The Art of Lies and the Fool Who Fell for Them

In less than an hour, the two of us had gone from strangers to acquaintances—then from acquaintances to friends—and by the end of the meal, to sworn brothers-in-arms.

How did that even happen?

I gnawed thoughtfully on a chicken leg, still trying to make sense of it.

“Come, Mr. Qiao, eat more,” Chen Rui urged warmly. “Watching you eat fills my heart with comfort. You remind me so much of my dear Gu Yi.”

I rolled my eyes.
Your Gu Yi wouldn’t touch this greasy mess with a ten-foot chopstick.

But he kept piling food into my bowl anyway, and since I couldn’t finish it all, I generously shared some with Abao.

The more I ate, the heavier my heart grew.

Through some light gossip, I had confirmed that this elegant merchant—this paragon of wealth and poise—was indeed deeply, desperately in love with Gu Yi.

The rumors swirling outside had never done the truth justice.
In fact, the most outrageous stories about Chen Rui’s obsession barely scratched one percent of reality.

Out of curiosity, I had even asked—half-joking, half-not—whether he was truly pregnant with Gu Yi’s child. After all, that little round belly of his was suspiciously plump.

Chen Rui’s face turned bright red.

“How could a man bear children?” he stammered. “Though… if it were possible, I would gladly give birth to his child.”

I blinked.

“Then why… why did you summon midwives from all over the kingdom?”

He straightened, expression grave.

“Ah. That. I keep a mottled dog at home. Its belly swelled up like a drum recently, and I thought it had grown a tumor. But then I learned it must have… gone out and gotten itself pregnant. I called the midwives to help deliver its litter.”

…

I chewed in silence.
Well. That answered that.

Having had my curiosity satisfied, I supposed it was only fair to satisfy his.

“You said,” he began again, eyes glinting, “that you are Gu Yi’s personal attendant, yes?”

Ah, that lie. I had almost forgotten it. But I could hardly deny it now.

“Yes,” I admitted with all the conviction of a fox caught stealing eggs.

“And… just how personal is that?”

“What?”

His eyes gleamed brighter.

“How close are you, exactly? Tell me—does he have any birthmarks? Is his waist slender? Is his—”

I slammed my chopsticks down.
So this was how rumors started.

Clearly, he had misunderstood the “personal” in “personal attendant.”

That afternoon turned into an interrogation.
We talked—or rather, he talked—for two hours straight.

I couldn’t leave, not after devouring half his kitchen. Gratitude demanded at least a performance.

So I decided to repay his generosity by… well, helping him get over Gu Yi once and for all.

And what better cure for infatuation than utter disillusionment?

I began my crusade.

I painted Gu Yi as the most insufferable, perverse, cold-hearted devil to ever grace the earth—half demon, half peacock, one hundred percent nightmare.

I spoke with the conviction of a priest preaching apocalypse:
sometimes passionately indignant, sometimes mournfully tragic, sometimes brandishing imaginary swords for justice.

Even I was moved by my own eloquence.
By the end of it, I wanted to slay Gu Yi myself—for the good of humanity.

But Chen Rui…

Chen Rui just clasped his hands and sighed dreamily.

“Ah… to think there exists such an adorable soul in this world.”
“Ah… such cunning brilliance, such ethereal beauty!”
“Ah… what a rare and intoxicating man!”

…

Somewhere, somehow, I had failed spectacularly.

Two hours later, my throat was dry as dust.
I drained an entire cup of cold tea, hoping the nightmare would end.

But Chen Rui wasn’t done.
He leaned forward eagerly and grabbed my sleeve.

“Tell me more! You’ve been by his side for so long—surely you know more secrets?”

I groaned inwardly.

Desperate to escape, I blurted the first thing that came to mind.

“Well, though I am his personal attendant, the Young Lord never allows anyone too close. He dresses and bathes himself. We even joke that he’s like a maiden—terribly shy, terribly private.”

The effect was instantaneous.

“What?” Chen Rui gasped.

The teacup slipped from his fingers and shattered.

Ah, there was the hook.

I pressed the advantage, lowering my voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

“In fact, the Young Lord’s frame is unusually slender for a man. His waist could fit in one hand. Once, when I was washing his clothes, I found a strip of white silk stained with a little blood. I thought he’d been injured, but when I asked, he just turned red and said it was nothing.”

Chen Rui went completely still.

The color drained from his face, then returned in blotches of blue and green.
He swayed where he sat, trembling like a man struck by divine revelation.

It was… actually kind of impressive.

Downstairs, a sudden commotion broke through the air.

Men shouting.
Boots thudding.

A moment later, several soldiers stormed into the building, ordering the guests to leave.

The owner of the establishment—the same bejeweled man we’d met earlier—appeared, frantically ushering the clientele out.

“My apologies, my apologies! The officials are conducting a search!”

A waiter hurried up to our table, looking flustered.

“Sirs, forgive me. A few officers have come upstairs. I must ask everyone to leave for now.”

“A search?” I asked. “For what?”

He glanced around, lowering his voice.

“They’re looking for someone.”

“Someone?”

“The princess,” he whispered. “I heard Her Highness Haiqing has gone missing. The whole city’s in chaos.”

“What—?”

Before I could say more, the boss himself came bounding up.

He waved a hand before Chen Rui’s vacant eyes, then turned to me.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“Emotional injury,” I said smoothly. “Drank too much.”

The boss’s eyes lit up with predatory interest.
He licked his lips.

“Well, sirs, you see the trouble tonight. Business is impossible. Perhaps you should head home first? I’m quite familiar with Master Chen—I’ll have him escorted once he wakes.”

I nodded, pretending to agree, and turned to leave.

But after two steps, conscience—or curiosity—made me pause.

Surely I should at least say goodbye before abandoning my “friend.”

I turned back—just in time to see Chen Rui and the boss locked in a struggle.

The boss was trying to drag him toward a back room, while Chen Rui fought weakly, protesting through flushed cheeks and fluttering lashes.

Moments later, Chen Rui collapsed bonelessly into the man’s arms.

Ah.

So that’s how this kind of story went.

The boss hefted him onto one shoulder, grinning like a wolf, and strode toward a private suite.