Chapter 15: A Slap in the Face

The next morning, at the Imperial Academy.

Song Guangyan, walking quickly with his head down, was stopped by an acquaintance.

“Song, why are you walking so fast? I’ve called out to you several times!” The man, breathless from hurrying to catch up, finally stopped him.

Song Guangyan turned slightly in the opposite direction, lowering his voice. “I didn’t hear you.”

The classmate, noticing something off in Song Guangyan’s tone, leaned in for a closer look and was startled to see his bruised cheeks and slightly swollen lips.

“Song, what happened to you?” the classmate exclaimed.

“It’s nothing,” Song Guangyan replied curtly, continuing on his way.

Last night, he had caught that wretched Cao woman trying to secretly send a letter to her family, so he had punished her again.

Strangely, though, Cao seemed entirely unharmed. Somehow, every blow he delivered to her had rebounded onto himself.

With the assessment drawing near, he didn’t dare request leave and had to come to class, injuries and all, steeling himself against the embarrassment.

---

Outside, Fang Xunli had just stepped down from his carriage when he bumped into a member of the Cao family.

Cao Ran, the younger brother of Song’s wife, Cao Yaxian, was someone Fang Xunli occasionally interacted with.

They exchanged polite bows and gestures of respect before entering together.

After some small talk about scholarly matters, Fang Xunli appeared to recall something.

“By the way,” he began, “Zhiyi once wrote to my mother, asking her to inquire about your sister’s technique for embroidering double-sided peonies. Her mother-in-law has a birthday in a few months, and she wants to use it as a gift. My mother has been too busy lately and hasn’t had time to look into it, so she sent me to ask on her behalf.”

Cao Yaxian, while lively by nature, was highly skilled with her hands, and her embroidery was well-known in the capital.

Fang Xunli continued, “I asked Song about it before, but he forgot the first time. The second time, I still didn’t receive a reply for ages. I’m not sure what’s going on. Since I happened to think of it today, I wanted to let you know. If you see her soon, could you ask for me?”

The Fang siblings and the Cao siblings had some familial ties, which was why, when Fang Xunli had heard certain rumors the day before, he hadn’t told Qin Xuan, intending to handle the matter himself.

Cao Ran agreed, but a calculation in his heart confirmed that it had indeed been a long time since he’d seen his sister.

Remembering his mother’s instructions, he felt conflicted.

Though a married woman was expected to abide by her husband’s family’s wishes, it was still unnatural for close relatives to go more than a year without meeting.

This Song family seemed unnecessarily harsh.

Worry began to creep into Cao Ran’s mind, and he decided he would secretly visit the Song household after his lessons were over.

---

Finally, the day came to an end, and Song Guangyan endured until it was time to dismiss class.

With a dark expression, he was the first to leave the lecture hall, storming out in a rage.

The strange looks from his classmates, their whispered discussions during breaks, had made him exceedingly uncomfortable all day.

Even during the instructor’s lecture, his thoughts had wandered multiple times.

He refused to believe it!

When he got home, he would teach that wretched woman a lesson she wouldn’t forget.

This time, he wouldn’t aim for the face.

---

Fang Yuean, calculating the time, arrived early at the gates of the Imperial Academy to wait for her eldest brother to finish class.

Bi He and Hong Ye, following Fang Yuean’s instructions, unloaded a small table, low stools, writing tools, and paper from the carriage, along with a long wooden box containing scrolls.

The two attendants unfurled four scrolls in succession, spreading the paintings across the table. They prepared ink and laid out a stack of paper, while the remaining scrolls, along with the box, were placed on the ground beside the table.

Fang Yuean sat at the table, dipped her brush in ink, and began copying the tiger from one of the paintings onto a blank sheet of paper.

Before long, students began exiting the academy.

Seated in such a prominent position, and being a porcelain-skinned, adorable child, Fang Yuean naturally attracted curiosity from passersby.

Many glanced her way, wondering what she was doing.

Soon, one student exclaimed, craning his neck toward the low table. “This painting—could it be The Tiger by Li Yanshan, the master painter from 500 years ago?”

He crouched down in disbelief, carefully removing the inkstone that had been casually placed on the tiger’s hindquarters to take a closer look.

“This looks very much like an original.”

His friend, standing nearby with arms crossed, laughed. “What nonsense! How could something used by a child for practice possibly be an authentic piece?”

He cast a disdainful glance at Fang Yuean’s clumsy rendition of a chubby cat.

Their conversation drew more onlookers, and the crowd began to grow.

Another student crouched down with a gasp of amazement. “Could this be Pine and Cranes for Longevity by Cui Yan?”

Removing the brush holder from the scroll, he leaned in for a closer look. After a moment, he raised his head in a daze. “This is the real thing.” His voice trembled.

This student, with a family background rich in art collections, had some expertise in identifying paintings. His usually skeptical friends began to take him seriously and crowded closer to inspect the paintings.

The growing crowd debated whether the paintings were authentic, and someone volunteered to fetch Qian Xueguan for an appraisal.

Qian Xueguan was highly esteemed for his expertise in calligraphy and painting, with profound knowledge of famous works from various dynasties. Nobles often paid him generously to authenticate their prized collections.

His reputation was unmatched across the nations.

Even Song Guangyan, momentarily forgetting his anger, stood among his classmates, engrossed in the discussion.

If these paintings were all genuine, each one would be worth far more than the painting in his own family’s collection.

Someone in the crowd, convinced of the paintings’ authenticity, turned to Fang Yuean with a smile.

“Where did you get these? If you smuggled them out, you’re bound to get a spanking when you go home.”

Hearing this, Bi He and Hong Ye, standing behind Fang Yuean, stretched their necks nervously.

Bi He, a servant born and raised in the household, knew the family’s affairs well and had never heard of anyone with a passion for collecting paintings.

Still drawing her chubby cat, Fang Yuean answered in her soft, childish voice, “I won’t get in trouble. We have lots of these at home.”

The believers in the paintings’ authenticity gasped.

At that moment, someone shouted, “Make way! Qian Xueguan is here!”

The crowd parted to create a path for an elderly man with a white beard, who was being hurried along by eager students. His hat was askew, and he was out of breath.

“Sir, please take a look at these paintings. Are they genuine?”

Leaning on his knees to catch his breath, Qian Xueguan glanced casually at the paintings on the low table.

Suddenly, his fatigue seemed to vanish. With labored breaths, he squinted and stepped closer, eventually crouching to inspect the works.

Surprisingly, he bypassed The Tiger and Pine and Cranes for Longevity, circling the table to move Fang Yuean’s stool aside. He gently removed her chubby cat drawing, fully exposing two other paintings.

Qian Xueguan extended a trembling hand toward the paintings but hesitated, afraid to damage them. He withdrew his hand and studied the works intently for a long time.

Finally, tears welled in his eyes. “These two paintings are masterpieces by the great Yuning Shanren!”

Gasps erupted from the crowd, and many exchanged astonished glances, struggling to process the revelation.

Even those unfamiliar with art knew of Yuning Shanren, often called the “Immortal Painter.” His unparalleled works were rare, with only ten known to exist. Qian Xueguan’s own family had one, a treasured heirloom passed down through generations.

It was said that an ancestor of Qian Xueguan had been a personal acquaintance of Yuning Shanren, who gifted him the piece.

Yet here this child was, with two of them.

Fang Yuean held out a handkerchief. “Don’t cry, Grandpa.”

Qian Xueguan quickly wiped his tears, fearful they might fall onto the paintings. He looked at Fang Yuean and asked, “Whose child are you?”

Fang Yuean waved toward the crowd. “Big Brother!”

Everyone turned in the direction she indicated.

A bewildered Fang Xunli stepped forward as the crowd parted for him.

Fang Yuean ran to him and leapt into his open arms.

Fang Xunli picked up his sister. “Why are you here?”

“I came to pick you up after class.”

Only then did the crowd realize they were members of the Fang family.

Whispers broke out among the onlookers.

“Hey, do you remember the rumors from before? At the Song household, Xunli was accused of stealing one of their paintings.”

“Of course I remember! Looking at this now, it’s clear it was probably a scheme by that lifelong second-place runner-up, Song Guangyan, to tarnish Xunli’s reputation.”

“Exactly! Even the least valuable painting here is worth more than several of the Song family’s combined.”

Another chimed in, “Before Marshal Fang left the capital, Xunli focused most of his energy on martial arts and still consistently ranked first in assessments. Later, he became a top scholar. If he hadn’t skipped the imperial exam the following year, he might have been the youngest top scorer in history at seventeen.”

“Someone that outstanding is bound to provoke jealousy in those who can never catch up, no matter how hard they try.”

Hearing these murmurs, Song Guangyan felt deeply humiliated. His face darkened further, and he clenched his fists as he slipped away from the crowd.

In his mind, all his frustrations from the day stemmed from Cao.

He resolved to return home immediately and teach that wretched woman a proper lesson.