That Master Cao had long since realized he had no hope of passing the civil service exams and becoming an official. To support his family, he reluctantly agreed—if paid a few silver coins—to teach young children from wealthy households. Over the years, he had become highly skilled in his “fixed curriculum method,” able to recite it effortlessly.
Yet, when he applied this method to the Huai brothers, it failed completely. The books and lessons that normally took him six months to teach were finished by Huai and Jin in just over a month. Cao was forced to rush through the material continuously.
It was as if, ironically, he—the teacher—was being driven forward by two elementary school students. Naturally, it was frustrating.
After all, he was only doing this to make a living. Teaching anyone would have sufficed. Why not take on an average student, go through the lessons at a normal pace, and enjoy some peace of mind?
Thus, Cao decided to resign and submitted his request to Lord Pei.
When this reached Master Ge, the other tutor, he laughed dismissively and teased, “He just wants an easier life.” Each to their own, it didn’t really matter.
After Cao left, the Pei household did not find a suitable replacement immediately. For the time being, the Huai brothers had no choice but to memorize their lessons on their own. After finishing the Analects, they began memorizing Mencius.
Meanwhile, at the Xu household, Sister Lian had learned about her younger sister’s recent confrontation with the stepmother. She was both angry and frustrated.
Sister Lian was now living well in the Xu household. Her husband had achieved his degree, her mother-in-law treated her kindly, and her son Yan Gui was clever and lively. She genuinely appreciated all that Lin had done for her.
She had taken the time to visit her maternal home and speak with Lin, explaining that Sister Lan had always been headstrong and spoiled. She hoped Lin would not dwell on her mistakes.
“She hasn’t really done anything wrong. It was my fault for being careless; my words caused her misunderstanding,” Lin said lightly, though her expression showed some inner difficulty. She sighed gently, “But when it comes to Lan’s marriage, I won’t be able to intervene much anymore.”
Children’s marriages were usually arranged by parents or matchmakers. Lin’s words revealed her stance clearly: she would neither manage nor interfere with Lan’s future marriage.
Over the years, Lan had never returned Lin’s care or consideration, leaving Lin’s heart somewhat cold.
Lin held Sister Lian’s hand. “Lian’er, you know me well after all these years. I never rushed to marry her off. But regarding Lan’s marriage in the future, I may need your help as the eldest sister. Perhaps you can keep an eye out among her husband’s peers and help make suitable matches… You know she listens to you above all else; if you approve, it will surely be right.”
Sister Lian lowered her eyes. She understood her stepmother’s meaning and the difficulty behind it. After a moment of silence, she looked up and said, “I’ll take care of it, so Mother doesn’t have to worry.”
After leaving the Chaolu Courtyard, Sister Lian had originally intended to visit her younger sister, but her anger and frustration grew as she thought about the situation. She flung her wide sleeves and returned directly to the Xu household—her disappointment clear.
On the eighth day of the third lunar month, the Pei family’s theater had completed its expansion. Behind the main gate, a courtyard for performances had been added, and the theater reopened. Business improved noticeably.
Once operations stabilized, Lin finally had a chance to rest for a couple of days. On this day, she suggested to the matriarch, “Old Ancestress, the theater has hired a new troupe. They’re performing contemporary plays instead of the old classics. Recently, they’ve been performing the popular The Purple Hairpin. Why don’t we all go and enjoy it together?”
At this, Miss Zhu and Miss Ying were the first to get excited. Being younger, they were naturally more playful. Several maids and attendants could hardly hide their joy.
The matriarch chuckled. “Then let’s follow your idea and enjoy ourselves.”
While the troupe could have performed in the Pei mansion itself, Lin chose to go out. Partly to show everyone the grandeur of the new theater, and partly to enjoy the lively atmosphere.
She joked, “I’ve reserved the best private room. Today, no matter who pays the most, they won’t beat us to it.”
For the young ladies and young masters of the household, going to the theater wasn’t a big deal, but it still required preparation. Aunt Shen, taking responsibility, prepared to accompany them.
Sister Lan, with her proud nature, initially did not want to go. But upon hearing that The Purple Hairpin was being performed—a tragic, twisted love story of a talented scholar and a gifted lady—she reluctantly agreed.
As night fell, lanterns were lit across the theater. The musicians entered first, playing small interludes as the audience gradually filled the seats. Attendants served tea and water.
The matriarch and her family sat in the central private room, chatting quietly while waiting for the performance to start.
As the drumbeats intensified, several large mirrors focused the light on the stage. The actors entered one by one… and the show began.
The Purple Hairpin told the story of the scholar Li Yi and Huo Xiaoyu, who fell in love through a purple jade hairpin. After Li Yi passed the imperial examination, he was repeatedly sabotaged by the Grand Minister, separating the lovers. Suspicion and longing ensued… but after many twists, misunderstandings were cleared, and they reunited. Li Yi’s official career later progressed smoothly.
During the stage scenes of Farewell at Yangguan and Crossing the Ba Bridge, the audience was deeply moved. Every female member of the Pei family discreetly wiped tears, especially Sister Lan, who wept as if she herself were Huo Xiaoyu, lovesick and heartbroken.
Only Huai showed little interest. Having witnessed a wide array of later-world entertainments, the classic scholar-and-beauty story held little appeal. He inwardly mocked himself—having never experienced love, he naturally could not relate.
What kept him watching was the singers’ melodious voices, the exquisite makeup, the precise movements, and the meticulous stage design.
Sitting beside Miss Ying, Huai occasionally sensed a gaze toward him. But scanning the dim private rooms, he saw nothing. He decided it was probably his imagination.
After the first performance ended, the audience wanted more. The troupe then performed Parting at Lin’an, another tragic story that drew tears.
After the show, late at night, Miss Ying and Miss Zhu remained excited, discussing the plot. Servants had already prepared the carriages.
Unexpectedly, the carriage ride caused trouble. One carriage had already been taken by Lord Pei, forcing Sister Lan to ride with others. Still offended by Ying’s previous confrontation, she refused to ride with her younger sisters.
In the end, Huai and Jin rode with her.
The carriage atmosphere was awkward. Huai initiated conversation with Jin. “How did you like the play tonight?”
“Not bad,” Jin replied. “But one thing—both plays were about talented scholars and beauties, and the scholars all became top-ranking officials. If I didn’t know the difficulty of studying, I’d think passing exams was easy for anyone.”
Huai explained, “These plays were written by scholars, naturally favoring scholars.”
Their banter drew a scoff from Sister Lan, who mocked, “You two know only a few characters and dare to pontificate? Could you have written such a moving play yourselves?”
Huai and Jin exchanged glances, holding back laughter. Knowing their second sister’s temper, they said no more.
As their carriage prepared to depart last, the driver raised his whip—but was interrupted by a retching sound outside.
Peeking through the curtain, they saw a finely dressed young man, utterly disheveled, leaning against the theater wall, vomiting. Staggering a few steps, he sat against a column, seemingly asleep or dazed.
Sister Lan covered her nose in disgust but noticed his refined clothing. Concerned for complications, she instructed a theater attendant: “Check which young master this is, and why no one is with him.”
The attendant quickly returned, reporting, “Miss, he seems to be the Second Young Master from the Situ General’s household. He likely drank too much at He Xiang Tower and came here alone.”
Sister Lan asked sharply, “The one recently brought back from the countryside?”
The attendant remained silent, causing Sister Lan to correct herself: “If he’s from the Situ family, bring him inside to rest, then notify the General’s household. It’s cold out; don’t let him get sick.”
“Yes, Miss.”
She closed the carriage curtain. Huai peeked and noted the young master’s background seemed full of stories, though he did not know him personally.
Meanwhile, the Huai brothers had been self-studying for several days. Without a teacher, progress was slow.
Lord Pei had interviewed many tutors recently but was unsatisfied. Too ordinary, and they’d undercut his grandsons’ talent; too exceptional, and they were difficult to hire.
Just as Lord Pei was deliberating, a messenger arrived from Secretary Pei’s residence.
An elder retired Hanlin scholar had been retained to teach in the Secretary’s study. Now that the Pei grandsons were of schooling age, he wondered if they wished to study there.
Such a prestigious study was unique to the Secretary’s residence. Only someone of exceptional standing, like the retired Hanlin scholar, would agree to teach in a private home instead of a renowned academy.
Imagine—a learned old scholar, sought by many academies, agreeing to teach at a private study. It spoke to extraordinary connections.