Volume One, Chapter Seven: Father’s Grave Illness

“Father, Changning knows that cold comes and heat goes, autumn harvests and winter stores. Intercalary months complete the year, and the pitch pipes regulate the yang. These are lines from the Thousand Character Classic,” Changning recited earnestly, her small face lifted in concentration.

“The Thousand Character Classic is a childish book meant only for children. Father, give her something else,” Xingchen said, his usual arrogance slightly softened.

“That’s right. The private school has been studying the Analects recently, so let’s test on that. ‘Quick to learn and eager to ask, what comes next?’” Jingzhi thought, feeling the Thousand Character Classic was merely an introduction for toddlers.

Unexpectedly, Xingchen looked puzzled and faltered, unable to answer.

Jingzhi turned to Changning. “Do you know it, Changning?”

“Quick to learn and eager to ask; to know what you know and to know what you don’t know—that is true knowledge,” Changning shook her head lightly and replied effortlessly.

Jingzhi asked a few more questions; Xingchen remained clueless, but Changning answered each one fluently.

Looking at them, Jingzhi smiled gently. “Xingchen, a bet is a bet. Remember, you two are equals. If you bully your sister again, I will not go easy on you.”

Though spoken lightly, his tone carried a clear warning.

He had hoped Xingchen would realize his ignorance and shallow mind, but the boy was indifferent.

“Books are useless,” Xingchen sneered. “Father, even though you topped the imperial exams, you’re still stuck in a medicine pot. She thinks reciting a few lines makes her better than me? Dream on! I’m done playing with you both.”

With that, he stomped away angrily.

At Jingzhi’s signal, Zimo seized Xingchen, holding him fast.

“Xingchen is mischievous and disrespectful to his father, bullying his sister. Lock him in the courtyard. He can only come out after reciting the Thousand Character Classic.”

Jingzhi shook his head, resolved, then gestured for Zimo to take Xingchen away.

Already weak, Jingzhi’s face grew paler after speaking and enduring Xingchen’s fury.

Changning watched, heart aching, and hurriedly said, “Father, don’t be angry. Changning can recite many verses. I’ll recite them for you.”

Meanwhile, Xingchen’s curses and struggles echoed from outside.

Seeing the innocent, delicate child before him, Jingzhi felt a bit of his pain ease.

He smiled weakly. “Father knows Changning is the best and can recite many books. Starting tomorrow, Father will teach Changning to recognize characters, alright?”

“Alright,” Changning replied sweetly, then quickly added, “But maybe I should learn characters later. Father, you should get a doctor quickly—Changning wants to learn medicine first.”

Jingzhi understood; the little girl wasn’t so much enamored with medicine as determined to heal him.

He frowned, deliberately said, “To learn medicine, you must first recognize characters, or how else will you read medical books and identify herbs?”

Hearing this, Changning furrowed her lovely brows, thinking seriously. “That makes sense. Then I’ll start learning characters now, so I can learn medicine sooner and heal Father.”

Just then, Zhongbo entered with a grave expression. “Fourth Master, there is urgent news to report.”

Jingzhi smiled at Changning. “Father is a bit tired today. Changning, you should go back first and come again tomorrow to learn characters, okay?”

“Then Father, rest early. Changning will come tomorrow,” the little girl said respectfully, bowed, and trotted out.

At the door, she turned back and smiled sweetly. “Father, be good and rest well.”

As her small figure vanished, Zhongbo immediately knelt. “Young Master, it’s all my fault. I failed to notice anything wrong with the incense. We burned it every day without fail.”

“What’s going on?” Jingzhi, already suspecting, asked.

“The incense itself is fine and calming for those not afflicted. However, it contains an herb that reacts adversely with your regular medicine, causing persistent coughing, dizziness, weakness, and could even be fatal over time,” Zhongbo explained, his words striking Jingzhi’s chest like a heavy blow.

“Fourth Master, the incense sent today by the Marquis differs slightly from before,” Zhongbo said, glancing at Jingzhi.

“This time, the incense includes a hallucinogenic herb. The doctor said using it for a month could silently kill someone. I had someone check the Marquis’s incense; his did not contain this herb,” Zhongbo added.

He blamed himself, “I was careless and never suspected the incense. Thanks to Miss Changning, the consequences were averted.”

Jingzhi, worldly and composed, quickly regained his calm. “Keep this quiet for now. Get me incense like before.”

He wanted to see who dared to try and kill him.

Zhongbo nodded repeatedly. “Wise as always, Fourth Master. Should we consider changing the doctor who treats you? Honestly, I was prejudiced against Miss Changning, but thanks to her, I will apologize to her immediately.”

Jingzhi waved dismissively. “No need. Keep everything as is, and the same on Changning’s side.”

After years of chronic illness, his body was but an empty shell. These recent events weighed heavily on him; it was time to pretend.

Zhongbo, sharp as ever, hurried to summon the estate physician.

For several days, the Deer’s Herald Pavilion remained closed, only saying the Fourth Master’s condition had worsened.

Rumors spread through the Marquis’s estate that Fourth Master Gu had little time left. Some even whispered that selecting Changning was a curse—three days after her arrival, his life was at risk.

These words reached the Deer’s Herald Pavilion. Whether intentional or not, two maids near Changning’s room began gossiping, “Our Fourth Master is so unlucky to have chosen this one. I fear he won’t survive.”

“Exactly. Such a pariah whom everyone avoids, yet the Fourth Master treasures her. Even in his sickly state, he sends her clothes and jewelry every day. If I were her, I’d just dive into the garden lake to repay his kindness.”

Lying on her bed, Changning’s eyes darkened. Every word of the Spring Orchid and Autumn Chrysanthemum had entered her ears unchanged.

Things shouldn’t be this way. Father still has at least six years to live. Something is wrong.

But what exactly is the problem? Changning wasn’t swayed by the gossip; she began sorting out her thoughts carefully.

Right—last life, Father didn’t choose her. That was a variable. Though living again, last life she was either punished to kneel or locked in the wood storage, and knew very little.

This time, things would be different.