Terror

Sun Chuanshan held a beautiful girl in his arms and cast Meng Zhao a sidelong glance. At once, a sour feeling rose in his heart.

The young man before him was gentle and handsome, tall and straight, every inch the refined young gentleman. He was truly an outstanding figure, rare to find.

Compared to him, Sun Chuanshan had been trounced until not even dregs remained. His confidence took a severe blow, and he said unhappily,

"Oh? So you're the one who picked Hanxiang, then gave her away?

You look decent enough, but you're really not much of a man."

The moment those words left his mouth, Sun Chuanshan realized something was wrong. He had meant to make a new friend, yet after drinking a little wine and being driven by a flicker of jealousy, he had said something like that. It was clearly the rhythm of offending someone.

Meng Zhao, however, did not mind. His smile remained unchanged as he nodded repeatedly and flattered him.

"Exactly, exactly. I'm merely a hollow radish. How could I compare to Young Master Sun, so exceptional in substance?"

Sun Chuanshan felt greatly pleased. His eyes lit up, and he developed quite a favorable impression of this pretty boy. Nodding again and again, he said,

"Good. For those words alone, this young master recognizes you as a friend. Come, sit down and drink first."

At that moment, Lü Yue glanced at the two burly men in yellow standing stiffly by the door like guardian deities and took the initiative to say,

"Young Master Sun, it seems somewhat inappropriate for these two heroes to stand there the whole time. Why not let this servant go out and have a few drinks with them? What do you think?"

Sun Chuanshan hesitated for a moment. These two had been sent by his father to protect him. Their martial arts were fairly good, and over the years they had helped him settle no small number of troubles. Ordinarily, they could not be too far from him.

But today, he had met a new friend and intended to befriend him. If he kept these two standing at the door, it would seem as though he did not trust the other party.

Besides, Meng Zhao looked so harmless, and he was deliberately currying favor with him. He did not seem like a dangerous person.

Thus, he nodded and instructed the two men,

"You two go out with this fellow and have some fun, enjoy yourselves. Put whatever you spend on this young master's tab. Go!"

One of them was somewhat worried and was about to say something when he saw Sun Chuanshan push the girl from his arms toward him. His own heart began to itch, and his hand involuntarily wrapped around her...

After everyone left and the door was tightly shut, Meng Zhao and Sun Chuanshan sat at neighboring tables.

One was neatly dressed while the other bared his chest; one was gentle and courteous while the other was arrogant and conceited. Yet somehow, they chatted exceptionally well.

The main reason was that whatever Sun Chuanshan said, Meng Zhao could immediately pick it up and secretly flatter him besides, leaving him extremely pleased.

After roughly two minutes, Sun Chuanshan finally remembered that he had been so busy chatting that he had forgotten to ask the other's identity. Raising his white porcelain wine cup toward Meng Zhao, he asked,

"By the way, judging by your refined speech and proper bearing, your background should be extraordinary. Which family do you come from?

This young master knows seven or eight out of every ten young masters in this city, but I don't seem to remember you."

Sun Chuanshan thought about it. In Nan'an Commandery City, the only family that could match the Sun Family, or perhaps slightly surpass it, seemed to be the Meng Family. Both were powerful clans renowned throughout Ji Prefecture; the rest were mostly merely prominent commandery families.

Perhaps this man was some descendant whom one of those prominent commandery families had focused on cultivating and placed great hopes upon.

That would also explain why he had never visited a place like this den of extravagance. He had surely been forced by his elders.

But that only highlighted his value all the more.

As the saying went, a fence needed three stakes, and a good man needed three helpers. Do not think prominent commandery families were ordinary.

In the eyes of many, they were still lofty, powerful houses beyond reach. Befriending such a person could only bring benefits, never harm.

Meng Zhao smiled faintly and politely raised his cup toward Sun Chuanshan before replying with a touch of reserve,

"Nothing much to speak of. My surname is Meng. I lived in the Imperial Capital City, Jade Capital, for ten years, and only recently returned home. It is perfectly normal that Young Master Sun does not know me."

Sun Chuanshan had drunk more and more wine, and his mind had grown muddled. For a moment, he did not react.

"Surnamed Meng? There aren't many Meng Families in this city. The most famous is the line of the Earl of Nan'an.

But that family isn't as understanding and agreeable as you. They're all far too detestable, each one thinking himself above the rest.

Oh, right, do you know that unlucky bastard called Meng Zhao?

Back then, the reigning emperor, Beitang Sheng, summoned him to Jade Capital with a single imperial decree to become a monk.

Hahaha, when I heard about it then, I was afraid I'd be chosen instead. Seriously.

That kid was born into the Meng Family and never got to enjoy any blessings, but he certainly suffered plenty. He was born with a life of toil."

Though he spoke that way, Sun Chuanshan's tone still brimmed with inexpressible envy and jealousy.

Ten years was indeed a long time, but if those ten years could be exchanged for the status of an imperial bodyguard, with an official rank comparable to the court's highest ministers, countless people in the world would likely choose that path.

Though Sun Chuanshan spoke of Meng Zhao with nothing but disdain, he knew perfectly well that Meng Zhao had now emerged from bitter hardship into sweet reward. In terms of status, he had left Sun Chuanshan a hundred thousand miles behind.

Who was he? A commoner, a wastrel young master.

And what about Meng Zhao? A meritorious official who had rendered service to all under heaven, a Heavenly Gang Guard specially sanctioned by the Son of Heaven. His position was lofty and pure, perhaps not even inferior to the old master of the Sun Family. How could such a status not make Sun Chuanshan's eyes burn red with envy?

Meng Zhao shook his head, glanced at the clearly drunken and muddled Sun Chuanshan, and patiently explained,

"Young Master Sun, you misunderstand. I merely went to Great Compassion Temple as a lay disciple, chanting sutras and praying for blessings for the common people under heaven, dispelling the aura of calamity and disaster. I did not shave my head and leave home, so I am not a monk.

As for whether it was a blessing or not, who says wine, women, wealth, and temper are blessings, while eating vegetarian food and worshipping Buddha is not?"

Meng Zhao had not truly experienced the plight of being trapped in one place for ten years, nor was he truly one of the People of the Meng Family. He could not genuinely understand the real Meng Zhao's state of mind.

Still, those words came from the depths of his heart, born from the insights and accumulation of two lifetimes.

Whether one was happy depended on the heart, not outward circumstances. If the heart was peaceful and free, filled with joy, then that was naturally a blessing.

Otherwise, even with vast wealth, fine homes, and beautiful women, if one spent every day frowning with sorrow, it could not be called enjoying blessings.

For instance, he had once seen certain celebrities on television abandon lives of immense wealth and glittering excess to choose monastic life.

That was a choice made in accordance with one's heart. You are not a fish; how could you know the joy of fish?

Sun Chuanshan was not truly foolish. He was merely muddled from drink. Meng Zhao's blunt words instantly stunned him, and he jolted awake.

"You're Meng Zhao?"

His voice was not loud, but it was abruptly shrill, like a duck with its neck pinched. His eyes were full of shock and lingering fear, and his expression illustrated it perfectly.

His mouth hung wide open, his cheekbones protruded, and the muscles in his face tightened, as though he might burst into tears the next second.

Meng Zhao laughed heartily. He picked up the wine jug and poured amber-colored wine into Sun Chuanshan's completely empty cup, then nodded.

"There may be more than one Meng Zhao in the world.

But one born into the line of the Earl of Nan'an and summoned by the emperor to cultivate at a temple—there is likely only me."

After receiving that confirming answer, Sun Chuanshan pulled his mouth into a grin that was neither quite a smile nor quite a cry.

He truly could not imagine that he had only sent people to attack this man during the day, and now the man had come looking for him that very night.

Could it be that the matter had been exposed?

The instant that possibility occurred to him, the last three parts of Sun Chuanshan's drunkenness vanished completely.

Cold sweat poured from his face, chest, and back. His expression was filled with terror.