With her father’s birthday approaching, Gu Lan was finally released from the study—no longer forced to copy The Admonitions for Women and The Precepts for Women classics. The next morning, she came to pay respects to Madam Ji, her expression neither humble nor arrogant. Watching from the side, Jinchao noted how these past half-months of writing had indeed worn some quietness into Gu Lan.
Father, thinking it proper to keep her occupied, arranged for a Suzhou embroidery master from Wanshou Pavilion to instruct Gu Lan in needlework.
As for Jinchao, Father had invited a music teacher, Master Cheng Wangxi, to tutor her in the guqin. Yet lately, he was showing up less and less frequently.
He was staying in one of the guest rooms of the outer residence, being hosted with all manner of fine food and drink. Rumor had it that he had recently taken a trip to Shian County, where he spotted an antique painting he admired. Upon mentioning it to the servant sent to assist him, the painting appeared on his desk the very next day.
Father had spoken to Jinchao in private, inquiring about her progress in music. “…After all, he’s here to instruct you. We must treat him well. Master Wangxi is a direct descendant of the Yushan School—his pride is understandable. I hope you can be patient with him.” It seemed he had heard they didn’t get along.
Jinchao simply smiled.
But there was, in fact, a reason Master Wangxi no longer came regularly. He had many “friends.” One of them—an old scholar from Hangzhou—came to visit him at the Gu residence. His family had once produced successful candidates in the imperial exams, but having since declined, he now wandered idly, refusing to take a sinecure at the Hanlin Academy even after passing the exam himself. Staying at the Gu residence was a fortunate windfall for him. Wangxi, ever generous, invited him to stay, and the two would often drink, play music, and go sightseeing in Shian and Daxing. A single day’s indulgence could cost dozens of taels of silver.
One day, the old scholar casually asked how Wangxi’s teaching was going. Wangxi scowled. “This eldest daughter of the Gu family has quite the reputation in Shian. To be honest, I don’t care to teach her. If not for Gu Langzhong’s generosity—and the fact that she was once taught by Master Zixu—I wouldn’t have bothered coming!”
The old scholar asked, “If she studied under Master Zixu, surely she can’t be that bad?”
Wangxi snorted. “Even if she was taught by Zixu, she has no aptitude. I’ve tried teaching her the Pu’an Mantra multiple times, and she still can’t play it. Honestly, all those rumors about her being dim-witted? I believe them!”
They were speaking under the veranda, unaware that one of the young servants was nearby and overheard every word. Naturally, it reached Jinchao’s ears the very next day.
She found it equal parts amusing and infuriating. “…You’d think he was the one being wronged!”
Caifu, listening at her side, was indignant. “Why not tell Old Master and have both of them kicked out? Living here at our expense and still speaking ill of you!”
Jinchao smiled. “No need to rush.”
That afternoon, when Cheng Wangxi finally came to give his lesson, Jinchao was already waiting outside the flower hall.
Wangxi was startled. He had always insisted on observing strict separation between male and female—Jinchao would normally be seated inside with the bamboo curtain lowered before he entered. He had never even seen her face. Not that he cared to. With all the rumors of her being willful and petty, he imagined her looks must be just as unpleasant.
Yet today, the young miss stood quietly outside waiting for him. She could be no more than fifteen or sixteen, wearing a light celadon satin robe patterned with lotus petals, an ivory moon-hued skirt, and a deep blue sash from which hung two delicate jade pendants. She was extraordinarily lovely—radiant and elegant, like a blossoming begonia in spring. The sight genuinely stunned him.
Jinchao looked at him and smiled. “Since you haven’t come in quite some time, I thought I’d come out to greet you. Please, have a seat in the hall.”
Wangxi snapped back to his senses and cleared his throat. “Young Miss, in the future, it’s best not to wait outside like this.”
Jinchao replied, “You are my teacher. Naturally, I should receive you in person. If you insist otherwise, it would seem you care little for the bond between teacher and student.”
Wangxi found himself tongue-tied, displeased by the implication.
Jinchao invited him to sit. Caifu then lowered the bamboo curtain.
She said, “Master, allow me to play a piece. It’s a guqin composition created by Master Zixu himself. My understanding of it is limited, of course—I have only grasped its essence in part.”
Wangxi had planned to casually strum something and leave—his friend was still waiting to drink with him, after all.
But since she spoke with such respect, he had no excuse. “Very well. Play it.”
Jinchao composed herself, then played a piece taught to her by Master Zixu. The melody was ancient and ethereal, winding and graceful, lingering in the air with a refined resonance. Though Wangxi had not intended to listen closely, he was soon drawn in. Master Zixu’s composition was truly masterful… and Gu Jinchao’s execution, though not flawless, captured its essence. Perhaps she wasn’t as dull as the rumors claimed.
When the song ended, Jinchao had Caifu lift the curtain.
She spoke lightly, “You’ve now heard the full piece. Master, could you reproduce it for me?”
Wangxi frowned. “What do you mean by that? The curtain was down—I couldn’t see your fingering or plucking techniques. How could I possibly recreate it?”
His irritation mounted. Was this young lady using Master Zixu’s legacy to humiliate him?
Jinchao gave a faint “Oh.” “Then let me ask—if you know the curtain blocks the view, why have you always insisted on teaching me with it down? I couldn’t learn, and yet you blamed my dullness. So tell me, Master—since you’re not dull, could you reproduce the piece just by listening?”
Wangxi stood stunned for a moment before anger overtook him. “I am your teacher! How dare you speak with such disrespect!”
Jinchao smiled. “A teacher, sir, is someone who imparts knowledge. If you haven’t taught me anything, how can you claim that title? At most, you’ve played music in my presence while enjoying room and board in our home. I believe we’re even.”
Wangxi’s face turned red, then white, utterly flustered. “You… you truly… Your Gu family is outrageous…”
Scholars were like this—eloquent on paper, but hopeless in argument. Not only could they not curse properly, they couldn’t reason under pressure either.
Caifu and Qingpu watched from the side, barely hiding their smiles. Jinchao sipped her tea and said calmly, “Since Master is so upset, Caifu—go on, escort him out for some fresh air.”
Caifu immediately acknowledged the order. Wangxi, fuming, stood and huffed, “No need! The young miss is clearly a prodigy—I am unworthy to instruct her! Good day!” With that, he flung his sleeve and stormed off.
Jinchao turned to Caifu. “Go tell my father everything, clearly. Ask him not to intervene.”
Caifu left at once to deliver the message.
Back in his room, Wangxi began hastily packing his things. His old scholar friend rushed over. “What’s this? You were doing just fine here!”
Wangxi was so livid he couldn’t speak. “Utterly unbearable! I refuse to stay a moment longer!” He demanded the scholar pack up too—he couldn’t leave his freeloader behind.
The scholar reluctantly did as told. “But where will you go?”
Wangxi froze. He hadn’t thought that far. His anger had been so intense, he’d expected Gu Langzhong to blame his daughter and try to stop him.
Who would’ve guessed—not even the servant boy assigned to him had returned.
This Gu Langzhong—he might seem courteous on the surface, but in truth he was just as unreasonable as his daughter! The more Cheng Wangxi thought about it, the angrier he became. He packed his belongings and dragged the old scholar with him straight out of the Gu household. Along the way, every steward, servant boy, even the old woman sweeping the path—all of whom had once treated him with deference—now acted as if they didn’t even see him.
When he reached the main gate, a familiar steward suddenly appeared. Cheng Wangxi recognized him as Steward Li, one of Gu Deshao’s close aides. He finally exhaled. At least someone has come to urge me to stay, he thought. I can’t leave the Gu household just like this—I do feel a bit reluctant.
But Steward Li merely smiled and said, “Master Wangxi, Old Master instructed us not to stop you if you wish to leave—but do make sure you’re not taking anything that belongs to the Gu household!”
Cheng Wangxi froze. So he wasn’t here to stop him?
He glared. “Then tell me—what exactly do you think I’ve taken from your household?”
Still smiling, Steward Li replied, “Three days ago, you mentioned that antique painting. The master spent four hundred taels to purchase it for you. There’s also the chengni inkstone from Caishi Pavilion, and the three-legged incense burner from Duanwen Court…”
The longer he spoke, the darker Cheng Wangxi’s face grew. He had painstakingly selected those items! Fine, if they wouldn’t let him take them, so be it. But one day, he’d make them regret it!
With a cold snort, he tossed down one of his cases. “I don’t care for those things anyway!”
Carrying his guqin on his back, he and the old scholar stormed out of the Gu residence. But once the sunlight hit him, reality sank in—he had almost no money left. The only silver he had, barely a few dozen taels, had just been thrown out with that trunk. He wasn’t about to go crawling back to retrieve it.
The old scholar said gently, “I have a part-time teaching position with the Tao family in Xianghe. Why don’t you come with me?”
Cheng Wangxi scowled. “The Tao family? Just because they produced a single juren, they strut about like peacocks—such ridiculous airs! I wouldn’t…”
But glancing at his own circumstances and the old scholar’s helpless expression, he swallowed the rest of his protest in silence.
Back at Qingtong Courtyard, Caifu gleefully recounted Cheng Wangxi’s humiliating exit at the hands of Steward Li. The maids all burst into laughter.
Jinchao smiled and sighed. This Cheng Wangxi was truly ridiculous—always acting like everyone owed him something.
Just then, Yuzhu stepped over the threshold and whispered to Jinchao, “Miss, Xiuqu is outside. She’d like to see you.”
Xiuqu’s injuries had mostly healed, and she had begun moving about Qingtong Courtyard again. But this was her first time asking to see Jinchao directly.
Jinchao went to the inner room to meet her.
After her illness, Xiuqu looked even thinner than before. Her complexion was waxy and pale. She wore a light green blouse, which only made her seem more frail and delicate.
She knelt and bowed before Jinchao. “I wish to ask the Young Miss for a position. I’d like to stay here in Qingtong Courtyard, even if it’s just sweeping and doing laundry—I don’t mind. My body is covered in scars now. I’ll never be married off again. I beg you, Miss, please keep me.”
She prostrated herself in a deep kowtow, but Jinchao quickly helped her up. “Your body still hasn’t fully recovered. There’s no need to bow like this.” Then she asked, “After what happened to you, don’t you resent me? I do bear some responsibility.”
Xiuqu shook her head with a soft smile. “I may be young, but I know right from wrong. It was Concubine Song who harmed me—not you. Besides, you saved my life. I can never repay that debt…” Her voice lowered, “I grew up without a father or mother. My life doesn’t matter to anyone. If I had died that day, there wouldn’t have been a single soul to mourn me… All I ask is to earn a bowl of rice here—to serve you for as long as I live.”
Jinchao let out a quiet sigh. The scars that now covered Xiuqu’s body made it impossible for her to marry. She was no longer suitable to be sent out of the household.
Jinchao took her hand gently. “Then stay by my side. I’ve just taken in two new little maids, and Caifu is busy managing them. I could use another pair of hands close by.”
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