The New Year atmosphere was growing thicker by the day, and the alley entrance of Earl Changning’s Manor was becoming increasingly lively. Many peddlers came carrying poles with all sorts of little trinkets to sell. The weather had cleared up nicely these past few days, and the peddler selling pinwheels had made a fortune.
Song Chuyi was also holding a delicate and interesting grass-woven flower basket in her hand. Seeing her playing with it with such interest, Song Jue smiled: “Did Ye Er send this in?”
Ye Jingchuan was constantly finding ways to send things in here. Song Jue had long known this perfectly well but had always turned a blind eye to it. Song Chuyi also knew this. She glanced at him sideways and asked: “You received news?”
When it came to serious business, Song Jue became especially reliable. He lifted his robe and sat down across from Song Chuyi, watching as she inserted flowers into the basket while he propped up his chin and rotated his cup: “Received it. You were exactly right. Third Madam Chen couldn’t even wait a few days. She already went to the Fang residence today, afraid that this fat roasted chicken from the Lu family would run away.”
This truly wasn’t because Song Chuyi guessed accurately—it was that Third Madam Chen’s circumstances determined that she would definitely and certainly take the risk to do such a thing. The Chen family might be glorious, but this glory had no practical use whatsoever for the third branch. Third Madam Chen had no benefits at all. Over the years, naturally all kinds of complaints would accumulate. Now that Third Madam Chen had reached the end of her rope, of course she wouldn’t consider whether her actions would bring trouble to the Chen family. Even if someone explicitly told her now that this might bring trouble to Elder Chen, she would probably not hesitate to take the silver first before anything else.
A young lady from a Hanlin family, forced to this point, bending her waist for mere survival—she no longer had any other choice.
“So where are they meeting tonight?” Song Chuyi was fiddling with the flower basket in her hands while somewhat distressed, propping up her cheek, not knowing how to arrange the flowers to make this basket more lively and interesting.
Song Jue glanced at her, the smile at the corner of his mouth somewhat odd: “Naturally at Chongyin Hall. After all, you’ve eavesdropped there more than once or twice already. Once is happenstance, twice is familiarity—the shopkeeper is also willing to give me face.”
Of course the shopkeeper would give him face. Song Chuyi pretended not to understand his teasing: “Is that clan uncle of Lu Bingyuan truly reliable? We must obtain written documentation with Third Master Chen’s fingerprint on it.”
Lu Bingyuan was indeed heaven’s favored child, but this fellow simply didn’t have the fate to serve as an official. In the previous life, he was also implicated in the case of leaked examination questions in the spring imperial examinations. It was said that his clan uncle was too worried about him and privately contacted the chief examiner to reach an understanding—everyone assumed Lu Bingyuan would definitely pass, so the chief examiner was naturally happy to establish this good relationship. After all, the waves behind push the waves ahead in the Yangtze River, and occupying the position of honored teacher would mean one more source of support in official circles in the future.
In this life, when Song Chuyi thought about designing a trap for Elder Chen, she first thought of Lu Bingyuan, who was about to participate in the spring examinations. There was no one more suitable than Lu Bingyuan—he was brilliantly talented and successful at a young age, arrogantly offending quite a few people, and spoke without restraint, fancying himself as having a scholarly hermit’s demeanor.
Song Jue laughed once, snatched away Song Chuyi’s flower basket, fiddled with it a few times, and inserted a green plum blossom into it. He examined it for a while, quite satisfied, and stroked his chin somewhat proudly: “Don’t worry. That clan uncle of his is the typical example of concern leading to chaos. Even though his nephew is already so famous, he still wants to explore the path ahead for him first.”
After saying this, Song Jue couldn’t help sighing once more, as if he felt Lu Bingyuan was somewhat of a pity: “He truly has real talent and substance. His future prospects would have been limitless. Now with us stirring things up like this—”
Song Chuyi stood up and patted his shoulder. Suddenly feeling mischievous, she turned to look at him and asked: “Does Big Brother know what kind of ending this great talent with limitless prospects had in my dream?”
Song Jue became interested, looking at her enthusiastically: “What ending?” He very much enjoyed hearing Song Chuyi talk about things from her dream. Listening to that same batch of people with the same names and family backgrounds make completely different choices and reach entirely different endings always felt like reading a supernatural romance novel—the plot full of twists and turns, with protagonists intimately connected to himself. It was quite thrilling.
“He later took refuge with Prince Gong and became Prince Gong’s advisor.” Song Chuyi’s gaze was distant as she looked at Song Jue: “But although he was a talented scholar, he was just that—a talented scholar. He couldn’t become a politician. He personally led Prince Gong down a dead-end path. In the end, together with Prince Gong, he died in Taiyuan.”
Song Jue shook off the goosebumps on his body. He knew Song Chuyi never spoke falsely and couldn’t help being thoughtful: “So you mean this person was fundamentally unsuited to being an official?”
Song Chuyi raised her eyebrows noncommittally. Seeing Song Yan running toward them, she smiled and waved at him.
“Sister, Uncle’s wife has arrived. Grandmother wants you to come over.” Song Yan had run rather urgently, and his face had been reddened by the wind: “It seems they said Uncle sent a letter.”
A letter from Uncle—was it from those maternal uncles at the Cui family, or from Cui Shaoting in the northwest? Song Chuyi nodded, then turned back to look at Song Jue: “That Master Lu is giving Third Master Chen money and gifts—he might not be willing to offend anyone by doing something like making a seal impression. Big Brother must pay extra attention. This is evidence and must be obtained.”
Song Jue raised his chin to indicate his agreement. When he saw Song Yan, his eyes lit up: “A’Yan will come with me tonight.”
Recently, he had been taking Song Yan in and out of restaurants, teahouses, and theaters. It was time to truly take Song Yan to see how people set traps for others to fall into. This way, in the future, whether deceiving others would be more effortless, or avoiding being deceived by others, he would be prepared.
Song Yan had followed Song Jue for a long time and felt that following this unconventional eldest brother was a very interesting thing. Hearing this, he immediately looked toward Song Chuyi.
Song Chuyi, being looked at this way, had no alternative. Thinking that having Song Yan learn a bit wouldn’t hurt, she nodded. It was still that same principle—she couldn’t walk the future path for Song Yan. Song Yan would eventually have to live independently of her. The more things she taught him now, the fewer traps there would be around him in the future.
She straightened Song Yan’s hat for him. After agreeing, she instructed him again: “Follow Big Brother. Don’t run around randomly, and don’t act on your own initiative.”
Song Yan had long since learned all this. Previously, when he learned something, he wanted to show off his capability. After being disciplined by Song Jue a few times, he became obedient. Now, never mind acting on his own initiative—even before making a decision, he would deliberate three times over. He’d rather be slower than greedy for achievement and rash advancement, just afraid of falling into others’ traps or doing foolish things. Naturally there were benefits to thinking thrice before acting—he had already learned this lesson well.