Kays Translations
Just another Isekai Lover~
Chapter 370: The Minor Banquet of Imperial Favor
The invitation that others would have envied endlessly felt in Zhu Ping’an’s hands like a blazing-hot coal. If he could, he would have handed it off to someone else in an instant.
It wasn’t even about Ouyang Zishi. Just thinking about the scene at the Imperial Street—when Miss Yan Er had hurled her shoe from the second-floor balcony—was enough to make him sweat bullets. That alone could ruin him if things went awry.
And if Miss Yan Er were to somehow tell Yan Song or Yan Shifan that she had been accidentally glimpsed in the bath… well, Zhu Ping’an shivered at the thought. In this feudal society, a young lady’s honor was paramount. Surely, she wouldn’t speak of it.
But then again… what if she did?
The mere thought made his stomach churn in a way he dared not fully imagine.
As for trying to “get drunk” now to avoid the gathering… it was far too late. The invitation had already been accepted. And judging by Yan Shifan—the corpulent heir who had previously summoned him to a feast at the Zhuangyuan Tower—even if Zhu Ping’an did get truly drunk, someone would simply carry him to the Yan residence anyway.
What is fated as fortune cannot be turned into misfortune, and what is misfortune cannot be escaped. With a heavy sigh, Zhu Ping’an bid farewell to Zhang Siwei, entrusting him to care for Wang Shizhen, and then followed the attendants to the Yan residence.
This “minor grace feast” at the Yan household was smaller than the grand imperial banquet, limited to perhaps thirty or so guests. Alongside Zhu Ping’an, nine other newly minted jinshi had been invited, while the rest of the attendees were officials.
Among them were people Zhu Ping’an already knew—more than one, in fact. There was Zhang Juzheng, whom he had met at Xu Jie’s house, and there was the Flying Fish–clad Jinyiwei officer he had encountered not long after arriving in the capital, the one who had handled the dispute over the money pouch. If memory served, his companion called him Shen Jingli.
Now, this Shen Jingli had once shown no small contempt for Yan Song, even calling him “the foremost doomed man” and mocking him with, “Behold Prime Minister Yan, surely he only favors the wealthy.” So why on earth was he now attending a feast at the Yan household?
And then there was the middle-aged man seated in front of Shen Jingli, clad in a striking Dou Niu outfit. Zhu Ping’an could not help but stare—he was impossibly conspicuous: tall, broad-shouldered, skin a deep ruddy hue, as if a hidden fire burned beneath it. His dark red complexion reminded one vaguely of Guan Yu from the Three Kingdoms, only more imposing.
Although the feast was nominally hosted by Yan Song, it was really Yan Shifan in charge. Yan Song had appeared briefly at the start, offering a few congratulatory words to Zhu Ping’an and the others, then addressing the officials with some polite remarks before excusing himself due to ill health. The hosting duties were then fully handed over to his son.
“Lord Lu, I wish to consult you on a matter. Might I trouble you to step aside for a moment?” Yan Song said as he approached the Dou Niu–clad man before leaving.
“You are too courteous, Lord Yan. Whatever matters you wish to discuss, I will naturally listen. You need not use the word ‘consult’,” the man replied with a slight smile, rising to bow slightly.
After a few hushed words between them, the man in the Dou Niu outfit followed Yan Song away from the banquet.
Hearing Yan Song address him as “Lord Lu,” Zhu Ping’an’s mind began to piece things together. Dou Niu attire, surname Lu, seated among Jinyiwei—it was obvious he was connected to the Jinyiwei, and far above Shen Jingli in rank. Yan Song’s earlier deference made that unmistakable.
During the Jiajing era, the only high-ranking Lu connected with the Jinyiwei was Commander Lu Bing. A historical powerhouse indeed. Rumor had it that Lu Bing had grown close to the Yan father and son while dealing with Xia Yan, maintaining a cordial relationship ever since—and the respect was mutual, as Zhu Ping’an could now clearly see.
“Chunfu, after the feast you may return on your own. No need to wait for me,” Lu Bing said to the Flying Fish–clad Jinyiwei beneath him, seemingly unsurprised by Yan Song’s invitation.
Chunfu? Shen Chunfu?
Zhu Ping’an froze mid-step. Shen Chunfu… wasn’t that Shen Lian himself?! Apart from Yang Jisheng, Shen Lian had been the most famous among those who had impeached Yan Song in the Ming court.
Historical records confirmed Shen Lian’s jinshi background. He had served as a magistrate, as a Jinyiwei officer, and was known for his integrity and fierce hatred of injustice—qualities that had earned him Lu Bing’s admiration. It made perfect sense that he would be invited to a feast at the Yan residence.
Indeed, thinking further, it was entirely understandable. As a jinshi within the Jinyiwei, Shen Lian was exceptional. Who could match him in drafting documents or handling cases? In the system of the Jinyiwei, he stood out like a crane among chickens. Lu Bing’s appreciation of scholars further explained his invitation.
Once Yan Song and Lu Bing departed, Yan Shifan took full command of the feast. Zhu Ping’an, as the Zhuangyuan, was seated at the front table alongside Yan Shifan and his close associates.
Initially, the gathering proceeded smoothly. But after the third round of wine, the situation began to spiral—thanks entirely to Yan Shifan.
After a few rounds, Yan Shifan grew uninhibited, shouting commands and insisting that everyone drink. His lack of restraint and consideration for etiquette became painfully apparent.
The first target, naturally, was Zhu Ping’an.
“Come, let us toast our Zhuangyuan!” Yan Shifan exclaimed, plopping his porky hand onto the table and pointing directly at Zhu Ping’an. “What say you all?”
“Well said!” the table chorused.
There was no escape. Under the gaze of all present, Zhu Ping’an had to drink. Once the wine touched his lips, he relaxed slightly. From what he could tell, it seemed Miss Yan Er had not reported his accidental glimpse—good news indeed.
“Zihou, to achieve the title of Zhuangyuan at such a young age is most auspicious. Looking back, our farewell at the Zhuangyuan Tower appears to have been a fortuitous omen, would you not agree?” Yan Shifan asked, chewing a piece of venison, eyes fixed on Zhu Ping’an.
“Indeed, my thanks to Lord Yan,” Zhu Ping’an replied with a slight bow and a polite smile. Inside, however, he was seething: Shameless… you call that a farewell? From morning until night, not to mention the fireworks at the Wei Guogong Mansion all night, I didn’t even have a moment to sleep. Had it not been for Li Shu’s little maid delivering ginseng for the imperial exam, I wouldn’t even have had a place to cry.
Yet in the end, Ouyang Zishi had not even placed in the top division, while Zhu Ping’an had become Zhuangyuan—a twist that Yan Shifan had surely not foreseen. Too much scheming often backfires. Zhu Ping’an allowed a small, almost imperceptible smile to curl his lips at the irony of it all.