Slag Shou Cultivating Manual - Chapter 19

As the weather grew colder and the Mid-Autumn Festival approached, the palace became lively as usual. This year, the harem was preparing a grand poetry event, where royal offspring and high-ranking officials’ families would gather to admire the moon, drink wine, and recite poetry.

When the full moon hung high in the sky, a grand celebration began under the vast expanse of the night.

The women in the palace all dressed extravagantly for the occasion. Young ladies, who usually stayed secluded, made an effort to display their beauty in front of many distinguished guests and royal relatives.

He Lang found himself dazzled by the scene, overwhelmed by the perfume and the sight of so many beautifully dressed women. He quickly sipped some tea to clear his head.

“Do you find them beautiful? Which one do you like the most?” Zhen Puyang asked with a half-smile. His gaze was not one of admiration, but rather filled with arrogance and malice. He Lang shook his head inwardly, unsure how to respond. Just then, someone at the poetry gathering started a commotion, saying, “I’ve heard that Master He is very talented in poetry. How about composing a poem for us to admire?”

He Lang clasped his hands in a humble manner and replied, “Please do not flatter me. It is Master He’s talent that should be admired.”

With the Emperor’s encouragement, He Lang had no reason to refuse. Looking up at the bright moon, he suddenly felt a pang of melancholy.

He took a few steps at the table and caught the gaze of Zhen Puyang, who had been watching him intently. They exchanged a brief, knowing smile, full of unspoken emotions.

He Lang began to write on a large sheet of paper laid out on the table. Once he finished the poem, there was thunderous applause, and he sighed in relief, returning to his seat.

Soon, others also showed their talents, leaving behind their calligraphy. Amidst the excitement, Zhen Puyang quietly pulled He Lang’s sleeve, and they slipped away to the riverbank.

Zhen Puyang had been silent until now, and He Lang had thought he might be displeased with the poem. But he finally spoke softly, “The poem you wrote was excellent.”

He Lang felt a sense of joy from the compliment. Under the bright moonlight, his eyes sparkled with happiness.

He was used to composing poetry, but previously, only his close servants, Chunsheng and Luying, had seen his work. They were illiterate and could only say it was good. Now, receiving recognition from others made him feel very sweet inside.

Zhen Puyang, gazing at the shimmering ripples on the river, asked, “I’m curious about the ‘moonlit youth’ mentioned in your poem. Who is he, and why does he have the honor of your attention?”

He Lang glanced at him, sensing that Zhen Puyang likely knew the answer but wanted him to say it aloud.

Seeing He Lang’s hesitation, Zhen Puyang smiled lightly, with a hint of cheerful amusement in his voice.

He Lang, calm as ever, was used to Zhen Puyang’s playful teasing. He couldn’t help but look at Zhen Puyang’s profile, noting how he had grown into a young man. Time had passed so quickly; his young charge was now approaching adulthood.

Zhen Puyang was growing taller than He Lang, his features becoming more handsome, with a refined demeanor that drew everyone’s attention. He was as beautiful as the full moon tonight, paired with clear wine, fragrant tea, and the reflections on the lake.

While He Lang was lost in his thoughts, Zhen Puyang remained focused on his own reflection in the water.

He feared that when he looked at He Lang, too many emotions would show, making him hesitant to meet his gaze directly. He thought this might be the nervous joy of admiration.

When He Lang asked why he kept staring at the river, Zhen Puyang’s heart skipped a beat. He simply replied that he was admiring the moon’s reflection in the water.

What he didn’t say was that the river not only held the moon’s reflection but also the figure of his beloved.

…

As the evening wore on, they returned to the gathering. By then, the princes had gathered at a table. The Crown Prince, Zhen Pujia, saw Zhen Puyang and immediately waved him over, “Ninth Brother, where have you been? We’ve all been waiting for you.”

Zhen Puyang had to take the only available seat and sat down after lifting his robe.

He Lang gave him a look, reminding him to be cautious with his words, and took his own seat among the officials.

Zhen Puyang’s relationships with his brothers were only average. Previously, he hadn’t competed with them directly, and they refrained from antagonizing him due to his favor and behavior. There was no real animosity between them, but now, there were forced smiles and visible dissatisfaction.

He disliked these insincere interactions and wanted to leave the table, but the Crown Prince, who usually had a neutral relationship with him, was being unusually friendly and engaged him in conversation.

Perhaps because Zhen Pujia had recently married the Crown Princess, he advised Zhen Puyang to settle down and start a family when he reached the appropriate age. The conversation continued until the other princes discreetly withdrew, revealing Zhen Pujia’s intentions.

The Crown Prince smiled faintly and asked directly, “Brother, are you interested in that position?”

To avoid appearing too ambitious, he added, “You know, I’m not as clever or outstanding as you all think. I’m just an average talent, so this position might not suit me.”

Zhen Puyang secretly sneered, recognizing his elder brother’s hypocrisy. He knew that Zhen Pujia’s words were half truth and half pretense—true regarding his talent, but false about his ambitions.

Despite having had his sights set on this position since his youth, believing it rightfully belonged to him as the legitimate eldest son, Zhen Pujia was putting on an indifferent facade to make him relax, trying to gauge his thoughts and decide if he needed to pay more attention to him. Had he really been so weak and left such an impression on his brothers in the past?

It was fine if they thought of him as a prince who only indulged in pleasures and was ignorant of state affairs, and he supposed Mr. He might think the same.

Zhen Puyang raised his cup and drank deeply, pretending to be tipsy to deflect the conversation.

However, after getting past the Crown Prince’s concerns, his birth mother, Consort Lin, began to trouble him. The former was manageable, but the latter was causing him severe headaches.

He didn’t know what his mother had discussed with the Emperor, but out of the blue, he was given a marriage decree.

The betrothed was Jiang Yuqing, the daughter of a marshal. They had never even met, and he was to marry her within a month. This news was like a thunderbolt, shattering his plans.

In an instant, he was consumed with anxiety. If that person found out, he would surely be forced to step aside. The fragile emotional foundation he had just started to build would collapse again.

Furious, Zhen Puyang didn’t want He Lang to know, planning to make a scene in the palace to get his father to retract the decree. But He Lang was already aware of the situation and anticipated his impulsiveness, stopping him immediately.

The Emperor’s word was final. Using his favor to act recklessly not only made things difficult for the Emperor but also risked depleting his own favor.

Moreover, in the royal family, marriage matters rarely allowed for personal choice. He Lang thought the match was acceptable. Jiang Yuqing was the daughter of a marshal, whom he had met a few times and remembered as beautiful, though her temperament was unknown.

Even as a concubine, having her in the household could be a solid support. Since Zhen Puyang had no experience with military affairs, he was weakest in this area. If there was a defection among the marshall’s troops, it could provide significant benefits and assistance.

He Lang analyzed the pros and cons, trying to persuade him, but Zhen Puyang remained silent, his expression growing darker.

He was overwhelmed with questions: Why could He Lang remain so calm? Did he not care about Zhen Puyang marrying? Was he indifferent to the prospect of becoming a husband?

“You knew all along,” Zhen Puyang couldn’t hold back, staring at him coldly, his eyes filled with grievance and resentment.

—

**Author’s Note:**

The plot might advance faster from now on, so please bear with me.

I swear this is definitely not a slow burn! I will keep each world under 80,000 words, unlike the previous work which had tens of thousands of words per world. Enjoy your reading, and please leave comments! It seems the prince might be heading into darker territory.