“This shop recognizes only me, not the Zhongbo Marquis Manor.”
Qian Ji’an’s fingers paused slightly.
He lifted his eyes to look at Jiang Xiu, a flicker of emotion quickly passing through his gaze before being suppressed just as swiftly.
Since his mother fell seriously ill, many people had come to discuss business.
Some disliked him for his limp, some deliberately drove down the price, and others demanded to replace the old staff in the shop as soon as they opened their mouths.
Only the Madam said the pharmacy would remain under his management, not even interfering with medical consultations or medicine procurement…
Qian Ji’an lowered his eyes and bowed respectfully.
“Madam, rest assured.”
“Since Jì’ān Hall has recognized you as its master, from now on, it will follow only your commands!”
His back bent slightly lower than before.
Jiang Xiu gave a slight nod.
“Then I’ll trouble you, Shopkeeper Qian.”
As dusk approached, Jiang Xiu returned to the marquis manor with Xing’er and Fu Fu.
The front courtyard was still bustling.
News of Wu Ling saving the eighteenth prince had spread, and even Lin Shuang’s son, Wu Zihua, was being mentioned.
“I heard that Concubine Lin’s son is exceptionally bright in the academy.”
“Isn’t that so? The younger sister is blessed, and the older brother is clever. This pair of children truly embody the marquis manor’s prestige.”
“Who knows what sins the marquis manor’s Madam committed, giving birth to children stranger than the last.”
“It seems the Jiang family’s heavy bloodshed has brought retribution upon them.”
These words soon reached Jiang Xiu’s ears.
Bloodshed? If the Jiang family truly had blood on their hands, it was for defending the nation and protecting the people.
Those nobles eager to curry favor with Wu Ling, now gossiping in the front courtyard, owed their safety to the Jiang family’s soldiers risking their lives…
Xing’er was furious.
But Jiang Xiu only looked at Wu Zhan, who was sitting by the window practicing calligraphy.
Though he still struggled to speak, each day he grew clearer than the last.
Jiang Xiu’s heart softened with emotion. She walked over and gently patted his head.
“Zhan’er, would you like to go to the academy?”
Wu Zhan’s brush paused.
The light in his eyes flickered, then dimmed.
Once, his mother had also spoken of sending him to the academy.
But his grandmother and father despised him, saying he brought shame to the marquis manor.
Jiang Xiu saw through his worries, her heart aching. She tightly grasped his hand.
“Zhan’er, don’t be afraid.”
Wu Zhan’s lips trembled, and after a long while, he managed to squeeze out a few words.
“Can… I… go?”
On the small couch, Fu Fu lazily lifted her eyelids.
[Why not?]
[Second Brother has had a photographic memory since childhood. If it weren’t for those scoundrels holding him back, he would have shone in the academy long ago.]
[Wu Zihua is nothing but a fake talent, relying on poems Wu Ling stole from another world.]
Hope reignited in Wu Zhan’s eyes, while Jiang Xiu was inwardly startled.
Stolen things?
Another world?
Was this how Wu Zihua became a child prodigy?
…
Early the next morning, many carriages were already parked outside Wenyuan Academy.
Wenyuan Academy was one of the top academies in the capital.
Today coincided with the literary gathering after the academy’s ten-day examination, where the headmaster personally set topics for the students to compose poems and discuss strategies.
Many families in the capital came to observe.
When Jiang Xiu brought Wu Zhan down from the carriage, the front of the academy was bustling.
Numerous carriages were temporarily parked at the entrance, their curtains lifted as servants from various households carried writing materials inside.
Wu Zhan wore a pale blue robe, his hair neatly tied, his small hand tightly clutching Jiang Xiu’s sleeve.
Jiang Xiu looked down at him, her voice gentle. “Don’t be afraid. Today, we’re only here to meet the headmaster.”
Just as they were about to enter, a familiar laugh reached their ears.
Old Mrs. Wu was being supported by Nanny Zhao as she entered the academy. Lin Shuang followed alongside, holding Wu Ling in her arms, while Wu Zihua, dressed in a brand-new brocade robe, was surrounded by several scholars.
Old Mrs. Wu had clearly come specifically for the occasion.
With Wu Ling having just saved the eighteenth prince, his reputation was at its peak. Coupled with Wu Zihua’s longstanding reputation as a prodigy, she couldn’t resist coming to join in the excitement.
Seeing Jiang Xiu, Lin Shuang smiled gently and said, “Madam, you’ve come too? Have you brought the second young master to relax a bit?”
At her words, Wu Zhan’s little face paled slightly.
Jiang Xiu replied calmly, “Coming to the academy is naturally for studying.”
Hearing the commotion, Old Mrs. Wu turned around and immediately furrowed her brows.
“What are you doing here?”
Her tone was thick with disdain.
“A place like the academy isn’t for just anyone to come and go as they please.”
“Your son can’t even speak properly. Don’t let others laugh at him for no reason!”
Jiang Xiu frowned and was about to speak when the teacher’s voice came from inside.
“For today’s literary gathering, all scholars shall compose a poem on the theme of ‘Frontier Moon.’”
Everyone was soon ushered into the hall.
The women were arranged in the adjacent flower hall, separated by a carved screen, where they could hear the commotion from the front hall.
As soon as the topic was announced, the hall fell silent.
Many scholars clutched their brushes, deep in thought.
Wu Zihua sat at his desk, beads of sweat gradually forming on his forehead.
How could he possibly write poetry?
In the past, it had always been his sister reciting the poems in her mind for him to write down.
Finally, Wu Ling’s inner voice drifted over leisurely.
【Frontier Moon?】
【This topic is simple.】
【The garrison drum cuts off human passage, a lone wild goose cries in the autumn frontier.】
【Dew turns white from tonight on, the moon is brighter in my homeland.】
…
On the other side of the screen, Wu Zihua’s heart raced wildly before he immediately picked up his brush and wrote down the entire poem word for word without a single mistake.
Seeing him write so quickly, the scholars nearby couldn’t help but glance over.
The teacher, who had initially walked over casually to take a look, suddenly halted in his tracks.
“Excellent!”
“Zihua, this poem already carries the aura of a master!”
“At such a young age, your future is limitless!”
The hall erupted in an uproar.
Suppressing his overwhelming joy, Wu Zihua stood up and respectfully bowed to the teacher. “This student was merely moved by the moment.”
In the flower hall, Old Mrs. Wu beamed with delight.
Lin Shuang also kissed Wu Ling’s little cheek, her eyes filled with pride.
The other ladies nearby chimed in with praise:
“Zihua truly lives up to expectations!”
“The Zhongbo Marquis’s household is truly blessed! Both children are exceptional!”
The teacher was still holding the poem draft, reading it over and over again.
He couldn’t help but sigh, “What excellent lines, truly excellent lines!”
“For Zihua to possess such talent at the age of seven is truly a great fortune for our Wenyuan Academy!”
In the swaddling clothes resembling a small couch, Fu Fu wrinkled her little face in disdain.
【Stolen poetry counts as talent?】
【The Mirror of the Mortal Realm does not deceive this venerable one. All these are poems stolen from another world.】
【This venerable one even specially tasked demon servants to compile these poems. What they’re displaying now is merely a drop in the ocean.】
Hearing Fu Fu’s inner voice, Wu Zhan stared blankly at Wu Zihua, who was surrounded by everyone in the front hall.
He had long heard of Wu Zihua’s reputation.
Before Concubine Lin had even entered the household, his father had constantly praised this prodigy at home.
In the past, he had envied him.
He envied Wu Zihua for being able to speak eloquently, for being praised by the teacher, and for being praised by his father.
But now, hearing his sister’s inner voice, he realized that even such dazzling brilliance could be stolen.
Just then, a piece of paper was swept up by the wind.
One of them landed at Wu Zhan’s feet.
Wu Zhan instinctively bent down to pick it up—it was the essay question the teacher had just casually written down.
He merely glanced at it, and as he looked up to return it to the teacher, he noticed the teacher was already walking in his direction.
“You can read?”
Wu Zhan nodded gently.
But Old Mrs. Wu immediately frowned.
“Please excuse him, sir. This is the second young master of our household. He has been frail since childhood and struggles to speak clearly. How could he possibly understand scholarship?”
At these words, several gazes around them fell upon Wu Zhan.
Who in the vicinity didn’t know that the second young master of the Zhongbo Marquis’s household was mute?
Yet today, he had come to the academy to join in the excitement.
Wu Zhan’s hand, clutching the paper, trembled slightly.
This time, he did not hide behind his mother again.
Instead, he spoke slowly and firmly.
“I… can read.”