Five Years After My Death, the Mad Emperor Still Summons My Spirit

Feng Shuyu: "Renting it to someone else would certainly cost a fair bit of silver, but..." She glanced at Ming Lingyi. "If it’s for you, that’s a different story."

A wary look appeared on Ming Lingyi’s face. "I can’t just take advantage of you."

Although she didn’t yet know where Feng Shuyu’s shop on Vermilion Bird Street was located, Ming Lingyi had no desire to mix friendship with business.

She and Feng Shuyu had originally met through business; only later did they become friends out of mutual admiration. If their friendship now caused the other to suffer a loss, Ming Lingyi felt that it would violate her very definition of a friend.

Upon hearing this, Feng Shuyu clapped her hands and laughed. "But of course!"

As she met Ming Lingyi’s gaze, they both saw the same understanding in each other’s eyes. The smile in Feng Shuyu’s eyes deepened.

The best outcome for a partnership is a win-win, not one where someone loses out.

"Let’s talk about this after your restaurant’s review is over today." Feng Shuyu winked at Ming Lingyi.

Yesterday, Ming Lingyi announced that this time, the reviewers would all be members of the Xianyun Liushui Pavilion—and not just any members, but founding members. The news instantly sent huge waves through the scholars’ circles.

"Who was it that said Ming’s Restaurant looked down on Xianyun Liushui Pavilion? If they really looked down on them, would the Pavilion’s members be on such good terms with them? They were just spreading baseless rumors!"

"I heard that too. About ten days ago, when Ming’s Restaurant held its first poetry competition review, some people were saying they weren’t a poetry society, and that participating in these activities at a restaurant was a disgrace to scholars. Hahaha, now the poetry society members have shown up themselves. If you ask me, those people were just being sour grapes, unable to stand seeing Ming’s Restaurant do well!"

"I, for one, think the owner of Ming’s Restaurant is incredible. She actually invited the Twin Beauties of Shangjing! Who knows how many years it’s been since Mr. Ming and Mr. Zhang appeared together!"

The common folk of the Capital City have their "idols" too. Otherwise, Ming Chengyu and Zhang Sifan’s title of "Twin Beauties" would never have spread so widely.

This was all spontaneous publicity from the masses; it wasn’t a title they had forced upon themselves.

Although the prestige of the reviewing teachers wasn’t as great this time, gathering three members of the Xianyun Liushui Pavilion at once was more than enough of an attraction.

Many people from the Imperial College also came. Whether they were students from Class A, Yizhai, or C Hall, they were all mixed together, excitedly discussing who might win this time.

Shangguan Jun of Yizhai, who loved to eat and drink just like Zhang Zhidong, had specially dragged Qiao Ming to Ming’s Restaurant early in the morning to grab a good spot.

Now he had ordered a table full of food and was eating while watching the lively scene around him.

Although the owner of Ming’s Restaurant had already set up many tables and chairs outside, too many people had come today. Many couldn’t find a seat and could only stand.

And now, as it was almost time for the midday meal, Shangguan Jun felt an inexplicable sense of "superiority."

The kind of superiority that comes from others having to stand and watch you eat heartily.

Just as Shangguan Jun was about to tell Qiao Ming how he felt at that moment, his gaze suddenly froze.

Shangguan Jun saw a familiar person.

For a moment, he didn’t know whether he should greet the person, seeing them here of all places.

On the one hand, not greeting them would go against the education he’d received from his teachers his whole life. But on the other hand, if he did greet them, did he really want to be stuck staring awkwardly at a teacher from the Imperial College in a place where he could finally relax?

It was truly a dilemma!

But Shangguan Jun didn’t have to agonize for long, as someone else made the choice for him.

Chen Guochao was an Imperial Doctor at the Imperial College who lectured on the Confucian classics.

He was a stern man, the very definition of an old-fashioned pedant, with a small goatee and a perpetually serious expression.

And, despite Dr. Chen’s frail and scholarly appearance, his temper was absolutely massive.

Among the students of the Imperial College, there were few who had never been reprimanded by him.

If it had been a younger, gentler teacher, Shangguan Jun wouldn’t have been so conflicted.

Unfortunately, it was Dr. Chen, the teacher he feared most at the Imperial College.

But now, the choice was no longer in Shangguan Jun’s hands.

Because just as he was staring at Chen Guochao, the latter sensed his gaze, turned his head, and abruptly met Shangguan Jun’s eyes.

Shangguan Jun: "..."

’A moment ago, I still had a choice, but now...’

"Sir." Shangguan Jun had no choice but to brace himself and call out.

Chen Guochao was clearly not as experienced as his student, or else he wouldn’t have arrived at Ming’s Restaurant so late that he almost couldn’t even find a place to stand.

Upon seeing Shangguan Jun, Chen Guochao breathed a sigh of relief. At least he wouldn’t have to stand for an hour or two today. Otherwise, with these old arms and legs of his, he wasn’t sure he could last until the end.

Qiao Ming, at the same table, immediately dropped his usual carefree, devil-may-care attitude and also greeted him respectfully, "Sir."

Chen Guochao waved his hand. "We’re all out and about today, no need for formalities. Besides, I’m the one taking advantage of you."

As he said this, Chen Guochao also offered to pay for the meal on the table.

He was an Imperial College Doctor, after all. His monthly stipend was decent enough that he could certainly afford to treat his students to a meal.

But how could Shangguan Jun and Qiao Ming dare to let him spend his money?

Their only hope was that when their poems were read out later, this Dr. Chen wouldn’t criticize them too harshly.

With Chen Guochao sitting there, neither Qiao Ming nor Shangguan Jun dared to say a single unnecessary word. The two could only resort to frantically questioning each other with their eyes.

’This is a disaster! How did you end up pulling Old Chen over to our table!’

’I didn’t want to! He made eye contact with me. What was I supposed to do, pretend I didn’t see him?’

’It’s over. My one day off in ten! Now I can just wait for the baptism by fire!’

’...Do you think we could go to Boss Ming right now and ask for our submissions back?’

’You think that’s possible?’

’Doesn’t seem very likely...’

’Then what do we do?’

Shangguan Jun and Qiao Ming stared at each other in dismay. The thought of their Doctor soon hearing their possibly "unpresentable" works, and the "public execution" that would likely follow, made them tremble with fear.

Neither of them were top students to begin with. They had only submitted to Ming’s Restaurant to "follow the crowd." After all, the most common greeting among the Imperial College students these days was—

"Have you submitted to Ming’s Restaurant today?"

Anyone who didn’t participate was considered out of touch with the Imperial College "trend."

But the two never expected that before they could even be judged by Dr. Chen, the little old man himself—the one who never cracked a smile at the Imperial College and seemed impossibly strict and old-fashioned—would be the one to proactively ask, "Tell me, what kind of person do you suppose gets invited by the owner of this Ming’s Restaurant to be a reviewing teacher?"