Chapter 85: A Man on the Path Is Like Jade (Please Collect and Follow!)

Lady Chen of Baoling Marquisate, hearing her sister-in-law’s words, could no longer miss the undercurrents; she smiled at Jia Mu: “When Yun Niang returned from your household, she often spoke of how there’s a young master under your care who can write and compose poetry.”

“He’s always been away studying, so we never had the chance to meet—but I never imagined he’d be this outstanding.”

Lady Li of Zhongjing Marquisate also smiled: “All the young masters and ladies in your household are exceptional—I’ve met them all—but Zong Er is unfamiliar to me.”

“Since he’s so outstanding, it’s no wonder Yun Niang is curious; even we wish to see this rarity. Grandmother, why not call him in today to meet us?”

Jia Mu’s face warmed at these words; she hadn’t expected her grandson to have made such a name for himself these past years.

Two years ago, she had waived Zong Cong’s filial rites, barring him even from Rongqing Hall—now she dared not let this gossip spread further, or her face would be utterly torn apart.

She could only summon him in early, to bury those old rumors beneath the surface.

So she told Yuanyang: “Go call Zong Er here to pay respects to these elder relatives.”

Yuanyang smiled and replied: “I’ll go fetch Third Master right away.”

For a moment, Rongqing Hall fell utterly silent—not a pin could drop. The noble ladies present, many of whom had seen many people, were all still.

Yet Jia Cong had never cared about filial rites or whether he could enter Rongqing Hall.

When he stepped inside, he saw the hall filled with pearls and jade, a throng of women, every pair of eyes fixed on him with varied expressions.

Jia Cong paid little mind to the people he was to meet, but he was curious about Shi Xiangyun, who lay drunk amid blooming crabapple blossoms, sleeping soundly.

Jia Cong’s heart sharpened; he thought a moment, then saw Yuanyang watching him with a smile. “Thank you, Sister Yuanyang, for the reminder—I’ll know what to expect when I go in.”

Lady Li of Zhongjing Marquisate laughed: “Today I’ve truly broadened my horizons—there are young masters in this world so strikingly handsome, and with such talent to boot! Grandmother, your fortune is truly enviable.”

Yuanyang smiled: “Third Master, don’t be so modest. Your calligraphy is exquisite—it brought honor to Grandmother. I merely gave you a gentle reminder.”

She was secretly glad for Zong Cong, feeling he had finally passed this hurdle.

Yet seeing Zong Cong’s peerless bearing, even she was momentarily stunned.

…

Yuanyang added that Shi Dagu from Baoling Marquisate was also here; she’d stayed at the Western Mansion these past couple years, but Third Master had been studying at Luocang Mountain, so they’d never met.

Jia Cong found it strange that Jia Mu had suddenly summoned him to meet guests at Rongqing Hall.

At that moment, a young man entered Rongqing Hall: his hair pinned with a blue jade clip, clad in a sky-blue Confucian robe, exquisitely beautiful beyond compare, his gaze bright and spirited, radiating scholarly grace, shoulders narrow, back straight, his bearing utterly transcendent—like a jade tree amid orchids.

Though Jia Cong rarely returned home these past two years, Lady Wang and Wang Xifeng still saw him a few times annually; though he’d changed greatly, since they saw him often, they took it in stride.

Only outsiders like Lady Chen of Baoling Marquisate and Lady Li of Zhongjing Marquisate had never seen Jia Cong.

Jia Cong glanced at Yuanyang—this maid was not only clever and meticulous, but kind and thoughtful; no wonder Jia Mu trusted her more than even her own sons and daughters-in-law.

Yuanyang left Rongqing Hall, asked several groups of people, and finally found Jia Cong in the Western Mansion.

After asking her a few more questions, Yuanyang listed the foreign guests in the hall, and briefly mentioned Lady Zhang, Wang Ziteng’s wife, who had publicly belittled Jia Cong’s gift.

Among the household ladies of Shenyang’s various branches, those who had seen Jia Cong did so many years ago.

Jia Mu’s graceful young granddaughter, her bright eyes, fixed on Jia Cong, studied him intently.

Every noble lady present felt a pang of awe; they had thought Baoyu was the most beautifully formed youth—yet now, with Jia Cong standing here, he outshone him entirely.

Jia Mu, Lady Wang, Wang Xifeng, and others were accustomed to this scene.

These past two years, Jia Cong had studied outside and returned home rarely, yet each time he returned, the household was struck with fresh astonishment.

Perhaps because his life had improved, or perhaps because he’d reached the age of growth, Jia Cong’s looks had grown increasingly striking over these two years—unforgettable to behold.

Each time Jia Cong returned, some young maids and daughters-in-law would deliberately take long detours past Qingzhi Studio, just to steal a glimpse of this astonishingly handsome young master.

This had once fueled rumors throughout the household that Jia Cong resembled his mother—so loudly that Jia Mu had ordered Xifeng to crack down hard, silencing all further gossip.

Thus, the reactions of these ladies in the hall were nothing new to Jia Mu and the others.

…

Speaking of Jia Cong resembling his mother, Jia Mu recalled certain past events.

Originally, that woman had been kept as a concubine outside the household; later, pregnant, she somehow manipulated Jia She into openly bringing her into the Jia household.

The old Duke had been so enraged he took to his bed, and Jia Mu had hated the woman beyond measure—she never once visited her from the day she entered until the child was born.

Jia Mu’s stance meant Lady Wang naturally avoided her too; besides, Lady Wang was pregnant herself—so neither Jia Mu nor Lady Wang had ever seen Jia Cong’s mother.

Lady Xing, who married into the household only after Jia Cong’s birth, had never seen this beauty who had once ruled the capital’s courtesan circles.

Only Jia Min, then still unmarried, was naturally clever, sharp-witted, and bold—out of curiosity, she once visited the Eastern Courtyard.

Upon returning, she raved about the woman’s beauty, even enthusiastically painted her portrait—prompting Jia Mu to scold her severely.

Later, the woman’s personal maid suddenly died; the next year, Jia Min was married far away—so very few had ever seen Jia Cong’s mother’s true face.

Yet seeing how strikingly handsome Jia Cong had become, and how utterly unlike his elder brother, it was clear his mother must have been a beauty.

…

Lady Zhang, Wang Ziteng’s wife, suddenly laughed: “I’ve long heard Zong Er resembles his mother—his mother was once the most beautiful woman in Shenyang, so of course Zong Cong is outstanding. I’d say even Baoyu doesn’t match his looks.”

Lady Zhang had earlier heard Lady Wang’s words—that a lowly bastard had somehow overshadowed Baoyu.

She had intended to publicly belittle Jia Cong, thereby elevating Baoyu.

Everyone knew Baoyu was the Jia household’s phoenix—this would please Jia Mu and Lady Wang, and help her husband cultivate closer ties with the Jias.

But she hadn’t expected that meddling Lady Li of Zhongjing Marquisate to reveal the story of Jia Cong’s calligraphy, making her lose face before everyone.

She felt no fault in herself—she vented all her anger on Jia Cong, intending to publicly mock him and reclaim the dignity she’d just lost; she couldn’t let the Wang family be looked down upon.

A bastard born of a courtesan—wasn’t he easy to trample? What was there to fear?

But Lady Zhang didn’t realize: to humiliate Jia Cong before Jia Mu and the elder relatives in Rongqing Hall was not merely about Jia Cong’s personal honor—it struck at the entire Jia household’s dignity.

Yet if Lady Zhang were truly as clever and perceptive as she pretended, she wouldn’t have provoked trouble over a mere birthday gift.

Resembles his mother! Ruled Shenyang’s beauty circles!

These two phrases struck like a sharp gong suddenly struck in the previously harmonious Rongqing Hall—dazing every woman present.

All stared at Lady Zhang in shock.

Jia Mu’s face turned icy; she nearly shouted an insult—who was this fool of a woman, so stupid she might as well hang a portrait of herself?

Lady Wang could no longer maintain her composure; she cried out in shock and anger: “Sister-in-law!”

Nearly all the elder ladies present had heard of Jia Cong’s mother’s origins—she was said to have been the stunning courtesan of her time.

For Lady Zhang to utter “resembles his mother” and “ruled Shenyang’s beauty circles” in public was to declare Jia Cong born of a courtesan—this was a direct slap to the Jia household’s face.

Was this woman here to offer birthday greetings—or to deliberately wreck the celebration? Didn’t she fear she’d anger the old lady to death?

(End of Chapter)