Chapter 56: The Son Enters the Deep Game

Zheng Yingquan, head of the Court of Inquiry, appeared refined and scholarly, with a calm and meticulous nature; every question he asked Jia Cong revealed careful premeditation.

Jia Cong said the thief had been stabbed in the back; because Jia Cong revealed himself as a descendant of Rongguo Mansion, the thief, wary of retaliation, refrained from killing him immediately and intended to use him as a shield.

Later, the thief’s wound worsened, he lacked medicine, contracted a fever from the injury, and lay near death; he had planned to kill Jia Cong to silence him, but Jia Cong seized the opportunity and escaped.

Zheng Yingquan, with his meticulous mind, asked Jia Cong about the location of the thief’s wound, the symptoms of the fever, and where they had hidden.

He even asked whether they had encountered any Court of Inquiry personnel on the road, and spared no detail about how Jia Cong had escaped.

Anyone else would surely have been exposed by such questioning.

Fortunately, all these questions had been anticipated by Jia Cong; from his past life’s information explosion, his knowledge in this area was beyond Zheng Yingquan’s imagination.

Some of these details, he had even rehearsed with Qu Hongxiu during their return to the city.

In the end, Zheng Yingquan gained nothing; as he left, he cast a complex glance at Jia Cong, his eyes dark and unsettling.

Yet after returning to the Eastern Courtyard, he smashed everything in his room, then resumed his daily routine of drinking with his concubine.

He had resolved to spend the coming period shut indoors reading, and once his wounds healed, he would go to Qingshan Academy to study and avoid outside contact, thus sidestepping trouble.

Upon returning to Chunhua Pavilion, he waited a long while before Guo Zhi arrived with He Jizhen, saying Zhou Xizhe had gone out to visit friends but failed to find them.

He said he wished to thank them for their previous visit to the mansion and had specially invited them to tea at Chunhua Pavilion, as he was currently refining his painting skills and wished to seek their advice.

On the day Jia Cong finished meeting with outside guests, Jia Mu summoned Jia She and his wife to Rongqing Hall and announced her decision to place Jia Cong under the care of the Western Mansion.

The next day, Aunt Zhao said Wang Shanbao’s wife had summoned Ma Dao Po, who performed a ritual in her room and took fifty taels of silver from Wang Shanbao’s wife.

Since the old lady had spoken, Jia She, as her son, had no grounds to object; moreover, he had driven a maid to suicide and beaten his own son, so his voice carried little weight.

After Guo Zhi left, Jia Cong went alone to his rented residence but found no Qu Hongxiu, and felt a pang of disappointment.

After all, he had always despised this son to the core; it was better he never showed his face.

They agreed to perform another ritual in two days, guaranteeing the complete elimination of Wang Shanbao’s wife’s misfortune.

Jia Cong’s maternal grandfather in his past life had been a master calligrapher and painter renowned for mounting scrolls; though his own painting was not as refined as his calligraphy, his knowledge was substantial, and he raised several questions about painting technique to He Jizhen.

Having dispatched Zheng Yingquan, that minor demon beneath Zhou Yanluo, Jia Cong exhaled in relief.

……

Jia Cong was the victim and a descendant of Rongguo Mansion; despite the Court of Inquiry’s power and arrogance, it dared not imprison or interrogate him under propriety or law.

Behind the Jia family stood a coalition of noble families—the Four Princes and Eight Dukes—whose latent power was incalculable.

While Wu’er served Jia Cong his meal, he casually mentioned a few details; Wu’er was extremely astute, and by the time she returned from the kitchen, Jia Cong knew the situation in the Eastern Courtyard over the past days.

When Jia Cong’s wounds had nearly healed, he had Guo Zhi drive him to Dongcheng, to Chunhua Pavilion, then sent Guo Zhi to fetch He Jizhen and Zhou Xizhe.

To punish such a noble scion without cause would require Zheng Yingquan to forfeit his life.

As for Lady Xing’s habitual door-closed curses, the old lady dared not scold her; she merely vented on the Second Branch, and after a few outbursts, she quieted down.

Wu’er’s mother managed the kitchen, a place where maids and old women constantly came and went, making it the most well-informed hub for gossip.

……

This struck He Qingzhu’s sweet spot, and he launched into enthusiastic conversation.

Unlike the stern and disciplined Zhou Xizhe, He Qingzhu had a carefree, worldly air; though a learned scholar with vast knowledge, he was not bound by bureaucratic drudgery and frequently wandered the streets and markets.

Thus, his knowledge was broad and his anecdotes rich—he casually recounted court gossip, such as how the aging patriarch of the Clan Office had retired, and His Majesty had appointed Prince Zhongshun as the new patriarch.

They gathered for nearly two hours before parting; He Jizhen was in high spirits and painted a brush-and-ink bamboo scroll on the spot to give him.

The next day, he again had Guo Zhi drive him to Chunhua Pavilion, and once more sent Guo Zhi to fetch Zhou Xizhe.

After Guo Zhi left, when Jia Cong returned to the small courtyard, he saw Qu Hongxiu dressed in coarse cloth, her hair wrapped in a printed floral cloth, sweeping fallen leaves from the courtyard.

Her slender hands, graceful figure, and fluttering strands of hair made her resemble a humble woman in simple attire—there was not a trace of an assassin from the Hidden Gate.

Jia Cong exclaimed: “You’re really here!”

“I was looking for a quiet place to stay in the city; your place is very secluded, so I came to stay for a couple of days. It seems your wound has healed well.”

“I kept this place for emergencies; you may stay as long as you like. I came to ask you for a favor.”

Qu Hongxiu smiled: “You let me stay in your courtyard and now you’re ordering me around—you’re not losing out at all…”

After leaving the small courtyard, he returned to Chunhua Pavilion and waited only half a cup of tea before Guo Zhi arrived with Zhou Xizhe; Jia Cong consulted Zhou Xizhe on painting techniques, and they sat together for over an hour before parting.

When Jia Cong returned to the Jia mansion, Wu’er stepped forward to help him remove his coat and said: “Just now, Ping’er came by and said the Second Madam has assigned the empty courtyard beside Lixiang Courtyard for the Third Young Master to live in.”

“The Second Madam has already ordered the place tidied up; furniture and furnishings are being arranged, and in a couple of days, the Third Young Master will move in.”

The courtyard beside Lixiang Courtyard—that was where Xue Baochai’s family had stayed when they first arrived at the Jia mansion; but according to the timeline, that would happen perhaps one or two years from now.

Qingwen was delighted upon hearing she would move to a new courtyard; she said she knew the place well—it was far from the old lady’s Rongqing Hall, and no one would care if she made noise.

Wu’er merely smiled faintly and studied Jia Cong’s expression; seeing he showed no sign of distress, she felt a quiet pang of injustice on his behalf.

Her mind was subtle, and she sensed that the old lady and the madam harbored resentment toward the Third Young Master; otherwise, why assign him such an isolated place?

Since Wu’er came, Jia Cong’s meals and daily needs were handled by her; having grown up helping her mother, she understood best how to prepare nourishing, refined food.

Qingwen, clever and dexterous, took charge of Jia Cong’s clothing and needlework; since these two maids joined his quarters, Jia Cong’s life became far more refined than before.

After dinner, night had fully fallen; Jia Cong told Wu’er and Qingwen: “Tonight, I will shut myself in to study; you need not stay in the room—go rest in the side chambers.”

Qingwen hurried to ask: “But what if the Third Young Master wants tea? Won’t you need someone to serve you?”

“Hmm, just brew the tea and place it on the table inside the warming basket; I’ll pour myself when thirsty.”

Qingwen seemed slightly disappointed; she had only been here a few days, but though the Third Young Master spoke little, she felt he was different from the other masters in the mansion—warm and approachable—and she enjoyed being near him.

“Wu’er, the Third Young Master’s wound isn’t fully healed yet—why rush to study so hard? A few more days won’t hurt.”

Wu’er shot Qingwen a look: “Everyone says the Third Young Master writes beautiful calligraphy and composes fine poetry—these aren’t gifts from heaven; they come from relentless study.”

Qingwen exclaimed: “I heard Lin Meimei recite the Third Young Master’s poems in Rongqing Hall—Lin Meimei is learned, and she said his poems are excellent!”

Wu’er asked curiously: “You’ve heard the Third Young Master’s poems? Recite one for me.”

Qingwen wrinkled her small face: “I can’t read, so even though I heard them, I forgot them right away.”

Qingwen suddenly felt ashamed—how could she serve such a learned master without knowing how to read? Once they moved, she would make sure the Third Young Master taught her.

As the two maids chattered, Jia Cong closed the main room’s door, brightened the candle, and sat down before his desk.

Qingwen quickly brewed hot tea and brought it in; when she came out, bored, she yawned and entered the adjacent side chamber.

Wu’er went out to fetch a basin of wash water and suddenly saw a dark shadow dart across the courtyard; she jumped in fright, but when she looked again, there was nothing.

Probably just a trick of the eye, she shook her head, carried the basin inside, and found Qingwen asleep on the bed, still fully dressed.

Wu’er chuckled: “What a carefree soul—she drops right to sleep the moment she hits the bed.”

She washed her face with warm water and suddenly felt drowsy; she staggered toward the bed, thinking how Qingwen had spoiled her habits.

New book stage—please follow, please collect—thank you very much!

(End of Chapter)