The night breeze was chilling, blowing directly at the side of the desk. Yan Dong shrank his neck but didn’t bother to order the window to be closed. Instead, he stared intently at the person behind the desk, urging impatiently, “I’m asking you a question!”
“I heard you.” Yan Song continued to write without looking up, instructing someone to close the window. “You’ve already used tracking and investigation methods, do you still need to ask me? I thought you had gained a lot.”
Indeed, it couldn’t be hidden, but Yan Dong detected a hint of teasing in his tone, which made his guilty conscience dissipate. He pouted, tapping his fingers on the edge of the desk, “I couldn’t help it, and seeing it with my own eyes is never as good as hearing it from you.”
He displayed his defenseless and bottomless lack of vigilance, leaning forward to try and see Yan Song’s expression while weaving a tall hat with just the right amount of intimacy and expectation—
“After all, big brother wouldn’t lie to me, right?”
The pen paused, and Yan Song looked up to meet those innocent yet cunning eyes. After a moment of silence, he said, “I am not fond of Song Fengmian.”
He didn’t put on that tall hat, but this answer temporarily pleased Yan Dong. The young master was satisfied, beaming with joy, and immediately took over Chang Qingqing’s task of serving the heir apparent with ink and paper.
Yan Song glanced at the person circling the desk wagging his tail and shook his head slightly, “Go back and rest early.”
“I’m not sleepy. I’ll keep you company for a while longer.” Yan Dong took the stack of documents Chang Qingqing brought in and neatly placed them on the Zitan Liu Yan-patterned bookshelf against the wall by the window.
Seeing that the young master wasn’t leaving for the time being, Chang Qingqing brought in a rosewood chair, placed it in front of the desk, and padded it with a cushion, making it warm and comfortable.
Yan Dong plopped down, pulled out a plain piece of paper, and selected a small bamboo pen from the Xiang bamboo pen holder to start writing.
He had a habit of keeping a daily record since childhood, choosing seasonal or trendy floral paper, sometimes writing a few words, sometimes long passages, occasionally inserting a flower or leaf, and usually adding a small drawing to express his current mood or to prepare for future reckoning.
At this moment, Yan Song glanced up and recognized the title of Yan Dong’s daily record for today as “Big Brother’s Scandalous Rumors,” with the word “rumors” circled in red, highlighting it as a “crime.”
Yan Song chuckled.
Yan Dong immediately looked up at him, “What’s so funny? It’s in black and white. If I ever find out you lied to me, I’ll take this and confront you in court!”
Yan Song appeared unafraid, “Do you want me to sign and seal it later?”
“Yes,” Yan Dong pushed his luck, “and I want your private seal too.”
Yan Song dragged out his response, “Alright.”
Yan Dong hummed contentedly and continued writing diligently.
The night was peaceful, the candlelight dim, and the room was filled with the silent scent of herbs and wood. Both pens were busy at the desk.
“Plop,” suddenly, the small bamboo pen fell onto the desk, and the previously adamant Yan Dong, who claimed he wasn’t sleepy, nodded off, resting his head on the desk.
This scene, this situation, Yan Song had seen countless times since childhood. He used the brush’s hanging string to gently scrape Yan Dong’s cheek, eliciting a sticky “hmm,” like a cat.
Yan Dong scratched his face, wrinkled his nose, but didn’t wake up.
Yan Song smiled and called Chang Qingqing in, speaking softly, “Prepare the young master’s bedroom.”
Chang Qingqing responded and quietly retreated.
Although Yan Dong had moved out, his old bedroom was still cleaned daily, occasionally welcoming its former owner. Now, it only needed a lamp lit, incense burned, and a thick quilt replaced.
Yan Song picked up Yan Dong, who had become lighter over the days of turmoil. As he left the room, he instructed Chang Qingqing, “Bring the medicine over.”
Chang Qingqing went to fulfill the order.
Yan Song carried Yan Dong into the bedroom, gently and skillfully removing the fur-lined cloak, revealing the snow-white inner garments, and took the hot towel to wipe Yan Dong’s face. Suddenly, he said, “Lift your face.”
Eyelashes fluttered, and Yan Dong opened one eye, meeting Yan Song’s gaze for a moment before opening the other eye, clarifying, “I just woke up, not pretending to make you exert effort.”
Saying this, he lifted his chin, making it easier for Yan Song to wipe his chin and neck, still acting like a spoiled, dependent child.
Yan Song was rather cold, “Then go back to sleep on your own.”
“No, no, I’m already here.” Yan Dong rolled over and burrowed into the quilt, turning his back to Yan Song, playing coy, “I’m asleep!”
“Slippery,” Yan Song patted Yan Dong’s lower back through the quilt, “Drink the medicine before sleeping.”
Yan Dong didn’t respond, already truly asleep, even snoring twice.
Yan Song’s lips curled slightly, not in a hurry. When Chang Qingqing brought the medicine bowl, he took it and said, “Dongdong.”
His tone was light, but it was unmistakably a command, and Yan Dong “woke up” immediately, sitting up and staring bitterly at the medicine bowl in Yan Song’s hand.
Yan Dong had been afraid of taking medicine since childhood. Back then, Yan Song would always taste it first, and unless it was unbearably bitter, he would patiently coax him into drinking it. This habit from childhood hadn’t changed as he grew up. Yan Song took a sip from the medicine bowl, saying, “It’s not hot, and not very bitter. Drink it.”
“Oh.” Yan Dong took the small bowl, took a deep breath, and downed it in one go, “Ugh—”
His tongue was sweetened by a spoonful of osmanthus honey fed by Yan Song.
The osmanthus honey was potent, and Yan Dong’s face sweetened along with it. He leaned closer to Yan Song’s hand, asking for another spoonful.
When Yan Dong asked for a third spoonful, Yan Song raised his hand, handing the honey jar to the attendant, and with the other hand, he held the waist of Yan Dong, who was reaching for the honey jar. Yan Dong’s face fell, staring at him resentfully. Yan Song chuckled, tapping the eager palm, “Still glaring?”
Yan Dong’s palm itched, so he put both hands behind his back, muttering something inaudible to himself.
“What are you mumbling?” Yan Song pinched his face, teasing him like dough, finally saying with a smile, “Alright, wash up and sleep early. If you can get up tomorrow morning, join me for breakfast.”
Yan Dong immediately said, “I can get up! I want osmanthus porridge tomorrow morning.”
“Alright.” Yan Song released him and left the room.
Chang Qingqing handed the toothbrush dipped in tooth powder to Yan Dong, “So, is our investigation team disbanded?”
The tooth powder was made from dragon brain, frankincense, and green salt ground into powder and mixed with cooked honey into a paste, with a suitable taste. Yan Dong brushed his teeth, his cheeks puffing, and said vaguely, “I have other plans.”
Yan Song returned to the study, ready to finish the remaining official duties. When he reached the desk, he saw Yan Dong’s daily record still spread out there.
He picked it up and looked at it. The events were recorded in detail, like a fair little judge with a pen, except for the ending, which had a drawing titled “Yan Dong Whipping Interrogation,” showing the little judge’s personal emotions.
“Criminal Yan Song, if you dare to deceive this official, you will not be spared lightly!” The official-clad Yan Dong wielded a whip, looking serious. The little guy had ambition, even in the drawing, he had to dress himself in a purple robe with a jade belt.
Looking at the drawing of Yan Song, the artist couldn’t bear to put him in prison clothes, depicting him in a large-sleeved robe, looking sincere, but the artist had already gone to dreamland and didn’t have the chance to finish the words.
Chang Qingqing entered the room, saying, “There’s a reply from Luzhou, all matters regarding Song Fengmian’s whereabouts have been handled.”
“Your honor, every word I say is true”—Yan Song wrote a reply for the drawing of himself, using a dark brown agate private seal, “Did they move?”
The seal was translucent under the candlelight, like Yan Dong’s eyes.
Chang Qingqing seemed not to notice the heir apparent using a private seal to humor his brother, remaining serious, “They moved, several groups are probing your travel route this time.”
Yan Song looked at the lively little figures on the paper, his lips slightly upturned, “Then let them be busy.”
Outside, the night wind howled like ghosts, and the “Golden Jade Full House” in the courtyard rustled, as if actors were swarming onto the stage with gongs and drums.
Behind the thick Liu Yan carved window, Yan Dong heard nothing, sleeping peacefully through the night.
The next morning, Yan Dong indeed got up early, in time to have breakfast with Yan Song.
Yan Song always ate only seventy percent full, and when Yan Dong was having his second bowl of osmanthus porridge, he had already put down his chopsticks, reading today’s “Yongjing Gazette.”
Unlike the “Cheng’an Gazette,” which was used to publish and convey official decrees, the “Yongjing Gazette” was printed and sold by the public, with several different versions, mainly conveying popular anecdotes and stories, commonly known as—gossip.
Yan Song was never interested in these trivial stories before, but Yan Dong liked them, often pestering him to talk about this family’s scandal or that family’s haunting, and gradually, he developed the habit of glancing at them during leisure.
“Big brother, anything new today?” Yan Dong picked up a fish bun.
“‘Shocking! Young Master He ordered a seven-colored dress at Jinxiu Workshop, gifting it to Miss Jiaxi, the cousin of the Yongjing Prefecture Magistrate. Are they a perfect match, with good news on the horizon?!’” Yan Song read expressionlessly, without any fluctuation in his voice.
Yan Dong spat, “A toad wanting to eat swan meat, truly disgusting.”
Although the Prefecture Magistrate often had differing political views with Yan Song, their relationship wasn’t harmonious, but Wang Jiaxi was Yan Dong’s classmate and friend. He Shen’s interest in Wang Jiaxi wasn’t new, and despite being rejected multiple times, he didn’t restrain himself. Now, even gifting a dress had to be made known to everyone, with ill intentions, Yan Dong looked down on him.
Yan Song glanced at the frowning person drinking porridge, “You care a lot?”
“Of course!” Yan Dong said, “Jiafu is my friend. If a friend is in trouble, can I just ignore it?”
He affectionately called the girl by her nickname, feeling indignant as if it were only right, and Yan Song closed the bamboo report frame, saying calmly, “Do well on the exam tomorrow.”
Why suddenly talk about the exam? Oh, Yan Dong quickly realized this was a warning not to cause trouble with He Shen at the National Academy tomorrow.
He agreed, then preemptively negotiated, “If someone insists on provoking me, I can’t just let them bully me, right?”
Yan Song didn’t respond, and Yan Dong couldn’t help but temporarily agree with those who said his big brother was hard to read, with unpredictable moods. Why did he suddenly become so cold?
Sigh.
Big brother’s heart, a needle at the bottom of the sea.
“Alright, alright, I will really do well on the exam.” Yan Dong coaxed, clinging, “If I get first place, is there a reward, brother?”
Yan Song glanced at him, “What do you want?”
“Haven’t thought about it yet, just remember it for now.”
“Alright, as you wish.”
Although Yan Dong was pampered, he never neglected important matters. From childhood to adulthood, getting first place wasn’t rare for him. Among his current classmates, only Yu Zhaoying was a rival.
Yu Zhaoying didn’t think about getting first place to ask for a reward. The next day, when he heard Yan Dong talk about the “brotherly agreement,” he said, “Do you want me to go easy on you, give you a break?”
“No need, this young master has both means and strength.” Yan Dong played with Yu Zhaoying’s folding fan. This person frequently changed the fan surface, but other accessories were rarely changed. The gold-riveted fan bones and black iron fan handle were heavy in hand and painful when used to hit someone.
Yu Zhaoying laughed, “Then I wish our young master to win the top spot.”
Every time, Hou Yi could write an astonishingly absurd essay that made the professors exclaim in disbelief and mark “poor, poor, poor” in large letters. He squeezed into Yan Dong’s seat without joining the conversation. He yawned, staring at the locust tree by the redwood arch bridge in the distance, when suddenly his vision darkened—
“Want some walnut milk?” A blue-robed girl hung upside down from the window eaves, placing a food box on the window, “I made it myself, full of sincerity, bringing you warmth to the bone on this cold winter day!”
Yan Dong took the food box, opened it, and took out a bottle of walnut milk, sniffing it, “Smells good—worthy of the future culinary god of Yongjing.”
Hou Yi dismantled, “The bottle is sealed so tightly, where did you smell it from?”
“Smart people can perceive everything with their hearts. Of course,” Yan Dong said with pity, “you’ll never experience this level in your lifetime.”
Hou Yi smiled slightly, and the two of them playfully slapped each other’s hands three hundred times.
Yu Zhaoying opened the stopper, took a small sip, nodded in approval, and said to the girl, “Professor Xu is probably arriving soon. If you don’t come down, he’ll spit three thousand words at your ear again.”
Wang Jiaxi shivered all over, quickly flipping down to the ground, “I’m afraid of that little old man, I’m leaving first! Let’s go together after class, have hot pot tonight?”
The young master Yan played with the jade pendant of fish playing in water, indicating that he would treat tonight, celebrating in advance for getting first place. Wang Jiaxi smiled and congratulated him in advance, returning to the elegant society.
The National Academy used to be only for boys, with girls mostly studying at home, hiring teachers to come and teach, until the seventeenth year of Cheng’an, when Princess Rong Hua petitioned to allow girls to attend school.
At that time, opinions were like chaff, flying everywhere. Not to mention those who disapproved of girls studying more, many believed that boys and girls studying together was unheard of, especially since they were all young men and women. If any trouble arose, it would be a laughingstock.
Officials submitted petitions opposing it, or watched from the sidelines, and the emperor was undecided, asking the then Assistant Minister of Rites, Yan Shizi. Yan Shizi didn’t say whether it should or shouldn’t be, only saying, “The youth of the nation should study diligently and think deeply, either not wasting their youth or aspiring high.”
Youth, both young men and young women.
The emperor nodded in agreement, ordering the Ministry of Rites to organize it. Since then, a new school was established in the National Academy, named “Elegant Society” by Yan Shizi, with a plaque personally inscribed by Princess Rong Hua, hanging high in the hall.
As a fellow woman, Wang Jiaxi admired Princess Rong Hua, but her ambition wasn’t to become a talented woman, but in fragrant drinks and pastries. She came to the Elegant Society, firstly to study and understand, and secondly for—
“Jiaxi!”
A sudden shout interrupted Wang Jiaxi’s thoughts. She looked up at the person coming, her brows slightly furrowed, perfunctorily cupping her hands, “Young Master He.”
“Hey, in the academy, there’s only the friendship of classmates, no difference in status.” He Shen walked up to Wang Jiaxi, smiling, “Do you like the dress I sent you?”
Wang Jiaxi took a step back, creating distance, “I had it sent back to Jinxiu Workshop. Didn’t you know, Young Master?”
He Shen’s smile faltered slightly, and someone behind him quickly said, “Miss Wang, Young Master He is sincere. How can you bear to let him down?”
“I can’t bear Young Master’s sincerity. Moreover, if your so-called sincerity were even half good, you wouldn’t repeatedly ignore my refusals, not considering our reputations at all.” Wang Jiaxi, tired of the harassment, tried to leave, but He Shen stepped forward to block her, “You—”
Seeing her peach-like cheeks tense and almond eyes slightly glaring, He Shen found her eyes clear and adorable, and couldn’t help but lower his stance, speaking affectionately and indulgently, “What reputation? Your parents won’t be dissatisfied with me. As long as I propose, what’s there to fear? I know you like cooking. Rest assured, if you marry me, I’ll build you a magnificent kitchen, and you can make pastries for me every day. I promise I won’t get tired of it!”
Wang Jiaxi: “…”
Heh.
She had no strength left to argue, sidestepping to leave, but He Shen wouldn’t let go, and they started pulling at each other.
The group of young men behind He Shen watched from the sidelines, someone joking, “Oh, Young Master, you should be more lenient with your future wife.”
“What do you know? Young Master is just asserting his authority in advance.”
Listening to these ambiguous jokes, Wang Jiaxi felt disgusted. Although she had learned some self-defense moves from a female teacher before, her skills were only mediocre. Climbing walls and small scuffles were her forte, but fighting someone like He Shen, who had practiced martial arts since childhood, was beyond her. Moreover, her strength was no match for the much taller and stronger He Shen, and during the struggle, her face turned red to the roots of her neck.
Suddenly, He Shen in front of her let out a scream and released his grip.
Wang Jiaxi quickly stepped back, crossing her arms defensively in front of her, glaring at He Shen warily. However, he was in no mood to bother her anymore, clutching his forehead and picking up the bone tile from the ground, glaring ahead, “Who threw that! Do you want to die!”
“Oh, sorry,” a clear and pleasant voice, Wang Jiaxi looked towards the sound, and Yan Dong was standing on the redwood arch bridge ahead, smiling innocently, “I accidentally slipped. Young Master, could you pick it up for me?”
Slipped so far, who are you kidding!
He Shen’s eyes were bloodshot, and he threw the tile on the ground, “Yan Dong! Damn it, it’s you again!”