Chapter Forty-Three: River City

Upon returning to the manor, Jiang Lan ordered water to be prepared at once, dismissed everyone, and, still clothed, plunged directly into a wooden tub filled with cold water.

After a while, he rolled up his left sleeve. The gruesome wound still oozed crimson blood laced with threads of gold—just a few glimmers, yet potent in effect. Into the shattered realm of his consciousness, a faint golden warmth seeped in. Though feeble, it brought some relief. The split wound continued to bleed, but Jiang Lan clenched his fists, closed his eyes, and let his mind drift toward the distant stars and sea.

He changed into an ice-blue, cross-collared, narrow-sleeved robe, the edges and cuffs embroidered with auspicious cloud patterns in deep sapphire silk. Indigo trousers were tucked into cotton boots. When he looked at his reflection, he saw his lips had grown paler, so he dabbed on a delicate layer of lip balm.

In Great Chen, scholars were often frail and heavily scented with powder—a style Jiang Lan disdained, though now he preferred not to stand out. The faint sheen of balm lent a trace of life to his wan face.

He tightened his jade belt and donned a silver-white cloak, which lent him a touch of ethereal grace, dispelling the earthbound air. Picking up a small golden fan from the sandalwood table, he gave it a light flick before the bronze mirror. In an instant, his demeanor shifted—once more, he became that proud and rakish son of a noble house, descended from the heavens to the mortal world.

He hung a jade pendant and embroidered sachet at his waist, then retrieved several talismans from a plain wooden box, tucking them securely into his wide sleeve.

Opening the bedroom door, he felt the fragrant sunlight streaming in from outside. Xi Chi stood dutifully at the threshold, not daring to move a step.

“Master, shall I prepare a meal?”

Jiang Lan’s ears perked up at the lively noise from the eastern wing—clearly, Sister Lan was hiccuping again, making the old ladies laugh with delight.

“What time is it?”

“Master, it’s just under a half-hour to noon.”

Thinking of the boy from yesterday, only a few walls away, Jiang Lan, fan in hand, slipped through the nearest side gate into the family quarters.

Xi Chi followed silently, barely making a sound, like a shadow. Jiang Lan rarely showed his face; even when he had arranged the clan school with the clan chief, it had been handled swiftly and discreetly—none of the relatives preparing to pay their respects had even glimpsed him.

Seeing Jiang Lan dressed as a refined nobleman, the clan members merely assumed a visiting friend of the family had arrived. Some, more curious and with unmarried daughters of age, tried to probe a little, but after a few attempts and no results, they gave up.

After much discussion among the elders, the clan school was established in a quiet spot near the ancestral hall, hoping the ancestors’ blessing would encourage the mischievous young to study diligently.

Teachers at the clan school included a scholar whom Jiang Lan had invited with great ceremony, the talented Mr. Weng, and another renowned scholar. Among the Jiang youths, a few sixteen- and seventeen-year-olds excelled in their studies. Jiang Lan’s so-called “eldest cousin” had his eye on a side branch of the disgraced Pei family from Jiangnan.

The Peis had long been a family of poets and scholars, their literary prestige in the scholarly world perhaps even surpassing that of the current Imperial Tutor, beloved by students across the land. Yet, within such a great clan, intrigue abounded no less than in the imperial palace. Jiang Lan’s opportunistic “cousin” had set his sights on the third young master from the disgraced branch—a late-bloomer, once thought slow-witted, who would spend his days watching ants beneath the trees.

No one expected him to possess a stunning intellect; after ten years of silent observation, a single remark from him astounded all the scholars under heaven. Unfortunately, he was only a lesser son of a side branch, and when his fame began to rise, the stupid and fearful main heir, worried about his own position, contrived to frame him when trouble arose.

The third young master, being the very model of a scholar, was ill-prepared for such schemes, and was soon imprisoned—leaving behind a frail wife and only child. The Peis, wealthy as they were in Jiangnan, could have resolved the matter with a little silver, but the main heir was vicious and insisted on ruining him completely.

As soon as Jiang Lan’s “cousin” heard, he dispatched his most capable son without hesitation, showered silver left and right, and managed to secure the young master’s release.

When Jiang Lan learned of this, he covertly disguised himself and visited several underground gambling dens, sending his cousin a generous sum of silver that very night. But the cousin refused the gift, instead giving a sly wink, all smiles, as though forgetting the deep lines of his old face, repeatedly calling Jiang Lan “little cousin” and making his scalp crawl.

Only later did Jiang Lan discover that the old fox had been leveraging his name to bribe officials up and down Jiangnan. Patiently, Jiang Lan gave him a vivid lesson on karma, then snatched his silver back with a scowl—and accepted his cousin’s “respectful offerings” in return.

Winding through several covered corridors, the sound of recitation grew clearer. Pausing at a carved opening in the whitewashed wall, Jiang Lan peered inside with a look of pride.

Indeed, his own child was the most handsome!

The young children’s instructor was the scholar Jiang Lan had personally invited, a man upright and nearly sixty, who valued propriety above all. Unfortunately, his rigid nature had led to repeated failures in the imperial exams. With a more flexible manner, he might have gone farther, but as it was, the Jiang family had also invited Pei Jiu, the third master from the southern Peis. Many prestigious families in Jiankang had heard and sent their own sons, bearing lavish gifts for the chance to study.

His cousin had asked Jiang Lan’s opinion, but Jiang Lan had left everything in his hands.

The recitation in the courtyard ceased abruptly—it seemed class was over. Concealed by the wall, Jiang Lan watched the children, their clothes varied: most wore simple linen, but a few were dressed in fine garments. Ming-ge wore a plain white robe, elegant yet unassuming, indistinguishable from ordinary cotton to the untrained eye.

Jiang Lan silently praised the nursemaids’ thoughtful care.

Despite efforts to keep things low-key, word had spread that Ming-ge had been sent to him for training. Officially, he was there as a bookboy, but his wily cousin had seen through the ruse at once.

Whenever Ming-ge appeared, his cousin greeted him with both authority and warmth—Jiang Lan instantly recognized the old fox’s intentions, but chose not to expose them.

Class dismissed, the children burst out in a rush. Ming-ge lagged behind, exchanging a few words with some well-dressed boys before they left, until at last he was alone.

The clan school did not provide lunch. The instructors allowed an hour for the midday meal; those nearby returned home, while out-of-town students had rooms reserved in a separate building for rest only—they had to provide their own food.

Jiang Ruoming never returned home for lunch, preferring to use the time to study. He would not nap, but read and practice writing throughout the hour. His teacher often praised him to the clan chief, and Jiang Lan’s cousin always found ways to pass the compliments along.

Jiang Lan knew well what he was up to.

Watching Ming-ge gather his things and head out, Jiang Lan moved toward the covered walkway, leaning casually against the wall. When the boy hurried past, Jiang Lan reached out his hand; the child grasped it silently, the corners of his eyes betraying a bright, secret joy.

After all, he was still a child.

Xi Chi took the boy’s book bag and followed a few steps behind.

“Why are you here, little grand-uncle? Isn’t school over in the afternoon? I thought I’d see you then.”

Jiang Lan gazed into the child’s eyes—pure as starlight, bright and untainted—and felt his body relax, even the pain in his arm eased.

“I had some free time and wanted to see you.”

Jiang Lan followed Ming-ge to his resting room. It was small, furnished with only a bed and a desk—simple and austere. A tiny window opened onto a neglected garden, overgrown and wild. In summer, the place must be swarming with mosquitoes; he’d have to mention it to his cousin.

Xi Chi set the bag on the desk, then retreated to stand at the door.

The little boy pulled out a chair. “Little grand-uncle, please sit.”

Jiang Lan took the seat, noticing the small legs swinging over the bed, the faint red dots on the skin.

Sure enough, the mosquitoes were already a nuisance.

A glint of resolve flashed in Jiang Lan’s eyes—this could not be delayed.

He stood up, but the child tugged at his sleeve. “Aren’t you going to eat with me, little grand-uncle?”

Jiang Lan stroked the soft hair. “Your teacher needs something.”

The boy was sensible and did not insist.

Jiang Lan left and headed straight to his cousin’s house to “scrounge a meal.”

His cousin, Jiang Cheng, was ruddy-faced and bursting with vitality. Jiang Lan studied his complexion—red tinged with purple. Barring surprises, the man would live another twenty years at least; he looked nothing like a man in his twilight years. In fact, he seemed even younger than his own eldest son, who was standing by, pouring wine—a testament to the whims of fate.

Because of his own father, the clan chief’s sons had all served under Jiang Lan in some capacity and recognized him at once. Seeing the young heir arrive, they rose to greet him.

“Little grand-uncle!” Jiang Cheng’s booming voice was full of enthusiasm. If not for his grand-uncle, he never would have seen the beauty of Jiangnan—or its beautiful women.

Before leaving, his father had warned him repeatedly to spend money wisely. He’d sent several beauties to smooth relations with the local officials, but could only look, not touch.

Jiangnan was a land of wealth, where even commoners squandered fortunes as if it were nothing—it made his own greed burn all the brighter.

Today, he had specially bought fine wine to serve his father, hoping to persuade him to let him and his eldest son expand their business in Jiangnan. He’d been thinking about it for days, watching money slip away each one.

Now, just as his father was warming up with drink, the noble young heir appeared—surely this was heaven’s blessing!

Jiang Lan felt the warmth of their welcome from all sides, especially from Jiang Cheng, whose honeyed words tumbled out without end, as if his tongue had been dipped in syrup.

Watching the old cousin, more than sixty, affectionately call him “little grand-uncle” again and again, Jiang Lan’s mouth twitched in disbelief.

Seeing his cousin a bit tipsy, Jiang Lan patted him on the shoulder. “Cousin, do you need something to sober you up?”

The old fox, cheeks flushed, just grinned at him.

Jiang Lan could see he was well on his way to drunkenness—but wasn’t his son right there?

Let the son pay for the father’s debts.