Chapter Forty-Two: One Should Not Drink Recklessly

In the private room where Hu Mo sat, Lin Meng and Du Zhong slumped onto the animal-hide chairs with deep, weary sighs.

“We lost, it’s over—these days even cats are eaten by mice, what a damn mess!” Du Zhong slammed his fist on the table, only to yelp in pain. With his delicate hands, pounding a table made from purple ironwood was nothing short of courting disaster.

Lin Meng was more direct, collapsing wordlessly onto the chair that resembled a large bed. He had brought along seven or eight hundred thousand taels of silver, but now, after his losses, barely a thousand taels remained—a single, flimsy note that stung bitterly to look at.

Huang Sheng had gone himself to collect his winnings; he neither won nor lost, only forfeiting a handling fee. His real reason for going down was curiosity—he wanted to see the other few who had won their bets.

As Hu Mo had expected, apart from himself, there were a few familiar faces among the winners, and like him, all had wagered a mere hundred taels.

“Such sharp judgment, yet so cautious in their moves. Young Master Hu, these fellows do play an interesting game,” Huang Sheng said with a sly smile, leaning in close and speaking in a low voice.

“Interesting? I can’t say I find it so.” Hu Mo shot him a sidelong glance, then cast his eyes toward the VIP room where Zhu Xinyue sat. Through the window, he could just make out a slender, fair leg swinging leisurely—he was certain it belonged to Zhu Xinluo, famed for her countless lovers.

“This woman is indeed not simple. I wonder if I can outplay her,” Hu Mo muttered to himself, a shadow of worry in his eyes. He was skilled in playing the rogue, but when it came to intrigue and subtle power plays, he felt himself too young and inexperienced.

Huang Sheng said nothing further, simply sipping his tea with an air of detachment, as if the world’s troubles had nothing to do with him.

Hu Mo felt a headache coming on. Compared to these foxes, trained from youth, his own half-baked skills as a latecomer seemed woefully inadequate. He wandered over to the window, his gaze drifting outside. From the other VIP rooms came bursts of wanton, lascivious laughter—sometimes even the unmistakable cries of passion. Once, without warning, a pair of ample breasts suddenly thrust out the window, sending Hu Mo, still a “psychological virgin,” into a fluster.

He poked his head outside to greet the Hu family guards waiting below. The guards, alarmed, shouted up to him, fearing he might fall from above.

Hu Mo waved reassuringly, signaling he was fine. As he turned his head by chance toward a nearby room, a faint scent of wine drifted over—fresh, elegant, as light as the breeze.

Drawn by the aroma, Hu Mo spotted a familiar figure—standing by the window, silver goblet in hand. No wonder he hadn’t seen Situ Feng earlier; he’d been right next door all along.

“Well, well, Young Master Hu, what a coincidence—it seems you’re right next to us,” Situ Feng called out with a smile upon noticing him.

“It is a coincidence indeed. Young Master Situ, you are truly a man of refined taste, savoring fine wine by the window. How enviable,” Hu Mo replied, forcing a cordial smile despite his inner distaste. One must at least maintain appearances.

Situ Feng shook his head. “Drinking is only true drinking with a kindred spirit; otherwise, it’s no different from water. Young Master Hu, I toast to you!”

As he spoke, a jet of wine shot from the flask at his side, arcing swiftly toward Hu Mo.

Hu Mo seemed to have anticipated it. Blue light flickered in his right hand, and a sky-blue goblet appeared—the Sacred Water King’s Chalice, one of the Three Treasures.

This was the first time Hu Mo had used this manifestation of the King’s Chalice, but he handled it with practiced ease. As the wine arrow neared, he caught it gracefully in the goblet, not spilling a single drop. To play dumb before the clever was true folly.

Watching Hu Mo’s seamless response, Situ Feng burst into laughter. “You truly are a man of hidden depths, Young Master Hu. I suspected as much at the Drunken Fragrance last time. But now that you’ve revealed yourself to me, are you not afraid I might strike first?”

It was a rare moment of frankness from Situ Feng, who only ever spoke so directly to his grandfather.

“Of course I’m afraid. But even if I hid things from you, would you really let me go?” Hu Mo replied with a calm smile, savoring a sip from the goblet.

“Hahaha, you do have a way with words, Young Master Hu. Relax, I’m only joking—after all, it’s better to have more friends than enemies, isn’t it? So, tell me, what do you think of this wine—does it please you?” Situ Feng asked, unable to resist upon seeing Hu Mo’s obvious enjoyment.

“It’s excellent wine—rich on the palate, with a long, lingering finish. This is no ordinary vintage to be served casually; I’d wager it’s your personal reserve,” Hu Mo declared, draining the goblet with satisfaction.

“Haha, a true connoisseur! It’s rare to meet someone who carries a chalice at his side as well. Indeed, this is my family’s own Millennium Fragrance, reserved for imperial tribute and for our own table alone,” Situ Feng answered proudly, taking a small, self-satisfied sip.

“In that case, Young Master Situ, you live like an emperor every day—how enviable! In fact, even His Majesty must beg your family for a taste, which speaks volumes of your standing. To drink such divine wine is a blessing earned over three lifetimes!” Hu Mo laughed heartily, eyes fixed on Situ Feng. He had no intention of befriending this man.

Situ Feng’s smile flickered; the remark was no simple jest. To say even the emperor must seek their favor was to brand Situ Feng with disloyalty—a bold thing for Hu Mo to utter.

“Heh, you do like your jokes, Young Master Hu. Wine may be drunk with abandon, but words must be measured—say the wrong thing, and it could cost you dearly.” Yet Situ Feng’s composure never faltered. As a master strategist, he would never lose his cool over such a trifle.

“Haha, I must disagree. A careless word may pass, but careless drinking could prove truly disastrous. Well then, Young Master Situ, I’ll leave you to your business,” Hu Mo said with a smile, withdrawing into his private room and stowing the chalice away once more.

“How interesting… It seems Flame City will only grow livelier from now on. I wonder which of them will prove the stronger,” Zhu Xinluo mused, half-drowsing, her eyes narrowed. Though the conversation between Hu Mo and Situ Feng had been quiet, her skill allowed her to hear every word.

“What are you talking about, big sister?” Zhu Xinyue asked, puzzled by Zhu Xinluo’s mysterious smile.

“Heh, little girl, your sister is just feeling lonely—craving a man. Don’t you want one too? If you like, I can find one for you,” Zhu Xinluo teased, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

Zhu Xinyue jumped like a startled rabbit, crossing her arms over her chest. “No need, big sister—you can keep him. I really can’t handle it!”

“Hahaha… Are you blushing, little one? In a few months, it’ll be your coming-of-age ceremony. The emperor will surely arrange a marriage for you, and you may not get to choose. So why not decide now, let Father know your preference, and everything will fall into place? A woman’s happiness should be in her own hands, don’t you think?” Zhu Xinluo’s tone grew somber at the end. She might scheme and flatter others, but with Zhu Xinyue, she was always genuine. Despite Zhu Xinluo’s notorious reputation, Zhu Xinyue harbored no resentment or scorn for her.

“Big sister, I have no such thoughts. Men are all the same—they’re no good, and I’d rather do without!” Zhu Xinyue replied earnestly, an image of someone springing to mind. Just thinking of Hu Mo made her want to write off all men entirely.

Zhu Xinluo, seeing her indignant expression, guessed the reason and smiled. “Silly girl, one day you’ll understand—having a man who truly loves you is a great happiness. Sadly, I’ll never know that joy. For me, men are nothing but tools for pleasure.”

She gently stroked Zhu Xinyue’s hair, her voice filled with helplessness. Anyone witnessing this scene would be speechless with surprise—was this really the infamous wanton woman of Flame City?

Zhu Xinyue was different from others; she never looked down on her sister for her reputation. After hearing these words, she was deeply moved, though as an innocent maiden, she was terribly embarrassed by such talk.

“Big sister, let’s talk about this another time. Isn’t it a bit early now?” Her cheeks flushed bright red, like a ripe apple.

“Whatever’s on your mind, you can tell me—I’ll take care of it for you. Is it Situ Feng, or that handsome young man from the Bai family, or…perhaps the eldest son of the Hu family?” Zhu Xinluo gazed at her dreamily, her allure magnified by the effects of wine, leaving the serving boys parched and some even visibly aroused.

At the mention of the first two, Zhu Xinyue barely reacted. But at the last name, she leapt up, shouting, “That scoundrel, that worthless, lecherous wastrel! I’d have to be blind to fall for him! Big sister, don’t play matchmaker for me—I’d rather never marry than have anything to do with that wretch!”

“Heh, little sister, your words are a bit contradictory. I never said you had to marry him—why get so worked up? Ah, when a woman despises a man so much, she might just fall in love with him one day. Love is always mysterious and unpredictable. Be careful, or you’ll get hurt,” Zhu Xinluo said softly, her expression growing distant.

“Silly girl, I’ve already made my mistakes—you mustn’t repeat them,” Zhu Xinluo thought silently, slowly closing her eyes.