Chapter 12

Due to his leg condition, Lu Feng walked slowly. The couple arrived one after the other at the small study in the front courtyard. The environment was serene and elegant—originally the Lu family’s library, it was later converted into a study room for Lu Huaiyi when he reached the age to begin reading and writing.

When they arrived, Lu Huaiyi was standing in the corner with his hands behind his back, his frail figure appearing lonely, which made Jiang Wanrou’s heart ache.

“Master Lu, Madam Lu.”

A tall, thin gentleman with a white beard stood up and respectfully bowed to the couple with trembling hands. Lu Feng nodded in acknowledgment while Jiang Wanrou touched Huaiyi’s head and looked at the elderly gentleman with displeasure in her beautiful eyes.

She spoke bluntly, “Sir, this is the time for reading. What mistake did my son make for you to punish him by making him stand?”

Having endured much hardship in her youth, Huaiyi was her only son, frail and delicate, and she couldn’t bear to let him suffer.

A faint blush appeared on Lu Huaiyi’s pale face as he tugged Jiang Wanrou’s sleeve and whispered softly, “Mother, I couldn’t recite my book correctly. It’s my fault.”

Even so, failing to recite should not warrant standing as punishment—could his frail body endure it?

Usually understanding, Jiang Wanrou found herself losing reason when it came to Huaiyi. Her expression darkened. In contrast, Lu Feng maintained a gentle tone and addressed the elderly teacher, “My wife is being unreasonable; please excuse her.”

The teacher replied kindly, “There’s no need for apologies. A mother’s deep love for her son is nothing to fault.”

The elderly gentleman chuckled heartily, his gaze sweeping between the couple as he stroked his beard. “Since Master Lu has leisure today, it seems there’s no need for this old man to display his humble skills.”

Lu Feng smiled faintly. “You’re too modest, sir.”

Jiang Wanrou was slightly surprised. Lu Feng had a reputation for being ruthless, and even within his own household, the servants and maids feared him more than respected him. Even the second and third masters avoided him whenever possible. She couldn’t help but wonder about the identity of this gentleman, whom Lu Feng regarded so highly.

Though still displeased about Huaiyi’s punishment, Jiang Wanrou gracefully bowed to the elderly gentleman and said, “Huaiyi is frail, and as his mother, I can’t help but feel protective. Please don’t take offense, sir.”

The elderly gentleman chuckled again. “You’re too kind. The young master is naturally talented, and with Master Lu’s strict discipline and Madam Lu’s nurturing care, he is bound to have a bright and smooth future.”

Politely sending off the elderly teacher, Jiang Wanrou called over a servant and instructed him to deliver an umbrella to the teacher. The weather before the new year was unpredictable, with sudden winds and snow catching people off guard. The umbrella was not expensive, yet it was thoughtful and considerate, leaving no room for criticism.

Lu Feng chuckled in amusement, “You, ah—”

No wonder Mr. Qi had nothing but praise for her.

Since Lu Huaiyi began studying in the small library in the front courtyard, Jiang Wanrou rarely visited him there. It wasn’t that she didn’t care, but as parents who love their children, they must plan for their long-term benefit. She was careful not to indulge him excessively, focusing instead on clothing and food to show her care.

Disciples enjoyed the finest of provisions, but it wouldn’t do to leave the teacher empty-handed. She ensured that the soups and drinks she sent for Huaiyi always included a portion for the teacher. During holidays, she gifted him paintings, rare books, or similar items, hoping he would teach Huaiyi well. Over time, though their meetings were infrequent, the teacher developed a favorable impression of Jiang Wanrou.

Sensitive to his unfinished remark, Jiang Wanrou set aside her irritation and quickly asked, “Could it be that the teacher has an extraordinary background?”

The teacher was someone Lu Feng had arranged, and Jiang Wanrou hadn’t investigated much—after all, Huaiyi was his only son, and Lu Feng wouldn’t treat him poorly.

“What does it matter if he has a great background or not?” Lu Feng said. “Huaiyi’s future is in my hands. You don’t need to worry.”

Then he turned to Lu Huaiyi and lowered his voice, asking, “Was it ‘Ke Di’ or ‘Wen Chen’? Which piece couldn’t you recite?”

Lu Huaiyi raised his head and responded crisply, “Father, I have reviewed both pieces and can recite them. But today, the teacher tested me on ‘Di Yu,’ the first chapter from three months ago. I forgot it.”

“Oh? Then the teacher must have been mistaken.”

Lu Feng’s face was cold, and his tone was hard to read. “My son was unjustly punished today.”

After a brief silence, Lu Huaiyi’s pitch-black eyes twinkled, and he shook his head, saying, “As the sages said, ‘Reviewing the old to learn the new.’ I should have revisited the previous chapters regularly. This was my mistake, and I accept the punishment.”

Lu Feng nodded. “In that case, stand for another incense stick’s time and practice five large characters today. Do you accept?”

Lu Huaiyi replied cheerfully, “I accept, Father. Rest assured, I won’t make such mistakes in the future.”

Lu Feng’s expression softened slightly, but Jiang Wanrou was unwilling to agree. She glared at Lu Feng with her wide, beautiful eyes and angrily protested, “Punish him for what? Huaiyi is still so young. His daily studies are already heavy, and now you want him to do extra practice? What about his wrists?”

“Lu Feng, this isn’t the Jinglong Bureau. Huaiyi isn’t your subordinate, nor is he your prisoner. He’s your own son—how can you bear to treat him like this!”

Jiang Wanrou was so upset that she addressed him by name, completely abandoning her usual deference. She felt aggrieved, thinking about how she had attended to Lu Feng meticulously, not just for her own sake, but so that she, her son, and even her stepmother could live better. Despite the hardships she endured when she married him, after Huaiyi’s birth, her heart shifted more toward gratitude.

Huaiyi was born a marquis’s son, the eldest legitimate grandson of the Duke’s family, surrounded by servants and raised with luxuries. His frail health granted him access to the entire Imperial Medical Bureau at his command. When he began his education, Lu Feng hired the best teachers for him. Even if the child lacks brilliance, the Lu family’s wealth, accumulated gold and silver, and their noble title could ensure a lifetime of prosperity for him.

From an unloved concubine’s daughter, Jiang Wanrou had risen to where she was, giving Huaiyi everything she could. She vowed that the hardships she suffered would never touch him, making their bond as mother and son deeply meaningful in her eyes.

Lu Feng might not be an ideal husband, but he was an exceptionally competent father. She didn’t need to ask to see Huaiyi’s clear admiration for him. Yet she hadn’t expected Lu Feng to be so harsh with Huaiyi. In a household of their status, there was no need to subject the boy to extreme efforts like suspending his head or pricking his thigh to achieve scholarly excellence.

Lu Feng said calmly, “Love, without adherence to principles, does harm. Wife, I thought you understood.”

“I don’t understand! The year-end is approaching, and the school has already stopped classes, yet Huaiyi still has to be punished? This makes no sense! From today until the first day of the new year, Huaiyi will rest and not study.”

She felt deeply aggrieved, thinking that Lu Feng had not only mistreated her but now wanted to punish her son as well. Last night had already pushed Jiang Wanrou beyond her limits, and her words were firm and resolute.

Lu Feng stared deeply at her upon hearing this. Jiang Wanrou raised her head to meet his gaze, her beautiful eyes flickering with two small flames.

She had expected Lu Feng to erupt in anger, but instead, he looked at her for a long time and then slowly said, “A doting mother often spoils her child,” before turning and walking into the inner room to inspect Lu Huaiyi’s recent calligraphy practice.

As soon as he left, Jiang Wanrou’s energy deflated, her beautiful eyes showing a hint of confusion. During the couple’s conversation, Lu Huaiyi had remained obediently silent. Now, he looked in the direction of Lu Feng, then at his dazed mother, and reached out his small hand to tug at Jiang Wanrou’s embroidered sleeve.

“Mother, shall we go play spinning tops?”

His eyes were large and dark, making his sharp little face look lively and endearing. He said, “I’m really good at spinning tops. I can spin three at once! Shuqian and Shumo can’t beat me!”

Shuqian and Shumo were his young attendants, around eight or nine years old, responsible for assisting Lu Huaiyi with his writing tools.

Jiang Wanrou bent down and touched his little face, which felt slightly chilly. She then suggested, “Shall we play in the room instead? There’s a brazier to keep us warm, and you can take off your coat while playing.”

Lu Huaiyi obediently nodded and excitedly ran off to fetch his tops. He spun them enthusiastically. Although Jiang Wanrou didn’t see its appeal, watching Huaiyi’s glowing, rosy cheeks made her feel content. She praised him wholeheartedly.

“Wow, Huaiyi, you’re amazing! Mother can’t spin tops like that.”

“Huaiyi, will you teach Mother? Is it like this or like that?”

“No, Mother, you hold it like this…”

…

The mother and son played with spinning tops in a small dining partition, their laughter drifting through the wall to where Lu Feng was reviewing Huaiyi’s calligraphy at his desk. Normally, he inspected Huaiyi’s writing daily, but the recent demands of the Prince Gong case had left him neglectful, resulting in noticeable deterioration.

On one crookedly written character, he commented, “Far inferior to before—do not grow complacent.”

On another, he wrote, “Loose strokes, soft and careless, lacking any sense of vigor.”

Despite critiquing Huaiyi’s work harshly, Lu Feng’s expression bore little anger; instead, a faint smile played on his lips, enhancing his extraordinary handsomeness.

Jiang Wanrou’s image reappeared in his mind—the same beautiful and stubborn eyes overlapped with the memory of years ago, still stunningly captivating.

He chuckled softly, arranged the stack of calligraphy sheets neatly, and murmured, “Daring to throw a tantrum—it’s truly rare.”