Chapter 46: Poetry Gathering? Not Going

Chapter 46: Poetry Gathering? Not Going.

Chen Yi understood all too well why one might become a fool.

Not because of extraordinary talent or skill, but from an inability to say no.

When others assigned you tasks, you’d simply acquiesce, savoring the fleeting sweetness of approval, like a horse intoxicated on blood, you’d never refuse.

So when Xiao Jinghong inquired whether he’d aid Xiao Wanyan, Chen Yi’s first instinct was to decline.

Xiao Jinghong had sensed his reluctance, offering no pressure, merely remarking calmly, “Take your time. Decide after the ancestral rites.”

A slight relaxation of his shoulders, yet the thought of those wretched days still stirred his resolve to resist.

“My lord, truly…”

“I’m only proficient in scholarly pursuits, writing, and fishing. Nothing else.”

“The matters with my cousin are urgent; I fear I’d only hinder her.”

Xiao Jinghong regarded him with serenity, “My lord’s discernment suggests you’d bring no trouble to your cousin.”

“….”

Chen Yi fell silent, a dutiful silence. The baroness wielded little influence over him.

It seemed he’d have to seek another path through Xiao Wanyan.

Yet at breakfast, Xiao Wanyan remained unseeing, her gaze fixed on the table, speaking softly with Xiao Jinghong and Xiao Wuge as she ate.

Chen Yi said nothing, plotting to smooth tensions when opportunity arose, hoping the elder matriarch might, in recognition of his “poem of unparalleled brilliance,” grant him a swift exit.

In truth, Xiao Wanyan was restless.

Since reading his “Song of the Divine Maid,” her mind churned with its lines.

They etched themselves into her thoughts, each phrase as vivid as if painted before her eyes.

When she recalled, “On the jade terraces, like you—rare in this world,” her cheeks flushed.

She admitted the poem was exquisite, the verses beautiful, yet the author was her brother-in-law.

It left her restless all night, unable to find sleep.

At that moment, Xiao Jinghong noticed her flushed face and asked, “Sister, your face is red—unwell?”

Xiao Wanyan blinked, her pale skin deepening in hue, coughing feebly, “Perhaps the rain has brought chill.”

Xiao Jinghong nodded, “Shall I fetch a physician?”

Xiao Wanyan dared not—she waved dismissively, “No, I’ll rest a while.”

“Then take care. Later, my lord and I will visit each residence; you should rest at Chunhe Garden.”

“I’d prefer to stay and ensure you two don’t clash again—yesterday’s quarrel with the Second Prince and Aunt Qiuyun unsettled me.”

Xiao Jinghong furrowed his brow, “Are you worried about the Prince, or Aunt Qiuyun?”

Xiao Wanyan lifted her eyes, scolding him with a gentle slap, “I fear your blunt honesty might offend someone.”

As she spoke, her gaze flickered toward Chen Yi, her white irises momentarily eclipsing her dark pupils.

Chen Yi studied her carefully, then bent over the plate of osmanthus cakes, pondering whether to slice them horizontally or vertically.

After breakfast, he followed the sisters through the residences. The rain persisted, blanketing the grand courtyard in a hazy veil.

In the torrential downpour, Xiao Jinghong and Xiao Wanyan shared one umbrella, while Shen Huatang and Su Zhimeng each bore their own.

Chen Yi stood apart, a small butterfly perched on his elbow, shielding him like an elderly patron.

Through the corridors and into the courtyards, he bowed formally, then remained silent, standing quietly to the side.

His face bore a smile, lest his posture suggest he was a palace guard.

Yet his presence eased the burden—Xiao Jinghong and Xiao Wanyan’s relatives, uncles, elders, and kin greeted him warmly.

At least no one scowled.

His greatest gain: cataloging every chamber in the Xiao estate.

Beyond the Duke’s main hall and the Second Branch’s residence, the rest were mere branches.

At first glance, the family seemed prosperous.

In truth, only the sparsely populated main hall and the garrison-controlled Second Branch were functional.

Especially the young masters and mistresses of the Second Branch: Xiao Dongchen, stationed in Shu Command; Xiao Qiuyun, married to the Duke of Qian; and Xiao Zhiqi, rarely seen from his post in the Guard Bureau.

“Looking at it this way, the Xiao lineage’s last surviving heir is only Xiao Wuge.”

Chen Yi recalled Xiao Wuge’s recounting of Xiao Wanyan’s words, and a deeper understanding dawned.

No wonder Xiao Wanyan wanted him to study under Xiao Wuge—to ensure Xiao Wuge’s safety in Jinling.

A heartfelt gesture, indeed.

After more than a *shí* hour, they returned to Chunhe Garden as the hour of noon passed.

In the interim, Xiao Jinghong again pressed the matter of aiding Xiao Wanyan.

“Young mistress, my lord agrees—though the husband…” Xiao Wanyan hesitated, her eyes meeting Chen Yi’s, as if inviting him to speak.

Chen Yi understood, “My lord, let Wanyan consider it. You said to wait until after the ancestral rites.”

It seemed the baroness had resolved not to let him linger.

Yet Xiao Wanyan herself might not wish him to depart…

Xiao Jinghong regarded them both, then nodded, “Then it is settled.”

She then led Su Zhimeng toward the Pure Contemplation Residence, claiming Duke Liu of Shu had arrived to pay respects to the patriarch.

After she left, Xiao Wanyan’s fragile face flushed with a hint of embarrassment, glared at Chen Yi, and allowed Shen Huatang to guide her to the storehouse.

“….”

The poem’s power was greater than expected.

Chen Yi sighed, resigned, and joined Xiao Wuge back to Chunhe Garden, hoping to catch a golden carp instead.

Perhaps?

…

The rain fell for three days straight.

Xiao Jinghong busied herself fiercely for three days, her feet never touching the ground.

From dawn until dusk, she entertained officials from Shu Prefecture, managed military affairs, and attended to every detail.

Observing all this, Chen Yi grew weary, retreating to his study.

When she was occupied, he practiced martial arts in the quiet.

He worked diligently.

It had taken several days to refine the pile work, boxing techniques, palm methods, and footwork to such a state of practiced perfection that only the right moment of fortune remained to select one and break through.

After calculating and considering all factors.

The optimal choice was "Martial Way·Body," the reason simple: having achieved some accomplishment in the pile work, it would lay a more solid foundation for him in the Nine Rank Realm.

By calculation, when "Martial Way·Body" ascends to the Great Completion realm, he would not only be able to refine the Great Spear Pile Work to mastery level but also further deduce it, perhaps even attain the Perfected realm.

Should he manage to possess a set of Dragon Energy in the Nine Rank Realm, his raw strength alone could rival a cultivator of the Eight Rank.

As the old lord’s birthday approached, the Xiao Manor grew increasingly bustling.

First, the generals from the three military garrisons of Dingyuan arrived in person, followed by the major figures from all corners of Shu Zhou.

Some were high-ranking officials in their own right, others were noble families with legacies spanning centuries.

Whether they came or stayed, the birthday invitations had all reached the manor.

Of course, these visitors, upon arriving at the Xiao household, would not only pay their respects to the old patriarch but also seek out Xiao Jinghong in the Spring Lotus Garden.

Even Chen Yi, the husband, would be included in these visits, with most offering compliments on his good looks and scholarly prowess, even chanting a verse of birthday verse.

Chen Yi merely played along, his smile a mask of indifference; few would truly remember him.

It was not until two days before the birthday feast that Xiao Di rushed in, breathless.

"Master, master, someone is visiting!"

Chen Yi lounged, lazily asking, "Which clan’s elder is it this time?"

"Not from any clan— it’s Lord Li and Miss Yun Xiang."

"Oh?"

Chen Yi felt a flicker of surprise, then nodded. "Show them in."

By the pavilion beside the pond, the four of them took their seats, eyeing one another.

Li Huizhou’s bearing had changed noticeably. Though some of the vigor from his earlier parade remained, there was a newfound steadiness to his demeanor.

After some polite chatter, Li Huizhou spoke solemnly, "Brother Qiu, your kindness in that affair last time—I owe you a debt of gratitude. Had it not been for you, I might have regretted it all my life."

His hand never left Yun Xiang’s.

Yun Xiang, still haunted by the memory of last time’s wedding theft, lingered just behind Li Huizhou, and when she heard his words, she shyly glanced up at him, her voice barely a whisper, "The lord’s words… they also reflect my own thoughts."

Chen Yi paid it no mind, his expression one of someone long over it. He waved a dismissive hand. "You two are well matched—I have no part in it."

"Without me, if your fates are meant to be, you’ll find a way."

Li Huizhou smiled, nodding. "I’m grateful for your understanding."

At the end, he withdrew a invitation card. "Next month, Yun Xiang and I are to be wed. I pray you can attend, Brother Qiu."

"Of course."

Chen Yi took the card without hesitation.

To his surprise, Li Huizhou withdrew another card. "This one is from my master, a poetry gathering at the Cloud Book Academy—would you attend?"

"Poetry? No."

Chen Yi didn’t even think twice, dismissing it outright.

(Chapter Complete)