Chapter 1677: Chapter 1677: Not a Good Thing

Jade Bamboo Manor.

Song Zhiqing was cooling off under the gallery, listening to a man beside him report the news he’d gathered from the city.

"No more discussions?"

The man, wearing a grayish-white jacket with two exposed arms and sporting a small-eyed mustache, swallowed and said, "Yes, indeed. I’ve heard that the Emperor has issued an order: whoever discusses it will be arrested. This announcement came from the Imperial Palace, in fact. I spent half a tael of silver to have someone print it out, and I’d like Third Master to take a look."

He reached into his chest and took out a folded paper, presenting it with both hands to Song Zhiqing.

The weather was hot, and the paper had absorbed some sweat from being kept close to him, becoming damp and emitting a sour smell.

Song Zhiqing was somewhat repulsed. He covered his mouth with a handkerchief before taking and unfolding the paper, then glanced at the man, half-smiling, "Half a tael of silver?"

Charging half a tael for printing an announcement, does he take him for a fool?

The man smirked awkwardly, his eyes evasive and feeling guilty.

Indeed, it didn’t require half a tael, but in this scorching weather, running so far, a little extra fee is reasonable, right?

He directly raised his arm to wipe the sweat from his forehead, rubbed his hands together, and with a smiling face said, "It’s hard to find someone to print in the city with so many refugees. And there’s the need for paper and pens. This disaster has made things tough for everyone, please understand."

Heh, there’s some eloquence in what he said.

Song Zhiqing hummed, disinclined to haggle with him, and took out a silver piece weighing over a tael from his sleeve and tossed it to him.

The man caught it and smilingly expressed his gratitude.

Song Zhiqing had already read the printed news on the paper, and as soon as he saw it, his face darkened — what is this, just accounts of Song Ci’s charitable deeds?

Pah!

Counterfeit benevolence!

Song Zhiqing crumpled the paper with both hands, disbelieving that the dignified Prime Minister couldn’t concoct some impressive ’achievements,’ all mere illusions deceiving the world.

"So, does that mean now no one dares spread rumors about the matriarch in the city?"

Listening to this, the man couldn’t guess what this lord meant, so he cautiously took a glance at him and said, "The Emperor has also issued an order; naturally, nobody dares spread them."

Song Zhiqing sarcastically remarked, "Indeed, the Emperor privately has to respectfully call her ’Aunt’."

These foolish citizens, truly cowardly and craving survival — spreading for just a few days and now cowering in fear before authority?

What a pity.

The man detected the sarcasm in his tone, his eyes rolled, and said, "However, I have heard another piece of news."

"What?"

The man grinned sheepishly, rubbing his hands.

Song Zhiqing disdainfully glared at him, tossing another piece of silver his way.

The man deftly caught it, thanking, "Thank you, Third Master, for your generosity."

He tucked the silver into his waistband and said, "I feared Third Master might worry about home, so I specially circled around to the Prime Minister’s Mansion. I heard the matriarch has fallen ill and hasn’t woken up yet."

Song Zhiqing’s eyes gleamed — fallen ill and unconscious?

Did that remedy work?

The man, observing his expression, felt a chill watching his face light up as the clouds cleared — his Third Master is evidently extremely resentful of his stepmother; see how delighted he is hearing of the matriarch’s coma.

Oh, not being a biological child does make a difference; no wonder this stepmother and stepson naturally don’t get along.

Seeing him still there, Song Zhiqing waved him away.

After the man left the courtyard, he heard laughter from inside mixed with the words "illness serves her right."

He shook his head — this Third Master isn’t good either, tsk.

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