Lu Meng couldn’t argue with these bodyguards whose minds had been indoctrinated with servility since childhood, stubbornly ready to atone for any perceived failure with their lives.
She didn’t even have the mood to admire his well-built chest anymore—how disappointing!
And she couldn’t let Yuehui actually go confess to Wu Dagou. If Yuehui started spouting nonsense, Lu Meng wouldn’t be able to clear her name even if she jumped into the river of history.
So, with no other choice, she ordered, "Tie him up, gag him, and get him properly dressed."
Yuehui looked up at Lu Meng, his eyes filled with stubbornness but also gratitude.
Lu Meng truly didn’t need his gratitude. If she had known this would happen, she would never have stepped out of her room this morning! Letting him faceplant in the dirt would’ve been better than him biting her neck and making a scene!
The book said Yuehui had unparalleled martial skills, but thankfully, he didn’t resist and let Lu Meng’s people bind him.
Then Lu Meng said to Xiuyun and Xiuli, "Prepare a set of formal attire for me."
She then turned to Xin Ya and asked, "Has His Highness returned from court today?"
Xin Ya nodded. "He’s already back."
Lu Meng said, "Good. Bring me the leftover… ahem."
She corrected herself, "I mean, that red bean porridge I found particularly delicious this morning. Serve a bowl—make sure it’s fully cooked this time, none of that half-raw nonsense."
Lu Meng loved red bean porridge and often had the kitchen prepare it. She had no idea what it symbolized in this era, only that it was great for dispelling dampness and replenishing blood—a perfectly scientific and healthy choice.
"Pack the porridge in a food container. I’m going to see His Highness."
Xin Ya quickly nodded in agreement. The two had been at odds for days, and it was time to mend things. She hurried off to arrange the food container.
Lu Meng bathed, changed, and fussed over her appearance until well past noon.
But the effort paid off—she looked every bit the dignified noble consort, regal and elegant.
Of course, she didn’t realize that dressing so extravagantly just to stay within the palace was overkill. But since her maids had arranged it, she went along with it. She didn’t understand ancient customs and wasn’t about to interfere.
The only downside? It was hot, and the weight of the hairpins and jewelry was exhausting.
Lu Meng led a procession of servants, with Yuehui bound and escorted at the rear, marching grandly toward the main courtyard.
This was her first time visiting the main courtyard in daylight. Compared to the dimly lit nights, the place looked at least twice as luxurious as her own tucked-away residence.
Though not excessively opulent, every detail exuded nobility and gravitas.
Wu Dagou truly lived up to his name—barking like a dog while lounging in a mansion, leaving his wife to sleep in a shack.
Ugh! The worst kind of "capitalist."
Lu Meng’s indignation lasted only a moment. Truthfully, her own quarters weren’t bad—nothing in the palace was truly lacking. Plus, she had four chests of gold, silver, and jewels to decorate her space. Hers was a golden nest fit for a queen.
If no one was going to pamper her, she’d pamper herself.
As a secondary consort—barely above a concubine—she existed in a world where Wu Dagou could barge into her chambers at night, smash a teacup, and storm off, while she had to request an audience just to see him.
If he refused, she wouldn’t even be allowed past the courtyard gates.
Lu Meng waited patiently at the entrance, fanning herself with a handkerchief, smiling as she occasionally dabbed at the sweat beading on her forehead.
The maid sent to announce her only made it to the door of the main hall, not even stepping inside. A young attendant listened to the message, glanced at Lu Meng standing outside, then shut the door to report within.
Inside, Wu Linxuan was enjoying a rare moment of leisure.
His sixth brother’s blunder in Jiangzhou had already been exposed, and once he tampered with the oversight of the imperial retreat’s construction, the emperor would surely rage, declaring the sixth prince incompetent.
Then, inevitably, the responsibility would circle back to him.
The thought put Wu Linxuan in high spirits. For once, he wasn’t buried under paperwork but instead stood in his study, brush in hand, painting.
Since childhood, Wu Linxuan had excelled in the six arts expected of nobility, and his calligraphy and painting were no exception. His strokes were bold and powerful, his landscapes serene yet undercut by an unseen tension.
One could almost feel the old man in the straw hat, drifting on his boat, ready at any moment to draw his sword and leap into battle.
The painting was nearly complete—one final touch to the figure’s expression would bring it to life.
Then, his personal guard and attendant, Chen Yuan, suddenly spoke: "Your Highness, Consort Meng requests an audience. She waits outside the courtyard."
Wu Linxuan, lost in the grand visions of his ambitions, jolted at the words "Consort Meng requests an audience." His wrist twitched, and a blot of ink splattered onto the old boatman’s face, distorting his features into a grotesque smear.
Wu Linxuan’s face twisted in equal dismay.
He turned to glare at Chen Yuan. "Who?"
"Consort Meng requests an audience." Chen Yuan noticed the ruined painting, blinking as his brow twitched slightly.
He had been wondering who had been occupying the prince’s thoughts lately, making him so restless.
It couldn’t be the powerless Sixth Prince, nor the foolish Fourth Prince. In the current political climate, who else could unsettle His Highness so?
Ah. So it was Consort Meng.
"What does she want?"
Wu Linxuan tossed his brush aside, crumpling the ruined painting before hurling it to the floor. Though he schooled his expression, his tone remained icy.
"Tell her no!"
Chen Yuan hesitated. "But… she has Yuehui tied up."
"What?" Wu Linxuan had been about to sit and resume his work, his good mood already soured by the mention of Consort Meng.
Now he heard she’d dared lay hands on Yuehui?
"She has some nerve, touching one of my men!" Wu Linxuan shoved open the side window, glaring at the crowd gathered outside.
What a spectacle—bringing so many attendants just to walk around his own estate?
"Tch. Is she here to assassinate me or stage a coup?"
Within his own walls, especially in front of Chen Yuan, Wu Linxuan spoke without restraint. His estate was impenetrable, and Chen Yuan had been his confidant since childhood—aware of his ambitions and long accustomed to his occasional treasonous remarks.
Still, Chen Yuan found his tone unusually agitated.
"Send her away. Tell her to get lost." The mere sight of Consort Meng from afar was enough to irritate him.
Remembering how she’d recklessly ruined her own health, Wu Linxuan felt goosebumps rise on his arms.
He had never met a woman so… unrestrained.
"Bring Yuehui in. I’ll hear his account." Wu Linxuan moved to shut the window.
But just then, Lu Meng, sweating under the sun, turned and spotted him through the foliage.
She waved her handkerchief cheerfully, all while mentally cursing: You damned mutt, making me roast out here! If I get a tan, I’ll spend your fortune on ten jars of pearl powder and slather it everywhere—even my feet—just to waste your money!
Wu Linxuan’s expression darkened, and he slammed the window shut.
Lu Meng had excellent eyesight. Having never strained her vision with smartphones in this era, she estimated both her eyes were at 1.5. The moment she spotted Wu Linxuan pretending not to see her, she immediately raised her voice in a deliberately sweet tone: "Your Highness!"
"Your Highness! Oh, Your Highness!"
"Your Highness—"
The power of her exaggeratedly sweet voice was immense—so much so that Lu Meng nearly cringed herself to death.
She knew Wu Dagou might refuse to see her, but this matter was better handled by her directly rather than leaving it to servants or Yuehui to explain. Otherwise, if some servant twisted the story, she and Yuehui would be tangled in an unspeakable mess.
Lu Meng refused to believe Wu Linxuan could sit still while she wailed like a ghost outside his door.
Indeed, he couldn’t. Wu Linxuan was so agitated by her calls that he stood up and paced around his desk.
At first, he had thought his concubine was a timid, well-bred lady. Later, he suspected her of being a cunning spy. Then, after that night, this "Dream Consort" had risen in his estimation—to a flirtatious and promiscuous spy.
But never had he imagined she would stoop to shamelessly shouting outside his door without restraint!
Just how many faces did this woman have?
Lu Meng was aware she was breaking character a little.
But it didn’t matter. Flirting with the prince, with her own husband, was perfectly acceptable in ancient times.
Besides, based on what she had gathered these past few days—and the information she had coaxed out of Xiuyun and Xiuli about the original owner’s personality—no one would doubt she was the same person, no matter how she acted.
The original owner had lived a reclusive life, with no close friends or confidantes. Her elder sister, who might have known her temperament, had married long ago, back when they were still children.
People changed. Her personal maids didn’t suspect her, and those around her didn’t truly know her. Who could say what her real personality was?
So, Lu Meng could occasionally stray from the original character without issue. As long as she didn’t recklessly introduce modern ideas or objects into this ancient world, she was safe.
And indeed, her tactic worked wonders—no one could remain unmoved by that sickly sweet voice.
Soon, Lu Meng was permitted to enter. Her personal maids stayed outside while she carried a food box into the room.
Wu Linxuan sat stiffly in the main hall, his face icy. Lu Meng greeted him with a smile—after all, no one strikes a smiling face.
She bowed while holding the food box, though her posture wasn’t quite proper. She had secretly practiced with her maids, but beneath her skirt, her legs bent haphazardly, relying on the fact that no one would lift her hem to check.
"Your humble consort greets Your Highness."
"What are you doing here?" Wu Linxuan’s voice was as cold as his expression, like a three-door freezer blasting frigid air the moment it opened.
Lu Meng mentally winced at the chill.
Her eyes darted around. Though she hadn’t been told to rise, she stood up anyway. Wu Dagou was a grown man—surely he wouldn’t nitpick such a minor breach of etiquette.
Once upright, she moved toward him, the food box in hand. Her plan was clear: A fed mouth is less critical—first stuff Wu Dagou’s mouth, then bring up the matter.
But the moment she took a step, Wu Linxuan reacted as if under siege. "Stop right there! Speak from where you are!"
Looking at her now made his hair stand on end. Wu Linxuan told himself it was disgust—his body reacted the same way to filth.
Yet his throat itched inexplicably, as if he needed to cough roughly to relieve it.
So when he spoke to Lu Meng, his voice came out gruff and aggressive, like Li Kui from Water Margin rallying rebels to storm Liangshan.
Seeing his genuine irritation, Lu Meng didn’t press forward.
Standing at a respectful distance, she dropped the sugary tone and said plainly, "This consort has come today to return a guard to Your Highness. He’s outside the courtyard—Your Highness may deal with him as you see fit. This consort can no longer manage him."
She then recounted the morning’s events in a detached, abbreviated manner—omitting Yuehui’s teeth marks on her and focusing instead on how he had tripped, dragged her down, and bumped her head.
Her wording was clever. She never explicitly mentioned Yuehui landing on top of her, leaving room for interpretation.
After finishing, she lowered her head. "Your Highness, this consort would never dare strike someone you assigned to me. A mere fall is hardly worth mentioning. But such a stubborn man is beyond my control. Please assign me someone more obedient—one who won’t strip and kneel outside my door, lest rumors spread and tarnish reputations."
Having defended herself, Lu Meng felt satisfied. This should do it—I’ve distanced myself neatly.
She awaited Wu Dagou’s verdict.
Then, Chen Yuan entered silently, approached Wu Linxuan, and whispered the actual details of the incident into his ear.
Wu Linxuan narrowed his eyes at Lu Meng.
A moment later, he stood, strode over, gripped her chin, and tilted her head to the side—revealing the bruise on her neck where Yuehui’s teeth had left a mark.
Lu Meng’s skin was absurdly delicate. Though bruises faded quickly, they formed just as easily. Back at the Empress Dowager’s palace, she had barely pinched herself, yet the mark had looked ghastly.
Wu Linxuan recoiled as if burned, staring at the bruise. Fury bubbled up anew.
This concubine of mine is truly something—skirting the truth so deftly! A man had her pinned to the ground, they fell tangled together, and she even has marks on her neck… yet she claims it’s nothing?!
Has she no shame?!
Or… does she think such contact with a man is inconsequential?
