Chapter 878

Rongguo Prefecture, Rongqing Hall.

Baoyu heard that Jia Cong had led troops into battle and was again putting on this corrupt official’s pretense, inviting praise and flattery from others.

His heart swelled with unspeakable grief, rage, and revulsion—he longed to escape this filthy mortal world as soon as possible.

Just as he was drowning in a flood of sorrow and resentment, ready to sing out his anguish, he suddenly heard the maid say, “The young ladies are here.”

That single phrase struck him like divine music, instantly quenching the fire in his heart.

Qiuyue’s round face glowed with excitement, her eyes sparkling brightly as she gazed toward the door.

In came Yingchun, Daiyu, Baochai, and the other sisters, their silken robes shimmering, their hairpins and ornaments gleaming with precious light, their beauty vivid and dazzling—they swept through the curtain and filled the hall with radiant brilliance.

Today, Baoyu felt his sisters were especially enchanting; suddenly, it struck him like a sudden revelation—he understood why their complexion had changed so remarkably.

He had once despised Jia Cong for leaving young to fight, for being a shameless, vulgar, ostentatious corrupt official with not a shred of purity or tranquility—but now he realized it wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

Let this corrupt official go off to war—it’s better he’s not here to sully the sisters. Now I can be near them more freely, with no one to disturb or annoy me.

Since the sisters haven’t seen Jia Cong in a long time, I’m the one who’s always around them; thus, they’re kept away from his filth and can truly appreciate my purity and virtue.

…

Once Baoyu fully grasped this logic, the grief and shame he’d felt over Jia Cong’s departure as a general vanished completely.

His heart swelled with gratitude and joy—he knew heaven itself knew he was born with a jade in his mouth, extraordinary and unmatched.

After all, heaven still cared for him, arranging this twisted path to grant him such an opportunity.

Baoyu thought of how, after the fifteenth of the first month, he would enter the Imperial Academy to study—though he was deeply unwilling, he had no choice.

But now he reconsidered: Father had just finished his ten-day holiday and would be returning to the office, leaving early and returning late.

He would no longer have the chance to supervise me closely—how convenient!

Though going to the Imperial Academy was unavoidable, I’ll just pretend to study; I’ll return home early every day after class, and with Jia Cong gone from both mansions, I’ll gain much freedom.

He smiled and said, “Grandmother, since Brother Cong has left for war, there’s less of him at home in both mansions.

The sisters find it dull over in the Eastern Mansion—they should come here more often to keep you company.

After the fifteenth, I’ll enter the Imperial Academy, but I’ll come back every day after class to chat with you. The sisters will all gather together—won’t that make things livelier for you?”

Jia Mu laughed. “That’s certainly best—I love a lively household.

You two girls, come every day. Since Cong-ge is away, staying cooped up at home is boring.”

…

Upon hearing Baoyu’s words, Yingchun and the other sisters all frowned; Tan Chun even wrinkled her brow.

In the past, she had still cared for Baoyu, since they were siblings of the same father; she hoped he would strive, get along with the sisters, and avoid gossip.

But Baoyu’s absurd behavior, his repeated provocations, and his self-satisfied, twisted speech had left her deeply disappointed.

Added to that, Lady Wang’s cold, cruel face, her whippings and abuse, devoid of any warmth—her heart had long grown cold.

Now, seeing Baoyu’s performative words, she felt a surge of revulsion—could he really think his sisters were fools?

Who couldn’t hear the hidden meaning? He resented Third Brother and wished him gone, so he could more easily get close to the sisters.

Second Sister dotes on her own brother; Lin-jie cares deeply for Third Brother—how could they not understand? How could they not be disgusted by him?

Baoyu will marry in March; his concubine is already pregnant. He’s a grown man, yet still scheming to loiter among the sisters—truly…

If he truly understood human relations and had even a fraction of Third Brother’s wit, he’d know to keep such words to himself, lest he draw more attention and make himself look worse.

…

Baoyu’s words dripped with self-satisfaction and false warmth—he felt he had grown worldly, his speech now more polished.

Yingchun, however, disliked it intensely—Jia Cong hadn’t even left yet, and Baoyu was already eager for him to go. How could my Cong-di be treated this way? What kind of logic is this?

She smiled and said, “Brother Bao, your words are mistaken. Though Cong-di is about to depart for war,

our daily routines remain unchanged even when he’s away—we rise early to pay respects to Grandmother, and if she’s in good spirits, she invites us to stay for meals.

We read, drink tea, play chess, sew—we each have our own joys within the inner chambers.

We shouldn’t trouble Grandmother all day long, disturbing her peace and health.

Brother Bao, now that you’re entering the Imperial Academy, you’ll find it hard to come and go freely. Your studies must come first.”

Baoyu’s heart sank as if doused in cold water, yet he still refused to give up.

He said, “Second Sister, your words have merit, but you’ve misunderstood.

I’ve studied for years in the Jia clan school—when lessons were held, we had a day off every five days. Though we had daily assignments, we finished by sunset.

Old Master Dairu sometimes let us study on our own, pondering the texts. Though studying is hard, it’s not so rigid that we can’t catch our breath.

The Imperial Academy is the court’s own school—it naturally teaches according to individual aptitude, and is a place of openness and harmony.

How could it be as cramped as you say? Daily visits are certainly no problem.”

…

Baochai, hearing Baoyu’s words, found his intentions utterly vile.

He was merely taking advantage of Jia Cong’s departure to flirt more with the sisters—a married man who has no shame.

She recalled her mother’s private warning: Baoyu had been moved out of the Western Mansion because he had done indecent things with women from the outer household.

The thought made her nauseous—Jia Cong’s proper household had been tainted by Baoyu’s filth.

She had been about to refute Baoyu’s words, but remembering her mother’s warning, she felt sickened and refused to speak to him further.

Shi Xiangyun had learned yesterday that Jia Cong was about to depart for war—her heart was filled with longing and reluctance.

She hadn’t slept well last night, and dared not show a trace of it before others, lest she die of shame.

Hearing Baoyu’s self-satisfied words, daring to secretly undermine Third Brother, her unease turned to blazing fury, burning fiercely in her belly.

Though Shi Xiangyun was bold and forthright, she had been raised in a noble household, steeped in etiquette and restraint, and knew the proper bounds of speech.

Today, Baoyu had not provoked her directly, so she could not launch a sudden attack—especially with Grandmother, Lady Wang, and other elders present—she could only swallow half her anger.

But Baoyu dared to sideline Third Brother—Xiangyun could not let this pass.

No one knew where this girl’s fury came from.

Perhaps it was that day when Baoyu stirred her emotions—her youthful blood, uncontrollable, had inexplicably kindled feelings for Jia Cong, whom she had once joked with without restraint.

Now, before Third Brother, she couldn’t speak loudly or look at him too long; even her closest friend, Xing Xiuyan, she dared not confide in.

After all, Xing Xiuyan was Third Brother’s future bride—how could she confess her feelings for her husband? Would she even have the face to live?

Yet Jia Cong treated her exactly as he did the other sisters—with no special affection—making Xiangyun feel even more wounded and resentful.

The girl, newly awakened to love, perhaps unconsciously blamed Baoyu, the instigator, and her anger naturally turned toward him for venting.

…

But the girl hadn’t lost her composure—she smiled and said, “It’s not Second Sister who’s mistaken—it’s Second Brother who’s wrong.

You’ve always studied in the Jia clan school, where the elders knew your noble status and treated you gently, never being too strict.

How can that compare to the Imperial Academy? The two places are worlds apart in learning and discipline.”

Tan Chun, hearing this, remembered the day Xiangyun had argued with Baoyu—she knew Xiangyun was about to rebuke him again.

She found it strange—why had Xiangyun been so irritable lately, always lashing out at Baoyu? What was the reason…?

Xiangyun continued, “My elder brothers both received hereditary admission quotas and now study at the Imperial Academy—I know its inner workings best.

Classes begin after half past seven every day, teaching the Four Books and Five Classics to new students, with holidays only on the first and fifteenth of each month—all other days require attendance.

Students may not leave class without cause; if there’s an urgent need, they must petition the Dean, submit a written leave request, and only then may they depart—otherwise, they face disciplinary punishment.

Each day, instructors and professors lecture, review, test recitation, and assign rotating lessons, giving daily written assignments for inspection the next day.

Each month, there’s a written exam: one question on the classics, one on the meaning of texts, and two each on imperial edicts, proclamations, memorials, policy essays, legal judgments, and internal affairs.

After each monthly exam, rankings are posted publicly at the start of the month, praising the excellent and urging the lazy to improve.

Beyond daily study of the Four Books and Five Classics, students must write two hundred characters daily, reviewed and corrected by professors—because in the imperial examinations, calligraphy is the foremost requirement.

There are many other strange, peculiar rules—altogether, it’s extremely tedious.

Classes are held in morning and afternoon sessions; if you fail to meet standards, you’re kept after class for extra lessons.

My elder brothers, when they entered the Imperial Academy, were worn down terribly—if their studies lagged, the Academy notified their families.

My two elder brothers study far worse than Third Brother—they’re often beaten black and blue by Uncle Two and Uncle Three.

My eldest brother fares better; my third brother suffers worse, because Uncle Three is a military general—he has many creative ways to beat his sons, and he never holds back.

I still find it strange that Third Brother hasn’t been beaten to death after all these years—he’s still alive and well…”

…

Baochai knew Xiangyun’s talent was outstanding, among the best of the sisters—her memory and knowledge were exceptional.

This torrent of speech, delivered like a catalog of household treasures, grew sharper and more pointed, clearly with ill intent.

She stole a glance at Baoyu’s face—his round cheeks had turned deathly pale, his eyes filled with terror; she couldn’t help but twitch her lips, barely holding back a laugh.

Yet Xiangyun’s voice rang clear and melodious, like a golden oriole singing without pause.

She continued, “With such rigorous studies at the Imperial Academy, how can Second Brother still come to the Western Mansion every day after class to pay respects and chat with the sisters?”