Chapter 12

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Pei Sheng remained silent for a long moment before finally closing his widely gaping mouth. Having seen the world—having traveled the capital multiple times with his father and witnessed its bustling splendor—he was certain that Huang Shiyu’s exceptional beauty was no less than that of an imperial consort.

In common parlance, the most stunning beauties of the mortal world were often likened to palace consorts.

“My wife is so beautiful,” Pei Sheng said, giddy with joy, scratching his head and turning to run off.

The originally promised sum of eight hundred taels was increased to a thousand, along with various silks and brocades. In his rush to return home, Pei Sheng intended to discuss the betrothal with his parents, hoping to marry within the year.

Master Pei himself had six concubines and three official secondary wives, plus several servants who were unofficially kept but not openly acknowledged. With such a father, what kind of man could Pei Sheng be?

Last year, he had even killed someone during a violent abduction of a common girl, yet the matter was brushed aside without consequence.

None of the maids serving in his quarters remained unscathed; even the lowliest servants were not spared. Each new arrival was mistreated, though only one secondary wife was publicly acknowledged.

Madam Huang, clutching the fact that Pei Sheng had only one official secondary wife, scolded Scholar Huang, “Even a fallen family like yours has taken concubines. Pei Sheng has only one secondary wife; once Mei marries in, she will be the legitimate wife. If you keep being so picky, I’ll kick her over to Master Ma.”

The sixty-five-year-old seventh concubine of the Pei family promptly quieted down.

Though Pei Sheng’s character was poor, many of his misdeeds were kept behind closed doors, so Scholar Huang remained unaware of just how depraved he truly was.

Scholar Huang comforted himself, reasoning that young men naturally make mistakes; after all, he was only sixteen. Once married, he would mature. With Mei’s beauty, she was sure to win her husband’s favor and live a comfortable life.

Madam Huang took the opportunity to flatter him, “The Peis originally wanted Qing Niang, but if not for Li Fugui’s infatuation at first sight, I wouldn’t have agreed to give away such a son-in-law.”

Scholar Huang sighed slowly.

This was a match both families were happy with, and the nineteenth had been chosen as the auspicious date for the groom’s family to come and exchange birth charts.

Huang Shiyu herself had few thoughts and no particular feelings toward Pei Sheng; her only impression was that he seemed like a gaudy butterfly.

Yet marrying the butterfly meant going to the county seat, and going there meant being near her older sister at any time. Thinking of this, her heart instantly brightened; her complexion grew fresher, her pale lips flushed as if brushed with rouge.

Meanwhile, little Fuxi, having witnessed the scoundrel intrude into the mulberry grove and disturb Miss Huang Er, had barely had a chance to act heroically before the butterfly-like scoundrel vanished in the blink of an eye.

He hadn’t given it much thought until two days later, when he inadvertently let slip a bit during casual conversation.

“Yesterday, I went to the temple fair with Uncle Cao. It was so lively—there were lots of pretty ladies on stage playing immortals, and they even breathed fire.”

Fusheng, seeing him innocently speak of “pretty ladies,” laughed, “What do you know about beauty? Can any of them compare to Sister Bailu or Sister Suqiu?”

He was only half a year older than Fuxi and not yet thirteen. Older male servants would never say such things, but he could—both because of his youth and their familiarity.

Bailu and Suqiu were the personal maids of Jian Xun, aged sixteen and eighteen respectively, considered adults and unwilling to bother with a mere boy.

At that moment, the two were busy—one making tea, the other grinding ink. Bailu smiled discreetly upon hearing the comment and quietly left after finishing the tea, while the fiery Suqiu shot Fusheng a sharp glance.

Fuxi glanced at the young master, who was painting.

The young master was usually in good spirits when painting, so servants bickering wouldn’t draw his ire.

He puckered his lips and said, “Of course I know beauty. The second miss of the Huang family is beautiful—like a fairy.”

No one objected, and he grew more proud: “On Xiaoman Day, I helped her scare off that scoundrel. She even had Sister Amber give me a big piece of malt candy.”

Jian Xun’s elegant brush paused briefly. “What scoundrel?”

Fuxi replied, “Oh, I saw a young man sneak into the Huang mulberry grove that day, with shifty eyes, following Miss Huang Er. I thought he was up to no good and planned to jump over and beat him, but he ran off faster than a rabbit. Miss Huang Er didn’t mind, so I let him go.”

Suqiu chuckled softly, “You fool, that was a matchmaking meeting. If Miss Huang Er got angry, it would be at you for scaring off the young master.”

“Ah?” Fuxi’s face fell. “I—I didn’t mean to scare him. Who told him to be so sneaky?”

“You only told me about what happened on Xiaoman now, when you’re sixteen,” Jian Xun said coolly, dipping his brush and resuming painting.

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Fusheng quickly sent Fuxi a warning glance. Fuxi seemed to realize something, though not fully understanding, and immediately stepped forward to apologize.

The fool was sharp, keenly observant.

“Suqiu, mark this down—no snacks for him this month,” Jian Xun said, tossing down his brush.

“Yes, young master,” Suqiu replied with a smile, then brought water to help Jian Xun wash his hands.

Fuxi obediently accepted the severe punishment, vowing never to repeat his mistake.

Any news about Miss Huang Er must be reported immediately, no matter how big or small.

Joy lends vigor to the spirit. Scholar Huang smoothly resolved the marriages of two daughters, now focusing all his attention on his youngest son, Yaozu.

His precious son, born when he was nearly forty, was everything to him.

Once a man of great promise—ranking third in the academy exams at eighteen and the top of Zehe that year—his fortunes quickly declined, repeatedly failing the provincial exams thereafter.

Over twenty years had slipped by in vain.

Next year would be his final attempt; failure would mean giving up.

Fortunately, he still had Yaozu, a clever boy who would surely fulfill his father’s lifelong ambition.

Scholar Huang wasn’t so bad after all; only a few succeed in the imperial exams. To be chosen among a thousand is rare, and many fail their entire lives—even into their fifties, sixties, or seventies.

Still, he had some literary talent. When Lady Jian chose him as the family tutor among several scholars, it was not without reason.

He patted Yaozu’s head; the four-year-old laughed happily, riding his beloved bamboo horse.

Looking across the pond, early summer in Zehe bloomed with flowers and green willows. After a moment, the scene grew hazy—not from tears, but from a gentle, drizzling rain.

Yaozu had already been taken away by his wet nurse, and behind Scholar Huang stood a grassy pavilion, yet he stood alone, stunned in the rain.

Unexpectedly, a large oil-paper umbrella appeared overhead—not from a family member’s hand.

Scholar Huang turned to see the smiling student standing beside him, holding the umbrella.

Jian Yunzhan was already much taller.

The most ironic scene in the world: on the right, old, destitute, frail, short, impoverished, and ugly; on the left, young, successful, robust, tall, wealthy, and handsome.

Scholar Huang forced a smile. “Why have you returned early?”

The official robe bestowal was still some days away.

Jian Xun replied softly, “This year, Great-Granduncle will personally guide my studies. Coming back to the capital early is quite fitting.”

With the Duke of Anguo’s personal guidance, Scholar Huang swallowed a wave of bitter longing and envy. “Good, very good. When I first met you, I knew you were no ordinary person. Having two years of teacher-student bond is the greatest fortune of my life.”

“There is no need for the teacher to belittle himself,” Jian Xun’s calm voice carried strength, gently pressing down Scholar Huang’s swirling emotions. “I’ve observed that the recent two provincial exams have been quite different from before.”

The focus clearly shifted toward the Doctrine of the Mean and the Great Learning.

A faint spark lit Scholar Huang’s eyes before he smiled wryly, “I’m a fool, slow to understand.”

“No need for high intellect; knowing the meaning above, expressing the heart’s intent—what’s difficult about that…”

Many things are not truly difficult; the challenge lies in stepping outside the maze, viewing it from the vantage of an outsider while inside the maze.

Scholar Huang was but a man of limited talent, barely five taels’ worth, naturally unable to see through it all.

But he understood Jian Xun’s meaning.

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His heart suddenly pounded wildly. Nervously, he asked, “Yunzhan… what do you want?”

“Two thousand taels of silver,” Jian Xun replied lightly.

“Even if I sold my entire family, I couldn’t raise that much,” Scholar Huang said bitterly.

Two thousand taels was truly beyond his means.

“My meaning is—I'll give two thousand taels of silver to you, teacher,” Jian Xun smiled.

Scholar Huang’s pupils constricted sharply, and the corners of his mouth twitched involuntarily.

The rain stopped; the scorching sun soon dried the muddy ground, saving this year’s harvest.

Scholar Huang seemed frozen by some unseen power.

Jian Yunzhan wanted his second daughter—Huang Shiyu.

No one could have foreseen when such a thought had arisen.

His chest ached like being stabbed with needles.

It was one thing for a man to toy with others’ wives and daughters; to send his own away as a plaything was like swallowing bitter gall.

Helplessly, Yunzhan’s offer was far beyond anything Scholar Huang had ever dared to imagine.

In truth, even if he only received one part of it, he would have agreed without hesitation.

From despair to the brink of having everything, Scholar Huang’s eyes burned hot, yet his heart ached, full of shame.

Perhaps it was the smile on Yunzhan’s lips when he agreed without hesitation—

That smile was not just cold, but laced with subtle contempt.

And so, he sold his daughter.

Scholar Huang trembled as he asked, “When? Tonight?”

Jian Xun’s heart turned cold. “She’s still young. I’ll take her after the provincial exam next year.”

He would not force the barely of age Mei to take contraceptives for his lust, nor had he ever planned to.

Jian Xun said, “Mei is stubborn; if she can be tamed naturally, so much the better. What should be said and what should not be said—teacher is surely more discerning than I.”

“I understand.”

Scholar Huang felt a chill blow through his bones, his hands instinctively clenched.

“She’s never been properly raised. If she is rude, you may beat or scold her, but I beg you, for the sake of our teacher-student bond, do not sell her, nor allow anyone else to sell her.”

No matter how precious a concubine, she remains a concubine. Jian Xun’s future wife, under reason and proper procedure, could petition the elders for Mei’s fate. Yet the concubine’s children, albeit illegitimate, enjoyed some privileges of legitimate heirs, such as inheriting property or even titles.

Jian Yunzhan said expressionlessly, “She will only be sold once in her life. I will not allow her to be sold a second time.”

With that, he tossed the oil-paper umbrella at his feet, flicked his sleeves, and walked away.

Scholar Huang covered his face, weeping bitterly.

What paternal love there was could not withstand the lure of fame, fortune, and a life of glory.