Chapter 11: Sour Oranges and Sweet Gossip

Su Zhuozhi called it foolish. The large, fluffy dog seemed to understand, perhaps having been frequently scolded by Jiang Yangyu with similar words, knowing “foolish” was not a compliment.

It glared at Su Zhuozhi indignantly, barking loudly at him. Its furious barks seemed to retort, “I’m not foolish!”

Without its tongue lolling or tail wagging, the dog resembled a wolf when it turned fierce.

Its eyes gleamed with a commanding presence, quite intimidating. It even bared its teeth, revealing sharp canines, poised as if to bite Su Zhuozhi.

Xie Jue frowned. No matter how docile and harmless it appeared, it was still merely an animal, devoid of human reason.

He recalled how delicate and fragile the young master was. If bitten by a dog, the pain would surely be unbearable.

Therefore, his first instinct was to pull Su Zhuozhi back, yanking him out of the dog’s snapping range.

Su Zhuozhi, completely unprepared, stumbled backward, nearly colliding with Xie Jue. Only when Xie Jue’s palm pressed against his lower back did he manage to stop in time.

The dog lunged, missing its target. With a frustrated whimper, it charged forward again.

Xie Jue stepped forward, his gaze chilling. He did nothing overtly, yet General Valiant, relying on an animal’s instinct for danger, immediately cowered.

Its ears flattened against its head, and its tail tucked between its legs, it retreated two steps in fear, hiding behind Jiang Yangyu.

“Woof…”

Jiang Yangyu: “…” ‘Coward.’

Su Zhuozhi laughed, patting Xie Jue’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, General Valiant is just playing around; he wouldn’t bite me.”

This silly, large dog was particularly fond of mischief, always putting things into its mouth. The chickens, ducks, fish, and geese raised in the Duke’s estate’s kitchen had almost all fallen victim to its antics.

It wasn’t that it wanted to eat them; it merely held them in its mouth before spitting them out, thoroughly enjoying the game. Of course, there were times when its play backfired.

Once, it tried to hold a goose’s head, only to be chased and pecked relentlessly by the enraged white goose. In the end, it could only cower in a corner, whimpering pitifully, waiting for someone to rescue it.

With Su Zhuozhi’s assurance, Xie Jue withdrew his gaze, no longer focusing on the dog. Only then did the timid General Valiant stop trembling.

After its master fed it a bone, it became even more energetic, as if nothing had happened. A classic case of remembering food but not blows.

Jiang Yangyu glanced at Xie Jue, thinking, ‘Though Zhuozhi dislikes being followed, this guard’s reaction was swift and decisive, protecting his master instantly. He’s quite good.’

Having petted the dog, it was almost time for them to depart. Otherwise, the others, having waited too long, would surely start complaining.

Thus, Su Zhuozhi and Jiang Yangyu walked towards the main gate together, then climbed into the carriage one after another.

Xie Jue instinctively moved to follow, but Su Zhuozhi waved him off. “You don’t need to come in. I’m going to chat with Yangyu.”

The implication was clear: he wished not to be disturbed.

Xie Jue’s eyes darkened for a moment, then, as if nothing had happened, he turned sharply and sat next to the coachman.

This was not the first time.

Xie Jue remained expressionless, appearing utterly unconcerned.

From the carriage behind, the sounds of conversation and laughter occasionally drifted out, clear and pleasant. Just by listening, one could imagine Su Zhuozhi’s radiant smile, and how happily they were chatting.

When Su Zhuozhi spoke to Xie Jue, Jiang Yangyu overheard, quite surprised. “A mere guard, why is he riding in the carriage with you?” Typically, guards rode horses ahead of or behind the carriage.

Su Zhuozhi replied, “I asked him to temporarily take on some of a pageboy’s duties.”

After a brief thought, Jiang Yangyu understood. “You mean to use this to make him…?”

“Precisely.”

Jiang Yangyu rolled his eyes. “Why go through such trouble? Wouldn’t it be simpler to just arrange a post for him and send him away?”

“You think so? I told him to follow Ye Huahui and earn military merits, but he refused.”

Jiang Yangyu frowned, suspiciously asking, “He stays by your side; could he have some ulterior motive?”

“Absolutely,” Su Zhuozhi nodded without hesitation.

Jiang Yangyu’s eyes widened in surprise. “Then you still keep him around?”

Su Zhuozhi stated matter-of-factly, “For money, of course. Our family pays well. He seems quite short on cash.”

Jiang Yangyu pressed a hand to his forehead. “…I meant, what if he’s someone else’s spy, a threat to you? Forget it, I’ll investigate him for you.”

The Su family was not a vast, influential clan, nor did it have intricate webs of interest. Its members were few and simple, and everyone doted on Su Zhuozhi. Consequently, he was utterly inexperienced with schemes, his entire being overly pure and innocent.

It was precisely for this reason that his friends always felt like elder brothers, needing to look after him. This wasn’t just because Su Zhuozhi was young, but also because of his naiveté regarding power struggles. If he were ever targeted, he would surely be devoured, leaving not even a bone shard behind.

Of course, they couldn’t endlessly discuss a guard. Soon, the topic shifted to more interesting matters, and they chatted enthusiastically, their laughter continuous.

Before they knew it, they arrived at Seven Peaks Mountain. This majestic mountain rose steeply, its summit wreathed in white mist.

A waterfall split the mountain in two, plummeting down its face, its thunderous roar echoing powerfully, a truly spectacular sight.

More than one famous temple graced the mountain. There was the Temple of Wenchang Dijun, presiding over scholars’ fame and official careers; the Temple of the Old Man Under the Moon, governing marriage and romance; and the Temple of the God of Wealth, Wang Hai, overseeing financial prosperity.

All three represented the desires of mortals, attracting a constant stream of pilgrims and bustling with fervent incense offerings.

Since they had come to pray for success in the seasonal examination, there was no doubt they would head to the Temple of Wenchang.

Su Zhuozhi donated incense money, bought the finest incense sticks and candles, and carefully lit and held them. His bowing posture was standard, his prayers sincere, and every step he took was done with utmost seriousness—far more earnestly than he ever paid attention in class.

‘Though I am lazy and don’t work hard enough, I still hope Wenchang Dijun will bless me with good grades. I will offer you much, much incense. If that truly doesn’t work, then… then I’ll just worship a different god!’

After silently concluding his thoughts, Su Zhuozhi slowly stood up and walked out of the temple, a relaxed and confident expression on his face, as if all had been done and the seasonal examination was now assured.

Having finished their prayers here, their visit was, of course, not over.

They would also stay to eat a vegetarian meal and explore the nearby area.

The Temple of the Old Man Under the Moon was not far away. In front of it stood two century-old trees, growing so close that their branches had fused together, intimately intertwined—a rare sight of conjoined branches.

This was the famous Marriage Tree. Almost everyone who came to pray for a spouse would write their wish on a red silk ribbon and tie it to a branch, imploring the Old Man Under the Moon to bind them and their desired person together with a red string.

The Temple of the Old Man Under the Moon was filled with young women, bright-eyed and elegant, their bell-like laughter faintly audible.

Jiang Yangyu and the others watched them, then nudged those beside them, teasingly asking, “Want to get your fortune told? See what your marriage prospects are like?”

They were no longer very young; they understood the implications. Though not immediately getting married, it was already time for their families to start looking for suitable partners.

Naturally, this led to an inevitable topic: ‘What kind of girl do you like?’

Beautiful, fair-skinned, gentle, virtuous, straightforward, talented, skilled at riding, fond of chess… Almost everyone had a vague outline in their minds.

When it was Su Zhuozhi’s turn, he frankly said, “I haven’t thought about it.”

The others didn’t accept this answer, urging him to think now. In response, he asked, genuinely puzzled, “Why must one get married? I’m perfectly happy on my own.”

‘If I marry, I’ll have to spend a lot of time with my wife, and diligently raise children to adulthood. Wouldn’t that mean I couldn’t be as free and unburdened as I am now?’

Rather than praying to the Old Man Under the Moon, he was more interested in the God of Wealth Temple on the other side, wishing for his shops and estates to be overflowing with riches, raking in vast sums daily.

Jiang Yangyu paused, then laughed at him, patting the top of his head. “You haven’t come of age yet, still a child.”

Su Zhuozhi’s face instantly darkened. He slapped Jiang Yangyu’s hand away, huffing in displeasure. “Nonsense! Who said falling for someone means growing up? I’m very mature and steady right now!”

Jiang Yangyu clearly disagreed, turning to ask, “What do you all think?”

The others chuckled. “Zhuozhi is still young!”

Su Zhuozhi’s face flushed with anger. He wanted to beat them up, but he was outnumbered and couldn’t win. He pulled the person following behind him, asking exasperatedly, “Xie Jue, do you have someone you like?”

His ruffled expression suggested that if Xie Jue dared to say ‘yes,’ a fist would land on his face the next second.

Forced into this predicament, Xie Jue calmly replied, “No.”

Su Zhuozhi lifted his chin, his expression saying, ‘See? Plenty of people don’t have someone they like.’

Meng Yuanzhou grinned mischievously. “So what? You’re all still young!”

Su Zhuozhi puffed out his cheeks. ‘No, I can’t take it anymore. This fight must happen.’ He rolled up his sleeves and pounced on Meng Yuanzhou, unstoppable.

The others didn’t intervene either, joining in the playful chaos. Their hearty laughter drew a young monk over, who reminded them to keep their voices down.

They then slightly reined themselves in, and incidentally asked the young monk if there were any scenic spots nearby.

The young monk mentioned a bamboo grove behind the temple, quiet and serene, perfect for a stroll.

They headed in that direction, but the bamboo grove held little interest. They had similar plantings at their estates, so it wasn’t particularly special, at most imbued with a faint scent of incense.

They ambled around for a while, and just as they were about to leave, finding it uninteresting, they suddenly heard a sharp, raised voice, as if in an argument.

The few of them stopped in unison, pricking up their ears to eavesdrop.

The voice sounded somewhat familiar.

“My elder sister, with her noble status, is not someone you can simply demand to see! What does her provincial visit have to do with you? You, a low-born merchant’s son, even if my sister hadn’t entered the palace, you could never aspire to her! My sister burned all those old letters long ago and threw away the gifts. Don’t harbor such delusional hopes! Cut off those disgusting thoughts of yours quickly and get lost, or I’ll have someone throw you out!”

It was Kong Zhonglin.

They exchanged glances, expressions somewhat shocked.

Su Zhuozhi craned his neck, vaguely seeing the profile of another person. It was someone he knew: Pang Hongcai, the son of the capital’s cloth merchant boss. They had met twice due to business dealings. His father had even praised Pang Hongcai for his business acumen, though noting his stubborn and rigid personality, and his poor social skills.

‘They actually know each other? From what was said, it sounds like Concubine Kong, who is now in the palace, had a past relationship with Pang Hongcai? We came out for a stroll and unexpectedly stumbled upon such juicy gossip.’

The young men shook their heads and clicked their tongues, then continued to listen to the gossip as if at a storytelling session. This was far more interesting than walking through a bamboo grove.

However, Kong Zhonglin, fearing he might be discovered, quickly left after a few more angry words. Pang Hongcai remained standing there, head bowed, for a long while before departing in a daze.

No more to hear.

What a pity.

Because of this unexpected eavesdropping, Jiang Yangyu remembered something and casually remarked, “Speaking of which, if I recall correctly, although Concubine Kong and Kong Zhonglin are both legitimate children, they don’t share the same mother. The former is the daughter of Lord Kong’s first wife, while the latter was born to his second wife. How close could the siblings’ relationship truly be? I don’t believe it.”

Traces of disdain appeared on the others’ faces. Remarrying a second wife was not an issue in itself, but Kong Zhonglin’s father had married another woman less than a year after his first wife’s death. Such haste made even bystanders uncomfortable, let alone Concubine Kong, who had lost her mother at a young age.

According to what they had just heard, Concubine Kong must have had someone she loved before the imperial selection, but her family disapproved and forcefully prevented it, sending her into the palace instead. In that light, she seemed somewhat pitiable.

Since the matter didn’t concern them, they sighed a couple of times and had no further interest in discussing it, turning to exit the bamboo grove. Later, they coincidentally encountered Kong Zhonglin. He wore a smile on his face, showing no trace of the contemptuous anger he’d displayed in the bamboo grove; his ability to change expressions was truly masterful.

Su Zhuozhi and the others felt uncomfortable watching him and unhesitatingly turned to leave.

Wandering aimlessly, they were drawn by several orange trees growing near the back wall of the temple.

The trees were laden with many large, round tangerines, golden-yellow and heavy, weighing down the branches and emitting an enticingly sweet fragrance that made them all crave a taste.

Without hesitation, they acted on the impulse.

Jiang Yangyu reached out, plucked a plump orange, peeled it, tore off a segment, and tossed it into his mouth. The abundant juice burst forth, filling his entire mouth.

“Is it good? Is it sweet?”

Jiang Yangyu nodded, offering the orange in his hand to Meng Yuanzhou.

Meng Yuanzhou, without thinking, popped two segments into his mouth. His lips twitched, and he turned to give Jiang Yangyu a deep glance, as if silently saying much, yet nothing at all.

Then, without changing his expression, he nodded in strong agreement. “It truly is very sweet.”

Seeing them all eating so contentedly, the others eagerly reached for a segment to try, savoring them with relish.

Su Zhuozhi was no exception. Impatiently, and without any guard, he put a segment of fruit into his mouth. Then, his entire face crumpled.

“Ugh—so sour!”

After only two chews, he couldn’t help but spit out the orange segment.

“Hahahahahaha!” Jiang Yangyu and the others burst into laughter, all wearing expressions of having successfully pulled off a prank.

Su Zhuozhi spat twice, utterly speechless. “And you have the nerve to call me young? Look how childish your actions are!”

Seeing them still laughing uncontrollably, Su Zhuozhi directly slapped the remaining segments of orange into the mouths of Jiang Yangyu and Meng Yuanzhou, who were closest to him. The immense sourness shot straight to their heads, instantly changing their expressions and silencing their laughter.

Su Zhuozhi turned to look at the others, who froze and quickly covered their mouths, fleeing. He took off after them, enthusiastically chasing and ‘feeding’ these ‘mature elder brothers’ oranges. Of course, he didn’t spare Xie Jue either.

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