“Running away may be shameful, but it works!”
In the rear garden of the residence of the Duke Who Guards the Realm, Su Mian lay comfortably in a specially made rocking chair, basking in the warm spring sun and stroking the enormous Persian cat in his arms.
Three full days had passed since his performance of “a new approach to sorting trash” outside the Ministry of Rites.
In those three days, the entire capital had erupted. From princes and nobles to hawkers and porters, everyone's conversation over tea or after meals revolved around the duke's youngest son's “outrageous behavior.”
Some said Su Mian was a hopeless case, refusing even the path to success the Grand Princess and Empress Dowager had paved for him. Others said some seductive fox had bewitched him: he had casually given such an important gold examination token to a penniless scholar of humble birth.
“Oh, my little lord, you still have the leisure to lie here 'running away'?”
Su Changfeng, the duke's eldest son, strode into the rear garden carrying a freshly sharpened blade, his face thunderous. “Those censors impeached Father in court until his face turned green! They accused you of 'contempt for the laws and discipline of the court' and 'privately transferring examination eligibility'! Father says he's putting duty before family today. He's going to break those two legs of yours that never do anything but lie around!”
Su Mian didn't so much as lift an eyelid. Holding the cat, he rocked in his chair.
“Big Brother, calm down. If I lie down first, no one and nothing in this world can knock me over. Those censors are bored out of their minds. How will they hit their targets if they don't impeach me? Besides, that wasn't an illicit transfer. It was a charitable investment. In my previous life... ah, no, a high monk once told my fortune. This is called spending money to ward off disaster.”
“You...” The sight of his little brother's unshakable indifference made the veins in Su Changfeng's temples throb.
But before he could put down his saber, a bright jingling of ornaments came from the far end of the covered walkway.
“Changfeng, who are you trying to frighten with that lump of iron?”
The duchess—Su Mian's own mother, who controlled the economic lifeblood of Jiangnan's sixteen provinces—approached gracefully, surrounded by maids and older serving women. She shot her eldest son a glare, then assumed an expression overflowing with maternal tenderness and handed Su Mian a freshly stewed bowl of the finest bird's nest soup.
“Mian-Mian, ignore your father and big brother. Those two were born to toil.” The duchess stroked his face fondly. “The Grand Princess went to the palace yesterday and made a point of mentioning this to the Empress Dowager. Her Majesty has spoken. Our Mian-Mian was born to enjoy life. Why should he take the examinations to become the top scholar? How exhausting! You've given the gold token away, and that's that. Tomorrow the Grand Princess will have another made of solid gold for you to play with.”
Su Mian accepted the soup and nuzzled into his mother's arms with a beaming smile. “Mother and Auntie love Mian-Mian best.”
Su Changfeng stared, receiving a thorough lesson in how a doting mother ruined her child. Gritting his teeth, he angrily put away his long saber and threw out a final remark before leaving.
“Go on, lie there! Of all the people you could have given that gold token to, why Xie Wei? Now the whole capital is saying he's a kept man who earned his examination eligibility by climbing into someone's bed at the duke's residence! That boy is proud as anything. Someone saw him this morning, carrying a blade and heading toward our house!”
Su Mian raised an eyebrow. His hand paused briefly.
A kept man? Climbing into someone's bed?
Tsk. Ancient gossip was every bit as absurd as the entertainment paparazzi in his previous life. He'd only meant to give that compulsive overachiever a break before he worked himself to death. Instead, he'd pushed him into another storm of public opinion.
As he was thinking, a servant from the front gate rushed in, flustered. “Your Ladyship! Eldest Young Master! Young Master! Something's wrong! Xie Wei, the scholar of humble birth who took Young Master's gold token the other day, is kneeling outside the main gate. He's holding... he's holding a bundle wrapped in white cloth. He says he's here to 'return Young Master's good name'!”
The words “kneeling” and “white cloth” made Su Mian's eyelid twitch violently.
Surely Xie Wei wasn't so stubborn that he intended to spill his blood at their gate and prove his integrity with his death?
“Come on. Let's have a look.” Su Mian tossed the Persian cat out of his arms and smoothed the creases in his robe, a helpless yet intrigued smile curving his lips.
Apparently, if something made no sense now, understanding it a little later wouldn't help—because he had already thoroughly enraged this proud king of overachievers.