeing the two of them flirting so brazenly, Fan Zeng felt completely ignored. Rage boiled within him, veins standing out on his forehead as he strode forward and grabbed Ying Shuo by the collar.

“You brat! How dare you speak so to Lan Feng! I think you’ve grown tired of living. A wretched toad like you, dreaming of swan’s flesh? Let’s see if I don’t beat you to a pulp!”

With that, he swung his fist at Ying Shuo’s face.

But to everyone’s astonishment, delicate and slender as she was, Jiang Lan Feng squeezed her eyes shut and stepped in front of Ying Shuo.

“Stop!” Her voice trembled, her fear unmistakable even without seeing her face.

The little girl!

Ying Shuo was startled, then deeply moved. His gaze softened as he looked at Jiang Lan Feng.

He reached out and caught Fan Zeng’s fist with ease.

That massive fist stopped dead above Jiang Lan Feng’s head, unable to advance an inch.

“Lan Feng! You—!”

“No, this can’t be possible…”

Fan Zeng was already shocked to see Jiang Lan Feng throw herself in harm’s way, but when his punch was so easily caught by scrawny Ying Shuo, his eyes went wide with disbelief.

After all, thanks to his family’s connections, he had personally been taught martial arts by Lin Cong, chief instructor of the eight-hundred-strong City Guard of Clearwind City. He might not be a military champion, but against ordinary men, he could take on five or six at once without breaking a sweat.

How could this emaciated wretch, who looked one missed meal away from collapse, so effortlessly stop his full-force blow?

Helpless, Fan Zeng could only stagger back a few steps and withdraw his hand.

“Hmph! Hiding behind a woman—what sort of man are you?” he spat, unwilling to admit defeat, though all present could see he had come off the worse.

Ying Shuo comforted the frightened Jiang Lan Feng and shook his head with a smile.

“To meet Miss Jiang today has put me in a fine mood. I had no wish to stoop to your level. But you provoke me again and again, and you nearly harmed Miss Jiang. That’s not something I can overlook.”

He still wore a smile, but any onlooker could sense the feral, predatory sharpness lurking beneath it—a tiger or leopard poised to strike.

Once, he had been powerless, forced to endure humiliation. But now, with newfound strength, why should he tolerate such insults?

“If I don’t teach you a lesson, will you always take me, Ying Shuo, for a pushover? Will you always assume you can lay hands on those close to me?”

With that, Ying Shuo strode toward Fan Zeng, intent on settling the matter. The latter, cowed by his aura, gulped nervously. He knew from their brief exchange that he was utterly outmatched.

If he took a beating here, how could he ever show his face again?

In a flash, inspiration struck Fan Zeng—a perfect scheme! He could avoid a thrashing and humiliate Ying Shuo at the same time.

“Hold on! To brawl in the Eight Treasures Pavilion is a disgrace to refinement! If you truly possess learning, why not compete with me in a contest of knowledge instead?”

But before he could finish, Ying Shuo slapped him full across the face.

“Compete with you in learning? I’ll give you a contest—here’s a lesson you won’t soon forget!”

Tonight, Master Ying would pay the bill, and in this place, his word was law.