Why do I have so many masters?

"How is it, Miss?"

"Isn't it interesting..."

Zhu Yunmeng gently patted the forehead of the little maid disguised as a scholar and said, "Say 'Young Master,' not 'Miss'..." The maid realized her mistake, stuck out her tongue, and dared not say more.

Zhu Yunmeng's gaze then returned to those dandies, recognizing many who had previously tried to take advantage of her. They had strutted around before but now were pitifully outdone, their faces bear a mournful look. She couldn't help but feel a sense of relief in her heart.

Aside from the dandies, their elders were also following by their side. The presence of these people meant the onlookers merely watched quietly; there were no rotten eggs or vegetable leaves flying out from some corner to hit those fallen into misfortune.

Among them, a man in a light-green official robe had to be supported by a plump beauty to stay steady. His face was deathly pale. Glancing at his disappointing son, he couldn't resist giving him a vicious kick.

The bruised and battered young man only swayed, but his father's face turned even whiter, his breathing weakened, with most of his arm buried in the warmth and softness of the beauty beside him.

It was an enviable pleasure to the onlookers, but the middle-aged man only felt a growing anxiety. Watching his son, who was docile and compliant, his anger rose, and he wished he could kick him a few more times.

Great Qin officials had to undergo evaluations, with a minor assessment every year, a major one every three years, and a re-evaluation every five years. According to the standards of 'Four Virtues and Twenty-Seven Merits,' they were divided into three ranks: upper, middle, and lower. Each rank was further divided into three levels, making a total of nine grades.

He had only managed to achieve a lower-middle rating in the last triennial assessment, an acceptable result indicating no significant achievements but also no serious faults. With a problem like this arising, he had no idea what to do, and his anger grew the more he thought about it. Yet, the doors of the Mei Residence remained firmly shut.

When the old servant had come out earlier, he had not finished stating his business before the servant had nonchalantly said he understood, asked them to wait, and then turned and entered the house, closing the grand doors behind him, cutting off their hopes of following him inside.

It was a sign of complete disregard for their official status.

The beauty beside him wiped the sweat from his forehead with her sleeve. He looked up at the vermilion doors, and at the characters 'Mei Residence' on the gate and on the eastern tower of Wanling City. It seemed like the first time he sensed the height and three hundred years of history behind those doors, so oppressive he felt he could hardly breathe.

He muttered softly:

"Ears filled with folk songs, eyes with green hills, Wanling's walls hidden in verdant hues. Human sentiment senses endless spring, while creek-side houses still share idle waters. Morning hues enter the towers, a blush of red; night echoes trace the steps, a babble of blue. Secluded clouds, high-flying birds, both carefree, Wanling's plum blossoms blanket the ground."

"Wanling's plum blossoms..."

In the Mei family's courtyard, layer upon layer deep within, the white-haired old patriarch of the Mei family sat beside a stone table, with Mei Lianhua sitting on a cushion beside him, her ten fingers fair, brewing a pot of tea with the top-grade spring leaves once served to Wang Anfeng and the others.

The set of tea utensils she used had an ancient charm, appearing to be a relic from three to five hundred years past. Considered a treasure in other places, the Mei family had many such sets, never lacking any.

No matter how much Mei Lianhua liked weapons and swordsmanship, she was born into a noble clan and sat there brewing tea with complex motions, yet without seeming disordered. Instead, she exuded a sense of unruffled grace. The kind old servant stood by the family head, hands hanging down at his sides.

He softly recounted the situation outside.

But the old family head just smelled the tea, uttering only two faint words.

"Don't see."

The old servant gave a slight smile, unsurprised by the response.

Having served the family head since his youth, he had seen his flamboyant side when he was young and his loneliness when he sat alone, carelessly knocking chess pieces against a lamp. He knew the patriarch's character better than any of his sons, and though called a servant, no one in the Mei family dared view this kindly old man as one.

Bowing slightly, he said in a soft voice,

"Then I shall send them away..."

The old patriarch's white eyebrows knitted into a knot, replying:

"Don't bother with them."

"Let them kneel outside, for as long as they wish. If they die from it, all the better. They are like old corpses, stinking beyond belief; dying would be best, to cleanse Wanling!"

The old servant nodded, smiling, and stood by.

Mei Lianhua quietly knelt to one side. Although she was the most beloved by the old patriarch on a regular basis, at this moment she dared not say even a single word more. For three hundred years, the Mei family upheld strict propriety, and a row of profligate sons kneeling at the gate was a colossal disgrace, as seen by the patriarch, tantamount to tarnishing the family honor.

Never in three hundred years had there been a disciple of the Mei family who dared to dishonor distinguished guests. Yet, such an absurdity happened during his lifetime.

Mei Zimo had returned home the previous day, was beaten two hundred times with a broad rattan, left with barely half his life, and expelled from the family registry, collapsing into unconsciousness from his weeping.

The normally affable family head had flown into a rage for the first time in twenty years, and no one dared object.

Mei Lianhua's mind inexplicably recalled a phrase from a storytelling session she had snuck off to hear. An old wanderer from Jianghu, wearing long robes and fiddling with prayer beads, smilingly told you to be kind to others; did that really mean he had never drawn a sword in his life?

The old Mei patriarch sipped his tea, his gaze turning towards the deeper part of the Mei estate with a touch of worry. When he saw the cranes only flying above without descending, he sighed deeply.