Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The making of a spoiled wastrel is inseparable from the environment in which they grow up.

I was no exception.

As the daughter my parents had only managed to have in their thirties, I had three talented, virtuous elder brothers above me and an inexhaustible family fortune below me.

Naturally, I grew into a good-for-nothing hedonist.

In the early years, my mother tried to discipline me strictly and raise me into a proper young lady of a noble house.

Unfortunately, I simply was not made for it. When I learned the zither, I snapped the strings. When I learned painting, I broke the brushes. And embroidery was even worse-five of my ten fingers were pricked bloody, and in the end, I fainted at the sight of my own bloodied hands.

My mother gave up. She decided it was enough as long as I grew up healthy.

But when I idled away my days until the age of seventeen,

and still no one came to ask for my hand,

my parents began to panic.

They summoned my three elder brothers and two sisters-in-law to discuss the matter.

In the end, they decided my future husband had to meet the following standards:

He had to be both brilliantly talented and exceptionally handsome. Not only did he need to come from a noble background, he also had to possess a gentle temperament-and if he had experience dealing with wastrels and could coax me into making less trouble, then that would make him the very best choice of all.

My third brother, the only one who still retained any sense of reason, said,

“For a man like that, we’d have to ask the Bodhisattva to find him.”

After Mother punched him, Third Brother no longer dared to object. The group mulled it over in the study for an entire afternoon, and somehow, they actually did come up with a candidate-

Xie Jinghong.

When I heard that name,

I was at Fan Tower listening to music with a pack of fair-weather friends.

The instant the three words “Xie Jinghong” were spoken,

the private room, which had been brimming with merriment moments before, abruptly fell silent. Even the female musician seemed affected; the sound of the pipa slowly faded away.

I stared in disbelief at the maid who had come to tip me off.

“What did you say? My parents want to marry me to Xie Jinghong!?”

The maid nodded. “They have already spoken with the Xie family, and Madam Xie has agreed to the match. A few days ago, Third Young Lord set out for Chen Commandery to fetch him. Counting the days, he should be back before nightfall today.”

My vision went dark.

Yan Fei, my friend beside me, hurriedly caught hold of me, his expression one of solemn condolence.

“Yaoyao, be strong!”

I could not blame him for that reaction.

Xie Jinghong-that name had been the nightmare of all of us five years ago.

The eldest legitimate son of the Chen Commandery Xie Clan, he was as bright as the moon and pure as the wind, as deep as still waters and as imposing as a mountain.

It was bad enough that whenever we wastrel children were scolded, we were always compared to him. The truly terrifying part was that, as a hall prefect of the National Academy, he was utterly impartial, iron-faced, and cold-blooded.

When we were punished to stand, if we ran into either of the other two prefects, we could sit down and rest for a while once our legs grew tired, and they would turn a blind eye.

But if we ran into Xie Jinghong, then if he said we had to stand for one full hour, we had to stand properly for one full hour. Slack off? Fine. Rest for fifteen minutes, and he would add another thirty to the punishment.

And that was nothing compared to being caught skipping class by him.

Ten copies of the academy rules. If you did not finish copying them, you could forget about leaving school.

That was why Xie Jinghong had another nickname.

Old Master Xie.

We called the actual masters “Master.”

Yet Xie Jinghong had the honor of being called “Old Master.”

This was proof enough of just how deep the resentment our circle of wastrels bore toward him ran.

However, all of that was in the past.

Ever since five years ago, when Xie Jinghong’s grandfather offended His Majesty, the three Xie men-father and sons-had their property confiscated and were exiled. After that, Xie Jinghong left Shangjing with the rest of the Xie Clan and returned to their ancestral home in Chen Commandery.

Supposedly, he had been living in miserable circumstances.

Studying while also farming the fields.

At that thought, I abruptly sat up straight.

Wait-if I really married him, would I have to go to Chen Commandery and farm too!?

Clearly, I was not the only one who thought of this.

The youngest son of the Feng family, Feng Yusheng, had never quite gotten along with me. He swirled his wine cup and spoke with a smile that was not quite a smile.

“Then I’ll have to prepare a wedding gift for Lady Yao. How about a golden hoe? That way, once you marry over, you’ll have a handy tool to use.”

“What nonsense are you spouting!”

I was already panicking, and with his provocation, I immediately slapped the table and shot to my feet. “I, Yao Yao, would sooner grow old and die alone-would sooner jump from here-than ever marry Xie Jinghong!”

The moment the words fell,

the entire room went silent.

I thought they had been stunned by my bold declaration. Lifting my chin, I was just about to let out a cold snort through my nose when Yan Fei, sweating profusely, tugged at me and pointed behind me.

At some point, the door to the private room had been pushed open.

Two figures stood outside.

The one on the left was my third brother, looking deeply awkward. The one on the right…

The young man had a refined, graceful face and stood as straight as a jade tree. His long black hair was gathered with a wooden hairpin. His pale blue round-collared robe was of ordinary fabric, yet it was so neat that not a single wrinkle could be seen.

Even dressed with the utmost simplicity, standing amid this room full of splendor, he was not diminished in the slightest.

Xie Jinghong’s cold, star-like gaze swept across the room.

At last, it landed on me.