The inner hall of the Prefectural Yamen.
Long Yuqing frowned at the Wordless Memorial Tablet on the square table and asked in bewilderment, "Brother Zhu, forgive my stupidity, but the four city lords have already arrived. Not only have we failed to meet them on time, you insist on drinking here and setting a memorial tablet on the table. What exactly do you mean by this?"
Ren Ye did not answer directly. After a brief pause, he set his wine cup behind the memorial tablet and said softly, "I won't drink this cup. Consider it your toast to him!"
At these words, Long Yuqing's left hand, resting on his leg, instinctively clutched his robe, and a trace of genuine fear stirred in his immensely strong heart.
"Brother Long, with the fine wine and dishes from your yamen today, let me... tell you a story to go with the drinks and liven things up." Ren Ye looked at him with a smile and a relaxed expression as he spoke softly.
Long Yuqing came back to himself and smiled. "All right! What story? Let's hear it."
"Ah, this story begins in an ancient city ruled by a thousand-year-old family...!"
The Little Bad King had not drunk any wine. Clearheaded, he immersed himself in the telling. "In that ancient city lived a youth blessed with extraordinary fortune. He was the city lord's legitimate son, born with inexhaustible wealth at his disposal. In the future, he could even inherit his father's position and wield supreme power over the common people."
"Speaking personally, I imagine that although this youth, born into power and privilege, had never experienced the people's suffering, he had seen more than enough of the ancient city's rot, darkness, and feudal oppression. I believe that when that sixteen- or seventeen-year-old saw this