Chapter Twenty-Five: A Profound Family Heritage

“Sir, I knew you’d come here; everything has been prepared for you.”
Jiang Lan nodded, smiling as she thanked the “helpful” attendant.
“Are you here to save him?”
Jiang Lan shook her head. “No.”
There were too many destitute souls in the world for her to rescue them all. Besides, the original owner of this body was a pampered young noble; purchasing a person outright on the street was far too conspicuous—she could not do such a thing.
The attendant’s eyes dimmed at her words.
At that moment, a group swaggered in. At the front were two wealthy young masters.
“Ong Sheng, who would have thought you’d end up like this?” The man in the pink spring robe, his face powdered, kicked apart the mourning letter the kneeling man had written for his father. “Back then, our teacher liked you best, called you a promising talent. And now? That so-called talent has become this sorry creature—hahaha!”
Hidden in the crowd, Jiang Lan frowned—just a slight furrow.
The attendant leaned in to whisper, “That’s Young Master Qian. His father is a fifth-rank official—modest, but he oversees the management of the Grand Canal in Jiangnan, a lucrative post.”
At this, Jiang Lan arched a brow, glancing at the attendant.
The attendant looked like his thoughts had been uncovered. “He’s bought things from this shop before, a regular customer.”
Jiang Lan asked no more. She had come to the Sweet Fragrance Pavilion on a whim; could anyone have plotted her harm in advance?
Impossible—it would be too much effort.
And why would anyone bother? She was only a titled heir—no real power, no troops—her only asset was the Emperor’s intangible favor.
Qian Qian turned, speaking deferentially to the other young lord beside him. “Young Master Liu, this is the Ong Sheng I told you about. Don’t be fooled by his frailty—his skin is delicate, his body firm. Take him home and nurture him well; the pleasure is beyond imagining.”
Before Qian Qian could finish, the Young Master Liu’s eyes glimmered with lechery, revolting enough to raise goosebumps.
“Sir, that Liu family is even more impressive. His father is the Vice Minister of Rites, their family steeped in learning…”
Half of Jiang Lan’s face twitched. “This is what you call a family of learning?”
Seeing Jiang Lan agitated, the attendant hurried to advise, “Sir, don’t get involved with them. They’re trouble—bullies who prey on both men and women, and they have a taste for young men as well. Best to stay away!”
The attendant, noticing Jiang Lan’s fine attire and her interest in Ong Sheng’s plight, had hoped to discreetly help that fool.
But in his eyes, Jiang Lan was no more than another official’s young heir, while Young Master Liu’s father was a true high official—far too dangerous to provoke.
Jiang Lan brushed the attendant’s hand aside, drew a folding fan from her breast, and blocked Liu’s lecherous hand as it reached for mischief.
“Where did this ugly brat come from? Get out of the way!”

Liu Young Master was displeased at being blocked and, without looking up, shoved Jiang Lan aside with a palm.
The original Jiang Lan had always been frail; it took all her strength just to keep her footing.
Steadying herself, she saw Liu lay hands directly on Ong Sheng’s face, forcing him toward the wall while bystanders looked on in cold indifference.
Jiang Lan slipped a talisman from her sleeve, pressing it to her fan; it vanished into nothingness as soon as it touched the fan.
Seeing there was no escape, Ong Sheng tried to dash his head against the wall—better death than such dishonor.
But as he drew within a fist’s length of the wall, a slender hand caught him by the belt.
The nobleman in the pale blue spring robe stood before him—it was the one from before!
Ong Sheng’s heart leapt with hope, but dread followed quickly. Someone to whom even Qian Qian bowed and scraped must be formidable. “Sir, you should leave. These men are dangerous. No need to make enemies for my sake.”
Jiang Lan smiled faintly. “Too late. He’s already offended me.”
Her gaze grew cold as she looked at Liu. “Did you just call me ugly?”
Liu, not bad-looking himself though sallow from indulgence, had sunken eyes.
Jiang Lan took one glance—his brow was shadowed, dark aura coiling around him, stained with blood so dark it was nearly black. Clearly, he was no stranger to evil deeds.
Her gaze grew colder still.
“Who do you think you are? This is the son of Vice Minister Liu—best make yourself scarce!”
Jiang Lan wasted no words. With one punch, Qian Qian was sent flying to dangle against the wall.
The crowd cheered, clapping in delight.
“Well done!”
Young Master Liu, his pride wounded, called for his lackeys to attack.
In half a breath, Jiang Lan had Liu pinned beneath her foot, twirling her fan lazily.
“You—!”
She pressed down harder. “You what?”
Liu spat blood.
“I—”
“I what?”

Jiang Lan showed no mercy, ignoring Liu’s shouts and cries as her foot pressed down relentlessly.
From the carriage nearby, Xue Mingrui heard the commotion. “Xue Kai, see who’s making such a ruckus in the street?”
Jiang Lan was just hitting her stride when a squad of officers arrived, fierce and intimidating, surrounding the group.
Jiang Lan took in the leader—a man in official robes, about forty. The townsfolk quickly made way.
“Stop! Who dares cause trouble at the emperor’s feet?”
“Uncle Qin, save me!”
Qin Shu looked at the swollen, wailing figure on the ground—he barely recognized him.
“Who are you?”
Liu Heng wailed, “It’s me, Uncle Qin—Liu Heng!”
“Liu Heng?” Qin Shu was puzzled—where had this nephew come from? Then he realized: Liu Heng, the legitimate son of Vice Minister Liu, the worst of the local bullies. He and Vice Minister Liu were acquaintances, but Liu Heng had never called him uncle before.
“Yes, yes, uncle—save me! This villain tried to attack me in the street!” Liu Heng’s eyes sparkled, oblivious that, even with the officers present, the foot on his chest had not eased.
“Quick, help him up.” Though Qin Shu disliked Liu Heng, as the Prefect of the Capital, he could not ignore a street brawl. Besides, the young emperor liked to travel incognito—if he stumbled upon this mess, Qin’s career would be finished.
Jiang Lan cast a cold glance at the officers moving to intervene; each hesitated, too afraid to act, and only managed to form a circle around Jiang Lan and the Liu scion under her foot.
“Who are you?”
Jiang Lan looked up—if this official sided with power over justice, she would not mind dealing out a few more beatings. She was already in the thick of it; best to stretch her limbs a bit more.
The Prefect was no fool. The young noble before him, dressed with such distinction, had to be from a powerful family; otherwise, how could he dare assault the Vice Minister’s son in broad daylight?
“I am Qin Shu, Prefect of the Capital.”
Jiang Lan nodded, but did not ease the pressure beneath her foot.
She pointed her fan at the battered man at her feet. “He insulted my appearance and then laid hands on me. That’s why I struck him. I have no objections to any judgment.”
Qin Shu’s brow beaded with sweat.
He had never seen anyone so arrogant—never!
Another one not to be trifled with…