The Imperial College

Seeing his daughter lost in thought, Qin Ye pondered for a moment, then continued, "As for his striking that man from the Eastern Mansion, I kept turning it over in my mind just now. The more I considered it, the more..."

He did not know why, but looking back on it afterward, he felt a chill at what careful thought revealed.

Qin Keqing raised her face, radiant as a shower of blossoms, and asked in surprise, "Wasn't... wasn't he simply acting on impulse, fighting to prove his courage?"

Qin Ye shook his head. "I was startled by the news at first and did not immediately grasp it. From asking the Old Madam of the Rong Mansion to judge the matter to receiving a maid from her, everything he mentioned just now had been considered beforehand... I originally thought it was a young man boasting after the fact, so I did not think deeply about it. Now it seems everything was within his calculations."

Qin Keqing blinked at her father's flushed cheeks. Could Father have been drinking just now? Was that why he was letting his imagination run wild?

Stroking his beard, Qin Ye said, "Though he appeared reckless, he ultimately stopped that man from the Eastern Mansion, brought in the Old Madam of the western mansion to judge the dispute, and emerged entirely unscathed. If all of that truly lay within his calculations... do you remember what else he said when he came last time?"

Qin Keqing knitted her mist-veiled brows, her rosy lips parting slightly. "You mean when he last came..."

"'At worst, there will be a lawsuit to fight.' Had he foreseen it from that very day? Have you ever seen a young man who, even when striking someone, takes one step while looking three steps ahead?" Qin Ye's last words were like a shaft of light cleaving the darkness. Qin Keqing trembled, while the two maids, Ruizhu and Baozhu, both cried out involuntarily.

Looked at that way, it really was just as their master had said.

Sometimes people were like that. Once they decided someone was honest and trustworthy, that person found favor in their eyes, and every action acquired a flattering sheen.

Qin Ye continued, "And there was what you said to him. Any other young man, provoked like that, would have gone red or pale. Yet he was so young, and his expression never changed. He was more like a senior official presiding in a government office."

That last part owed rather more to the flattering sheen.

But when Qin Keqing thought about it, she found it was true. She had said that whether the match was good or bad, she could only obey, and contempt had seeped through her words. Yet the youth's expression had remained unchanged, his gaze calm. He had neither flown into a humiliated rage nor wallowed in self-pity.

Was this really a young man?

"Could he look down on your daughter and think it makes no difference whether..." A wistful look settled over Qin Keqing's lovely face. Carried away by her feelings, she stopped halfway as her cheeks burned. What had she just been saying?

She had been far too forward...

Baozhu said, "Miss, didn't you say just now that the Old Madam of the Jia Family had rewarded him with a maid? A maid from a noble household must be pretty..."

Qin Ye frowned, anger rising in his face. "More nonsense! If that were so, why would he tell us openly? You girl, you cannot see matters clearly, and you take a gust of wind for rain. Who knows how many disputes your meddling could stir up!"

Baozhu went pale and lowered her head, not daring to answer.

"I do not think that is the case. Perhaps he has other considerations, or perhaps he already has a complete plan in mind." Qin Ye did not finish the rest, but an uneasy feeling stirred within him.

Even the Jia Family's clan head had tried to obstruct him, only to be forcefully beaten back. If his daughter politely refused, might that stir up further trouble?

In truth, perhaps in a certain person's eyes, it amounted to nothing more than this: Qin Keqing, I am marrying you. Even if the Buddha himself came, he could not keep you from me!

After living two lives, would I still let you marry someone else?

Holding Orange Cat in her arms, Qin Keqing turned her father's words over in her heart. One moment she felt bashful and flustered; the next, everything seemed shrouded in mist.

Meanwhile, Jia Heng rode the donkey cart toward the Imperial College. After traveling for a little under an hour, he arrived before its tall, imposing ceremonial gateway, where a plaque bore the three large characters for "Imperial College."

Beneath the gateway, scholars in blue robes came and went in groups of three or five.

"Uncle Li, you can head back first." Jia Heng took the letter of recommendation from inside his robe, stepped down from the cart, and spoke to Li Dazhu beside him.

Li Dazhu acknowledged him, picked up his whip, and drove the cart home.

Jia Heng looked up at the ceremonial gateway, composed himself, and strode proudly inside.

As the highest institution of learning in the Dynasty, it had gatekeepers on duty, and outsiders could not enter or leave at will. Soldiers even patrolled inside, ready to be summoned should any emergency arise.

Jia Heng first approached an elderly gatekeeper and presented the letter of recommendation, wondering whether Han Hui's letter would actually be of any use.

Unexpectedly, the old gatekeeper's expression changed when he saw the seal on the envelope. He rose and cupped his hands. "You must be Young Master Jia. I will take you to the Literary Gathering Pavilion to see Registrar Song."

Jia Heng paused briefly, then returned the salute. "Sorry for the trouble."

Han Hui really does handle people and affairs like rain that nourishes without a sound.

Clearly, he had left word with the gatekeeper well in advance. Worried that Jia Heng would not know the way, he had also specifically arranged for the gatekeeper to guide him. From the attitude of the Imperial College's gatekeeper, Han Hui's identity was all but apparent.

When we dined at the Exquisite Pavilion that day, I could already tell he was either wealthy or of high station. There are no hereditary nobles surnamed Han in this dynasty, so that leaves only one possibility: the son or nephew of some civil official associated with books? Jia Heng pondered this as he followed the old man toward the Literary Gathering Pavilion.

Of course, he could probably obtain the answer simply by asking the gatekeeper, but that would not be appropriate.

Along the way, they passed halls and pavilions and skirted a swallow-shaped lake covering several dozen mu, its blue-green waters rippling. Pink peach blossoms encircled the embankment, while sweet herbs along the banks and orchids on the islets grew lush and green. Two nearby towers, one large and one small, cast their reflections into the lake. A gentle breeze came, and the water shimmered.

On the verdant lawns and the rocks beside the lake, some students recited texts while others composed matching couplets.

Pointing to an elegant, stately five-story pavilion partly hidden behind willows, the gatekeeper smiled. "Young Master Jia, that is the Literary Gathering Pavilion. Once we cross this bridge, we will be there."

Jia Heng nodded. Standing on the bridge, he truly felt his heart open and his spirits lift, as though he had returned in a dream to his university campus in his previous life.

Before long, they reached the pavilion. Jia Heng looked up at the venerable building, weathered by wind and rain through countless years, and a sense of solemnity rose in his heart.

The gatekeeper led Jia Heng up the steps and into the building. Under the gazes of passing students, they turned into a spacious, refined room.

Inside were two elderly men and a middle-aged scholar, all dressed in everyday robes. Seated behind long desks, they were either reading or bent over copying texts. One of the old men looked up at the gatekeeper and smiled. "Old Dong, what brings you here?"

Jia Heng's expression briefly turned peculiar. Old Dong the gatekeeper?

Some of his solemnity and restraint promptly melted away.

"Gentlemen, this is the Young Master Jia whom Master Song mentioned. He has come to apply for the Canon Clerk's position," the gatekeeper explained.

The old man looked Jia Heng over, then turned to the middle-aged scholar. "Brother Junya."

Registrar Song, whose courtesy name was Junya, put down his brush and looked up, studying Jia Heng. "Are you Young Master Jia Heng?"

Jia Heng stepped forward. "I am Jia Heng, your junior. My respects, Master Song."

As he spoke, he handed over the letter of recommendation.

Song Yuan nodded and accepted it. After reading it, he met the curious gazes of the two elderly men and smiled. "Last time, I mentioned to Zisheng that we were short-handed here at the pavilion, with many books left untended. He remembered, and now he has come to help ease my troubles."

His words carried a distinct note of familiarity.

Han Hui's courtesy name was Zisheng. He had a wide circle of acquaintances at the Imperial College and did reasonably well in his studies, so he enjoyed good relations with the academic supervisors, lecturers, and professors. Of course, the most important point was that the current deputy director of the Imperial College, Yan Hong, was his uncle by marriage.

So long as such sons of official families did not hold their noses in the air or throw their weight around, they were practically kings of the social scene.

Upon hearing that Han Hui had recommended him, the two old men obligingly offered a few compliments about Jia Heng's fine appearance, then paid him no further attention. Unlike Song Yuan, they no longer harbored ambitions for advancement in officialdom that might lead them to court the son of Second Grand Secretary Han. The two of them read and wrote at the college, content to enjoy their leisure.

Song Yuan nodded to the gatekeeper, signaling that he could return to his post, then looked at Jia Heng. "Young Master Jia, this way, please."

With that, he led him into a side room. Host and guest took their seats, and an attendant served fragrant tea.