IDWBE -Chapter 50 Losing Face

Lu Xun once said: When the poor try to write poems of wealth and grandeur, they often overuse words like “gold,” “jade,” “silk,” and “brocade.”

Lin Yi had always agreed with this.

If he now tried to describe this woman with phrases like “bright eyes and white teeth,” “flowers hide in shame at the moon,” or “fish sink and geese alight in awe,” it would really make him look ignorant!

Yet no matter how hard he racked his brain, he couldn’t find the right words.

“Exquisite and radiant?”

“Graceful and composed?”

Or maybe… he just wasn’t cultured enough!

The woman walked with unhurried poise. As she approached Lin Yi, she bent her knees and bowed, saying, “I, Du Yinniang, pay my respects to Your Highness.”

Lin Yi didn’t fuss about whether she knelt or not—after all, she had just handed over two hundred thousand taels.

For that kind of money, a little face was worth giving.

“No need for such formality. Please sit.”

After a brief moment of distraction, he withdrew his gaze from her and took a sip of tea, calming his racing heart.

He promised himself:

No matter what, he would never act like a sycophant again!

He was the lord of Baiyun City, the king of Sanhe!

He must have ambition!

“Thank you, Your Highness,”

Du Yinniang said with a smile after sitting down. “I have long heard of Your Highness’s great reputation. I am but humble; I did not dare to intrude before. I hope Your Highness can forgive my presumption.”

“Miss Du, your generosity makes me embarrassed,”

Lin Yi said kindly. Because Du Yinniang had not taken a husband’s surname, it meant she was unmarried, which gave him a small spark of pleasure.

But his expression remained neutral, his tone gentle: “I dislike beating around the bush. Speak directly if there’s something to say.”

“My father, Du Sanhe, sent me to plead his case,” Du Yinniang lifted her gauzy skirt and slowly knelt. “I beg Your Highness to forgive my father’s unintended offense!”

“Du Sanhe?”

Lin Yi glanced at Hong Ying.

Hong Ying shook his head lightly.

He didn’t know either.

Du Yinniang continued, bowing low: “A while ago, a group led by someone named Shen Chu came into conflict with my father, claiming to be the captain of Your Highness’s guards. How could my father tolerate someone using the Prince’s name to damage Your Highness’s reputation? In anger, he tied him up. Out of caution, my father sent someone to Baiyun City to verify the captured person’s features, and indeed, the description matched Captain Shen Chu. When I first arrived in Baiyun City, I conducted a further investigation and confirmed that it really was Captain Shen.”

“So you caught Shen Chu yourselves,”

Lin Yi’s face burned with anger.

Damn it, the nerve!

The Prince’s guards all carried official badges—were their eyes blind?

And they even dared to show up at the door? Such audacity! Didn’t even respect him.

Was this a show of defiance?

“I beg Your Highness to forgive him. I’ve already sent someone to bring Captain Shen here. He should arrive shortly,”

Du Yinniang straightened and continued, “The Captain is unharmed. Please rest assured, Your Highness.”

No sooner had she finished speaking than Sun Yi came running in.

Lin Yi didn’t wait for him to speak. He saw Shen Chu and a group of guards enter the courtyard. They didn’t step inside but knelt neatly in the center of the yard.

Behind them were seven or eight others, standing rigidly, scanning around—clearly unyielding, defiant men.

Lin Yi waved to Sun Yi: “Take Captain Shen to rest properly.”

Sun Yi dashed over and whispered a few words to Shen Chu, who glanced briefly at Lin Yi before lowering his head and remaining motionless.

“Miss Du, you may rise.”

Lin Yi set down his teacup, stretched lazily, and walked to the doorway.

“Your Highness, I—am incompetent!”

Tears streamed down Shen Chu’s face.

“Being outmatched is no shame,”

Lin Yi said with a smile. “Being discouraged and hopeless—that is shameful.”

Seeing that Shen Chu and the others only had some redness and swelling, with no serious injuries, he finally relaxed.

“I have no face to show myself to Your Highness again. I only hope to serve you in the next life.”

The more Shen Chu spoke, the more tears flowed. Suddenly, he drew his waist sword and, without hesitation, swiped it across his neck.

“No!”

Lin Yi shouted.

The sword fell to the ground with a thud, leaving only a bloody scratch on the neck.

Shen Chu stared blankly at Hong Ying.

“Capital punishment avoided, lesser punishment inevitable,”

Lin Yi said helplessly, waving his hand. “Everyone, receive twenty lashes.”

Shen Chu wanted to protest further, but under Hong Ying’s icy gaze, he didn’t dare utter another word.

Together with the others, they knelt and bowed, shouting, “Thank you, Your Highness!”

After Shen Chu and his men withdrew, Lin Yi turned to the eight burly men.

Du Yinniang stepped forward and pointed to a middle-aged man: “This is Wen Qian, who has served my father for many years. Uncle Wen, show proper respect.”

“Greetings, Your Highness,”

The lead man straightened his back and bowed politely to Lin Yi.

“How bold,” Hong Ying whispered. “How dare this young man be so disrespectful!”

Wen Qian was about to speak but suddenly saw a palm coming toward him. He quickly stepped back, sidestepping the strike, then countered with a punch and engaged in a brief skirmish with Hong Ying.

A faint look of surprise appeared on Du Yinniang’s face. Wen Qian, her father’s subordinate, was an eighth-rank martial artist—yet he was being matched by a mere eunuch from the Prince’s residence.

Even more surprised were Mingyue and Zixia.

Since when did the Prince’s chief steward need to use a second technique to fight?

Even against an eighth-rank fighter, as long as the steward exuded presence, the opponent might not dare strike back.

Now the steward flipped, spun in the air, stepped left and right, performing flashy moves.

During the fight, he even made exertion sounds, pretending to struggle with all his might.

Looking at the frequently nodding Prince, the two women instantly understood:

The steward was putting on a show for the Prince.

In Ankang City, as a prince, no one dared show him disrespect.

Even petty scoundrels would be dealt with by her, Zixia, or Shen Chu.

The steward’s martial arts were indeed high-level, but he never got the chance to display them.

To a Prince who didn’t understand martial arts, he was just obedient, could sew, and otherwise useless.

Now that he had an audience, the steward naturally performed his best, making the fight look impressive.

Mingyue and Zixia exchanged helpless smiles.

Over a hundred moves had passed.

Wen Qian was panting, drenched in sweat. The more he fought, the colder his heart grew—how could someone’s martial arts be so formidable?

Yet mostly, he was confused.

Why, when the opponent’s palm was about to strike, did he suddenly withdraw, then rush like a hungry tiger?

The tiger-like rush was fast; he had no way to evade. Why then did he suddenly spin away like a floating lotus, moving behind him?

He couldn’t beat this opponent, nor even get a chance to strike.

Yet the opponent couldn’t hit him either!

No matter what he did, the result was the same.

Desperate, his hands flailed weakly, taking the blows without retreating.

They clashed in this chaotic dance over twenty times.

Suddenly, a wave of ominous energy made him snap his eyes open. Instinctively sensing danger, he tried to dodge—but it was too late.

He watched helplessly as a palm struck his chest.

A muffled grunt, and a mouthful of blood spat out.

“You are the great—”

Wen Qian pointed at Hong Ying, but before finishing, he collapsed straight to the ground.