Chapter 44

Chapter 44: Today I Believe in Daoism!

Gu Nan Xi glanced at Su Xuan Ming, surprised despite herself.

That crybaby who only knew how to throw tantrums at home… actually had a backbone moment?

“Godmother, it’s not Brother’s fault!” Chen Yi Xuan burst out, cheeks puffed with anger. “Li Shao Yan went too far. He warned every private school in Capital not to take Brother.”

Jiang Guang Hai, usually the steady one, nodded grimly. “Brother’s grades may not be much, but even the Licentiate who teaches basic primers refuses to take him. That’s humiliation.”

“And Wu Fa Tian sent a servant boy to follow Brother every day,” someone added bitterly. “Wherever Brother goes, the boy sings.”

Gu Nan Xi raised a brow. “Sings what?”

Li Ming De hesitated, glanced at Su Xuan Ming’s lowered head, then spoke softly:

“A rat may have skin, yet a man may have no decorum.

With no decorum, why not die?”

Gu Nan Xi’s expression sank. That insult wasn’t just cruel. It was filthy.

It was the kind of line that pointed at someone’s face and said: You have no shame. You’re worse than a rat. Why aren’t you dead yet?

“So you went to block Li Shao Yan?” Gu Nan Xi asked.

She took a sip of her seven-treasure pounded tea and exhaled through her nose. Seven treasures in the cup, ten clowns in front of her.

Su Xuan Ming’s voice was low. “Yes. I couldn’t swallow it. Mother… was I wrong?”

“Of course you were wrong!” Gu Nan Xi slapped the table, sharp enough that even Su Yun Ting, ready to plead for his brother, froze.

Her eyes flashed. “Why didn’t you curse back?”

Su Xuan Ming stared, stunned.

Gu Nan Xi’s voice rose, scathing and incredulous. “Listen to what you’re asking! Were you trying to reclaim your dignity? No—you were handing your face over for someone else to slap!”

Su Xuan Ming stammered, scrambling. “But the saint said—”

“Saint?” Gu Nan Xi scoffed. “Your mother doesn’t believe in Buddhism, and she doesn’t believe in Confucianism. She only believes in Daoism! Daoism says if someone curses you, you curse back. Otherwise you keep filthy words in your heart, and your heart turns filthy. Do you want to be a filthy-hearted person?”

Su Xuan Ming went blank. Daoism… said that?

Su Yun Yan leaned close to Gu Nan Xi’s ear and whispered, “Mother… don’t we have a small Buddha hall at home?”

Gu Nan Xi didn’t blink. “Then we’ll build a small Daoist shrine tomorrow.”

Su Yun Yan’s eyes widened. “That works? Won’t the gods be offended?”

Gu Nan Xi waved it off. “A human heart has four chambers. There’s plenty of room.”

The ten young gentlemen looked at each other, uncertain.

Finally, Su Xuan Ming stepped forward, cautious as if testing thin ice. “Mother… should we go curse back now?”

“Go,” Gu Nan Xi said at once. “You must.”

“Then we’re leaving?”

“No time to waste. Move!”

The moment Su Xuan Ming and the others left, Gu Nan Xi told Su Yun Yan to wait, then headed straight for Gentleman Bookshop.

Gentleman Bookshop had knocked through the shops on both sides and expanded into a broad, bright space. Inside, it was divided into a paper-and-brushes section, a storybook section, and a Four Books and Five Classics section.

The storybook area was quiet now, but the paper counter was chaos—customers pressed shoulder to shoulder, hands full, voices loud.

Gu Nan Xi walked straight to the storybooks and asked calmly, “Shopkeeper, is Scentseeker’s new volume still available?”

The shopkeeper shook his head with a regretful smile. “Madam, I’m terribly sorry. Sold out. There have been fewer people copying books lately, so supply can’t keep up.”

Disappointment flickered in Gu Nan Xi’s eyes.

“Madam,” a soft voice said from nearby, “you like Scentseeker’s books too?”

Gu Nan Xi turned.

A young girl stood a short distance away, clear-featured and refined, with eyes so clean and bright they seemed to catch light.

Gu Nan Xi smiled and nodded. “I do. I like them very much.”

The girl’s smile deepened. “I have a private room at Fu Quan Teahouse. Would Madam do me the honor of coming with me to drink a cup of light tea?”

For reasons Gu Nan Xi couldn’t name, she felt warmth toward the girl on sight. Familiar, pleasant—easy to trust.

She accepted without hesitation. “Then I won’t be polite. My daughter Yun Yan is waiting outside. Shall we bring her along?”

The girl paused for a heartbeat, then her eyes curved into crescents. “Madam is straightforward. I’d love to meet Madam’s young lady too. She must be extraordinary.”

Su Yun Yan, still confused, was promptly swept along into Fu Quan Teahouse.

“Madam,” the girl said as she settled them, “you may call me Wen Yu.”

Wen Yu warmed Gu Nan Xi’s teacup herself and poured a fresh cup of hot tea.

Su Yun Yan sat stiffly and introduced herself, earnest as a child. “My name is Su Yun Yan. You can call me Yun Yan.”

Wen Yu gave her a sweet smile. “I know. I saw everything that happened in the teahouse earlier.”

Then Wen Yu’s gaze returned to Gu Nan Xi, curious and intent. “Madam, how do you view Scentseeker’s storybooks?”

Gu Nan Xi lowered her eyes, thinking. When she looked up, her smile was faint—almost knowing. “On the surface, she writes romance and boudoir secrets. Underneath, she writes: the Great Dao stretches like the blue sky, and yet I alone cannot escape it. I don’t know what predicament Scentseeker has fallen into. She’s rebellion to the bone, but she still can’t break free.”

Wen Yu dropped her gaze, pretending to busy herself with the tea as her eyes reddened. “If Scentseeker knew she had a confidant like you… even if she were trapped behind bars, she wouldn’t give up.”

Gu Nan Xi’s smile widened, slow and delighted.

What a coincidence.

Wen Yu steadied herself, then lifted her head, admiration shining through. “That line you spoke—no man should look down on the young—set Layman Li’s poem on fire. In the time it takes incense to burn, the poetry collections and paper in the bookshop were all sold out.”

Su Yun Yan blinked. “Why did the paper sell out too?”

“Poetry collections are rare these days,” Wen Yu explained. “People who love poetry couldn’t wait for new volumes, so they bought paper to copy the poems themselves. After today, paper in Capital will become precious—one sheet will be hard to find.”

Su Yun Yan brightened. “Wen Yu, if you want poetry collections, come to my home. Mother’s library is huge. She won’t lend them to us, but she’ll definitely lend them to you!”

Wen Yu’s expression softened. She clasped Su Yun Yan’s hand, her voice firm. “Thank you, Sister. Once I have time, I will surely visit.”

She glanced out the window, the sky already shifting toward late afternoon. A faint shadow crossed her face, reluctance tugging at her words. “Madam, when you meet a true confidant, a thousand cups are still too few. I’ll use tea in place of wine and toast you.”

Gu Nan Xi raised her cup, amused and pleased. “Even a thousand miles can’t keep fated people apart. Our bond isn’t shallow. We’ll meet again.”

Wen Yu stepped toward the door—then stopped and turned back, eyes bright as stars.

“Madam,” she said quickly, like someone who had been holding it in, “Han Shan asked Shi De: If someone slanders me, deceives me, humiliates me, laughs at me, belittles me, and despises me, what should I do?”

She recited it smoothly, as if she’d memorized it long ago. “Shi De answered: Endure him, yield to him, avoid him, let him be, bear him, respect him. Don’t mind him. After a few years, just watch what becomes of him.”

Wen Yu looked at Gu Nan Xi, intent. “Madam, what do you think?”

Gu Nan Xi’s eyes sharpened, a bright, dangerous clarity in them. “A few years later, he’s still living just fine.”

Wen Yu froze. “Huh?”

Gu Nan Xi drew the small knife at her waist and spun it through a clean, flashing flourish. “Tell me,” she asked, voice light, “what do you see?”

Wen Yu hesitated. “Like a blade… cutting through illusion. Charging forward without turning back?”

Gu Nan Xi shook her head. “No. Like holding a knife—gripping his weakness. Whatever you want him to be, he becomes.”

Wen Yu stared, then sank to her knees as if something inside her had finally snapped loose. “After hearing you speak, it’s better than reading for ten years. Wen Yu pays her respects to Madam Xie!”

Then she rose, laughing—laughing like someone who’d thrown off a chain—and swept out of the room without looking back.