It was all right. But gradually, a faint unease crept over her. She pressed a hand weakly to her chest.
Why would she feel uneasy?
Xunqi respected her, depended on her. What was wrong with that?
Enough. She wouldn’t think about it now. They’d deal with it when they got back to the Yan Mansion.
The trip there had taken five days; the trip back, another five. One round trip, half a month. The Lantern Festival had already passed, and it was nearly the beginning of the second month.
The news that the Young Heir of the Yan family had found a mine and presented it to the Imperial Court had already spread across all of Jinling.
Just before parting ways, Yuan Fusheng shamelessly proposed to Yan Zhi’an: “Why not have Xunqi become my student in name only?”
Yan Zhi’an held her Hand Warmer, face weary, not even bothering to open her eyes as she refused stiffly: “Yuan Fusheng, you’d better not set your sights on her.”
“I can make her famous!” Yuan Fusheng promised.
Yan Zhi’an smiled. “After a poem like ‘Peony’ at Quxian Tower, does she still need you?”
Yuan Fusheng fell silent, her words cut short. She stared coldly at Yan Zhi’an. “If you don’t give me what I want, I’ll tell the Yan family that Xunqi isn’t your biological daughter.”
Yan Zhi’an: “…”
“Yuan Fusheng, you’re being shameless!”
“I’ll head back now, Left Prime Minister. Think it over yourself.”
Calmly, Yuan Fusheng descended from the carriage. Standing below, Xunqi looked up at her with eager, reluctant eyes. “Headmaster, you’re going back?”
“Yes, I’m going back.” A smile rose on Yuan Fusheng’s face. She reached out and tucked the stray hair at Xunqi’s temple behind her ear, then said gently, “When you have time, come play at my Academy. I’ll introduce you to some people. Later, they can return to the Capital City with you.”
The Yuan family itself didn’t enter officialdom, but the students of the Yuan Family Academy naturally would.
Smiling, Yuan Fusheng boarded her own carriage and waved to the girl. From a distance, that scene—a beauty like a painting—settled into Xunqi’s eyes.
Xunqi watched her for a long moment. Yuan Fusheng’s beauty didn’t come from her skin and bones, but from her unbound bearing and the scholarly aura about her, fused together to create the woman before her.
She truly was beautiful.
Yuan Fusheng let down the curtain. Xunqi withdrew her gaze, a little forlorn, and looked up—straight into her mother’s probing eyes. She smiled airily. “Mama, we’re home.”
“Is the beauty lovely to look at?” Yan Zhi’an said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “She’s stolen your heart.”
Yuan Fusheng loved using that trick to capture young girls’ affections. Yan Zhi’an scoffed at it and warned Xunqi: “Be careful a ghost doesn’t lead you into a trap.”
Xunqi blinked, not understanding her mother’s meaning.
Back at the mansion, Yan Zhi’an went to see the Old Master. Xunqi waited outside. After a long while, a loud crash sounded from within. She perked up and looked over.
A moment later, Yan Zhi’an pushed open the door and stepped out, a smile on her face and lightness in her step.
Xunqi didn’t know what had happened and watched her mother with concern. Yan Zhi’an raised her face to the sunlight and said with relish, “I recall—spring has begun.”
Spring was coming.
“Is Grandfather asking you to get married?” Xunqi asked, eyes wide and eager.
“Hm?” Yan Zhi’an looked down at the girl. “What are you trying to say?”
Xunqi: “Spring fever.”
Yan Zhi’an: “…” That madwoman truly is a book covering everything under the sun—she even taught you about spring fever.
