After eavesdropping on the conversation, the Second Steward rushed to the inner study to report.

Master Yang laughed upon hearing the news: “Madam handled it well! Zhou Seventh Young Master is stupid and slow, yet blames the Third Young Master for not pulling him along while escaping trouble. Third Young Master isn’t even his real brother!”

After laughing, he fell into deep thought.

Without attendants, he walked leisurely to Mingyue Residence.

The physician had already visited, prescribing a pile of medicines for injuries and tonics—as seriously as if Yang Jingyuan had lost an arm.

Outside Mingyue Residence’s study was a small lake created by channeling water from the Fu River. By the lake stood a thick Chinese hackberry tree with luxuriant foliage. Under the tree was a nanmu bamboo lounging chair where Yang Jingyuan was taking a nap with his eyes closed. His hand rested on the armrest, freshly applied with medicinal oil to disperse the bruising.

Master Yang entered Mingyue Residence and quietly walked to the tree, waving off the servant to avoid disturbing Yang Jingyuan. He carefully studied his youngest son. Thanks to Concubine Liu, Yang Jingyuan inherited good looks. His eyebrows were cast from the same mold as Master Yang’s, as if drawn with an ink-saturated brush, adding a touch of heroic spirit to his handsome features.

Time had passed so quickly. Master Yang thought as he reached out to pinch his son’s cheek. He remembered how chubby Yang Jingyuan was as a child when he used to pinch his cheeks often.

In an instant, Yang Jingyuan grabbed his wrist and opened his eyes. Seeing it was his father, his hand trembled and let go: “Father, why do you walk like a cat, making no sound?”

“Learned martial arts from that Daoist priest at Mount Qingcheng, quite nimble with your hands and feet!” Master Yang snorted, having failed to pinch his son’s cheek. He straightened up and walked toward the main chamber.

Yang Jingyuan wondered about his father’s visit while instructing the servant to brew his father’s favorite Mengding Yellow Bud tea, following him inside with a grin.

The treasure shelf in the study was filled with various items. Jade bonsai, vases and porcelain, cricket gourds, patterned river stones—valuable and worthless items were randomly mixed, in complete disarray. Swords, hunting bows, quivers, and spear bags containing long spears hung on the walls, along with a piece of calligraphy.

The calligraphy was two feet square, containing only one large character: “Jing” (静).

Master Yang moved closer to examine the signature on the piece: “Hero of Huanhua. Who’s that?”

“That’s me! Father!” Yang Jingyuan explained happily, “The characters ‘Huanhua’ are both beautiful and have Buddhist connections. Isn’t it better than ‘Hero of Yizhou’?”

Master Yang laughed: “So our Yang family can produce a wandering hero?”

“What’s wrong with being a wandering hero? Fighting evil and upholding justice, helping the world and saving people.” Yang Jingyuan pointed at the character “Jing” and asked, “Father, isn’t this character well written?”

“It’s wild and untamed!”

“What do you mean wild and untamed? Master said the silver hooks and iron strokes carry the essence of swordsmanship.”

Master Yang snorted twice without further comment, then turned to examine his writing desk: “Write your name for Father to see. Skip the sword essence and blade light—I can’t see those anyway.”

Yang Jingyuan agreed and carefully wrote his name on bamboo paper.

The writing was very good. Upright, with unrounded strokes revealing youthful sharpness.

Master Yang took the brush and wrote the same three characters. Upright, with power contained within, not lacking in vigor.

“Third Son, look carefully at father’s writing.”

Yang Jingyuan glanced at it and said: “In life, one should be upright, round on the outside but square within.”

Third Son had been clever and perceptive since childhood. But unfortunately, he was born to a concubine. He couldn’t learn the family’s brocade-weaving techniques, couldn’t learn how to distinguish between superior and inferior brocade. He hadn’t even learned fine brushwork painting. There wasn’t even a proper painting in his room. Master Yang sighed and sat down at the eight immortals table: “Third Son, sit down.”

Yang Jingyuan felt his father was acting strange today—could it be because of the Zhou family’s complaint? He spoke first: “Father, Zhou Seventh Young Master wrongly accused me. They always push the responsibility onto me. If I had harassed that young lady, I wouldn’t deny it.”

“That’s a minor matter.” Master Yang wouldn’t come to Mingyue Residence personally just to scold his son about such a trivial issue. He asked gently, “Third Son, you’re eighteen now. Madam is already looking at potential matches for you. What kind of woman do you wish to marry?”

Yang Jingyuan answered without hesitation: “Someone gentle in nature who will take care of me. Better if she’s from a modest background.”

“Oh? Why not a young lady from a prestigious family?” Master Yang was curious.

Mother would worry if he married a young lady from a prestigious family. Yang Jingyuan had accidentally overheard his mother discussing his marriage with his eldest brother. Last time she had specially snuck off to Zhulin Temple to draw a marriage divination lot for him. But he didn’t want to tell his father this, so he craftily deflected: “It’s better if she hasn’t seen much of the world, just staying home to take care of me is enough. For a woman, being able to support her husband and teach their children is sufficient.”

This boy thinks just like me. Just as Madam Shi was too capable, making him lose his sense of being a husband. Master Yang thought of the gentle Concubine Liu, his eyes filling with warmth: “So after you’re married, do you still plan to do nothing, spending your whole life riding horses and playing with hawks with those city boys? Don’t you want to do something proper? Like learning how to manage shops?”

Could he do proper work? When he was young, curiosity made him demand to enter the weaving workshop with the Fourth Young Master, who was only a year younger. Madam Shi had invited the city’s most famous candy artist Zhang to make candy art to distract him. When Fourth Young Master cried and demanded to play with candy art too, Second Aunt beat him with a feather duster and forced him into the workshop.

Later he understood—children of concubines couldn’t learn the Yang family’s brocade-weaving techniques or anything related to brocade. Children of concubines couldn’t inherit the Yang family business.

Growing up, Mother could treat him well, spoil and protect him, could spend lots of silver helping him clean up his messes. But on one point, Mother also protected her cubs—she would never allow him to threaten First and Second Brother’s positions.

He was the youngest son of the First Branch. Father’s heart belonged to his concubine. He wasn’t stupid—if Father praised his business talent or such, Mother would worry to some degree.

Just for Mother’s tolerance toward him and his mother, he wouldn’t hurt her feelings. Besides, the Yang family had plenty of money and could hire capable managers—they didn’t need his help.

What could he do besides eating, drinking, and playing?

Now Father wanted him to learn about managing shops. Yang Jingyuan looked at his father, saw his graying hair and beard, his loving gaze, and felt a surge of emotion. He lowered his head and said: “Your unfilial son has caused you worry.”

“Third Son, you’re eighteen now, and Father might as well speak plainly. You’re born to a concubine. No matter how much Madam dotes on you, her dowry can only go to your First and Second Brothers. Your First Brother will become the family head. Your Second Brother will also receive more of the family property than you. But Father won’t treat you poorly. However, if you continue to idle away your days in play like this, how will you maintain the property Father leaves you after I’m gone? Father worries about nothing else except that you might wastefully squander it all, leaving your mother with nothing to rely on in her old age. Do you understand Father’s meaning?”

“I understand everything.” Yang Jingyuan nodded heavily, feeling sad: “Father, don’t talk like that. It’s as if you’re about to leave Mother and me. It makes me sad to hear it.”

“It’s good that you’ll listen to Father’s advice. Go find the old manager at Three Culverts and learn from him. Don’t let anyone know about this. And don’t bring your attendants.” Master Yang patted his shoulder and slowly left.

He wanted him to secretly go alone to learn from the retired old manager living outside the mansion. So, Father understood everything. Yang Jingyuan’s emotions surged, taking a long to settle.

When the servant brought in tea, he just caught Master Yang leaving. He found Master Yang’s gaze strange, almost making his hands holding the tea tray go weak. After seeing Master Yang off, the servant entered the study with the tea: “Young Master, did the Master scold you?”

Receiving no answer, the servant looked up to see Yang Jingyuan standing by the desk writing. He didn’t dare disturb him and stood watching from the side.

On the white bamboo paper was written “Yang Jingyuan” three characters. Upright, with power contained within, not lacking in vigor. Almost identical to Master Yang’s writing.

The servant was puzzled—why was Young Master practicing writing his name for no reason?

“Feed the horses well, I’m going out tomorrow,” Yang Jingyuan said after studying his writing for a while, putting away the paper with his father’s writing.

“Young Master, you’re not going to Three Culverts to fight Zhao Second Young Master, are you?” The servant became anxious, “The Zhao family rules that area, we’ll surely come to no good!”

“Who said I was going to Three Culverts to fight?” Yang Jingyuan asked the servant in return.

If not to fight, then where?

While the servant was thinking this, Yang Jingyuan was thinking too.

To avoid making Mother worry, Father had specifically instructed them not to tell anyone. He couldn’t bring his servant either. He gave the servant a pat: “What are you imagining? I visit Master every month. I’ll stay for a few days, so pack my luggage properly.”

The servant smiled, ducking his head: “I almost forgot, Young Master goes to stay at Jianfu Temple for a few days every month. I’ll go pack right away.”

Yang Jingyuan thought smugly that going to Mount Qingcheng to see his master every month was the perfect excuse to secretly visit the old manager along the way—nobody would ever know.