The Prime Minister is Pregnant with Dragon's Seed - Chapter 14

Chu Huaiyin looked at Meng Zhou with a stern face, but Meng Zhou’s eyes couldn’t stop sneaking glances at the food box with a greedy look, practically writing “If you see it, you get a share” on his face. He couldn’t help but laugh.

He lifted his chin, motioning Ji Yang to hand it to Meng Zhou.

The vendor had skillfully skewered the grilled fish with two wooden sticks. Crispy on the outside and tender inside, the meat clung to the bones. A light bite tore off a chunk, juicy and rich in flavor, and the remaining meat didn’t fall apart.

Meng Zhou raised the skewer with his right hand, about to chomp down when Chu Huaiyin suddenly grabbed his arm mid-air.

He resisted with all his strength, trying to push the fish toward his mouth, but it wouldn’t budge an inch.

Fine, if the fish won’t come to me, I’ll go to the fish. Meng Zhou leaned in, only for Chu Huaiyin to pinch his chin.

“Mmmm…” Meng Zhou stared in protest.

“Think it over. If you insist on becoming a monk, you won’t be eating meat or fish anymore. Not even a simple steamed egg. I’ll have someone watch over you—If you dare to eat a bite, and it’s fifty beatings. Repeat offenders get double,” Chu Huaiyin said solemnly, exaggerating the consequences with a serious face.

Meng Zhou froze, like a chick caught in a hawk’s shadow. His expression turned pitiful, too stunned to speak.

Just as Chu Huaiyin was about to let go, he followed Meng Zhou’s dazed gaze—and realized he wasn’t frozen in fear. He was still staring at the grilled fish.

“You don’t believe me? Hm?”

Meng Zhou nodded hurriedly. Those in power really could do whatever they wanted.

“Still want to become a monk?”

Shakes head.

“Then eat,” Chu Huaiyin released him.

Meng Zhou rubbed his sore jaw. The man’s grip was no joke. Fortunately, the grilled fish could at least soothe his wounded soul.

He deliberately slowed down to walk a step behind Chu Huaiyin, eating heartily behind him.

Chu Huaiyin paused mid-step, curious to pry open Meng Zhou’s head and see what went on in there. He turned around.

But Meng Zhou immediately shielded the fish, backing off a step like a hen guarding her chick. Alert: “What does His Highness want?”

Chu Huaiyin was helpless.

During the short descent from the mountain, Meng Zhou finished off two whole fish. He sneakily wiped his greasy mouth with his sleeve when no one was looking.

At the road’s end, three fine horses awaited. Chu Huaiyin pointed to a gentle one for Meng Zhou. Mounting first, Chu Huaiyin led the way, followed by Meng Zhou and Ji Yang.

“Brother Ji, there’s something I want to ask…” Meng Zhou hesitated.

“What is it, Young Master Meng?” After everything he had seen, Ji Yang could no longer guess the status of Meng Zhou in his master’s heart, he might as well gouge out his eyes and ask a street-side fortune teller. His highness said it was a test of Meng Zhou’s talent, to decide if he was worthy of becoming a confidant—but now he was already this pampered, and what would happen in the future?

When Ji Yang left, His Highness had been storming with rage. Yet somehow, in the blink of an eye, they were strolling side by side. That urgent grilled fish he rushed back with? It was to persuade Meng Zhou to renounce monkhood!

Ji Yang nearly spat bl00d.

Meng Zhou stared ahead, upright and dignified, as if he were inquiring about national military affairs. His serious tone made Ji Yang nervous too, his palms sweating slightly on the reins.

As Chu Huaiyin’s trusted aide, Ji Yang knew plenty. He could usually judge what could and couldn’t be said. But when it came to Meng Zhou… he wasn’t so sure anymore.

Should he hold nothing back, or say only what was absolutely necessary?

Meng Zhou asked, “That fish… where did you get it?”

“…”

“Ah?”

Was that such a hard question?

“Third one on the right in West Alley, their ancestors were imperial chefs, but not anymore. If you want to eat there, just drop Prince Huai’s name.”

“Ah, I see.” Meng Zhou nodded, happily. “Thank you, Brother Ji.”

The group stopped in front of Prince Huai’s manor. Meng Zhou looked around, admiring the grand architecture inside. With a light leap, he dismounted and bid farewell to Chu Huaiyin.

Chu Huaiyin watched Meng Zhou’s retreating figure, expression unreadable.

“Stop.”

Meng Zhou turned around in confusion. The grilled fish had left him parched, and he was eager to find some tea to quench his thirst.

“I recently acquired a precious ornamental stone. Since you’re here today, why not come in and have a look?”

A stone?

Not interested.

Meng Zhou didn’t have the refined tastes for such things, but since Chu Huaiyin had invited him, he nodded. Who knows, maybe the stone had a treasure map on it that Chu Huaiyin wanted to share with him?

Ji Yang, equally baffled, frowned. In recent days, they’d received jade trinkets, pearls, and fine cloth—but no mention of a stone. Could it be… master was referring to the emerald tribute from Wenshan?

That striking piece of coal-black mica with an embedded emerald that glowed like starlight. Shaped like a crown, noble and mysterious—a rare and peerless treasure.

Ji Yang could already picture it: Meng Zhou gasping in awe, His Highness smiling as he generously gifted it away.

He tried to make his heart steady like water…

“Make some tea,” Chu Huaiyin said upon entering, asking for his favorite Da Hong Pao. But at the last second, the words changed to, “Just boiled water.”

The grand Prince Huai’s household, and they were offering guests plain water?

Meng Zhou briefly suspected Chu Huaiyin was in a foul mood and using him as an outlet. But one glance showed the host was drinking plain water too.

Ah—It turned out that Prince Huai was a man of high moral character, self-discipline and thrift.

Feeling reassured, Meng Zhou gulped down two full pots and somehow found the water here sweeter than elsewhere.

As Meng Zhou looked away, Chu Huaiyin quietly set his jade cup back down.

That sneaky little glance from Meng kitten was too obvious.

After a short rest, Chu Huaiyin led him to a side hall.

Prince Huai’s manor had no mistress nor concubines. The servants were mostly young men and secret guards—a place dominated by male presence.

Tall ancient trees shaded the path, winding and quiet. This was the most serene corner of the entire estate. Almost no one came here. The servants cleaned it every day, and the windows were bright and clean, without a speck of dust On the right stood a display shelf as tall as the beams, filled with exotic stones arranged with deliberate care.

Jagged Lingbi stone formations¹, glistening Shoushan² ornaments, and a dazzling harmony of jade objects and porcelain in five brilliant hues.

And… Meng Zhou followed Chu Huaiyin’s pointers and looked to… an ordinary stone with brown, yellow and black interwoven into one?

“If flowers could speak, they would be very talkative. But a silent stone is the most delightful. Meng Zhou, what do you see in this stone?”

Was this a reading comprehension test or a personal reflection assignment?

Meng Zhou stared at the ugly rock until he almost saw patterns blooming from it. He recalled exam strategies he used in his previous life: first, understand the questioner’s intention. He glanced at the imposing noble face of Chu Huaiyin—forget it, skip that step…

Then, start with the stone itself. “Its surface patterns are intricate, the lines interwoven with light and shadow. The colors ebb and flow, rustic yet elegant… It seems to hold a… deeper meaning.” He got vague on that last part.

Then, a touch of comparison: “Traditionally, ornamental stones are praised for their thinness, holes, wrinkles, and permeability—some resemble paintings, others stand as mini landscapes. This one is unique. His Highness’s extensive collection and broad vision are truly awe-inspiring.”

Lastly, a conclusion:

“This is… a unique stone.”

Finishing, he met Chu Huaiyin’s strange gaze. Meng Zhou sat straight, trying his best to maintain his calm facade.

Chu Huaiyin’s lips twitched. Meng Zhou seemed to have said a lot, but in fact he said nothing. As always, a smooth-talker.

Humph, that’s just what he wanted.

“What? You didn’t sense the Zen³ meaning flowing through the layers of color?” Chu Huaiyin eyes showed a teasing look.

Meng Zhou looked again.

Nope.

Chu Huaiyin clarified, “This stone is called ‘Fate with the Buddha’.”

Meng Zhou studied it closely and suddenly realized—ah, that brownish shape did look a bit like a wooden fish⁴!

A wave of indignation surged. So this wasn’t reading comprehension—it was a riddle?! After all the twists and turns, it was still about becoming a monk? Couldn’t he just let it go without saying anything?

“If you can’t even comprehend this, Meng Zhou, you have no destiny with the Buddha. Chu Huaiyin said, arms behind his back, like an emperor pronouncing judgment in court.

Resonant and absolute.

Meng Zhou nearly dropped to his knees to accept the decree.

By the time he stepped out of the Prince Huai’s Manor, the pious and receptive expression on his face disappeared.

This was urgent. He headed straight for the Taoist temple the abbot had mentioned, name-dropping the abbot at the gate.

Along the way, he took some time to think about a question: Why did Chu Huaiyin react so strongly to him becoming a monk? Why did he go through so many twists and turns to persuade him to give up?

Has he been very idle recently?

Or… was it because Meng Zhou had said he’d work for him but didn’t follow through?

The answer clicked immediately. Chu Huaiyin clearly couldn’t stand being lied to. After crossing the line a few too many times, this time he finally angered the other party and Chu Huaiyin was forced to take some countermeasures—a very mild one, to be fair. Not like a battle-hardened prince at all.

Could it be… that Chu Huaiyin had a keen eye for talent, saw potential in him, and was being lenient out of appreciation and a desire to retain talent?

Meng Zhou smirked, satisfied, with a hint of pride and shrewdness.

That’s great.

“Hyah!”

The horse galloped down the official road, kicking up a trail of dust, veering into a forest path before stopping at a grand, ancient Taoist temple.

The abbot had done his part—after Meng Zhou left, he’d immediately sent a young monk to contact the priests of Qingxu Temple, explaining everything.

Daoist Master Xiuming was a man of feeling. He stared at Meng Zhou for a long time, made him promise not to cause trouble that would endanger the temple, and finally stroked his beard and nodded.

People who have done many bad things often believe in gods and hope to wash away their sins through prayer. The Liu family was just like that—holding ritual after ritual in accordance with Liu De’s last wishes, inviting monks and priests alike.

No one could have imagined that among a sea of navy-robed daoist priests, a rosy-lipped little spy had slipped in.

His hair was tied in a bun, secured with a plain wooden hairpin. The simple Taoist robe only highlighted her well-proportioned figure.

Mengg Zhou sat cross-legged among the other priests, shoulders hunched and head bowed, doing his best to minimize his presence.

But his appearance was too eye-catching. As Liu Hongbao conversed with the head daoist priest, his beady eyes kept drifting toward Meng Zhou. A glint flashed across his murky pupils—like a starving wolf spotting a plump chicken, revealing a vicious and greedy look.

He never expected that in a Taoist temple deep in the mountains, there actually existed such a spiritual person, like a piece of pure and natural jade, waiting for the right person to mine it.

Halfway through the funeral rites, the abstinent, sorrowful Liu Hongbao could no longer keep up his grieving act. His true nature emerged, full of lust and greed. He gave a few perfunctory replies, then secretly signaled his steward.