Chapter Thirty-Eight: Ruined!

Jiang Lan sat leisurely atop his horse, holding the saddle with one hand, keeping the little radish nestled in his arms, while the other hand waved a small golden fan. He hummed a tune, not at all resembling a suspect summoned for interrogation, but rather a young lord enjoying a ride through the streets. The Feiyu Guards glanced at him, silently convinced that even the child in the heir’s embrace seemed more steady than the heir himself.

Ahead, the Feiyu Guards halted. Jiang Lan looked up and saw officials from the Capital Prefecture approaching; he immediately understood the situation. The last time, Prefect Qin Shu had stood at the doorstep, and upon seeing Jiang Lan’s party, he hurried down the steps to greet them.

Jiang Lan dismounted, lifted Jiang Ruoming down, and had him obediently follow behind. The carriage moved slowly, and the maids and matrons naturally followed in Jiang Ruoming’s wake.

“Lord Qin, we meet again,” Jiang Lan smiled as he cupped his hands in greeting, an air of familiarity about him.

Qin Shu felt utterly unlucky. The affair at the Liu residence had cost him his connection with Assistant Minister Liu. Now, he was caught between Fang Manor and Jiang Manor, with a trivial matter between daughters floating between the King of Anping and the Empress Dowager. If handled poorly, at best he’d face reproach, at worst, he’d lose his head.

He’d heard the heir was usually a gentle gentleman, only excitable when it came to his sister. If he began with pleasantries and a bit of lamentation, perhaps the heir would relent and the matter would resolve itself.

But upon seeing Jiang Lan’s face, Qin Shu’s heart sank to its depths. “Such coincidence, such coincidence…” His smile froze. Who would’ve thought the instigator of last time’s brawl in the street was this so-called frail heir? Clearly, rumors were unreliable.

“How did Lord Qin handle last time’s matter?” Jiang Lan asked, his eyes crinkling with a smile.

Qin Shu shuddered inwardly at the heir’s smiling gaze. “I—I—I…”

The little fan tapped Qin Shu’s shoulder. “Lord, I can overlook last time’s incident, but this time, you must uphold the law and not show favoritism.”

“I will remember, I will remember.” As Jiang Lan moved on ahead, Qin Shu, trailing half a step behind, quickly wiped the cold sweat from his brow.

Jiang Lan ascended the thirty-plus steps, his hand held by the little child behind him. Encircled by five soft, sticky fingers, Jiang Lan felt that even the torn wound on his arm was less painful.

Since the matter involved noble ladies, Qin Shu, ever slippery, held the hearing in the guest hall of the rear court.

All irrelevant persons were dismissed. When Jiang Lan arrived, the Fang family was already seated on the right. At the head sat the Imperial Tutor, a man in his forties, stern and sharp, clearly one who observed propriety and upheld Confucian order.

Beside him was a radiant lady, the traces of years etched at the corners of her eyes. Her posture was impeccable, every movement precise, as if measured with a ruler.

Her severity surpassed even the Imperial Tutor’s—a true descendant of the Sage.

Behind them sat their legitimate son, Fang Ru.

Fang Ru, unlike his parents, resembled a peach tree in full bloom: his cheeks faintly tinged, his demeanor gentle and approachable, his lips always curved with a smile—a true gentleman among jade orchids.

Even Jiang Lan found himself lowering his guard.

“Imperial Tutor, Madam, Young Master Fang.”

Jiang Lan did not see Fang Yi, but the faint sounds of sobbing suggested she was behind the screen. Upon entering, he’d seen a crowd of maids and matrons bustling in and out behind the screen placed behind the Fang couple.

Such a delicate young lady!

“Heir.”

The Fang family, indeed versed in etiquette, gave not a single slight, despite the discord between Jiang Lan and Fang Yi.

Jiang Lan sat on the left. Compared to the Fang family’s array of attendants, his side seemed almost desolate.

“You are injured, no need to stand,” Jiang Lan remarked, reading the expressions of the Fang family. As expected, the Imperial Tutor and Madam Fang twitched at the corners of their eyes, yet Fang Ru’s smile broadened, his whole being a blossoming peach flower—bright and radiant, the epitome of a jade gentleman.

When Jiang Lan looked at him, Fang Ru even smiled back.

Were it not for the tear in his arm, Jiang Lan might have been lost in that sudden gentleness, his heart skipping a beat upon awakening.

Indeed, a peach blossom in full bloom.

The Jiang family attendants, shrewd as they were, understood immediately—the heir was displeased with Fang Yi’s delicate airs. Still, they dared not equal his standing; they fetched six tall stools and lined up behind him, sitting in feigned frailty.

Qin Shu, seated at the highest position, was on pins and needles, observing the strange atmosphere below.

The Fang family, thunderclouds looming, while the heir savored tea and played with his child, looked more like someone out for a spring stroll than attending a hearing.

“Brother Ming, would you like to try this?” Jiang Lan offered horseshoe cake, murmuring, “Lord Qin’s rear court pastries are not bad; I’ve tried them, have a taste.”

The little radish accepted it with both hands, “Thank you, little uncle.” Then, with eyes bright as stars, he looked up at Jiang Lan, “Little grandaunt likes pastries from Honey Fragrance Pavilion. Brother Ming has saved some silver; if we have time later, I’d like to buy some to please grandaunt. She’s hurt.”

Watching the Fang couple and Lord Qin twitch at the corners of their mouths, Jiang Lan gave an inward thumbs-up.

Outwardly, he feigned concern, “How could Brother Ming use his own silver? I have money.”

“Then Brother Ming will buy ointment. Little grandaunt’s hand is scratched, it hurts.”

Such a pitiable child, injured yet still caring for his elders—hearts broke at the sight.

Jiang Lan inwardly exulted, See, see! Didn’t I say I’d found a treasure?

The maids and matrons behind Jiang Lan felt immeasurable heartache. As Jiang Si’s personal attendants, they’d suffered during the incident. The young master had even rushed out to shield his mistress.

In truth, the young master was more severely injured than the mistress. Fang Yi, knowing the young master was brought over from a collateral branch by the heir, had insulted him without mercy and even pinched him.

Thinking of this, tears could not be stopped.

“Young master, mistress’s injury is nothing. But you—your face and body are scratched. Those people were so cruel.”

The Fang family’s faces soured further.

Jiang Lan laughed inwardly, but lightly admonished, “What are you saying? Can’t you see the people present? Fang Miss acted unintentionally, you’re being too boisterous.”

The matron, quick-witted, immediately apologized.

“It was my fault. Please don’t be angry, Fang Miss.” She covered her own facial wound, making it all the more frightening, and the others ground their teeth.

“A lady of Fang Miss’s background wouldn’t mind. Since you’re hurt, sit, and take your punishment later.”

Jiang Lan frowned, instructing.

“Thank you, heir; thank you, Fang Miss.”

As for actual punishment, that would be decided by themselves. Behind the screen, Fang Yi coughed up blood in frustration.

A fresh round of chaos ensued.

Jiang Lan drank tea, ignoring the Fang family’s troubles.

He produced a book of poetry from who knows where and began teaching Brother Ming to recognize characters, as if no one else existed.

His excuse: “Though wounded, studying must not be delayed. Tomorrow and tomorrow, how many tomorrows there are.”

The Imperial Tutor, instead of taking offense, politely inquired about studies.

He found the Jiang family’s collateral young master, though starting late, to be precocious and eager to learn. In just a few days, he’d mastered the characters from the Hundred Surnames and Three Character Classic, and now was learning miscellaneous texts.

Watching Jiang Lan’s crude teaching methods, the Imperial Tutor’s heart bled.

Such a promising seedling—spoiled! Spoiled!

He wished to steal the child away, but his wife’s warning glance made him rub his nose and sit obediently.

Listening to Jiang Lan’s explanations, the Imperial Tutor silently spat blood twice—spoiled, truly spoiled!

“Today, my daughter did act improperly. I hope the heir will forgive her,” Madam Fang finally spoke. But Fang Yi behind her did not agree, immediately protesting.

“Mother, it was Jiang Si meeting an outsider in private, I was merely warning her…Mother!”

“Enough!” Madam Fang, Mu Dai, frowned, seeming mildly angry, but in truth, she was furious.

Inside, some method was employed; only muffled sounds could be heard.

Madam Fang looked at the young man across from her, who had worn a rogue’s smile from the start—his words respectful, but the respect was a slap in the face.

She knew her youngest daughter, raised by her mother-in-law, was too coddled, often beating and scolding servants in the manor. When she intervened, her mother-in-law would demand the servants back. Now the matter had escalated, caught in the courtly struggle between the King of Anping and the Empress Dowager—a dangerous game.

Looking at the Feiyu Guards behind Prefect Qin, each was a harbinger of doom.

“Please forgive her, heir. My daughter is unruly; I will certainly discipline her strictly. She will never act so presumptuously again. As for the medicinal expenses for Miss Jiang, the young master, and the household, they will be sent over. However…”

Jiang Lan waved his hand, “Madam Fang, your love for your daughter is touching. I am grateful. If your daughter could personally visit to apologize to my sister, I would not pursue the matter further; publicly, it will be considered a misunderstanding.”

Knowing when to stop, Jiang Lan understood well. Madam Fang was a proper lady of the inner court; she knew her daughter was at fault but would not shield her to the point of confronting the Jiang family—and the Empress Dowager behind them—for her sake.

Nor would she let Fang Manor become a pawn between the King of Anping and the Empress Dowager.

Madam Fang nodded, satisfied with the outcome. Upon meeting the legendary frail heir, she knew there was no such thing as a frail heir easily bullied in Jiankang City.

To be favored by the Empress Dowager for years, could it be solely due to blood ties?

In her heart, Madam Fang raised Jiang Lan’s status several notches, placing him among prime candidates such as Duke Xue’s eldest son, Xue Mingzhao. Considering Jiang Lan’s age—just fifteen—a promising youth indeed; her gaze at Jiang Lan changed completely.

“Yes, yes, we will certainly visit…”

Feeling Madam Fang’s sudden enthusiastic gaze, Jiang Lan’s heart thumped—what was happening? He touched his face, finding nothing amiss.