The Empress's No.1 Lackey

```

"Sir... you're quite unfamiliar. Is this your first time here?" The maid paused for a moment before inviting him to a seat and inquiring.

"A friend recommended it," Zhao Douan happily took a seat.

"Recommended?" The maid looked bewildered.

"Ahem, means introducing," Zhao Douan decided to give these otherworldly folks a little outdated cultural reference.

"Oh... oh yes."

Generally, in places like this, first-timers are often introduced by companions, but there are also plenty of solo guests.

After the initial surprise, everyone turned away, and no one recognized his identity.

Zhao Douan's rise for over a year was renowned, but in an era without the internet, most people in the Capital had only heard of the Empress's gigolo and never seen him.

"Thank you," Zhao Douan thanked the maid who presented him with a fruit platter and drinks.

The maid instantly beamed with joy, her cheeks flushed, as she whispered in his ear:

"If my mistress is not available, this servant can entertain guests overnight... at no cost."

With that, she swayed her hips and walked away.

Nearby, a big-eared, chubby drinker perked up, catching the maid's hand with a cheerful smile:

"Miss Zhuer entertains guests too? Why didn't you say earlier?"

The maid, with a fake smile, pulled back her hand and gave a curtsy:

"What is this gentleman talking about? Zhuer doesn't understand."

The drinker: ...

Zhao Douan: ...

Alright, good-looking people always have some privileges.

For a moment, the music continued, and the guests at nearby tables looked at him with envy.

Zhao Douan remained calm, quietly drinking by himself.

At present, it seemed to be the warm-up phase, where drinkers chitchatted with each other.

Sitting next to him was another lone traveler, perhaps twenty-five or twenty-six, dressed as a typical scholar, though likely not from a wealthy family, appearing a bit restrained and uneasy.

Hmm, probably a novice in the world of romance.

Perhaps seeing Zhao Douan as a fellow "newbie," a sense of kinship formed, and he initiated with folded hands:

"I am a scholar from the Capital, surname Dong. May I ask your honorable name?"

Zhao Douan raised an eyebrow, smiled back, and returned the greeting:

"Surname Zhao."

Neither said their full names, preserving a slight decorum.

Mr. Dong, the scholar, admired:

"Brother Zhao, your presence is exceptional. First time here, and already Zhuer offers her company. Truly impressive."

It wasn't... how could you praise something like that so earnestly... Bookish people are indeed secretly wild... Zhao Douan felt awkward:

"You're too kind... Is Mr. Dong a regular here?"

The scholar Mr. Dong shook his head:

"This is only my second time. I generally steer clear of female company, but last time a classmate brought me here, saying that Miss Little Ya is the daughter of a former Qing clerk, a literary prodigy in the Capital. I was smitten at first sight."

He paused with slight regret and said:

"It's just a pity, Miss Little Ya only entertains one guest at a time and values talent over appearance and wealth.

My poetry is not outstanding. Last time, I couldn't discuss poems with her all night. This time, I am rebuilding my efforts, ready for another battle."

In the subtext:

Although you are good-looking, this is a haven for cultured folks, and neither wealth nor looks matter. What counts here is talent.

Good heavens... the way you speak gets my blood boiling... Zhao Douan sincerely said:

"Then I wish Mr. Dong every success."

Not to mention that his intentions tonight weren't pure, even if it was for gathering intelligence. He never thought of exerting effort like these scholars, adhering to the so-called rules of talent competition.

Although the ancestors left countless beautiful articles in his mind, any poem Zhao Douan casually copied could overshadow the Capital and be renowned for ages.

But wasting such fine things in such an environment was unnecessary.

"Even if I use my poems, it would be to compliment the Empress or at least to please other significant figures!"

Zhao Douan had his own pride.

Seeing that Zhao Douan showed no intention of competing, Mr. Dong smiled more kindly. The two clinked glasses, and he smiled bitterly:

"However, it won't be easy to win tonight either. Do you see that person over there? He is a scholar from the Imperial College, proficient in poetry and always mingling with talents like Han Zhou, Wang You, and Zhang Changshuo.

Unexpectedly, he would come here too. I fear I am at odds tonight as well."

Familiar with a talent like Zhang Changshuo?

Zhao Douan raised an eyebrow, looking at the young man sitting across, full of vitality, chatting confidently with those around him.

When Zhao Douan looked over, the young man glanced back, nodding slightly, but with an air of arrogance in his eyes.

He seemed not to feel threatened by Zhao Douan at all.

Quite confident, huh... Zhao Douan smiled, thinking it wouldn't be long before he showed him what true worldly experience was.

At that moment, as a song concluded, a graceful silhouette emerged from behind the screen — indeed, an outstanding beauty.

With rosy cheeks, half-revealed fragrant shoulders, and sheer fabric on her chest, faint and seductive.

Especially the demeanor of a well-bred lady, added a touch of elegance.

She glanced around the seats, momentarily pausing upon seeing Zhao Douan but quickly moved on.

See, that's what professionalism is.

As the hostess, she should treat everyone equally, ensuring no guest felt favored or neglected.

Losing in a talent competition led to acceptance, not resentment.

But if treated differently, the atmosphere couldn't be maintained.

At this point, Zhao Douan started to believe Mr. Dong's words. On the surface, Little Ya certainly didn't prioritize looks and wealth.

At least, she couldn't show it, so as not to displease the guests.

"Thank you, gentlemen, for gracing Qinglian Small House tonight..."

Little Ya smiled as she started, followed by a series of small games.

Drinking games, poetry contests, couplets competitions, wine cupping with flowing water... occasionally interspersed with jokes, songs, and dances.

Though just a small venue, the atmosphere was quite nice, with an appropriately subdued and ambiguous ambiance.

Even the introverted and nervous Mr. Dong was well taken care of.

Quite talented... Zhao Douan silently commented, thinking no wonder Zhang Changji had been infatuated for over half a year; indeed, she had some tricks.

Unfortunately, it was just a performance, a play to amuse men.

Subsequent developments went as Mr. Dong predicted. The scholar from the Imperial College swiftly stood out, reciting poetry and couplets with ease, telling jokes like second nature, becoming the most prominent of them all.

Mr. Dong repeatedly tried to challenge but was defeated miserably, retreating in defeat.

The gap in ability was too wide; it wasn't that Little Dong didn't try hard; the opponents were simply too strong!

As for Zhao Douan, he remained low-key and unobtrusive throughout, gradually fading from attention, even in Little Ya's gaze there was a hint of disappointment.

Soon, as night deepened, it reached the final segment.

Little Ya excused herself, feeling tired, and retreated for a bath. The maid named Zhuer announced:

"For the final round, the poem theme is 'door.' Each gentleman must compose a poem. After my lady's evaluation, one will be invited to stay overnight."

Then paper and pens were distributed to everyone.

Mr. Dong appeared dejected, holding the pen listlessly, as apart from the scholar, the other guests seemed uninterested.

"What's the matter, Mr. Dong? You lose steam after a promising start?" Zhao Douan asked.

Mr. Dong shook his head with a bitter smile, having completely lost his fighting spirit:

"Brother Zhao, why mock me? Tonight's honored guest is bound to be him. I, you, and the rest are just the green scenery, alas, what can I do when talent isn't on my side?"

Zhao Douan chuckled:

"Since we're already here, we might as well give it a try. Who knows if Mr. Dong's poem might touch Little Ya's heart?"

"Indeed..." Though Mr. Dong had little confidence, he thought they were already there and still picked up the pen to ponder.

Only to see Zhao Douan next to him pick up the pen and, with a brush, quickly scribble a few large characters on the paper, then fold it up.

"Uh, Brother Zhao, what did you write? It's not a poem, is it?"

Mr. Dong was momentarily dazed, primarily because Zhao Douan wrote so quickly; poems weren't supposed to be so brief, right?

"Just making up the numbers." Zhao Douan smiled without elaborating.

Mr. Dong didn't think much of it. He had already noticed the fellow next to him was a handsome but empty-headed dolt, focused on his own work, pondering long before starting to write.

When time was up, the maid began collecting each poem to be taken to the back for Little Ya to choose from.

The others sat and waited, and the Imperial College scholar exuded confidence, already warming up, while a few who believed there was no hope began to leave.

Mr. Dong, not giving up, held his ground, looking at the serene Zhao Douan with curiosity:

"Brother Zhao, aren't you leaving first?"

"Why should I leave?" Zhao Douan smiled.

Mr. Dong was momentarily speechless, thinking whoever won, it couldn't be you. You didn't even write a poem; perhaps only a name, right?

Just then, hurried footsteps came from the back, and the maid Zhuer rushed in, her eyes immediately locking onto Zhao Douan.

"Miss Zhuer, is your lady waiting in the back? I will head over now..." The confident scholar from the Imperial College stood up.

However, in the next second, Zhuer apologetically said:

"Mr. Li, hold on. My lady has invited someone else."

Mr. Li's smile froze, incredulous.

He couldn't believe anyone in the room could have written better poetry than himself.

The other guests brightened, straightening their backs, surprised at the unexpected turn of events.

Mr. Dong's heart pounded like a drum, uncontrollably excited as Zhuer approached him, thinking he was chosen.

Indeed! Brother Zhao was right, what if?

However, in the following second, Zhuer passed by Mr. Dong, stopping before Zhao Douan with utmost respect and even a touch of fear, saying:

"Mr. Zhao, please follow this humble servant to the back."

The entire room fell silent.

Mr. Dong was bewildered, looking dumbfounded at the "Brother Zhao" beside him, full of questions.

He was quite certain Zhao Douan hadn't written any poems at all.

Damn it... Is this still just a world that favors good looks?

But Miss Little Ya had always disregarded appearances... Mr. Dong couldn't comprehend it.

"Thank you," Zhao Douan, satisfied with food and drink, leisurely stood up, glanced at Little Dong, and suddenly comfortingly patted his shoulder, saying:

"It wasn't my looks that got me chosen by Little Ya."

Mr. Dong was puzzled: "Then why..."

Zhao Douan smiled thoughtfully:

"The poem's theme was 'door,' so how do you open a sealed door?"

Mr. Dong, eager for an answer, asked: "How?"

Zhao Douan chuckled lightly, turned to leave, leaving only a light message:

"Mr. Dong, remember, power is the best key in the World."

Ha, who would compete on talent with you bookworms?

Isn't having status a simpler and more effective way?

Just as Mr. Dong suspected, on that piece of paper, he only had written his name.

Zhao Douan.

Three words, enough.

...

PS: For continuity purposes, today's two chapters were released together.

Thanks to the traitorous doctor for the ten thousand-point appreciation! You've become the first protector of this book, mwah.

```