The Marquis Mansion’s Elite Class
Chapter 393

"You're robbing us, Bai-ge?" He Zheng said with a laugh. "Though it's not much, this money was earned by our own efforts. Turns out making money isn’t that hard—we got five hundred coins in just one day."

Wei Xinglu chimed in, "That’s only because we ran into Boss Xie. Otherwise, we’d still be selling eggs in the marketplace."

Shen Yibai muttered in confusion, "That Boss Xie is strange. He called us over and spent the whole afternoon asking questions. I don’t really get it—were those things really so fascinating? Even if I’m stronger than them… Qin Ye is stronger than us too, but I don’t find Qin Ye all that curious."

Zong Wenxiu smiled faintly. "That’s because you’re used to seeing so many extraordinary people. Back when I lived in the slums, if someone like that came around, I’d also be curious about what the world outside was really like."

The little troublemaker seemed moved. He sighed and said, "So every place’s academy is different. No wonder the child scholar rankings are filled with so many people from the capital. Many outsiders don’t dare come to the capital for the exams—some don’t even know about the child scholar exams."

Zong Wenxiu sighed. "That’s why the ideal world described in the Book of Rites is truly hard to achieve."

The group of young boys walked back to their carriage.

Su Xi and Xu Wan had been waiting there for some time.

Xu Wan waved at them and instructed the servants to hand them damp towels to wipe their faces. Zong Jincheng grabbed a towel and ran over, proudly waving the tael of silver in his hand as he reported their success. "Mother, look! Silver! We sold all the eggs!"

Xu Wan raised an eyebrow at the neatly rounded sum. "A whole tael? I expected a pile of copper coins."

The little troublemaker grinned. "Boss Xie exchanged it for us so it’d be easier to carry."

"Who’s Boss Xie?" Xu Wan asked while motioning for them to board the carriage.

Amidst the indignant protests of his abandoned friends, Zong Jincheng climbed into Xu Wan’s carriage and eagerly recounted the day’s adventures.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the carriage set off toward the capital.

By the time they reached the manor, night had fallen, and the servants had already prepared dinner.

But Su Xi still handed each of them a bun to tide them over, making them compose two poems before they could eat.

Under the candlelight, Su Xi reviewed their work, marking notes with his brush.

Xu Wan reminded him gently, "Teacher, you should eat too. You’ve been running around all day—it’s exhausting. You can check their work tomorrow."

Su Xi sighed repeatedly, shaking his head.

Xu Wan, noticing his expression, asked hesitantly, "Were today’s poems that bad?"

Su Xi set down the papers, looking resigned. "Not bad, exactly—just lacking poetic spirit. I asked them to write about selling eggs, and they turned it into a discourse on the ideal world from the Book of Rites. The ideas are good, but that’s more suited to policy essays..."

Xu Wan rubbed her nose, not daring to speak.

Policy essays were their strength—but also a stumbling block for poetry.

Su Xi said seriously, "I don’t think these children of yours have any hope of becoming masters of poetry. They just don’t have the talent for it."

Xu Wan suddenly felt relieved.

She joked, borrowing his earlier words, "That’s fine. Otherwise, if they entered officialdom and spent all their time criticizing officials, they’d get beaten up."

Su Xi chuckled, shaking his head helplessly. "Ah, well. I’ll do my best to steer their poetry toward themes of concern for the people and the nation. We’ll see how much we can salvage."

Xu Wan understood Su Xi’s concession and thanked him sincerely. "We appreciate your efforts, Teacher."

In the days that followed, Su Xi often took them to small towns on the outskirts of the capital, exposing them to things they wouldn’t normally see in the city.

The boys went from enduring hard labor and outwitting old scholars to observing the lives of common people, learning what their daily struggles entailed.

During this time, Luo Jingfeng paid a visit—only to find no one home.

The next day, he woke up early, determined to catch the boys.

Yet again, he was met with an empty house.

Furious, Luo Jingfeng stormed up to the master of the house and demanded, "What’s going on? It’s not even Chenshi yet—where has that old man dragged Cheng-er off to now?"

Zong Zhao sat alone in the courtyard, eating breakfast without looking up. "The outskirts. Picking grapes."

Luo Jingfeng fumed. "He was hired to teach poetry! Why is he hauling my Cheng-er around so far? I haven’t seen him in nearly a month!"

Zong Zhao replied calmly, "Poetry requires real-life inspiration. Otherwise, it’s just empty words—no depth."

Luo Jingfeng scoffed. "What a hassle. So what if it’s not good? Do you think the Ministry of Rites would dare fail my Cheng-er?"

Zong Zhao’s lips twitched, but he chose not to engage.

Annoyed by the dismissal, Luo Jingfeng smirked and prodded, "How pitiful. Wife and child both gone—General Zong, are you… a stay-at-home husband now?"

Thud.

Zong Zhao set his bowl down, his gaze murderous.

But Luo Jingfeng wasn’t one to be intimidated by a glare. The angrier his opponent, the more he enjoyed it. "What? Did I say something wrong?"

Zong Zhao gritted out, "Do you have business here?"

Luo Jingfeng sneered. "Of course. Why else would I waste time on you?"

"Then speak."

Luo Jingfeng’s smirk faded, replaced by cold arrogance. "That little prince in the cold palace—there’s something fishy about him."

Zong Zhao’s eyes sharpened.

Luo Jingfeng scoffed. "See? This is the emperor you and the Crown Prince trust so much. Handing the throne to the Crown Prince? Please. His real heir has been hidden away all along."

Zong Zhao’s fists clenched.

Luo Jingfeng continued, "The old man’s got quite the scheme. But whatever I intend to give Cheng-er—no one will take it from him."

Zong Zhao asked quietly, "Are you planning to act?"

Luo Jingfeng smirked dangerously. "Not yet. Don’t worry, I’ll keep our agreement. I’ll wait until next year."

Zong Zhao sipped his porridge, unfazed. "Then you should spend this time thinking about how you’ll explain things to Jincheng later."

Luo Jingfeng’s expression darkened. "Explain what? The deposed Crown Prince? I promised him I wouldn’t push for that again—but what does that have to do with next year’s plans?"

Zong Zhao said evenly, "Let’s hope Jincheng accepts that reasoning."

Luo Jingfeng scowled, stung. "As long as you don’t poison his mind, I’ll make sure he forgives me."

Zong Zhao nodded. "Then good luck."

Luo Jingfeng: "..."

He definitely just got payback—but had no proof.