Chapter 17

Hanlin Chu was quite helpless, but he had already mentally prepared himself for the waywardness of his royal grandson students during the journey to Datong. Therefore, he wasn’t angered by Zhu Chengjun’s disrespectful remarks behind his back. After Zhu Chengke arrived, he proceeded with the afternoon calligraphy lesson as usual.

His main focus was on the two royal grandsons, but he also paid attention to the study companions, observing their handwriting and correcting their improper brush-holding postures.

Both Zhan Jianxing and Xu Yi cherished this opportunity and promptly followed his instructions. Seeing their teachable attitude, Hanlin Chu felt satisfied. He returned to his desk and personally wrote two pages of the *Three Character Classic* from the morning lecture, handing them out and saying, “If you aspire to take the Imperial Examination, your handwriting need not be extraordinary, but it must be neat and upright to catch the examiners’ eyes. During the late emperor’s reign, he summoned skilled calligraphers from across the land. Scholar Shen of the Imperial Academy gained prominence with his refined and elegant script, earning the late emperor’s high regard. Scholars everywhere admired and emulated his style, which gradually influenced the Imperial Examination. In my time, I also went to great lengths to obtain an essay by Scholar Shen to use as a practice model.”

With this explanation, Hanlin Chu wasn’t merely giving them a simple calligraphy copybook—it was a small shortcut into the world of the Imperial Examination. Such guidance was something no ordinary private tutor could provide. For instance, even if Qian Tongsheng knew of Scholar Shen, where would he find his calligraphy exemplars?

Zhan Jianxing stood up and respectfully received the pages with both hands. Xu Yi, initially slow to react, quickly followed suit, mimicking Zhan Jianxing’s gesture.

When Hanlin Chu returned to the front, Zhu Chengke protested, “Teacher, why don’t my ninth brother and I get any?”

Hanlin Chu replied kindly, “You and Ninth Lang are born nobles—you need not strive for your own future, so there’s no need to constrain yourselves with copybooks. I see your handwriting follows the Yan Style; you may continue practicing as before. If you take a liking to another script, feel free to explore it.”

This answer pleased Zhu Chengke’s noble pride, and a smug expression crossed his face, finally silencing him.

As for Zhu Chengjun, he wasn’t yet at the stage for copybooks. His practice paper lay spread out before him as he worked on the most basic horizontal and vertical strokes.

He gripped the brush like a spear. Hanlin Chu spent most of his time standing beside him, guiding him stroke by stroke, correcting his technique from the ground up.

Zhu Chengjun remained silent, seemingly cooperative, but his brushwork betrayed his dwindling patience—the endless repetition of strokes was too tedious, and his writing soon strayed, resembling scribbles more than proper script.

Each time Hanlin Chu corrected him, Zhu Chengjun’s boredom grew. Eventually, he let out a yawn—one he might have been holding back for a while—loud enough for the entire room to hear.

Hanlin Chu: “…”

Zhu Chengke sneered, “Ninth Brother, how can you be so rude in front of the teacher?”

Zhu Chengjun lifted his blank face, a tear from yawning at the corner of his eye and a smear of ink near his lips—so close it almost entered his mouth. No one knew when he had smudged it there.

Despite his efforts going unappreciated, Hanlin Chu had initially felt slight displeasure. But at this sight, he couldn’t help but suppress a laugh, clearing his throat before saying, “Ninth Lang must be unaccustomed to schooling since it’s his first time. Go wash up.”

This was just a minor episode. If Zhu Chengjun had only made this one blunder, it wouldn’t have been a big deal. But in the following days, similar incidents kept happening one after another. Chu Hanlin helplessly realized that his student might genuinely have no interest in studying.

Zhu Chengjun appeared obedient, but in reality, he couldn’t sit still for long. After staying in the room for more than half an hour, his mind would start wandering. The only advantage was that his memory was decent—when asked about the previous day’s lessons, he could still answer. But as soon as calligraphy practice began, his true colors showed. His handwriting looked like a dog’s scratch, proving he had never put in any effort to practice.

Since quality couldn’t be improved, Chu Hanlin resorted to increasing the workload. He stipulated that Zhu Chengjun must copy the day’s lesson ten times after returning home—while Zhu Chengke and the two study companions only had to write five times.

Even after copying diligently for five or six days, Zhu Chengjun’s submitted homework showed little improvement. His reputation for laziness and dullness had already spread throughout the entire manor. Even Zhan Jianxing, who never wandered around carelessly, had heard of it.

Xu Yi was somewhat worried and privately discussed it with her: “Jianxing, I think Ninth Master really isn’t putting in any effort. If he keeps slacking off like this, he might not care, but I’m afraid—what if the teacher dismisses me?”

Neither he nor Zhan Jianxing were truly there to study; they had merely seized the opportunity to guide the royal grandsons toward learning. Zhu Chengjun’s lack of progress didn’t bother him, but Xu Yi, as a study companion, would be deemed incompetent.

Zhan Jianxing comforted him: “It’s only been a few days. Take it slow. I don’t think the teacher is in a hurry—he won’t drive us away.”

“He’d drive *me* away. Seventh Master already started his education—you don’t have to worry about this. But with Seventh Master being the way he is, you don’t have it easy either. Sigh.” Xu Yi sighed.

The two study companions, who had entered the manor by chance, weren’t having an easy time. Zhu Chengjun was one thing, but Zhu Chengke was extremely vindictive. Zhan Jianxing, a commoner fortunate enough to be chosen as his study companion, had dared to refuse his orders and join him in suppressing Zhu Chengjun. As a result, Zhu Chengke had been relentlessly picking on her.

When Zhan Jianxing ground ink for him, he complained it wasn’t smooth enough. When she washed his brush, he scolded her for splitting two bristles. Even after she washed an inkstone three times, he still claimed it wasn’t clean enough—

So Zhan Jianxing washed it a fourth time. She never protested, but she never yielded either.

No matter how much trouble she faced or how many trivial tasks she had to do, it didn’t matter. Her back would never truly bend—she wouldn’t submit to Zhu Chengke or obey his orders to attack at his command.

She was a study companion, not a servant of Prince Dai Manor.

Xu Yi suggested, “Jianxing, why don’t you quietly tell the teacher about it?”

Most of Zhu Chengke’s actions were done behind Chu Hanlin’s back. Chu Hanlin probably had some idea, but since Zhu Chengke acted as if nothing was wrong in front of him, he couldn’t easily intervene.

Zhan Jianxing shook her head. “I can’t trouble the teacher. He doesn’t have it easy here either.”

“That’s true.” Xu Yi scratched his head. “The Second Prince of Commandery and the Eldest Master are always finding ways to get close to the teacher. Dealing with them is hard enough.”

The two study companions had been in the manor for half a month. Though they both remained true to themselves and avoided wandering or prying, Zhu Xunshuo and Zhu Chengchang’s feud revolved around the Discipline and Virtue Institute. No matter how diligently they buried themselves in their studies, whispers inevitably reached their ears.

For example, on their first day, they encountered the incident of the dismissed maid. Soon after, rumors began circulating, praising Zhu Chengchang for his filial piety and steadfast refusal of female temptations. But within a couple of days, the narrative shifted, accusing Zhu Chengchang of seeking fame at the expense of slandering an innocent maid.

Incidentally, the latter rumor was spread by one of Zhu Chengke’s attendants—whether intentionally or not, the volume was hardly restrained as they chatted idly outside the room, making it impossible for Zhan Jianxing and Xu Yi to avoid overhearing.

Another day passed, and the attendant accompanying Zhu Chengke to class was replaced—apparently, the previous one had suddenly tripped on flat ground and broken his leg.

Hanlin Academician Chu made no comment on the matter, and Zhan Jianxing and Xu Yi dared not dwell on it. They could only listen as, a few days later, new gossip spread throughout Prince Dai Manor, this time targeting Zhu Chengjun’s dull-witted laziness.

This wasn’t entirely false—Zhu Chengjun was indeed unteachable. Zhu Chengchang’s side likely hadn’t yet devised a counterattack, so the rumors continued to circulate. From a broader perspective, the eldest branch of the prince’s household wasn’t looking too dignified.

“I don’t think the Ninth Master is stupid. He remembers everything the teacher teaches—he just doesn’t put in effort and refuses to practice his handwriting,” Xu Yi circled back to his own worries. “How can we find a way to improve the Ninth Master’s calligraphy?”

He couldn’t think of a solution, but Zhu Chengjun himself “figured it out.”

**

After half a month of continuous classes, the students finally had their first day off.

This was thanks to Zhu Chengke. Hanlin Academician Chu had a gentle temperament and never scolded his students harshly, but he didn’t go easy on their studies either—he hadn’t even considered giving them a break, primarily because of Zhu Chengjun. With his poor progress, extra practice was necessary—how could they even think of taking a day off?

But that morning, Zhu Chengke didn’t show up. Zhu Xunshuo personally came to excuse his son, claiming Zhu Chengke had overexerted himself in his studies and had a relapse of his chronic illness, requiring a day of bed rest.

Whether it was truly due to overexertion was unclear, but Zhu Chengke did suffer from a chronic condition—reportedly related to his heart and lungs. Normally, it didn’t trouble him, but when it flared up, he experienced chest pain and coughing fits, sometimes to the point of breathlessness. There was no cure, only rest.

Hanlin Academician Chu naturally agreed. Reflecting on it, he decided it might be time to give the students a break, so he announced the day off for everyone.

Xu Yi was overjoyed, and Zhan Jianxing was equally pleased. Even the most diligent student would be happy to hear about a holiday. The two packed their things and hurried home.

Xu Shi was setting up her steamed bun stall in front of their house. Zhan Jianxing put down her book bag and explained the situation before rolling up her sleeves to help.

Since starting at Prince Dai Manor, Zhan Jianxing had been leaving early and returning late, with homework keeping her busy at home, leaving little time with her mother. Xu Shi was delighted to see her and tried to shoo her inside to rest, but Zhan Jianxing insisted on staying. Eventually, Xu Shi relented, and the two worked side by side—one handing out buns, the other collecting money—chatting happily in between.

As the buns dwindled and the sun climbed higher, warming them pleasantly, Zhan Jianxing said, “Mother, you go take care of other things. There are only two baskets left—I’ll sit by the door and watch them.”

Xu Shi thought for a moment, then smiled and agreed. “Alright. It’s rare for you to have lunch at home today—I’ll go buy some extra dishes to make it special.”

She counted out about thirty copper coins from the jar, estimating it would be enough, strung them together, and tucked them into her sleeve before heading inside to wash her hands.

No sooner had she stepped inside than an unexpected visitor arrived at their doorstep.

It was a middle-aged couple dressed in coarse cloth garments, both around forty years old. The man had dark, rough skin and large, calloused hands and feet, his entire body bearing the marks of hard labor. The woman was stout and plain-looking, but her eyes were sharp and darting, lingering an extra moment or two on passersby who were dressed a little better.

Zhan Jianxing caught sight of them in the bustling crowd with an accidental glance and immediately stiffened slightly.

By then, the couple had already made their way purposefully to the stall.

The middle-aged man scowled at Zhan Jianxing and said, “Living with your mother has made you forget your manners. Seeing your elders and still sitting there like a lord—don’t you know how to greet people?”

The woman remained silent, as her attention had already shifted from the passersby to the bamboo steamers. With a quick motion, she lifted the lid, grabbed a plump white bun, and stuffed it into her mouth with a vicious bite.

Zhan Jianxing had no time to stop her, nor could she. She slowly stood up and said coldly, “Uncle, Aunt.”

Author’s Note:

Next chapter, the underachiever Zhu Xiao Jiu makes a dazzling entrance.