Chapter 1

Jian Xun was a scion of a cadet branch of the Jian clan of Langya. The Langya Jian clan, spanning eight centuries and multiple dynasties, had produced seven dukes and marquises, four empresses, three imperial sons-in-law, and eleven chancellors, making it the premier noble family of the age. His father had served as a fourth-rank Junior Minister in the Court of Imperial Sacrifices; had he lived, he would surely have risen to at least the third rank by now.

Jian Xun was not yet nine when his father passed away. He followed his mother from the capital back to their ancestral home in Zehe. It was there he met his neighbor, Huang Shiyu. The Huang family’s farm was only a fifth the size of the Jian estate, though the properties sat adjacent. In the humble locale of Zehe, the fallen-from-grace Jian Xun was considered a great landowner, while the Huangs were merely comfortably middle-class.

They first met when Jian Xun was ten. He stood on a ridge between the fields, gazing out at the golden waves of wheat as his servant held a parasol over him. Huang Shiyu passed by clutching a bundle of wheat, her burning gaze fixed upon him. Jian Xun was accustomed to being stared at due to his striking looks, but the blank, unblinking intensity of her gaze was quite rude. He frowned at her, only to realize she was staring at the chilled bowl in his hand. He had only half left.

"Do you want some?" he asked.
"Yes," Huang Shiyu replied, being an honest soul.
Seeing her lips cracked from thirst, Jian Xun instinctively scooped up a spoonful and fed it to her. She opened her mouth and ate it. He fed her another. Before long, the entire half-bowl of iced grapes and watermelon had vanished into her stomach. Jian Xun smiled at her. Huang Shiyu whispered a thank you, blushed, and ran off.

"Where did that little wild boy come from?" his servant muttered. "Young Master, you shouldn't have let him… it's so unhygienic."

Jian Xun froze. He hadn't thought much of it while feeding "him," but now it felt improper. He gifted the bowl and spoon to the servant and, assuming the child was the son of a tenant farmer, cast the matter from his mind.

But Huang Shiyu remembered it deeply, remembering the taste of that summer ice. It had been quite delicious. A child raised in the countryside, she was not one for airs and cared nothing for the fact that she had eaten his leftovers.

Mrs. Huang’s interest in their new neighbors grew daily. She tried many times to curry favor, only to be blocked by Scholar Huang: "Madam Jian is a noblewoman of high birth from the capital. Her husband has been dead less than a year; she is in mourning and refusing guests. Do not pester her with the ways of a village woman."

Unexpectedly, in the second year of the Jian family’s arrival, Mrs. Jian sent a formal invitation. She had taken note of Scholar Huang’s learning and requested his services as a private tutor. Scholar Huang had previously been entangled in a legal dispute over his words, which had kept him from teaching for years. The Jians, being newcomers, were likely unaware of the history, which was why they chose him. Fearful that the opportunity might slip away, Mrs. Huang eagerly accepted with a beaming smile.

On the day the arrangement was finalized, Mrs. Jian’s personal maid invited several respected village elders to a feast in the Huang family’s main hall. Even the village headman came in person, cupping his hands and laughing: "Scholar Huang, this is truly remarkable!"

Scholar Huang, an honest man, rubbed his hands together and stammered, "Oh, it is nothing, nothing at all. It is rare for anyone to still think well of me."

During the feast, the maid led a young boy into the room. It was Jian Xun. He held his teacher’s gift—the formal tribute offered upon entering apprenticeship—in both hands, performing the three kowtows before Scholar Huang and presenting his formal petition to study. At ten years old, the boy possessed an ethereal grace, his movements unhurried and composed. As he knelt there, he looked like a celestial child offering blessings.

The adults watched in awe. By comparison, their own children looked like crooked, withered things.

"Teacher, please accept your student’s respects," Jian Xun said, his voice clear and bright.

After a brief silence, Scholar Huang happily helped him up. The guests toasted to his future, one saying the boy had the air of a high official, another predicting he would surely pass the imperial examinations. They credited Scholar Huang for this, but he waved them off: "No, no, I am but a common scholar. Whatever fate this child has, it is ordained by heaven." The guests only thought him overly modest and continued to toast him.

Mrs. Jian’s maid smiled and led the young master away. After walking some distance, she knelt to wipe the dust from Jian Xun’s knees. The Huang house was quite dirty, with thick layers of dust on the brick floor. As the servant wiped his clothes, Jian Xun spotted the child who had begged for the ice bowl. She was sitting under an elm tree, sorting vegetables. When their eyes met, she immediately waved at him, beaming.

Jian Xun tilted his head, unable to stop himself from smiling back. So, "he" was the tutor’s servant.

Young Huang Shiyu, innocent and bright, ran over to give him a gift. "For you." It was a brand-new, roly-poly ceramic doll from Shaoxi. Jian Xun’s eyes, clear as a spring, held a trace of confusion. Huang Shiyu’s eyes curved into crescents as she said, "Your ice bowl was delicious, so I’m sharing my good things with you too."

She thought the half-bowl of ice he had left behind was a precious treasure. As the ceramic figure’s head wobbled back and forth, joy welled up in Jian Xun’s eyes. "Then I shall have Fusheng bring you another bowl."

Huang Shiyu politely declined. "This is a gift of thanks. One does not ask for a return gift after giving a thank-you present."

The tutor’s servant might be greedy for treats, but she was remarkably polite, Jian Xun thought. His eyes brightened as he noticed she held another ceramic figure in her left hand. It was a set of anthropomorphic dolls representing the twelve zodiac signs; she held the Tiger, while his was the Dog.

Mrs. Jian’s maid said kindly, "Second Young Miss, our young master must return to his studies, so he cannot play with you."

"Oh, alright."

Jian Xun blinked, looking at Huang Shiyu in a daze. At ten, he was still an inch shorter than her. The maid, coming from the capital where social hierarchy and etiquette were strictly enforced, did not want the young master playing with Huang Shiyu, even though Jian Xun clearly wanted to.

The two sides nodded and passed each other. Jian Xun was sluggish, and it was only after walking a dozen steps that he asked in a muffled voice: "Just now... what did you call her?"

"Second Young Miss," the maid replied clearly, feeling the need to fill in the gaps of the young master’s knowledge. "Her name is Huang Shiyu. She is the daughter of Scholar Huang’s first wife and the second-born in the family." She looked at the young master’s dazed face. "Is something wrong, Young Master?"

Jian Xun shook his head stiffly.

Since the eldest daughter of the Huang family had married into the county seat, young Huang Shiyu had been left to comb her own hair, wearing it in a simple child’s knot and dressing in plain cloth trousers, looking very much like a tomboy. Her personal maid had long been snatched away by Mrs. Huang to serve in the master’s chambers; she was never seen, and whenever she returned, she would be scolded by Mrs. Huang for half a day. Having the maid made little difference. Scholar Huang had scolded his wife about this once: "Meiniang is still young; at least let the maid comb her hair before you put her to other tasks."

Meiniang was Huang Shiyu’s childhood nickname, taken from the phrase "plum rain in the season when plums turn yellow."

Mrs. Huang’s eyes widened, and she immediately burst into tears. "I have to manage this whole house every day, working like an animal! How is it a crime against heaven to use a maid that belonged to your first wife's daughter?" The tears flowed uncontrollably. Scholar Huang stopped speaking.

That day, after the feast and the departure of the guests, Scholar Huang discussed with his wife about clearing a room in the outer courtyard for a classroom. "I have a new set of tables and chairs in my dowry; move those over. He is a young master, after all; we shouldn't let him be uncomfortable," Mrs. Huang said, still worried.

"You are a virtuous wife," Scholar Huang complimented her.

Mrs. Huang hurriedly opened Jian Xun’s gift. Two ingots of pure silver lay neatly in the box—roughly twenty taels! And that was just the initial tribute; there was also the annual tuition of thirty taels. Her eyes lit up. Relying on the Jian family’s tuition and their own savings, Scholar Huang bought dozens of acres of land and opened a sweet-water shop near Lujin Academy. The earnings for brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones were significant, and their lives grew increasingly prosperous.

A good life inevitably draws the tongues of busybodies. "The boastful Scholar Huang has struck it rich again," one remarked. The others roared with laughter. Scholar Huang looked honest, but he was actually a hypocritical braggart. He had once boasted of dreaming that a red sun hung high in the sky, golden light falling to the earth, and a tall, young top scholar kowtowing to him.

"A top scholar kowtowing to him? Is he the Emperor himself?"
"Maybe he’s just hallucinating that he’s the father of a top scholar."
"He doesn't even have a son; how could he be the father of a top scholar? Hahahaha!"

The crowd laughed uproariously. Those mocking Scholar Huang were part of the faction of a man named Wu, a licentiate who held a personal grudge against the scholar. The villagers, fearing the power of a licentiate, had dared not send their children to study, which was why Scholar Huang’s school had failed. Now that it was not only reopened but serving the prestigious Jian family, how could they not be jealous?

Scholar Huang cherished his only student immensely. Jian Xun was diligent and clever, understanding everything with a single hint and capable of drawing inferences. He wrote a neat, scholarly hand, and every time Scholar Huang reviewed his work, his heart swelled with pride. When his father was alive, Jian Xun would slack off, and the adults would turn a blind eye, indulging him. After his father died, there was no one left to lecture him, and he simply became sensible.

Regarding his upbringing, Mrs. Jian never confined him to the house to study in misery; she often had him experience the customs and ways of the world. Two years passed in a flash, and February arrived, with the apricot blossoms in Zehe in full bloom. Twelve-year-old Jian Xun took the county examination for the first time and placed first, shocking the village headman and drawing praise even from the county magistrate: "Extraordinary, truly extraordinary for such a young age."

Two months later, at the prefectural examination, he took first place again! According to the customs of the Great Kang Dynasty, those who placed first in the county, prefectural, and academy examinations were known as the "Little Triple Crown." In reality, if the top prefectural candidate had no major disciplinary issues, they were often exempted from the subsequent academy exam, directly entering the government school and earning the rank of Licentiate. While there had been "Little Triple Crowns" in the past, one as young as Jian Xun was unprecedented.

Thus, the Prefect personally interviewed the prodigy from Zehe County, specially exempting Jian Xun from the academy exam two years later and bestowing upon him the courtesy name Yunzhang. Jian Yunzhang had emerged, becoming the only government-subsidized student in Zehe and entering Lujin Academy.

That same year, Huang Shiyu was sent to work at the sweet-water shop near Lujin Academy, laboring all day.

Of all the memories of his youth, the one that Jian Xun held most dear was never the forced or hurried marriage, but his Meiniang. His longing for her grew as wild and unruly as the spring.