The Prime Minister is Pregnant with Dragon's Seed - Chapter 8

But later on, Zhou shi kept repeating to him, “Jiang Yao won’t leave anymore, Meng Zhou wants to steal your father,” and somehow, as time passed, Meng Huaidao forgot that sentence.

He watched Meng Zhou get bullied by his younger sister day after day, ignored by their father. As this behavior was indulged by their mother. He learned to turn a blind eye. This household made him feel increasingly stifled, and in the end, he proposed going out to serve as an official.

Now, he was no different from anyone else.

…

Chu Huaiyin stayed at the banquet for a while. The dan actor onstage was singing in high-pitched tones. Finding an excuse to stroll around the garden, he headed toward Meng Zhou’s residence.

As he walked, he asked, “Ji Yang, do you know where he lives?”

Ji Yang silently followed Chu Huaiyin’s fast and urgent steps. He thought, You sure don’t look like someone who doesn’t know, but on the surface, he still played along: “I don’t, but if we walk around, we should be able to find it.”

They passed a lake and came upon a dilapidated courtyard. Shaded by trees, swarming with mosquitoes, and unsuitable for living in any season. Chu Huaiyin frowned. He knew Meng Zhou wasn’t treated well in the Meng family, but he hadn’t expected it to be this bad.

Two oblivious guards blocked their way and said in a gruff voice, “Second Young Master is unwell. Madam ordered that no one should disturb him.”

Ji Yang was about to retort—Are you blind? This is Prince Huai! Where can’t he go?

But Chu Huaiyin waved a hand. “I see. Then I won’t disturb him.”

The guards’ eyes bulged. “P-Prince…”

“Let’s go stroll elsewhere,” Chu Huaiyin said, putting on an act and walking away. Once out of sight, he leaped over the wall with ease. “You wait outside,” he said.

Meng Zhou’s arms were sore from being raised too long. He massaged his wrist, set down his brush, and prepared to burn the calligraphy practice paper written in different handwriting.

Suddenly, he heard the sound of someone landing outside—the soles of his shoes made a rustling sound on the ground covered with dead leaves.

His hand paused. He swiftly pulled over a piece of paper to cover the practice paper and pressed it at the bottom of the stack.

Before he could react further, the visitor was already at the door. “Meng Zhou.”

Chu Huaiyin probably never learned what manners were. He greeted him and entered without waiting. Meng Zhou stood in place, calm as if he had run into an old acquaintance on the street.

“Sick?”

“No.”

“Practicing calligraphy?” Chu Huaiyin, ever tactless, showed a mischievous interest. “Calligraphy is good for the soul. I also…”

Meng Zhou quietly folded the exposed sheet inward. “No. It’s expensive.”

Chu Huaiyin choked on his words. His gaze turned to a nearby food container. He frowned. “You haven’t eaten?”

The servant who brought lunch earlier looked suspicious. Meng Zhou had been cautious. He sampled a bit from each dish and placed it near a rat hole. He was sick of hearing them gnaw on wood at night—might as well use them to test for poison.

That big rat had been eating for an hour now.

Meng Zhou’s gaze flickered toward the hole. He locked eyes with the rat, who scurried out in high spirit, completely ignoring the two living people in the room.

“No appetite,” Meng Zhou said weakly, pressing his hungry stomach.

Completely against his will and stomach.

Chu Huaiyin assumed it was the rat that disgusted him. Without hesitation, he picked up a brush from the table like a hidden weapon and hurled it at the rat. Bullseye—straight through the chest. The rat twitched twice and died.

Chu Huaiyin couldn’t bear seeing Meng Zhou go hungry. “The dishes look good. I haven’t eaten either. If you don’t mind…”

Food tastes better when you see others eating.

That’s how you coax children.

To “stir Meng Zhou’s appetite,” Chu Huaiyin suppressed his own fullness, opened the food container. Only one pair of chopsticks. The food had gone cold. He picked up a piece of cold cake.

He was already starving, and now Chu Huaiyin had the nerve to snatch food from him? But… the person in front of him wasn’t just Prince Huai. He was also his creditor…

A sense of crisis hit. Meng Zhou’s stomach demanded food. He momentarily forgot the issue with the handwriting. His round eyes fixated on Chu Huaiyin’s hands, watching helplessly as he opened the container, picked up the only pair of chopsticks, and—

Hmm?

A piece of cake was suddenly brought to his lips. The fingers holding the grey bamboo chopsticks were pale and slender, more alluring than the glistening cake.

Meng Zhou didn’t register the thoughtfulness. Starving as he was, his brain worked very slowly. His first instinct was that Chu Huaiyin was just being polite. If he didn’t eat this bite now, he might not get another.

Meng Zhou squinted—delicious. Just not enough.

The thrill of feeding a wild kitten who couldn’t be tamed took over Chu Huaiyin’s mind. From the first time he saw Meng Zhou, he had a strong urge to tease him, and to see more expressions on this kitten’s face. Many noble sons in the capital liked raising pets—cats, dogs, crickets, roosters—but Chu Huaiyin never understood the appeal.

But now… why did this feel so enjoyable? He really wanted to keep this one nearby, tease him now and then, pet him whenever he wants.

Those seven thousand taels… Meng Zhou better not be able to repay them. If he did, Chu Huaiyin had plenty of ways to make him owe more and more.

He fed him bite after bite, with face full satisfaction.

See? the kitten with no appetite before becomes very well behaved after he feeds it.

Before long, Meng Zhou found himself sitting in a chair. He rubbed his stomach and lazily lifted his eyelids to glance at Chu Huaiyin. The latter leaned against the table, and as their eyes met, he stuffed a quarter piece of osmanthus cake into his mouth.

Are we… really this close?

With his belly full, Meng Zhou began to ponder the question seriously.

Chu Huaiyin casually set the plate aside and was about to say something when footsteps suddenly echoed outside—at least three people.

Meng Zhou looked up sharply and exchanged a glance with Chu Huaiyin. But then he saw crumbs stuck to Chu Huaiyin’s lips, which damaged the image of the wise and mighty Prince Huai. Meng Zhou smiled amusedly, he gently reached up and wiped it off before the uninvited guests entered.

Meng Huaihan barged in roughly—and saw this scene.

“You bastard—” The words stuck in her throat, like a duck being strangled. When she saw the man she fancied was in the room, her tone immediately changed.

“This subject’s daughter greets Prince Huai.”

She carried a strong, invasive floral fragrance. Chu Huaiyin instinctively stepped back, frowning in displeasure. Everyone in this household seems to think they can step all over Meng Zhou. The realization sparked a flash of coldness in his eyes.

Meng Huaihan panicked and avoided his gaze. “I-I just heard my brother was unwell and came to visit. Since he’s fine, I won’t disturb Prince Huai and my brother’s conversation.”

For the first time, she showed weakness in front of Meng Zhou, calling him “brother” with forced intimacy. Meng Zhou rolled his eyes internally, his face cold and silent. If she needed to wear a mask before the prince, fine. He didn’t.

Meng Huaihan left embarrassed. But as she exited, one of the maids that was behind her was missing.

Chu Huaiyin suddenly ruffled Meng the kitten’s hair and muttered, “Just a little longer. No more than three months.”

Meng Zhou leaned away slightly, puzzled by his words. He waited, but no follow-up came. Puzzled yet expectant. because every time they met, Prince Huai never made empty promises.

What would happen in three months?

Could it be… ascending the throne?

Startled by his own imagination, Meng Zhou took a sharp breath. Should I cling to the thigh now… or now?

His gaze toward Chu Huaiyin turned soft.

Chu Huaiyin must have sensed the change in Meng Zhou. His heart warmed and he suddenly felt that the room was humid and hot. Before he could think more, a Meng family servant arrived to report—a child was waiting at the back gate, asking to meet Prince Huai.

A child? Which child?

Chu Huaiyin remembered the person he’d never met. He had investigated the gambling house. The weapons were indeed illicit and clearly mass-produced. Military power was his trump card. Anyone who raised private armies or crafted illegal weapons directly touched his bottom line.

He couldn’t afford to play nice in the capital anymore.

His expression darkened. He said to Meng Zhou, “I’ll be right back.”

*****

After leaving Meng Zhou’s courtyard, the humility on Meng Huaihan’s face vanished, replaced by a touch of madness.

Meng Zhou was like a weed in the Meng family—if burned to death one day, no one would collect his remains. Meng Huaihan even thought this plan already required far too much effort. She was being charitable only because they shared the same surname.

She knows that Meng Zhou, a Chief Reviewer of Dali Temple, couldn’t put the poison blatantly in his food. Instead, she used a two-pronged method. One dose in the food—colorless, tasteless, undetectable even by an imperial doctor.

The other was hidden in the incense on her body. Heaven knew, earth knew—no one else. She just needed to bathe and destroy the evidence. The “maid” she brought was left outside the room, where she went in to stimulate Meng Zhou. Once she left, the drugs would take effect, and the “maid” would enter.

By then, Meng Zhou would have lost all sense.

The drug was so strong, not only the young “maids” in the Meng R, but even the elderly.…

Her steps quickened, her heart beating like a drum. The only variable was Prince Huai.

But the heavens had placed him in Meng Zhou’s room—and he even ate the food…

Her eyes narrowed. Then don’t blame me for killing two birds with one stone.

“You go to Meng Zhou’s room and tell Prince Huai someone is waiting at the back gate. It’s urgent.”

Prince Huai was so imposing, even standing from a distance made the servants tremble. None dared lie.

“If he asks who—”

“Say it’s a strange child who insists on seeing him,” Meng Huaihan replied. Pure luck had led her to discover Prince Huai and Meng Zhou.

She wasn’t confident. But she’d heard that even when village women stopped Prince Huai’s carriage in the streets to cry injustice, he’d stopped to inquire. Maybe this time too…

There was a guardhouse near the back gate. Meng Huaihan raised her chin and pushed the door open, driving everyone out. “There are many distinguished guests in the front yard. Go guard there. Father will send replacements.”

The guards suspected nothing and left in a group.

Once the area was cleared, Meng Huaihan held her breath, counting the time it would take the servant to return. Soon enough, she heard Prince Huai’s voice outside—that voice she’d only heard once and had been dreaming of since.

She pulled out the remaining dose of powder from her waist pouch and swallowed it all in one go.