Zhou Liu-lang stood in the courtyard, gazing at the bamboo water spout. Hearing the rustle of clothing and the steady thump of a cane, he turned his head and saw Cheng Jiao-niang and Young Master Qin walking out of the study.
“The rest of the matter, I shall leave in your hands,” Cheng Jiao-niang said, offering a slight bow.
Young Master Qin returned the gesture.
“I will give it my all,” he said solemnly.
With each tap of the cane echoing, Young Master Qin descended the steps. Zhou Liu-lang glanced at Cheng Jiao-niang, but seeing that she had no intention of speaking to him, he turned and walked away as well.
A carriage and a horse traveled side by side down the street.
Young Master Qin was usually cheerful and fond of talking; at this time of day, he’d normally be chatting merrily. But now, though they had walked a good distance, he remained silent.
Zhou Liu-lang glanced at him again.
Young Master Qin was leaning on his hand, deep in thought.
“Hey, what are you planning to do?” Zhou Liu-lang asked.
Young Master Qin came back to himself and gave him a smile.
“Do as she says,” he replied.
I wasn’t even invited into the room—how would I know what she said? Zhou Liu-lang snorted.
“What did she say to do next?” he couldn’t help asking.
“She said…” Young Master Qin looked at him and smiled, “not to tell you.”
Zhou Liu-lang’s expression changed instantly. He snapped the whip, startling the horse into a sharp whinny and a wild gallop.
He called out twice, watching Zhou Liu-lang vanish into the distance.
“Just a joke,” he said, half-laughing. “Haven’t we always done this? Why the sudden temper?”
He sighed, shook his head, and looked back in the direction they’d come from.
“I told you before—pitiful, so pitiful. Why must it be this way?” he murmured.
Zhou Liu-lang walked straight into the house, tossed the reins to a servant, and strode off without a word.
“Liu-lang!”
A woman’s sharp voice called out.
Zhou Liu-lang stopped in his tracks and looked up. His mother was standing at the gate of his courtyard, her face full of anger. Beside her, several of his siblings also wore displeased expressions.
“You useless, disgraceful child!” Madam Zhou cursed through tears. “Where have you been?”
Zhou Liu-lang looked away.
“I—I had something to do with Shi’san…” he mumbled.
Before he could finish, Madam Zhou cut him off with a shout.
“Beat this unfilial son!” she ordered, pointing at him.
The nearby servants hesitated for a moment, then stepped forward with clubs in hand.
Zhou Liu-lang stood still, saying nothing.
“Forgive us, Young Master,” the servants murmured, raising their clubs and striking him.
Two servants, one on each side, brought their clubs down on Zhou Liu-lang’s back.
“Is that all you’ve got?” Madam Zhou shouted.
Startled, the two servants flinched, then struck again, this time with full force.
Zhou Liu-lang clenched his teeth and stood his ground.
“Now the household is in crisis, and your father, pressed by urgency, has yet to return,”
Madam Zhou shouted, her voice rising above the thuds of the servants’ clubs.
“…Your elder brother is running about trying to help, your sisters are at home chanting sutras and praying to the Buddha—what about you? What are you doing?”
Her fury grew with every word. She shook off the maids around her, strode forward, seized a club herself, and struck him hard.
“…You ran off to see that girl! Spending every day at her place! Then you lie to me, deceive me! You unfilial son! Unfilial son! And to think your father dotes on you so…”
As she struck him, Madam Zhou could no longer hold back her tears, sobbing as she beat him.
Zhou Liu-lang didn’t move, letting the blows land. But seeing his mother like this, a pained expression crossed his face. Suddenly, he dropped to his knees and clutched her legs.
“Mother, it’s all my fault!” he cried.
Yes—everything was his fault.
Back then, full of youthful pride, he had stood at the gates of the Cheng household, thinking it was just a casual meeting, a thoughtless question—never imagining it would lead to such trouble.
He could still see the image of that lady looking up at him from the hall the first time they met.
What a joke. Laughable—truly laughable.
If only he had taken a longer look back then…
“Brother…”
That soft, smiling voice under the eaves wouldn’t have been directed toward Xu San-lang or whoever else—it would have been to him, wouldn’t it?
“She may seem a little far-fetched at times, but that’s just who she is. Even the slightest act of kindness, she repays with all her heart. She’s the type who feels deeply, full of compassion.”
It was all his fault. If only—if only back then…
Then the ones helping her wouldn’t have been those outsiders with no real connection. And he, her rightful cousin, had stood aside like a fool, merely watching.
It was all his fault. If not for that moment in the past, their family should have remained warm and close.
Whether it was her illness or opening a food shop, they could have made decisions together, with plans, with caution.
Father wouldn’t have been left in the dark, mistaken as an enemy. Even if he were treated as an enemy, better to meet it head-on than to be caught unaware and attacked from the shadows.
It was all his fault!
“Mother, go ahead and beat me—this is all my fault!” Zhou Liu-lang cried out.
Madam Zhou struck him a few more times in anger, but her strength soon gave out. And seeing her son like this, her heart softened. At last, she threw the stick aside and broke down, covering her face and weeping bitterly.
The other siblings gathered around. The girls were all quietly sobbing, and the guys wore heavy expressions.
For a while, the house was filled with the sound of weeping, so much so that the servants and maids outside were frightened and trembling.
The incident involving the master of the house could no longer be kept secret. Though the household had insisted it was nothing serious and that connections had been made to smooth things over, why had it suddenly turned into such a scene of grief? Could it be more than just a demotion? Could something worse have happened?
Zhou Liu-lang and several of his brothers quickly came to their senses. They hurried to calm everyone down and ushered them back into the house.
“Liu-lang, you really went too far this time,” his elder brothers said sternly.
The maids brought in warm towels so the ladies could wash their faces.
“Exactly! What’s so good about that lady? Even at a time like this, all you can think about is her!” Lady Zhou said sharply, tossing her towel aside.
The maids quickly picked it up and quietly filed out of the room. Compared to when they entered, they now felt a bit more at ease—it turned out this wasn’t about Master Zhou, but about Sixth Young Master, and over a lady, no less.
Yet while the people inside were full of anger, the servants were much calmer.
After all, Sixth Young Master visiting Lady Cheng every day wasn’t news to them. The higher-ups might not have known, but every servant in the household certainly did.
As the maids left, the elder brothers nodded approvingly at their younger sister.
“Liu-lang, look—even your little sister is more sensible than you,” they said. “We’re here to handle things for the family. You don’t need to run around—but you mustn’t cause us more grief, either.”
Since coming in, Zhou Liu-lang had been sitting in silence.
“Liu-lang, you’re still young—there are plenty of good women in this world. Why must you lose your head over her?” Madam Zhou said, raising her hand to wipe her tears again.
“I haven’t lost my head over her,” Zhou Liu-lang said sullenly.
“Then why are you going to see her every single day?” Madam Zhou snapped.
Everyone in the room—brothers and sisters alike—turned to look at him.
Zhou Liu-lang raised his head and moved his lips slightly.
“For Father,” he said softly.
“What did you say?” A sister sitting nearby caught the words and grew even more furious, sitting upright with brows raised. “How can you even say that? If it weren’t for that fool, our family wouldn’t be suffering this endless streak of bad luck! And you still go to her? Isn’t our misfortune enough for you?”
“She’s not a fool,” Zhou Liu-lang said.
Far from it—she was someone who had the entire world dancing in the palm of her hand.
“Mother, just look at him!” the younger ladies cried out.
“Enough, stop talking about this,” Madam Zhou snapped. “Your father’s situation is what matters now!”
“Yes,” a few of the elder brothers nodded, sighing with concern. “It seems those above are not as aggressive as they were at first. The tone of the negotiations has softened—it’s no longer like before, when they wouldn’t even hear us out.”
That lady had said—this is the easiest moment…
Zhou Liu-lang lowered his head.
“…Yes, but who knows what tricks they might be pulling in secret. We can’t let our guard down,” one of them added.
At that, they noticed Zhou Liu-lang smiling slightly.
This boy hadn’t been like this before. What had gotten into him? Was he really so blinded by that lady that he’d lost all sense?
“Liu-lang, what are you smiling at?” they asked, displeased.
Zhou Liu-lang smiled again.
“Don’t worry,” he said.
“What?” his brothers asked, puzzled.
Don’t worry. No matter what tricks were being played behind the scenes, it didn’t matter—because someone only needed to do one thing.
And that was: when faced with a wall blocking the way—just flip it over and crush it.
And the one doing exactly that… was the so-called “fool” they kept talking about.
“It’s nothing,” Zhou Liu-lang said, lowering his head once more.
As night fell, Young Master Qin sat in his father’s study, having read for quite some time already.
On the other side, a middle-aged man also sat reading. Under the glow of the palace lantern, his features were refined and elegant. Though he was advanced in years, his appearance and demeanor remained extraordinary.
This was Young Master Qin’s father, Qin An, Counselor of the Court. His mother was Princess Pingyang, yet he had not relied on that noble privilege to enjoy a life of idle luxury in some hereditary post. Instead, he had earned his jinshi degree through the imperial examinations, distinguished himself in scholarship, and now served at the emperor’s side as a lecturer at the Tianzhang Pavilion and co-editor of the imperial chronicle.
Qin An set down his scroll, rubbed his tired eyes, and turned his gaze toward his son.
“What have you been busy with these past few days?” he asked. “The other day, did you come looking for me at the Historical Bureau? Was there something you needed?”
