Why Is a Young Master's Face Worth a Few Bucks?

Princess Channing looked at the amused smile playing at the corner of Zhu Zhanjun's mouth and understood what he was thinking.

She smiled helplessly and nodded.

"Very well."

"But go easy on him. Don't beat him to death."

"We still have a use for his father."

"Don't worry, Aunt."

Zhu Zhanjun grinned, showing a mouthful of white teeth.

"I've always been a very reasonable person."

With that, he turned and strolled leisurely toward the courtyard gate, followed closely by two towering Great Snow Dragon Rider Guards.

The first-floor hall of Tingfeng Pavilion.

The hall was now deathly silent, the atmosphere tense.

A richly dressed young man stood there, looking arrogant as he pointed his riding crop at Steward Liu, who was kneeling on the floor. Two tavern workers lay at his feet, groaning incessantly.

A dozen burly servants stood behind the young man, each with a vicious look on his face. The customers nearby were so frightened that they hurriedly backed away, furious but afraid to speak.

"Steward Liu, is it? I'll give you one last chance!"

The young man tapped Steward Liu's face with his riding crop, his tone flippant.

"Now! Right this instant! Clear Room Number One of the Heaven Grade for me!"

"I'm in a good mood today, so I can overlook your earlier offense. Otherwise..."

He smiled coldly.

"I'll tear this lousy place down!"

Steward Liu's body trembled slightly as he knelt on the floor, but he still gritted his teeth and said, "Young Master Fang, I'm truly sorry, but Room Number One of the Heaven Grade... really is occupied by an honored guest. That's the rule at Tingfeng Pavilion. Please..."

"Rules?"

The young man known as Young Master Fang burst into laughter. He kicked Steward Liu in the shoulder, knocking him to the floor.

"In this capital, what I, Fang Cheng, say is the rule!"

"You run a tavern, and you dare talk to me about rules? You must be tired of living!"

Fang Cheng was the only son of Minister of War Fang Bin and a notorious wastrel in the capital.

Relying on his father's influence, he had always thrown his weight around.

He had invited a few of his good-for-nothing friends to dine at Tingfeng Pavilion that day and specifically demanded the finest room, Room Number One of the Heaven Grade. He hadn't expected to be told it was already occupied.

Feeling humiliated, he had immediately kicked up a fuss.

The customers around them watched the scene and whispered among themselves.

"That young master from Minister Fang's household is here. Tingfeng Pavilion's really drawn the short straw today."

"Tell me about it. Young Master Fang is a tyrant in the capital. Who'd dare cross him?"

"Who exactly is in Room Number One of the Heaven Grade? Tingfeng Pavilion's standing its ground so firmly, even daring to turn down Young Master Fang."

"Who knows? But from the looks of things, this won't end peacefully."

Hearing the murmurs around him, Fang Cheng looked even more pleased with himself.

He planted a foot on Steward Liu's chest and looked down at him. "Well? Made up your mind? Are you clearing the room, or should I tear the place down?"

With Fang Cheng's foot pinning him down, Steward Liu could barely breathe. His face flushed red, but he couldn't utter a word.

Just then, a lazy voice came from the stairway.

"Tear it down? Sure."

"But before you do, shouldn't we settle the bill?"

Everyone turned toward the voice and saw a young master in plain clothes strolling down from the second floor.

Two burly, expressionless guards followed behind him.

Seeing Zhu Zhanjun, Fang Cheng furrowed his brow and demanded, "Who are you? And what gives you the right to meddle in my business?"

Zhu Zhanjun ignored him and walked straight to Steward Liu, helping him to his feet.

"Are you all right?"

"Your Highness... Young Master, I'm fine."

When Steward Liu saw Zhu Zhanjun, he stood a little straighter.

Zhu Zhanjun nodded, then turned to Fang Cheng, a teasing smile on his face.

"You're Young Master Fang, right? I've heard a lot about you."

"I just heard you say you were going to tear this place down?"

"Your place?"

Fang Cheng was taken aback, then sneered. "Is Tingfeng Pavilion yours?"

"That's right."

Zhu Zhanjun admitted it without hesitation.

Fang Cheng looked him up and down. Seeing his plain clothes, he grew bolder.

"Good! The owner's here. That makes things easy!"

"I want Room Number One of the Heaven Grade today. Are you giving it to me or not?"

"No."

Zhu Zhanjun's answer was simple and direct.

"You!"

Fang Cheng's expression darkened instantly.

"Boy, do you know who I am? My father is Minister of War Fang Bin!"

"Oh, Minister Fang. Yes, I know."

Zhu Zhanjun nodded, then changed the subject.

"So, how much is Young Master Fang's face worth?"

"What do you mean?"

Fang Cheng didn't understand.

"What I mean is..." Zhu Zhanjun pointed at the workers who had been beaten, then at the tables and chairs that had been knocked about. "You beat my people and smashed my things. How are we settling that bill?"

Fang Cheng burst into laughter.

He pulled a thick stack of banknotes from his robe and flung them straight at Zhu Zhanjun's face.

"They're just a few servants and some lousy tables!"

"Here's a thousand taels. Is it enough? Enough to pay for this dump?"

The banknotes fluttered down, scattering across the floor.

The customers around them sucked in a breath. A thousand taels could buy a small house.

Young Master Fang was indeed loaded.

But Zhu Zhanjun didn't even glance at the banknotes on the floor.

He simply looked at Fang Cheng. The smile slowly faded from his face, and his gaze turned cold.

"It seems Young Master Fang has no intention of talking things out."