Chapter 492: Those Near Ink Turn Black—Yet a Lotus Can Still Bloom!

Xie Yuan led the group back to the Second Courtyard.

Zhang Yuzhi returned to the western annex of the Second Courtyard.

Though she was merely a guest here, she strictly adhered to propriety, never overstepping bounds, never entering the men's resting quarters—no man and woman alone in one room, strictly observing the rites of Da Qi.

In Da Qi, the lives of unmarried noble daughters were far from the simplistic image of mere grooming, chess and tea, music, calligraphy, painting, poetry, and verse.

They had to master household management: not only how to direct servants, but also how to invest, purchase, and oversee the family's shops and estates scattered across the land.

All of this was preparation for their future role as heads of the family.

Notably, the personal maids of these high-born ladies were carefully selected and trained, each proficient in arithmetic and social dealings, indispensable right hands to their mistresses.

Only ordinary families say, "Rather marry a servant from a great house than a daughter from a minor one"—the maids of great houses often possessed greater insight, connections, and ability than daughters of humble families.

Of course, in this world of cultivation, daughters of the Nine Surnames with cultivation potential were nurtured by their clans.

In Da Qi, the cultivation paths of noble family heirs typically branched into two.

One path was through scholarly cultivation: entering academies or entering court to govern through literature.

The other was martial training: strengthening the body, then joining the military to establish oneself through martial prowess.

Xie Ling, the eldest uncle of the Xie family, chose the latter; the second uncle, Xie Hong, took the former path.

At this moment!

Xie Yuan headed straight for the study hall—returning home to read had become his unshakable habit.

Mainly because this younger brother, Xie Guan, studied with extraordinary diligence and possessed an eidetic memory.

How remarkable!

Xie Yuan said nothing outwardly, but after returning home, he would light a lamp and study deep into the night.

As the saying goes, the slow bird flies early; diligence compensates for lack of talent.

Of course, Xie Yuan, proud of his intelligence, would never admit this.

He would say aloud, "I merely enjoy reading at night."

Among the retinue of scholars, some resided permanently in the Xie Fu, others rented homes in Bianjing.

Know that land in Bianjing was exorbitantly priced—each inch of earth worth its weight in gold; perhaps after saving for years, one could not afford even a single latrine.

Thus, renting became their primary choice.

A tutor was left outside the study hall in case Xie Yuan had questions.

Xie Yuan found it troublesome, so he noted his doubts and asked them all together the next day.

The entertainers also departed, leaving only a few trusted servants guarding the door.

Xie Hou'er, accompanied by two or three servants, waited by the door; the light from within cast the young master's silhouette against the window.

For the transformation this young master had undergone in the past half-year, the servant's heart swelled with joy.

Reading, after all, was a good thing.

The world says: within books lie golden houses, within books lie beauties as fair as jade.

Yet the young master lacked neither golden houses nor jade beauties.

Xie Hou'er did not believe reading was useful!

He had never seen a servant rise to prominence through reading; scholarly knowledge could not be sold for silver.

Benevolence and righteousness weighed no more than a few catties!

Yet recently, his thoughts about this young master, Xie Yuan, had changed.

Perhaps reading truly could lead to advancement.

Xie Hou'er took from his sleeve a copy of the "Zuo Commentary on the Four States"—formerly he had always hidden in his sleeve the "Plum Blossom Manual," a chess manual.

The young master loved chess, so he did it to please him.

Now that the young master loved reading, he too began studying Confucian classics.

Outside the room, lanterns burned brightly.

Xie Hou'er was greatly favored by both Xie Yuan and Lady Zhuge; his words carried more weight than those of ordinary stewards.

At this moment!

He sat down on the steps, slowly opened the book, and began reading earnestly, soon becoming immersed.

At some point, a gentle voice sounded beside his ear:

"Those near vermilion turn red; those near ink turn black. Confucians advocate moral cultivation. I never thought I'd witness it firsthand today."

Xie Hou'er snapped back to awareness, his face paled, and he hurriedly rose to bow:

"Madam!"

Before him stood two figures side by side: one was Xie Yuan's mother, Lady Zhuge; the other, a middle-aged man in Confucian robes, dignified in appearance, with a fine beard, his face slightly pale but his eyes gentle.

Xie Hou'er dared not delay, quickly tucked the book into his sleeve, and bowed: "Master Jingyue."

The middle-aged man nodded slightly; his features bore a resemblance to Xie Yuan's. He was Xie Yuan's maternal uncle, Zhuge Jian, Lady Zhuge's younger brother, and a great Confucian scholar of the age.

Xie Hou'er, trembling with awe, said: "Your servant did not know the madam had come, and was negligent…"

Zhuge Jian softly interrupted: "This place must be silent."

An invisible barrier appeared; Xie Hou'er felt something pass through his body.

This was… the Confucian's word becomes law.

Word becomes Law!

This was a cultivation ability attained only after reaching the deepest levels of Confucian practice.

Zhuge Jian's gaze turned inward, through the window, seeing Xie Yuan's shadow cast against the sill—the boy seemed to be biting his brush, swaying his head as he drowned in the sea of books.

Silence here, lest he disturb Xie Yuan.

Zhuge Jian's lips curled into a smile; he turned to Xie Hou'er and said: "No need to hide your reading henceforth—reading is a noble, open pursuit, no need to conceal it."

Xie Hou'er was stunned with delight.

Lady Zhuge's face also beamed; she waved at Xie Hou'er, signaling it was nothing.

"Not your fault. Go. Tomorrow, collect your reward from the accounting office."

Xie Hou'er departed, overjoyed.

Lady Zhuge was naturally delighted by her brother's rare visit—Zhuge Jian was her full brother, and their bond was exceptionally close.

In the past, when the Xie family had made Yuan Fu ren the principal wife, Zhuge Jian had been furious, even fought a duel with Xie Ling.

Though he ultimately lost, he had left Xie Ling humiliated and disgraced.

Zhuge Jian had studied for years in the academy, a favored disciple of the Third Master, the orthodox heir of the Master's lineage, a true disciple of the Master.

Originally, he never set foot in court, residing instead in a thatched hut by Jingyue Lake in Bianjing, known to the people as "Jingyue Master."

Now he had openly entered court, becoming a Grand Secretary in the Imperial Cabinet, advising on military affairs, holding high rank and great power.

His arrival at the Xie Fu had prompted even the old matriarch to personally greet him.

Lady Zhuge was immensely proud, and so she insisted Zhuge Jian stay several more days, ostensibly to guide Xie Yuan's studies.

Zhuge Jian had no children of his own, and treated Xie Yuan as his own son.

Lady Zhuge said: "Jian-di, what do you mean by 'those near ink turn black'?"

Zhuge Jian smiled: "Xie Yuan's reading has inspired his servant to read—this is precisely the Confucian virtue of moral cultivation."

"When poor, cultivate oneself; when prosperous, benefit all under heaven."

Lady Zhuge's smile deepened—praising her child always brought her great joy.

Zhuge Jian asked curiously: "Xie Yuan, how is it that in just half a year, he has changed so much?"

"Before, he would look at books and feel as if drugged—immediately falling asleep. Now, how has he turned around?"

Lady Zhuge eagerly recounted the past half-year's events: Xie Yuan's chess matches and wagers with Xie Guan.

Zhuge Jian was not hearing Xie Guan's name for the first time—Xie Yuan had mentioned him often these past days.

After listening carefully, Zhuge Jian sighed:

"So the source lies here!"

"Did an immortal tap his skull?"

"Can a lotus bloom even in this filthy courtyard!"

I had planned to finish this scene, but writing on my phone outside was too noisy, and across from me sat a woman in black stockings, legs crossed, constantly switching left to right—I, a proper gentleman, was certainly unaffected, it was just that my phone ran out of battery!

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(End of Chapter)