Liang Youyi pointed to the record of extravagant spending over ten consecutive days last month and asked Manager Song, “Do you remember who the Prime Minister was entertaining during those days?”

Manager Song certainly remembered. Three meals a day, each costing over 300 taels—how could he not?

“Princess, you didn’t know?” he asked cautiously. The Prime Minister had been charging everything to her account without informing her?

“I didn’t. Who was it?”

“Usually it’s the Minister of War, and officials from the Ministry of Revenue and Works. But last month, it was a large group every day. The leader was a man in his twenties, dressed in fine robes, always bringing over a hundred people to eat and drink. He must be someone important—he had dozens of guards.”

Manager Song’s eyes flickered evasively. “Aside from hosting that guest, the Prime Minister himself didn’t come often. It was mostly people from his residence spending freely.”

Liang Youyi closed her eyes briefly. Based on her prophetic dream, she didn’t need to guess—this man was likely the secretly returned Prince Jingnan, the young emperor’s uncle. And that crowd? Probably his trusted followers.

Manager Song clearly recognized him but pretended not to—choosing self-preservation.

She didn’t expose him. “Manager Song, when did the Prime Minister’s expenses start being charged to me?

“Wasn’t it always your account?” he stammered. “You’re engaged, and you never objected before…”

“I never checked the itemized bills. If I didn’t sign for it, I won’t pay. Whoever spent it, you ask them for silver.”

She pointed to the rowdy group in the Listening Rain Pavilion. “They’re on my tab? Am I just a walking wallet?”

Manager Song understood immediately and apologized: “Forgive me, Princess! I’ll go to the Prime Minister’s residence to collect the debt.”

He dared not offend Princess Yunshang. First, she was noble—no one in the Duke Ding’s household would dare cross her. Second, the contract with Yulouchun had no clause obligating her to pay for the Prime Minister’s expenses.

“Any external actions by the Prime Minister’s household have nothing to do with me.”

“Understood, Princess. I’ll handle it.” Manager Song straightened his back and pushed open the door. The boys who had been beating the dancers paused.

“What’s going on? Why are you hitting people?” he asked sternly. “Who’s in charge here?”

Everyone looked at Fu Hechen.

Fu Hechen pointed at the lead dancer and snapped, “Is this how Yulouchun does business? She won’t cooperate with the dance!”

The dancer had been slapped several times by his servant. Her lip was bleeding, and her eyes welled with tears. Just as she was about to speak, Manager Song asked, “Who hit you?”

She pointed at Fu Hechen. “He ordered his servant to do it.”

“Hold him down. Double the punishment.” At his command, a dozen skilled enforcers pinned Fu Hechen to the ground in seconds.

Fu Hechen’s eyes turned red with rage. “You dare hit me? You think Yulouchun can survive in the capital after this?”

Manager Song sneered. “Hit him.”

Smack! Smack! Smack!

The dancer slapped Fu Hechen twelve times. His face—so similar to Fu Zhang’s—was swollen like a pig’s head.

Liang Youyi glanced sideways. That dancer wasn’t ordinary. Most women would be breathless after such a beating, but she remained calm, composed, and led her troupe away gracefully.

Manager Song lifted Fu Hechen’s chin and said coldly, “Go ahead and complain to the Prime Minister. But Yulouchun isn’t afraid. You tried to defile our performers—if word gets out, your reputation is ruined.”

Fu Hechen was speechless, veins bulging on his forehead. He was set to take the imperial exam next year—if his name was tarnished, his career would be over. Then he saw Liang Youyi standing at the door with her guards and maids, watching the spectacle.

He shouted, “Let me go! Princess Yunshang is here—she’s my aunt! She’ll stand up for me!”

Manager Song signaled for his release.

Humiliated in front of his peers, Fu Hechen was livid. He rushed to Liang Youyi and barked, “You saw everything?”

“I did.” Her hands tucked into her rabbit-fur sleeves, she scolded, “Yelling like that—how disgraceful

“You’re just going to let them bully me?”

“What do you want?”

“Kill them!”

“Murder carries the death penalty. Are you trying to get me killed?”

“You…” Fu Hechen realized something was wrong. Normally, Princess Yunshang would defend him. “They hit me, and you did nothing? If my second uncle finds out…”

“You threatened murder and assaulted performers. What do you think Fu Zhang will say?”

“So you came to laugh at me?”

“Exactly.”

Fu Hechen’s face turned liver-colored. She wasn’t helping him—she was mocking him. Was she rebelling?

Liang Youyi glanced at the five tables piled with food: camel hump, deer tendon, Qin wine… With musicians and dancers, this meal must’ve cost 300 taels. They really dared to splurge.

“A bunch of low-level scholars spending hundreds of taels on one meal?” She looked at the young boys and asked, “Did you bring enough silver?”

They exchanged nervous glances and muttered, “Fu Hechen invited us. Why should we pay?”

“Yeah, we just sign the bill.”

Fang Ling snapped, “Signatures for food? Are your names worth that much?”

The students fell silent. Eventually, they all looked to Fu Hechen. “Say something!”

Fu Hechen forced himself to speak: “I invited you, so I’ll pay. Don’t drag my friends into this.”

“Good. Then let me remind you—if you didn’t bring enough silver, go home and get it. Otherwise, dine-and-dashers face serious consequences.”

“The Prime Minister’s residence always signs tabs at Yulouchun—never brings cash!” Fu Hechen looked at the Princess. Her long lashes cast elegant shadows, her lips glistened like dew—so regal, she didn’t seem real.

His throat went dry. “My second uncle is the Prime Minister. You think we can’t afford it?”

“Is that so? Best of luck, dear nephew of the Prime Minister.” Liang Youyi turned to Manager Song. “Any charges billed to me by the Prime Minister’s residence—refund them all. Including the seasonal fee for this private suite.”

The Listening Rain Pavilion was lavish. Without silver, how could they pay the musicians and dancers?

Her tone was calm, but Manager Song didn’t dare delay. He turned to Fu Hechen and his classmates: “Today’s total is 374 taels. Pay up before you leave. Otherwise, no one leaves.”

No silver? Then stop pretending to be nobles.