The title of nobility was bestowed.
The three hundred shi of salary was insignificant.
But if there was another spring hunt, no one could bypass Emperor Ning’s maritime arrest orders, not even the Directorate of Ceremonial.
A foreigner in this world had finally gained a hereditary and unbroken “status.”
Zhang Zhuo teased, cupping his hands toward Chen Ji: “Chen Ji, from now on, you can’t be called ‘you kid’ or ‘that kid’ anymore. You have to be called Lord Viscount.”
“Lord Zhang jesting,” Chen Ji took the imperial edict with a smile.
Xiaoman, holding a little black cat, came close with sparkling eyes, full of disbelief: “Young master, you’ve been granted a title? You really have! Now with matchmaking madams coming to propose, won’t they trample down the Chen family’s doorstep?”
Chen Ji glanced at her, no longer pretending to be drunk: “You’re more worried about my marriage than I am.”
Xiaoman whispered: “But the three hundred shi salary is way too little. You’re already a viscount, and that only averages out to twenty taels silver per month. Which noble lives so frugally…”
The little eunuch delivering the edict changed expression, hurriedly warning, “Miss, be careful with your words! You mustn’t speak recklessly!”