The Prime Minister is Pregnant with Dragon's Seed - Chapter 4

Prince Huai’s Manor. Study Room.

Chu Huaiyin stood before the desk. A sheet of paper was spread out, and a brush soaked full with ink. Just as he was about to make the first stroke, a yellow oriole suddenly swooped in and landed on the windowsill, chirping sweetly.

His hand paused mid-air. When he resumed, the tip of the brush painted not words but the image of a dainty oriole—vivid and lifelike.

“Ji Yang, the person this prince asked you to investigate—how is it going?” Chu Huaiyin suddenly remembered Zhang Zhou, whose ventriloquism skills were astonishing. Though clearly a man, the voice he imitated was even more delicate than that of a yellow oriole.

A shadow flipped through the window and knelt in apology. “Your subordinate has investigated all individuals named Zhang Zhou in the capital—eleven in total. For now, none are a match.”

The implication was: My lord, could it be you’ve been fooled…?

Ji Yang once believed that under his master’s pressure, no one in the world would dare to play tricks on him. But it turns out… well, there’s always someone better.

“Mm.” Chu Huaiyin gave a slight nod, his expression unreadable. “No need to investigate further.”

Ji Yang glanced at his master’s face. He seemed… unconcerned?

Well, it was a passing encounter—no need to dig deeper.

After Chu Huaiyin left, Ji Yang, per usual, checked the desk. Sometimes, the prince’s instructions were left written on paper, which he, as a subordinate, had to carry out. Besides, very few had the privilege of entering this study; as one of them, Ji Yang was naturally responsible for tidying up.

On the top left of the xuan paper was the oriole, and the rest was dominated by four bold characters—

侜张为幻 (zhōu zhāng wéi huàn). To weave deceit and spin illusions.

The brushstroke tightened—like sword light unsheathed.

Lifting the top sheet, the next one had ink seeped through. And the next… a half-foot thick stack of paper was entirely marked with the same four characters!

Even the calligraphy master’s strokes wouldn’t penetrate so deeply!

“To weave deceit and spin illusions… means deceit and falsehood…” Ji Yang murmured, and suddenly it all clicked—

This guy is really bold. From the very beginning, he clearly told his master in his name, “I am lying to you, don’t believe me.”

So then, did master not care or…care?

*****

The long-silent General’s Manor was now surrounded by a crowd.

At the center, a boy of about fifteen or sixteen lay flat on the ground, beaten black and blue. A burly man with a face full of flesh held up a gambling contract stamped with a red handprint.

“Everyone, I am surnamed Huang, owner of Tianjiu Gambling House. Two days ago, Jiang Xin lost every penny of his money at my place and borrowed 5,000 taels, using the General’s Manor as collateral. He promised to return 6,000 taels—principal and interest—within two days. The deadline has passed, and Jiang Xin hasn’t paid. We’re here, as agreed, to collect the deed to the manor. It’s all written in black and white. Everyone, bear witness!”

The boy on the ground was named Jiang Xin. After Jiang father and son died in battle, the manor passed to a collateral branch. Most men in the Jiang family died on the battlefield, and even the branch of the family was sparsely populated. The nine-year-old Jiang Xin suddenly shouldered the future of the Jiang family, feeling terrified and helpless.

At first, Jiang Yao watched over him. But after her death, the boy spiraled. Within days, he was lured into the gambling halls, and the stakes kept getting higher. By age fifteen, he had lost even the ancestral home of the Jiang family.

A traveling vendor hawking trinkets couldn’t bear it and spoke up: “The General’s Manor was a personal gift from the Founding Emperor. The men of Jiang family were iron-boned and loyal, defending the nation… and now, this… Ai!”

He let out a long sigh. Others joined in:

“Give him a few more days.”

“The Jiang family’s had it rough.”

“Boss Huang…”

“It’s a pity that I don’t have much money, otherwise everyone could chip in… Hey, six thousand taels is really too much.”

Many began reaching for their money pouches. For noble families, 6,000 taels wasn’t much. But for commoners, even selling everything they had wouldn’t get them halfway there.

Jiang Xin, pinned under a foot, struggled to lift his head to look at the plaque above: “Manor of the General Who Guards the Nation”—five powerful characters written by the founding emperor himself.

“A hundred years of legacy, ruined by my hands.”

Two brawny men carried a black and gold plaque, ready to replace the General’s Manor sign at any moment.

Jiang Xin finally broke down, wailing uncontrollably. He hadn’t meant for this to happen. He was cowardly and gullible and useless. He was even worse than a peddler. He would not even have the face to see the general in the underworld!

His fingers dug into the coarse stone floor until they bled. Generations of generals and warhorses had set out from here, their footsteps on this bluestone ground—now to be stained with the bl00d and tears of the last descendant. All glory and pride, lost to dusty history.

Suddenly, Jiang Xin bolted, aiming to bash his head against the stone lion at the gate. The two strongmen failed to stop him. The crowd gasped—this was the end of the Jiang family. To witness such a fall… was it a blessing or a curse?

Thud— A wooden staff flew in from nowhere, striking the ground before Jiang Xin. He slipped on the round stick and fell forward, hitting his head and losing consciousness.

The crowd parted like the Red Sea toward the staff’s origin. Someone recognized the figure—it was General Jiang Zhanyu’s grandson.

“Good!” Like an acrobat act reaching its climax, the unaware masses applauded, eyes full of expectation. After all, he was the son of the current Left Prime Minister. He must be wealthy.

Meng Zhou clapped the dust from his hands, a steamed bun still in his mouth. He took a big bite, cheeks puffed like a squirrel, chewing while coolly meeting everyone’s gaze.

He’s so poor that he can only eat steamed buns.

Can’t afford it.

He was just passing by.

As for why he was so poor? Another tale of bitter tears.

When Jiang Yao married, her father, feeling guilty for the rushed wedding during wartime, practically emptied the treasury. The ten-mile-long red wedding dress was the envy of others.

Afterr her father and brother died in battle, Jiang Yao spent her savings again and again trying to find news of them. She couldn’t believe the two people who loved her most could simply vanish. She remembered vividly how her younger brother Jiang Yi had argued with her the night before he left, upset over her marriage.

“Sister, be careful of Meng Fushan. If he bullies you, I’ll deal with him when I get back!” The sixteen-year-old Jiang Yi was already taller than her, chin raised high, refusing to look at her. He never once called Meng Fushan “brother-in-law.”

But Jiang Yao never got to hear that promise fulfilled.

The person she kept in touch with would bring battlefield relics every few months—scraps of fabric, armor pieces, all seemingly Jiang family items. Jiang Yao recognized them immediately and believed this person without doubt, pouring all her dowry into the bottomless pit.

Meng Zhou suspected she had been tricked. Otherwise, why would she spend everything even after the court confirmed their deaths? That had forced her to rely on the Meng family for her son’s survival. And who had the power to obtain those remains of Jiang father and son? Was the man behind this related to their mysterious defeat and disappearance?

Everyone held their breath, waiting for Meng Zhou to finish the bun and speak.

Why was it taking so long?

Was the bun really that good?

Someone gulped.

Ten meters away, Chu Huaiyin lowered the fan he was about to throw, tucking it into his sleeve. Upon seeing Meng Zhou’s face, his phoenix eyes narrowed.

“Meng Zhou.” Chu Huaiyin rolled the name on his tongue, speaking each syllable slowly.

Beside him, Ji Yang felt cold sweat—his master looked like he wanted to grind that name into dust with his teeth.

An incense stick’s time earlier, someone had reported that the Jiang family’s house had been gambled away by Jiang Xin. Remembering the prince’s instruction to “watch the Jiang family,” Ji Yang had immediately sent men to redeem it. Chu Huaiyin happened to be passing by and decided to come himself.

The situation was unclear. Although Chu Huaiyin was entrusted by someone, he could not intervene openly. If the manor was sold once, it could be sold again. It was necessary to treat the symptoms and the root cause…

Chu Huaiyin glanced at the half-dead Jiang Xin on the ground, lips curling slightly, then turned his gaze to the center of the crowd—Meng Zhou.

What a meddlesome kitten.

No real strength, but always baring his claws. Made one want to grab him, squeeze those paws tight, and make him swallow every single lie that comes from his mouth!

Ji Yang had followed Chu Huaiyin for over a decade, but still couldn’t always guess his master’s thoughts. Like now—watching Meng Zhou munching his dry rations without a care, Ji Yang thought, Only someone this oblivious could survive offending a living devil.

Just earlier, Ji Yang had mourned for the fate of this “Zhang Zhou.” Now, he learned his real name was Meng Zhou.

Meng Zhou—the very person the prince had promised to protect.

Ji Yang couldn’t help but sigh that he was lucky.

Boss Huang glared as Meng Zhou slowly finished the bun. According to his intel, Meng Zhou was worse off than the servants at the Meng residence. He wouldn’t believe he could produce even 60 taels, let alone 6,000. But with all eyes on him, he could only wait, feeling as though he’d just swallowed ten steamed buns himself—stuffed and uncomfortable.

Meng Zhou had truly just taken a different route home on a whim, only to stumble into this mess. He moved slowly, but his mind raced.

Everything was in black and white, with Jiang Xin’s seal, the owner of Jiang’s Manor—it was legally binding. The only way out was to repay the debt in silver. Even if the Jiang family changed hands, the ancestral precepts engraved in their bones and bl00d would not allow them to act like common thugs dodging debt.

Meng Zhou was strapped for cash—so poor even the bun tasted bland. The Meng family was controlled by Zhou shi, who wouldn’t give him a penny. His time here wasn’t long enough to build steady income. No one to borrow from, either.

“”Six thousand taels! Do you have it or not? If you don’t have it on you, you can go back and get it. I’ll wait right here!” Boss Huang bluffed, convinced Meng Zhou couldn’t pay.

“Did I say I’d pay his debt?” Meng Zhou looked puzzled.

Boss Huang choked. According to Meng Qi’s personality as on reports, shouldn’t this kid be crying and begging for more time?

He barked, “In that case—men, replace the plaque!”

“Wait,” Meng Zhou said softly, yet everyone heard it clearly. “Jiang Xin accepted his loss. The Jiang family will never deny a debt. But the General’s Manor was granted by the Grand Ancestor himself. If Boss Huang wishes to remove this plaque, shouldn’t it be reported to His Majesty first? Why not let this official submit a memorial to the Emperor, and then Boss Huang can act accordingly?”

Any gambling house in the capital must be legal and have backing. Huang wasn’t some brute who could be bluffed with a few words. But if the Emperor found out the Jiang family pawned a royal gift to a gambling house—who would face punishment then? If the Emperor was displeased, the Jiang family would lose both dignity and legacy. Everyone would curse them as disgraceful descendants.

Clearly, this generation of the Jiang family was full of fools.

“Fine. I’ll wait three more days!” Huang instantly dropped his thuggish demeanor and agreed.

Meng Zhou watched his retreating figure—and burped.