Chapter Twenty-Four: The Scholar, Weng Sheng

Early spring carried a damp chill in the air.

“Lan, you—?”

Jiang Lan’s brows arched slightly, his cold, clear eyes now tinged with sorrow and longing, a change from their usual sharpness.

“The eighth day of next month marks the anniversary of Father and Mother’s death. After Cousin left last night, I couldn’t sleep, so I went to the master to meditate and listen to the teachings, and invited him to recite prayers for my parents on that day.”

Jiang Lan stood there, barely seven feet tall—slender, yet with a proud resilience.

“Father and Mother met misfortune in their prime. I have missed them since childhood, but I don't wish to make a spectacle of the occasion. Grandfather and Grandmother are old; they worry about every little thing.”

Xue Mingrui’s heart ached for him. “Lan, it’s my fault. I’m simply afraid those ruffians might lead you astray.”

Jiang Lan raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth lifting. “It’s already fortunate enough that you don’t.”

“…”

Disdainful of the temple’s vegetarian fare, Jiang Lan urged Xue Mingrui to descend the mountain before breakfast.

Upon entering Jiankang, Jiang Lan instructed Xue Kai outside, “Go to Honey Fragrance Pavilion first.”

“Oh? Is your stomach finally feeling hungry?” Xue Mingrui teased.

Jiang Lan shook his head. Though he enjoyed the delicacies of the mortal world, he had practiced fasting enough not to feel hunger.

“It’s for my sister. I remembered when I left.”

Xue Mingrui looked at that smile, fresh as spring blossoms, eyes dazzlingly bright.

“You truly care for her.”

Jiang Lan, seated sideways in the carriage, glanced up. The curtain fluttered, spring sunlight sneaking in. Across from him, Xue Mingrui was bathed in the golden glow, lips slightly curved, looking a bit annoyed.

“Cousin, are you jealous?”

The arc of Xue Mingrui’s lips grew sharper. “Who? Who’s jealous?”

After so long in the mortal realm, Jiang Lan’s favorite thing was this child’s stubborn denial.

“All right, what pastries do you like, Cousin? I’ll buy them for you too.”

Xue Mingrui turned his head aside, refusing to look at Jiang Lan.

Jiang Lan was about to coax him further, but before he could, Xue Kai called out, “Young Master, we’ve arrived at Honey Fragrance Pavilion.”

“Very well.”

As Jiang Lan was about to lift the curtain and step out, someone tugged at his sleeve.

He turned to see that bashful puppy face, cheeks slightly flushed, speaking slowly, “Horse-hoof Cake.”

Jiang Lan gently freed his sleeve, smiling, “Of course.”

The carriage halted at the shop door, and Jiang Lan entered at once.

The counter was laden with pastries, making Jiang Lan’s eyes light up.

He directed the attendant, “This one, that one, and that one!”

The shop boy was delighted; a generous guest deserved extra attention.

“Right away, sir!”

Jiang Lan sampled as he filled his plate, wandering among the rows of delicacies.

“Oh, and prepare a separate serving of the horse-hoof cake.”

“Certainly, sir.”

Jiang Lan sat in the redwood chair meant for guests, sipping tea as he watched the street outside.

People of all sorts—some hustling to feed their families, others wandering aimlessly, free and easy.

Suddenly, a commotion outside caught his attention. Jiang Lan leaned against the window and saw a man selling himself for his father's burial.

A playful smile crossed his lips.

In these times, women selling themselves for burial was common enough, but a man—it was rare.

Men could do any number of things, unconstrained as women were, forbidden from showing themselves. To resort to this, selling himself for his father’s burial—it was peculiar.

Jiang Lan grew curious, ordering more pastries to enjoy while watching the scene unfold.

On one side of the street, a grass mat covered a corpse, beside it knelt a frail young man, straight-backed, full of spirit—a posture which hardly suggested someone reduced to such desperation.

“That man’s name is Weng Sheng, quite well-known here,” the shop attendant explained.

Jiang Lan turned. “All packed up for you, sir—five taels and seven coins.”

Jiang Lan pulled out a silver ingot. “Six taels. Keep the extra as a reward.”

The shop boy thanked him profusely, then glanced out the window, eyes sly. “Sir, are you interested?”

Jiang Lan’s lips curled. “Tell me more.”

“Weng Sheng has studied since childhood; he’s famous around these parts as a prodigy. Not yet twelve, he earned his scholar’s degree. Though not wealthy, his family never went hungry. But alas, he has an elder brother…”

“An elder brother?”

The shop boy shook his head in regret. Scholars were held in high esteem among them, especially such promising ones.

“His brother refused to study, found pursuing official rank tiresome, considered small business beneath him, thought farming was shameful—idled the days away, living off his parents’ hard work running a modest braised food shop.

As he grew older, he became even more brazen, indulging in every vice—drinking, gambling, visiting brothels—and squandered what was once a decent family.

Half a month ago, that eldest brother got into a fight at a brothel, accidentally injuring a nobleman’s son. The young master’s family is not to be trifled with—they locked up the brother and threatened to destroy the whole Weng family in retaliation.

Now Weng Sheng can no longer attend school; their livelihood has been cut off, their shop smashed, and word spread that anyone who helps the Wengs will be treated as an enemy.

Ten days ago, their mother fell ill and passed away. Now the old father has died as well. The Wengs have sold everything for the funerals, even their home, and no one dares hire him. They couldn’t even afford a coffin for the old man.”

Jiang Lan nodded, his gaze returning to that figure in the crowd—a prisoner of circumstance, yet still upright in spirit. “What sort of person is Weng Sheng?”

The shop boy didn’t hesitate. “Just a bookworm. A few days ago he found a purse in the street, heavy with silver—fifty, maybe a hundred taels. That fool sat here waiting for the owner. When the owner returned, he tried to reward Weng Sheng with ten taels, but Weng Sheng refused, saying something about being a gentleman. Honestly, a real fool.

But aside from being a bit dull, he’s genuinely good—filial to his parents, everyone knows it, studies hard, copies books for others when he can’t afford his own, memorizing and studying them. Even the academy teachers say he’s talented—a pity, such a pity!”

Jiang Lan said no more. He retrieved a few copper coins from his pocket. “Take these to the carriage outside.”

The shop boy accepted them with a smile, quickly heading out.

Jiang Lan stepped outside, bypassed the carriage, and slipped into the crowd.

People whispered and murmured, but none dared to help.

“How sad!”

“Indeed, but who would dare? Just days ago, a neighbor gave a single measure of rice and was beaten half to death by the Qian family. He’s still bedridden.”

“Oh dear, what will they do?”

Jiang Lan listened as two women buying vegetables chatted beside him, and next to him stood the shop boy from earlier.