Chapter 13: The Wealthy Clan

Rongguo Prefecture, Mengpo Study.

Jia Zheng sipped the tea offered by a maid, then looked up at the two youths before him.

Jia Cong stood tall and still, his breath calm and silent.

Baoyu hung his head, Bugan facing his father, his back slightly hunched, utterly lacking his usual refined and spirited bearing.

Jia Zheng slammed his teacup down hard, producing a sharp crack that made Baoyu flinch.

He sneered at Baoyu: “Looking at you, you won’t even study properly, yet you can’t even stand straight. Look at your brother—same age, already bringing honor to our family. I’m ashamed just to be your father.”

These words made Jia Cong feel embarrassed too—Baoyu was Jia Mu’s jewel, and Jia Mu despised him above all.

If Jia Mu found out Jia Zheng was using him as a foil to scold Baoyu for incompetence, she’d come to hate him too.

In truth, Baoyu’s nature was still pure and kind; his usual demeanor was a rare breath of clarity among aristocratic youths.

They say father and son are enemies from a past life—this must be what Jia Zheng and Baoyu are like.

Jia Zheng’s expression softened slightly, surprised that Jia Cong had uttered such a profound saying as “Mountains and rivers may change, but nature is hard to alter”—yet he did not know that in this world, a man named Feng Menglong no longer existed.

Yet Jia Zheng had always been bound by the obsession of official merit and scholarly success; having failed to achieve it himself, he now hoped his descendants would make up for it. He once had a worthy son, Jia Zhu, but his eldest had died young, cursed by bad fortune.

At that moment, Jia Cong suddenly heard footsteps fading away near the door; his heart stirred slightly—this grand mansion’s waters ran far deeper than he’d thought.

Jia Mu’s face darkened with anger, ready to explode; Wang Lady’s expression tightened.

Baoyu, watching Jia Cong defend him, showed a look of gratitude on his face.

A maid drew back the curtain and entered; Jia Mu hurriedly asked: “Has Baoyu been beaten or scolded by his father?”

Jia Mu muttered wearily: “At least he knows propriety—understands to consider his brother.”

In Jia Mu’s chamber, the old lady reclined on a couch, Wang Lady seated beside her, fingers still clutching a string of sandalwood prayer beads.

“After hearing Third Master Cong’s words, the master stopped scolding Second Master Baoyu.”

Yet he was born with a jade in his mouth, his status strange and exalted; raised from childhood in a wealthy mansion, doted on endlessly by his grandmother, he grew into a boy who loved play and hated study.

His second son, Baoyu, was naturally gifted—anything he set his mind to, he mastered. Jia Zheng once placed great hopes on him, yet Baoyu detested the path of officialdom and economics, finding every excuse to avoid his studies.

The maid replied: “The master first praised Third Master Cong, then scolded Second Master Baoyu for not studying and for standing improperly.”

A man born already at the pinnacle of worldly wealth—what meaning could reading and studying hold for him?

Baoyu is merely young, not yet settled in mind. Wait two years, when he grows older, he’ll naturally apply himself to study. With Baoyu’s talent, entering the academy and becoming an official will be easy enough.

They say mountains and rivers may change, but nature is hard to alter. Learning and knowledge can be acquired later in life, but a good character is born of heaven and nurtured by earth—worth more than a fortune.

The maid added: “Third Master Cong said Second Master Baoyu’s heart is pure and kind—among noble youths, he’s second to none.”

He also said Second Master Baoyu is still young; when he grows older and his mind settles, he’ll understand the value of study. He added that Baoyu is intelligent—entering the academy and becoming an official will be easy for him.

…

Jia Mu heard this and finally breathed easier; Wang Lady smiled: “That boy is truly sensible.”

Seeing Jia Zheng still about to scold further, Jia Cong feared he’d draw more hatred toward himself and quickly said:

“Second Master, Baoyu’s heart is pure and kind—among noble youths, he’s second to none.”

“I’ve heard before that he broke a jade ruyi scepter and was nearly beaten to death by his uncle—after all, it was just a broken object. Why go so far?”

Though the incident where Jia Cong was severely beaten was kept secret by those in the Eastern Courtyard, Jia Mu had ruled the household for half a lifetime—very little escaped her notice.

“In the past, I could overlook it. But now the Prince of Jia Shun has taken notice of him, and he’s to attend some literary gathering—I see he’s showing promise. Soon, more eyes will be on him.”

If another such incident happens now, it’ll bring shame upon the Jia family. We’re a great house—discomfort and irritation are inevitable. Learn to look past them. He’s no longer a child, yet still acts like a monkey.”

Wang Lady knew Jia Mu was blaming her for her eldest son’s unruliness—she dared not reply.

“After all, he’s the old lady’s own grandson. I see he’s earnest. His uncle is just strict in raising him—he’ll improve as he grows.”

Jia Mu said: “Let’s get through this phase first. I wonder if your sister-in-law even listened to me. Less trouble, and everyone will be at ease.”

She then ordered the maids: “Go call Baoyu. Tell him I’m going for a stroll in the garden—he’s to escort me, so he doesn’t cower in fear from his father.”

…

Jia Cong was speaking with Jia Zheng, while Baoyu stood beside him like he was sitting on needles.

The maid entered and said the old lady wanted Baoyu to come over. Jia Zheng knew his mother feared he’d make his son suffer—he sighed helplessly and waved Baoyu away.

Baoyu felt as if freed from chains, as if revived—he bowed to Jia Zheng, stepped back several paces, then darted out of the study.

Jia Cong knew the retreating footsteps outside had belonged to a maid sent by Jia Mu to spy—she feared Baoyu was being mistreated by his father.

And his words just now had surely been relayed to Jia Mu, word for word.

In such a great aristocratic clan, eyes and ears were everywhere—no mistake, however small, could be spared. A chill crept into his heart.

Jia Zheng watched Baoyu dash off like a spirited dragon, shook his head helplessly, then asked: “Where has your studies reached now?”

Jia Cong hesitated, then said: “A few days ago, you and Master Dairu of the academy said I’m no longer to attend school.”

Jia Zheng’s face darkened: “Why?”

Jia Cong replied: “He said I’m lowly and base, unworthy of study, wasting silver for nothing.”

Jia Zheng’s face flushed with rage—but that was his elder brother; he could not rebuke him before Jia Cong.

Today, seeing Jia Cong’s excellent calligraphy, his humility and courtesy, his dignified bearing and thoughtful responses, Jia Zheng held him in deep admiration.

He simply could not fathom how his elder brother could so senselessly belittle such an outstanding son.

Others force their sons to study—yet he refuses his own son study, as if he resents his son’s diligence. It’s utterly irrational.

Jia Zheng comforted him: “Rest easy. The academy closes for the New Year. After the Lantern Festival, I’ll speak to your uncle—I’ll make sure you return to school.”

In truth, Jia Cong had no desire to study under Jia Dairu—but he understood Jia Zheng’s good intentions, and warmth stirred in his heart.

He was rejected by Jia She and his wife; Jia Mu had despised him since childhood; other elders like Wang Lady all followed Jia Mu’s lead—he held no affection for any senior in the Jia household.

Only Jia Zheng, though somewhat rigid and previously distant, had shown him genuine kindness today.

As he left, Jia Zheng gave him fine brushes, ink, paper, and inkstone; hearing he had begun reading the Four Books, he praised him.

He also gave him several rare annotated editions of the Four Books, urging him not to neglect his studies, and promised to speak to the academy after the New Year.

Jia Cong returned to Linku Courtyard, read the Four Books for a while, wrote several pages of large characters, and before dusk, saw Aunt Zhao enter the courtyard.

He learned that Wang Shanbao’s wife had gone to the laundry house, and Aunt Zhao had been reassigned to care for Jia Cong again.

Though Jia Cong knew this day would come, he hadn’t expected Jia Mu’s words in Rongqing Hall to take effect so quickly.

In the Jia household, that old lady stood firmly at the apex of the food chain.

(End of chapter)