HNYWEF -Chapter 65 Asking for Trouble

The banquet in the courtyard was still going strong. Voices overlapped in noisy chaos—people shouting drinking-game calls, laughing, clinking cups together, all blending into one loud blur.

Zhou Xiong sat beside Cheng Yaojin, being forced to drink bowl after bowl.

He barely spoke.

Qin Qiong sat across from them, occasionally glancing around, saying nothing.

Yuchi Gong sat nearby drinking in silence, one bowl after another, like he was drinking water.

Cheng Yaojin’s face was flushed red from alcohol. He was dragging people into finger-guessing games, cursing when he lost and roaring with laughter when he won, acting like a child.

Zhou Xiong set his bowl down.

He lifted his head and glanced toward the middle of the courtyard.

The person holding the child was already gone.

But Li Shimin was still there.

He was speaking with several ministers, smiling as he talked.

Zhou Xiong withdrew his gaze.

Then poured himself another bowl.

At that moment, someone walked over.

The footsteps were unhurried, steady.

Zhou Xiong glanced sideways—

An old civil official. Hair and beard streaked white, dressed in a purple court robe with a golden fish pouch hanging at his waist. He walked slowly, but every step was firm.

He stopped beside the table.

Holding a wine cup, smiling faintly.

Cheng Yaojin looked up, saw him, and froze for a moment.

“Yo, Minister Yu.”

The old official nodded.

“Duke Cheng.”

His gaze swept across the table.

Across Cheng Yaojin’s face.

Across Yuchi Gong’s face.

Across Qin Qiong’s face.

Then it landed on Zhou Xiong.

And stopped.

He looked at Zhou Xiong.

Zhou Xiong looked back at him.

The two stared at each other briefly.

Then the old official spoke.

“And this is?”

Cheng Yaojin followed his gaze toward Zhou Xiong, and the smile on his face stiffened for an instant.

Just an instant.

Then he opened his mouth.

“Oh, this is—”

“Duke Cheng.”

The old official interrupted him.

He looked at Zhou Xiong and asked again:

“Who is this man?”

Zhou Xiong held his wine bowl without moving.

He looked at the old official.

There was fog in those eyes. And beneath the fog, something was shifting.

Then he spoke.

His voice was hoarse.

“Zhou Xiong.”

Two words.

The old official’s brows twitched slightly.

“Zhou Xiong?”

He sized Zhou Xiong up from head to toe.

That look—

Zhou Xiong knew it too well.

He had seen that expression too many times.

During those nine years outside the city, every time he entered town, someone would look at him like that.

That look meant—

What the hell are you supposed to be?

The old official spoke again.

“What office do you hold?”

Zhou Xiong said nothing.

He simply looked at him.

The wine bowl in his hand remained perfectly steady.

Cheng Yaojin spoke from beside him.

“Minister Yu, he—”

“Duke Cheng.”

The old official interrupted him again.

He stared at Zhou Xiong, waiting for an answer.

Zhou Xiong still said nothing.

He looked at the old official.

And only one thought remained in his mind—

This is going to be trouble.

Sure enough.

The old official’s expression changed.

He looked at Zhou Xiong, then at Cheng Yaojin, then Qin Qiong, before fixing his gaze back on Zhou Xiong.

Then he spoke.

His voice was not loud.

But every word was perfectly clear.

“You know nothing of proper etiquette—”

He paused.

“What qualifications do you have to sit at this table?”

Cheng Yaojin’s face instantly turned crimson.

With a loud bang, he slammed his wine bowl onto the table.

Wine splashed everywhere.

He stood up.

“You old bastard! What the hell do you mean by that?”

The old official took a step back, but there was not a trace of fear on his face.

“Duke Cheng, I merely—”

“Merely my ass!”

Cheng Yaojin’s voice was thunderous. Several nearby tables turned to look.

“He’s someone I brought here myself! What business is it of yours?”

The old official continued looking at him calmly.

“A breach of etiquette is still a breach of etiquette.”

Cheng Yaojin stepped forward.

“You—”

“Zhijie!”

A voice cut in from the side.

Cheng Yaojin turned around.

Zhangsun Wuji was striding toward them.

Walking fast enough that the hem of his robe fluttered behind him.

He arrived and stood between Cheng Yaojin and the old official.

First he looked at the old official.

Then at Cheng Yaojin.

Then he spoke.

“Minister Yu, this gentleman is a guest personally invited by His Majesty.”

The old official froze.

He looked at Zhangsun Wuji.

Zhangsun Wuji looked back at him.

That look—

The old official opened his mouth.

But no words came out.

Zhangsun Wuji spoke again.

“Minister Yu, you’ve had too much to drink. Someone, escort Minister Yu back to rest.”

Two palace attendants hurried over and supported the old official from both sides.

The old official still seemed to want to say something.

But after looking at Zhangsun Wuji’s expression, he swallowed the words back down.

Supported by the attendants, he slowly walked away.

The nearby tables withdrew their attention and resumed drinking and chatting.

The courtyard returned to its noisy atmosphere.

Zhangsun Wuji turned around.

He looked at Zhou Xiong.

Zhou Xiong still sat there, the wine bowl still in his hand.

No expression on his face.

Zhangsun Wuji opened his mouth.

As if wanting to say something.

But he did not know what to say.

So he simply stood there, looking at Zhou Xiong.

Beside him, Cheng Yaojin cursed again.

“Damn that old bastard surnamed Yu—”

Qin Qiong stood up and patted his shoulder.

“That’s enough.”

Cheng Yaojin still wanted to keep talking, but Qin Qiong forced him back into his seat.

Zhangsun Wuji remained standing there.

Looking at Zhou Xiong.

But Zhou Xiong did not look at him.

Zhou Xiong raised the wine bowl and took a drink.

Swallowed it.

Then he lifted his head.

And looked toward the middle of the courtyard.

Li Shimin was looking this way.

Separated by so many people, by such a great distance, but Zhou Xiong knew he was watching.

Zhou Xiong withdrew his gaze.

Beside him, Cheng Yaojin was still cursing under his breath, Qin Qiong was trying to calm him down, and Yuchi Gong was still silently drinking.

Zhou Xiong said nothing.

He just sat there.

Unable to force the wine down anymore.

There was no expression on his face.

But in those eyes—

It was as if they were filled with regret.