Chapter 85: Who Is More Beautiful, Myself or Lord Xu of the North City?

People of the Spring and Autumn period didn’t have much of a nightlife; their evenings were little more than eating, sleeping, and a bit of intimacy. It was common to be in bed by eight or nine o’clock. When ancient texts refer to midnight or the third watch, in today’s terms that would be between 11 p.m. and 1 a.m.—a time when many modern people’s nights are just beginning.

Chen Fan lit a candle and leaned over his desk, absorbed in the unfinished Qi State Daily. Strategies of war and discussions of national policy were nothing compared to the thrill of gossip.

Knock, knock, knock.

Chen Fan folded the newspaper and frowned inwardly. Who could it be at this hour?

A sudden thought struck him: could it be an assassin? If he opened the door, would a blade greet him?

“Who is it?” Chen Fan asked quietly, leaning against the door.

“Doctor Chen, it’s me, Zou Ji.”

Now Chen Fan was even more perplexed. Why would this NPC come seeking him? Considering it might be part of the storyline, he decided to open the door without hesitation.

“Please, come in, Lord Cheng of Zou.”

To show respect, Chen Fan addressed him by his title rather than his name.

The Zou Ji before him was quite different from the dignified figure seen in the court that morning. Up close, the man radiated a captivating charm—one that would, in modern times, make him a master of flirting thanks to his eloquence.

Chen Fan sized him up. Zou Ji was at least 1.7 meters tall, perhaps his earlier impression in court had been mistaken. He flattered, “Lord Cheng of Zou, they say you are over eight feet tall. Seeing you now, your reputation is well deserved.”

Zou Ji chuckled knowingly, lifted his trouser leg, and said, “It’s all part of the persona, nothing more. Let’s not speak of it. Doctor Chen, you are the true dragon among men, and I am deeply impressed.”

Looking down, Chen Fan saw the impossibly thick soles of Zou Ji’s shoes. They were nearly as tall as high heels—perhaps stilts would be more accurate.

“You certainly go to great lengths. Please, have a seat.”

The two sat on the floor. Chen Fan still couldn’t guess Zou Ji’s intentions and decided to wait and see.

Suddenly, a mischievous thought occurred to him. He grinned and said, “By the way, Lord Zou, may I ask you something?”

Zou Ji looked puzzled. “Oh? What is it, Doctor Chen? Please, speak freely.”

Chen Fan wasn’t sure whether Zou Ji had met Lord Xu of the North City yet, but he ventured boldly, “Lord Zou, who is more handsome, myself or Lord Xu of North City?”

Zou Ji hesitated for a moment, then burst out laughing. “You are far more handsome—how could Lord Xu compare to you?”

“Come on, that’s hardly convincing…” Chen Fan stroked his chin and pressed, “Do you have a portrait?”

“Yes, I do. Please wait a moment.” Zou Ji lifted his sleeve and, with a practiced motion, drew a scroll from his robe.

Chen Fan stared in astonishment. Was Zou Ji secretly infatuated with Lord Xu? Why else would he carry someone else’s portrait around?

Zou Ji carefully unrolled the scroll before Chen Fan. “Doctor Chen, look, this is Lord Xu’s likeness.”

At the sight of the portrait, a thousand harmonious thoughts crowded Chen Fan’s mind.

Wasn’t this Xu Yifan?

He almost confronted Zou Ji on the spot, but thought better of it. What was the point of quibbling with an NPC? Blame the game designers.

History only remembers Pan An among the beautiful men of old, and he has graced many a page, while Lord Xu of North City—equally handsome—remains confined to ancient texts. Now, at last, Chen Fan saw his “true form.”

“Put the scroll away, Lord Zou. What brings you to my door so late?” Curiosity sated, Chen Fan nearly forgot he was still in the midst of a werewolf game.

“It’s like this. As a high official of Qi…” Zou Ji began, but the scroll became tangled, forcing him to pause mid-sentence.

“True love indeed—national affairs can’t compete with Lord Xu of North City. He must be here to ask about statecraft,” Chen Fan thought.

A minister and a strategist, meeting in the dead of night—what else could it be but plotting for hegemony?

As a time traveler, Chen Fan was always a step ahead. He offered some casual advice: “Today, Qi is powerful, its ruler and ministers united. Having just bested the rising Wei and pressed back Chu, the state already shows signs of becoming the hegemon. But I urge all to avoid arrogance and making too many enemies.”

Chen Fan’s grasp of geography was mediocre—he hadn’t even memorized all the provinces. He considered improvising some historical trends, but decided instead to stick to some empty platitudes.

“Qi is easy to attack but hard to defend, surrounded on all sides—three Jin states to the west, Song and Lu to the south, Di and Yan to the north. Though our army is strong, it is past its prime. Commerce and industry are our strengths; we should act accordingly. Wealth above war, caution toward Qin and Chu, and forge alliances to contain them.”

Zou Ji put away the scroll and looked at Chen Fan with a stunned expression, which left Chen Fan puzzled in turn.

“What’s with that look? Did I say something wrong?”

Zou Ji smiled with understanding. “Doctor Chen, you misunderstand. I came not for that, but to consult you on another matter.”

The deliberately lowered voice and theatrical manner gave Chen Fan a foreboding sense. Zou Ji produced a parchment from his other sleeve and laid it solemnly before him.

“Wait…this…”

Seeing Chen Fan’s hesitation, Zou Ji decided to be blunt: “Could you offer me some guidance?”

Chen Fan knew nothing of horse racing. As someone who’d never even won a bottle cap lottery, how could he help someone gamble on horses? That was just giving money away.

He waved his hands, refusing, “I’m not worthy, not worthy. I’m not fit for such a task.”

Zou Ji persisted. “But sir, you once helped General Tian win a thousand taels of gold. The whole of Qi knows of it! How can you now say you are unfit?”

Chen Fan thought, that’s true. The strategy of Tian Ji’s horse race was simple enough—just apply the same method.

“Let me have another look.” He pulled the horse racing chart closer.

“Are we sure we can win?” Chen Fan wondered if he had the wrong script—this situation was nothing like the history books. Even Qi King’s slowest horse was faster than the others. Why bother betting? The win was guaranteed.

It was as if someone were asking whether a Ferrari was faster than a bicycle. Chen Fan sighed and pushed the parchment back. “Bet everything on the King of Qi to win.”

His answer clearly didn’t satisfy Zou Ji, who shook his head. “Even if we win, the payout’s barely enough for a couple of steamed buns. Do you have any other suggestions?”

Chen Fan inhaled sharply. This guy was fussing over a sure thing, yet didn’t consider manipulating the race for higher returns.

The best action was immediate. Chen Fan decided to share his outrageous idea. “You could use half your fortune to bribe the King of Qi, then bet the other half on him to lose. That way, you’ll become the richest man in Qi.”

Zou Ji slapped his thigh in delight. “Sir, you are truly brilliant! I’ll have my people make arrangements right away. Farewell!”

“Take care.” Chen Fan saw Zou Ji off, then returned to his gossip columns with renewed interest.