Volume 1, Chapter 9: The Fundraiser

Within her refined gaze, a subtle change flickered—foolish young master? It truly became difficult to tell.

With a slight bow, she smiled gracefully. "Young Master Zhang, not only are you remarkably talented, but your compassion for the world is also admirable. I, Qingya, naturally cannot refuse. As the first contribution, allow me to offer it. Unfortunately, my purse is limited, so I can only donate one hundred taels. I hope no one will take offense."

"Heh heh, Miss Qingya, what are you saying?"

"Indeed, this is truly a noble cause for the nation and its people; how could we begrudge it?"

"Heh heh, certainly not."

With Qingya setting the example, others felt obliged to contribute at least something. Since Qingya only donated one hundred taels, none dared offer less; most gave one hundred fifty or two hundred taels.

Zhang Yan accepted the money with a cheerful smile while furtively glancing at Qingya, his gaze inadvertently drifting to her thigh.

Though not quite as perfect as Jiang Zhiwan’s, it was still fair and supple.

Yet this courtesan was even more formidable than he had imagined.

The esteemed courtesan of the Scarlet Pavilion, claiming poverty? Only one hundred taels? No one was fooled; it was a strategic move to cap the donation at one hundred, encouraging others to give more.

After all, such a grand occasion at the Scarlet Pavilion would soon spread throughout Wucheng. No one wished to be accused of lacking benevolence or being less generous than a courtesan.

Qingya had skillfully grasped the minds of these nobles, holding them firmly in her hands.

Although Xiao Changqing disliked Fu Ling, he could not refuse.

This was, after all, a disaster relief fundraiser, much like the strategy he had proposed in court.

Perhaps merchants could find ways to avoid donating, but as a distinguished third-place scholar, how could Xiao Changqing abstain?

Reluctantly nursing a pain in his heart, he produced a silver ticket for two hundred taels.

Zhang Yan eyed the silver ticket in Xiao Changqing’s hand, then flashed a sly smile. "Scholar Xiao, a distinguished third-place scholar, renowned for your concern for the world—two hundred taels seems a bit insufficient, don’t you think?"

"Moreover, if this matter reaches His Majesty’s ears, would it not cause displeasure?"

Zhang Yan blinked innocently.

Xiao Changqing, with his limited wit, still thought he could outsmart Zhang Yan? He was too naïve.

Xiao Changqing, already feeling the sting of parting with two hundred taels, now found all eyes upon him.

Especially Qingya, who smiled gently as she looked at him, saying, "I believe Scholar Xiao is not such a man."

"Heh heh."

Xiao Changqing forced a smile that was far from pleasant, then withdrew another silver ticket for three hundred taels from his pocket.

"Heh heh, I seem to have overlooked this earlier—three hundred more, five hundred in total."

Though he spoke lightly, in his heart, he cursed Zhang Yan’s ancestors for generations.

Zhang Yan, seeing no more silver in Xiao Changqing’s pockets, took the tickets with a beaming smile.

That evening’s fundraising began with Qingya’s one hundred taels and soon amassed fifty thousand, of which ten percent meant five thousand taels for Zhang Yan.

He was going to get rich!

Glancing at Zhang Yan’s beaming expression and Qingya’s gentle smile, Xiao Changqing felt a sharp pang in his chest.

Today’s spotlight should have been on him; his poetry should have been the finest. Even Qingya should have favored him.

Yet now, Qingya and Zhang Yan were enjoying each other’s company, while he felt like a mere outsider.

It was easy to foresee that if Jiang Zhiwan heard of today’s events, she would not blame Zhang Yan but rather grow more attentive to him.

"Zhang Yan!"

Gritting his teeth, Xiao Changqing spat out the two words through clenched jaws.

He would never forget this humiliation.

Snorting coldly, Xiao Changqing turned to leave.

Noticing this, Zhang Yan quickly called out, "Scholar Xiao, don’t be in such a hurry to leave."

There was still more to exploit; why run off so soon?

Xiao Changqing halted, eyes cold as he glared at Zhang Yan. "What more do you want?"

Zhang Yan approached, grinning, and patted Xiao Changqing’s shoulder. "Hey, Scholar Xiao, what’s this? You said you’d treat me tonight, but the bill hasn’t been settled. You can’t just leave now."

Hearing this, Xiao Changqing cursed wildly in his heart.

"I’ve already donated all the silver I have—where would I get money to pay the bill?" His face darkened.

Having nothing left, and yet this fellow dared expect him to foot the bill? Was he even human?

"I see..." Zhang Yan feigned realization.

Xiao Changqing snorted and strode quickly toward the Scarlet Pavilion’s entrance.

If he stayed any longer, who knew what further tricks Zhang Yan might have in store.

From behind, Zhang Yan called out, "Miss Xuanxuan, please put it on Scholar Xiao’s tab. I’m sure he won’t renege on his debt."

Just as Xiao Changqing stepped through the Scarlet Pavilion’s gate, he stumbled, nearly falling.

He turned sharply to glare at Zhang Yan with a cold, piercing look.

A renowned third-place scholar, yet he had been so thoroughly outwitted.

Zhang Yan, this isn’t over!

Inside the Scarlet Pavilion, Zhang Yan withdrew his gaze from the gate, a faint smile curling his lips.

To challenge him? Xiao Changqing was simply too inexperienced.

Others lowered their heads to drink, occasionally casting wary glances at Zhang Yan, careful not to become the next Xiao Changqing.

...

At the Zhang residence, Zhang Wu and Uncle Wu sat together, apparently engaged in idle chat.

Zhang Wu downed his drink with satisfaction. "Old Wu, I’ve been suppressed for half my life, but these past days I’ve finally regained some face. Those sour officials don’t dare to look down on me anymore, haha."

Uncle Wu, seated opposite him, refilled his cup with a chuckle. "That’s all thanks to the young master."

"Yes, though I don’t know how that brat suddenly improved or had his awakening." Zhang Wu stared into his cup, then shifted tone abruptly. "Come to think of it, I haven’t seen that brat all day today. Where has he gone?"

Uncle Wu’s face immediately took on an awkward expression, hesitating.

Seeing this, Zhang Wu grew curious. "Is there something you can’t say?"

Uncle Wu sighed, about to speak, when suddenly a shout came from outside: "The imperial edict has arrived!"

Zhang Wu and Uncle Wu exchanged puzzled looks.

What? An imperial edict?

Despite their confusion, the edict had to be received.

At the Zhang residence’s gate, Shen Qiuxue stood with a cold expression, holding the edict and waiting for Zhang Yan to come receive it.