Chapter 6

Chapter 6

On their way home, Luo Qianyu hurriedly inquired and finally learned from Zhao Nian: After court ended today, the Marquis was unusually late returning. He only arrived back at the estate after sunset, his face ashen. As soon as he entered, he demanded to know where that disgrace had gone, ordering him brought to the ancestral hall!

Of course, the "disgrace" naturally referred to him.

The good news was that it wasn't about him teasing Quan Songcheng at Zhaixian Tower. That made sense—how could news travel that fast?

The bad news was... the Young Marquis was in trouble for something else.

Not long ago, during a lecture at the Imperial Academy.

The Young Marquis was playing with a tinderbox and accidentally set the beard of Chancellor Li of the Imperial Academy on fire.

Black turned to scorched brown, straight hairs curled into frizz, and his neat mustache was turned into a scraggly mess. Director Li had bided his time, nursing his grievance for two days. He waited until the morning court session to join forces with Yang Xun, the Vice Minister of Works, and submit a memorial to the Emperor, impeaching Marquis Zhenbei for lax household discipline and failure to educate his son properly, while also implicating Luo Zhenchuan's responsibility for the Yellow River flood prevention project.

"..."

How could *he* have caused such a huge mess?

Luo Qianyu suddenly felt reluctant to go home.

Was this the road back to the manor? This was the road to the crematorium!

Thus, when the Young Marquis followed the servants to the ancestral hall of the estate and saw his father's silent, broad back, with a wooden rod as thick as a child's arm gripped in his hand, he dropped to his knees with a thud, his movement incredibly smooth.

"It was my fault."

"I am willing to accept thirty cane strokes."

"However, before the punishment is carried out, I beg Father to permit your son to bite on a cloth strip, so that Mother does not hear my cries and grieve needlessly."

"..."

"What kind of talk is that?" Luo Zhenchuan frowned, placing the rod aside, and reprimanded, "Who said anything about punishing you?"

The old Marquis stood up. As his gaze lowered, anger surged in his chest: "Do you know why I summoned you to the ancestral hall, to face the ancestors of the Luo family? What is the true purpose?"

"I know."

"Do you admit your fault?"

"I do."

...

Marquis Luo responded better to kindness than to force; this was clearly depicted in the original work. In such situations, admitting fault and yielding was the correct approach. The more stubborn one acted, the more likely one's backside would suffer.

Unfortunately, this was also experience gained from the previous Luo Qianyu's dozens of personal trials.

Luo Zhenchuan felt as if his fist had struck cotton. What he truly wanted was this attitude of admitting fault, yet the result came too quickly, leaving him satisfied yet unsatisfied, unable to pinpoint what felt off. If it were like before, wouldn't that rod have already been put to use?

He sighed, his voice thick with frustrated disappointment: "Do you think that bit of childhood friendship between you and His Majesty counts for anything against the combined pressure and impeachment of the entire court's officials, public reason, and justice?"

"If the Grand Tutor and the Prince hadn't personally stepped in to plead for the Luo family, do you think you could still be kneeling here safely today? If you weren't dragged into the palace and given thirty court canings, it would only be by His Majesty's grace!"

Luo Qianyu pressed his forehead against the blue stone floor tiles, speaking softly: "Father's lesson is correct. I dare not repeat the offense."

"..." The old Marquis snorted coldly, this time falling silent for a good long while, unsure whether he was angry or searching for words.

After a long while, Luo Qianyu heard the person above him speak in a deep voice:

"Five days of kneeling in punishment."

"Reflect before the ancestors. Return to your studies only after you have reflected sufficiently!" With that, he flicked his sleeve and left.

Luo Qianyu, having learned his lesson through pain, kowtowed: "Your son will certainly reflect earnestly."

As soon as the old Marquis left, servants closed the doors of the ancestral hall. Two attendants were left guarding the entrance; only when delivering meals would anyone enter.

-

The main hall of the Marquis's estate.

A cup of clear tea steamed on a small table. The Marchioness had not yet set down her needlework when someone suddenly entered from outside. As the visitor prepared to bow, the woman said: "Quickly, no need for formalities."

The newcomer was precisely the Young Marquis's personal tutor, Zhao Nian.

Zhao Nian stood up. "Madam summoned this subordinate. May I ask the reason?"

"I merely wished to speak with you." Madam Sun set down the half-embroidered knee guard in her hands and sighed: "Zhao Nian, you originally served in the palace, attending to the Late Crown Prince."

"Back then, you were a seventh-rank Crown Prince Tutor. Now, coming to serve at the Marquis's estate, it is ultimately a step down for you."

Zhao Nian kowtowed in salute: "The Marquis and Madam have treated me generously, appointing me as Estate Steward, responsible for archives and documents, etiquette education, and managing all affairs of the estate. Such trust and responsibility already show favoritism; how could it be considered a step down?"

"Why be so reserved?" Madam Sun quickly helped him to his feet. "Three years ago, you snatched Qianyu back from the gates of death and have been meticulously caring for him by his side. Even if I, as the mistress of the household, do not speak of it, the entire estate is grateful to you in their hearts."

Zhao Nian's eyes grew warm. After a moment of contemplation, he said: "The Young Marquis is my life."

Madam Sun had a seat brought for him. After hesitating for a long while, she finally spoke: "The reason I called you here is that there is something in my heart I cannot let go of."

"Please speak, Madam."

"The more I think about it, the more peculiar it seems." Madam Sun pushed the teacup aside, perplexed: "Although Qianyu is usually spoiled, when facing his teachers, while not exactly humble and courteous, he is still respectful. No matter how playful, he wouldn't go so far as to burn the Chancellor's beard."

"I asked him, but he refused to say." Madam Sun looked at Zhao Nian. "You accompany him to the academy daily. Do you know anything?"

Zhao Nian was silent for a few seconds before speaking: "Having drunk too much, Director Li privately commented on the Crown Prince's death back then."

Madam Sun's eyes widened, and she hurriedly pressed: "What did he say?"

"'Though by nature high it feeds not on the earth, / In vain its mournful cry it doth rehearse. / At the fifth watch its feeble sound is stilled, / While the green tree remains, indifferent and cold.'" Zhao Nian recited, word by word, with perfect clarity.

Sun Shi exclaimed in surprise: "He truly said that?"

"Absolutely true."

The woman drew a sharp breath, then suddenly understood: "No wonder."

"This Director Li, promoted through the patronage of his fellow townsman Minister Chen of the Ministry of Rites, has grown ever more arrogant since his promotion, daring to make such reckless remarks even about the deceased Crown Prince." Madam Sun tightened her grip on her handkerchief.

She sighed: "Qianyu is good in every way, except when it comes to the Crown Prince... All the principles and bottom lines we usually teach him to uphold—respect for teachers and elders, etiquette, royal law—he forgets them all."

Zhao Nian lowered his head, somewhat taciturn.

"After this incident, Qianyu's every word and action will surely be scrutinized. Even if it didn't blow up this time, if such a situation were to occur again..."

"It will not happen again." Zhao Nian looked up, his voice firm and resolute. "Please rest assured, Madam."

"...Very well."

-

At first, the days of kneeling as punishment were still manageable.

But gradually, even the Young Marquis was starting to feel the strain.

He was still just a boy at heart, playful by nature, and being cooped up for so many days was getting to him, too.

Throughout this time, Zhao Nian would bring him knee pads, piping hot roasted sweet potatoes, and even books and novels he hadn’t finished, all to keep him entertained. Yet, stuck day in and day out on that prayer cushion, facing rows of ancestral tablets, with flickering candle flames and the buzzing of window paper at night, having no one to talk to for days—waking up only to eat, nap, startle awake, relieve himself, eat again…

By the third day of kneeling in penance, Luo Qianyu felt like he was about to crack.

By now, even the Young Marquis found himself longing for school.

“There’s a banquet at the palace tonight for all the high officials,” Zhao Nian whispered when he brought the meal that day. “The Marquis will likely return late.”

Luo Qianyu finally perked up. “So, my father won’t be back for at least two hours?”

Zhao Nian nodded.

They exchanged a knowing look. The Young Marquis quickly sat up. Following Zhao Nian, he opened the rear window, grabbed the clothes that had been folded and waiting on the windowsill, and changed into them in a flash—they were Zhao Nian’s clothes.

“Young Master, just one hour,” Zhao Nian reminded him uneasily.

Luo Qianyu had already leaped out the window, his voice drifting back from afar: “Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing!”

“Freshly cooked abalone slices—”

-

“Candied hawthorns! Big and sweet candied hawthorns—”

“The shadow puppet show is starting! Come take a look!”

Night had fallen, and the street was alive with the calls of hawkers. Fanle Street was at its busiest.

Dressed in Zhao Nian’s clothes, his hair neatly tied with a ribbon, Luo Qianyu truly looked like a handsome tutor. With so little time, everything was a novelty.

He wandered about, bought whatever snacks caught his eye, watched shadow puppetry, bowl balancing, sword swallowing, and fire breathing for a while… Thinking he’d pack some jade-green cakes to take back later, warm them up over the brazier in the ancestral hall, and enjoy them at night.

But just as he reached a street corner, he noticed a crowd gathered in front of an herbal shop—some craning their necks, others clicking their tongues in amazement—creating quite a commotion.

Unable to resist the urge to join the excitement, the Young Marquis stopped in his tracks.

“This here is a Thousand-Year Snow Lotus! A rarity from the Western Regions!” The shopkeeper stroked his mustache, carefully unveiling the covering, drawing everyone’s attention. “Not just in the capital—even across the entire Da Xi, there’s only one of these!”

“Take this, and it cures any poison, heals any sickness—a true miracle cure!”

Luo Qianyu had often heard of such panaceas in various novels—like lingzhi, cold ginseng, or snow lotus—capable of curing any strange poison or illness, even reviving the dying… But since the world he'd transmigrated into might be fictional, it was hard to tell truth from exaggeration.

Just as the Young Marquis, dressed in his tutor’s clothes, was about to leave, he suddenly heard a faint, cool voice:

“I’ll take this Snow Lotus.”

Luo Qianyu paused.

The voice sounded strangely familiar.

When he turned, his hunch proved right.