Chapter 49: Guests Like Clouds

“Qingwen, come here.”

A maidservant stepped out from behind Jia Mu, her features delicate and lovely, skin fair, figure graceful, with a slender waist and narrow shoulders, drawing admiring glances from all present.

Baoyu’s eyes locked onto Qingwen, nearly blurting out a request to Jia Mu to give her to him.

Fortunately, he hadn’t lost his wits completely—he remembered his father was present and restrained himself, yet his gaze remained fixed on Qingwen, unwilling to look away even slightly, his heart burning with anxiety.

Jia Mu said to Qingwen: “From now on, you’ll serve Cong-er. Take good care of him.”

Baoyu’s face darkened instantly; had Jia Zheng not been there, he would surely have thrown his jade again.

Daiyu was the most perceptive—she had already noticed Baoyu’s expression. Baoyu had always favored beautiful girls; such things were common among wealthy households, and she didn’t truly mind.

But knowing why Jia Mu had given Cong-er the maidservant, Baoyu still acted this way—it showed a lack of discretion.

Especially when she saw him unconsciously clutching his jade, Daiyu frowned slightly and lowered her eyes.

Qingwen’s eyes held a flicker of surprise, but she obediently replied—after all, she was just a maidservant; if the Old Ancestor ordered her to serve someone, she would serve them.

“Old Ancestor, why don’t you also strike me once and give me a good one too?”

Wang Dong and Liu Bi and the others had arrived at just the right moment—right when they came to see him.

Once Jia Zheng led Qingwen to the outer study, Wang Xifeng stepped forward to jest: “Cong-er really has luck—he got beaten, yet ended up with a maidservant as fresh and delicate as a spring onion.”

He himself had been brutally beaten by Jia She, making him seem like a victim, but refusing to write in the Eastern Courtyard was, after all, an act of defiance against Jia She.

This beautiful maidservant was none other than the famed Qingwen—indeed, she was exceptionally striking.

Jia Mu had been feeling somewhat gloomy, but his jest made her laugh, and she scolded: “You little monkey, you really deserve a beating.”

Wang Lady and the others understood clearly: Jia Zheng was to deliver this message first, then bring Cong-er to meet the guests, ensuring Cong-er wouldn’t say anything inappropriate—perfectly seamless.

Jia Mu had no choice but to bring out this pretty maidservant, Qingwen, to fill the role.

Jia Cong saw Jia Zheng return with a beautiful maidservant and felt puzzled.

Wang Dong arrived first at the outer study; these guests came one after another, so they couldn’t all come at once—Wang Dong, being an official, took precedence.

It was said his maidservant was exceptional, otherwise Jia She wouldn’t have taken such a fancy to her.

Faced with the situation, the Old Ancestor, fearing damage to the Jia family’s reputation, had stopped pressing the matter, instead soothing and warning to patch things over.

No one expected this incident involving Jia Cong, let alone that he’d make such a fuss over a maidservant.

Qingwen had only been in Jia Mu’s chambers for less than half a year; Jia Mu had originally planned to keep her by her side for two years, then place her in Baoyu’s quarters once she was older.

Since they promised to compensate him, they had to offer something worthy—and one that would silence Jia Cong.

She had been bought as a child by Aunt Lai, raised for years until she grew into a striking beauty; Aunt Lai knew Jia Mu favored good-looking girls, so she gave her to Jia Mu to serve.

Jia Mu said to Jia Zheng: “Go to the outer study and deliver my words. I’ll have Lian-er serve tea in the Songxuan Hall; after a cup of tea, bring the guests to see him.”

In Jia Mu’s eyes, this was an act of filial impiety; she had feared it wouldn’t pass easily—but Wang Dong, Liu Bi, and others arriving suddenly had helped him greatly.

Once he heard Jia Zheng’s explanation—that the maidservant was a gift from the Old Ancestor—he understood perfectly.

Liu Bi, carrying his grandfather’s instructions and visiting as a friend, was in no hurry and patiently waited in the Songxuan Hall.

As for the young Daoist, his arrogance surpassed even Wang Dong’s—he sat aside, arms crossed over his long sword, ignoring everyone.

Liu Bi had seen him standing behind Zhang Tianshi at the Nanxi Literary Gathering; he knew the boy’s background must be significant, so he avoided any attempt to speak to him.

These men hadn’t timed their visit deliberately; after Jia Cong returned home, he’d spent days searching the Liuyang River for Zhi Shao’s whereabouts and had had no chance to meet outsiders.

Outside the Jia household, no one knew he had returned safely; it wasn’t until several days later that officials from Zhen’an Prefecture heard the news.

Prefect Zhang Shou had been unable to locate Jia Cong, and had been plagued daily by inquiries from various parties—he was utterly overwhelmed.

When his subordinates brought word, it was like rain after a long drought; overjoyed, he immediately ordered word sent to inform them, eager to pass off this hot potato.

Thus, Wang Dong, Liu Bi, and the young Daoist had delayed their visit until today, coinciding precisely with Jia Cong’s beating—pure chance, nothing more than bad luck for Jia She or the Jia household.

Wang Dong saw Jia Cong lying helplessly on the bed, unable to move, sweat beading his forehead even at the effort of turning his head—he was stunned, and immediately asked the reason.

But Jia Cong stammered vaguely, offering only unclear words; beside him, Jia Zheng’s face flushed red, utterly ashamed.

Wang Dong saw the bandages wrapped tightly around Jia Cong’s back, stained with spots of blood—he was a man who had seen the inner court’s darkest scenes.

These were unmistakably wounds from whippings and beatings, inflicted with cruel brutality—otherwise, they wouldn’t be this severe.

As a Jia family son, only his father could have inflicted such punishment—everyone in the streets whispered it was the lustful wastrel, Jia She.

This dazzling youth, so admired outside, lived such a wretched life within his own home; even Wang Dong, composed and seasoned, could not hide his anger.

But this was ultimately a family matter; even if he were the noble Prince Jiaoshun, and even if he had a special bond with this youth, he could say nothing.

He merely advised Jia Cong to rest well, and if he had time later, to visit the Prince’s mansion—the Prince would surely be pleased.

When Wang Dong left, Jia Zheng personally saw him to the ceremonial gate, for Wang Dong held the fifth-rank post of Director of the Palace Secretariat, higher than Jia Zheng’s fifth-rank position as Assistant Minister of Works—proper court etiquette demanded it.

As Wang Dong departed, he said to Jia Zheng: “When a family produces such a rare talent, it must be cherished. Jia Da-ren, upright and noble, surely knows that virtuous offspring are the foundation of a family’s prosperity.”

These words filled Jia Zheng with shame—he thought: Who but fate made Cong-er born to his elder brother? Had he been raised under my care, none of this would have happened.

After Wang Dong left, Jia Lian arrived with Liu Bi and the young Daoist.

Liu Bi, shocked by Jia Cong’s condition, naturally asked the reason; this time, Jia Cong didn’t fully evade—he didn’t explain, but said only that he had been punished by family discipline.

He hadn’t told Wang Dong outright, because both Wang Dong and Prince Jiaoshun were not merely officials but members of the imperial family.

Their words reached straight into the palace, and thus could affect Yuan Chun’s future—this was precisely what Jia Mu most feared.

Jia Zheng’s nature was rigid and literal; he hadn’t realized it, but Jia Cong, along with Jia Mu and Wang Lady, instantly grasped the implication.

Jia Mu had Jia Zheng deliver this message precisely for that reason.

After leaving the Eastern Courtyard, if Jia Cong wished to stand firm in the Western Mansion, he must first feign compliance—this debt to Zhi Shao would be settled one day.

So he kept his mouth tightly shut with Wang Dong; though he felt guilty, he believed a man like Wang Dong, forged in the palace’s ruthless struggles, would understand his plight.

But with Liu Bi, it was different—he was his close friend, a commoner, whose grandfather was a revered scholar, and who had no direct stake in court affairs.

If he continued to evade and deceive, it would be disrespectful, violating scholarly propriety; Jia Cong intended to pursue the scholarly path and take the imperial examinations—such behavior would leave him open to criticism.

His reply to Liu Bi seemed fitting even to Jia Zheng beside him.

Moreover, Jia Cong had only said he was punished by family discipline—he hadn’t revealed his elder brother’s shameful deeds. What more could be asked? He had done enough to preserve the greater good.

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(End of Chapter)