Chapter Twenty-Nine: Zhou Qing Learns to Speak, Misfortune Befalls the Eldest Branch!

The main hall fell into silence, carrying a faint sense of oppression.

Madam Zhou’s gaze remained calm, yet it seemed to bear an invisible weight.

The young maids attending at her side lowered their heads in perfect unison, motionless and quiet.

Zhou Yuanshan grew inwardly anxious, casting meaningful glances at his wife, Madam Zhou Qinshi.

Baili Mingda appeared nervous on the surface, but inwardly he was snickering, clearly taking pleasure in their misfortune.

Zhou Yuantu shifted slightly, putting distance between himself and his elder brother.

Han Fu observed all of this with great amusement.

Madam Zhou Qinshi, as if awakening from a dream, gently nudged little Zhou Qing and chided him, “What nonsense are you spouting, child? Quickly, greet your uncle.”

“Huh?” Zhou Qing looked at his mother, then at Han Fu, his eyes filled with confusion.

“What do you mean ‘huh’? That’s your uncle, hurry and greet him,” Madam Zhou Qinshi urged.

Zhou Qing fixed his gaze on Han Fu, his eyes wide and bright. After a moment’s hesitation, he said, “Uncle.”

He was obedient, even though his mind was still clouded by uncertainty.

It was clear that Zhou Qing was not a bad child—like a blank sheet of pure white paper, he would reflect whatever image others painted upon him.

Han Fu nodded at the greeting. Not wanting to upset Zhou Yuanshan, he dismissed the idea of rewarding the boy with three coins and simply smiled, “Good.”

Even so, Zhou Yuanshan’s demeanor remained tense.

Madam Zhou Qinshi, knowing the matter was not yet resolved, quickly smiled and said, “Mother, Qing’er is young and ignorant—he simply forgot how to address his uncle-in-law. I will make sure to teach him properly once we return.”

Zhou Qing, still so young, remained oblivious to his parents’ machinations.

Madam Zhou asked no further questions. After a moment’s contemplation, she spoke slowly, “Within a family, there must be respect and order, for only then can harmony flourish. Without the distinction between elder and younger, the natural order collapses and chaos reigns. Qing’er is a child and knows nothing; as his parents, the responsibility for his upbringing falls upon you both.”

“We acknowledge our error,” Zhou Yuanshan and his wife rose respectfully, admitting their fault.

“Sit down,” Madam Zhou’s face showed no trace of anger as she continued, “If you consider it carefully, Han Fu has been in this household for five days, and he and Mingsu have been married for two. Though he is a son-in-law by marriage, this was not our original intention. His talent is unmatched in all the land. For him to marry Mingsu, without disdain for his position, is a blessing for her and a fortune for the Zhou family.”

“Outsiders may look down upon him, but you must never do so. Should anyone from outside dare to harm him, you must defend him with all your might.”

“Remember well, from yesterday onward, Han Fu is one of our own—he is family, not to be compared with any outsider.”

Her words were heartfelt, filled with earnest admonition.

Han Fu was privately moved by Madam Zhou’s profound sense of justice—he had rarely encountered its like.

Along with his admiration, he also felt a touch of gratitude.

“Rest assured, Aunt,” Baili Mingda suddenly slapped Han Fu’s shoulder and grinned broadly, “I am close with my brother-in-law. When he married Mingsu, I was secretly delighted for three whole days—how could I look down on him? These past days, we’ve been together often and are already fast friends. Should anyone dare to mistreat him, I would be the first to object. Isn’t that right, brother-in-law?”

Isn’t that right...

“Thank you for your kindness, elder brother,” Han Fu replied awkwardly, then looked to Madam Zhou with genuine respect. “Aunt, you need not worry. Everyone in this house has treated me with great kindness.”

“That is good.” Madam Zhou nodded, her smile gentle.

“There you have it,” Baili Mingda clapped Han Fu on the shoulder again, “We’re family now, don’t speak as if we’re not.”

With Han Fu’s words easing the atmosphere, Zhou Yuanshan and his wife finally breathed a sigh of relief.

Yet Madam Zhou was not satisfied to let the matter rest.

Turning to Zhou Yuanshan, her expression grew stern as she spoke, “Qing’er is a child and may not understand, but you have no such excuse. The marriage has taken place, yet you still have not taught him how to address Han Fu. Qing’er keeps his distance from Han Fu—is it because of something you said in secret, and this little ‘under-the-arm ghost’ overheard?”

The so-called ‘under-the-arm ghost’ referred to children who were especially adept at eavesdropping on adult conversations.

Zhou Yuanshan felt wronged but could not defend himself.

Heaven bear witness, he had never truly spoken ill of Han Fu.

On the day of the contest, Han Fu had readily agreed to marry into their family, which, in his eyes, was a blow to the dignity of a scholar—so he had grumbled in frustration. It had nothing to do with whom Han Fu married; it was simply the lament of a man of letters.

Today, he had invited Han Fu to the main house only to hold him accountable for the matter with Zhou Qing. Although his words were harsh, he had no intent to suppress Han Fu.

At this point, any explanation would only make things worse. Zhou Yuanshan, helpless, could only rise and say, “I acknowledge my mistake and will remember Mother’s teachings.”

Madam Zhou fixed her gaze on Zhou Yuanshan, rendering him speechless with awe.

She spoke slowly, “I am curious—what exactly did you say, that made Qing’er so distant towards Han Fu?”

Zhou Yuanshan’s face was filled with resignation. “I didn’t say much. I admit my fault.”

“Not willing to speak?” Madam Zhou’s eyes lowered as she turned to Zhou Qing, her voice gentle, “My dear grandson, tell Grandmother—what did your father say about your uncle?”

Zhou Yuanshan’s expression tightened, a bitter smile on his lips. He wanted to speak but stopped himself. Meeting Han Fu’s gaze for a fleeting moment, he quickly looked away and stood quietly beside Madam Zhou, his demeanor finally settling.

Han Fu watched thoughtfully.

Zhou Qing cocked his head to the side, pondering for a moment before asking, as if only just understanding her intent, “Grandmother, which day do you mean?”

“Which days are there?” Madam Zhou asked.

“That day, and today,” Zhou Qing answered crisply.

“Tell me about that day first.”

Zhou Qing thought for a moment, then scrunched up his little face, imitating Zhou Yuanshan’s expression and tone, and loudly declared, “To willingly become a son-in-law—does he have no sense of shame at all? He has so much talent, yet he throws away the reputation of all scholars…”

Here, Zhou Qing faltered, struggling for a while before finally adding, “Grandmother, that was what he said that day. I’ve forgotten the rest.”

What a convenient lapse of memory… Zhou Yuanshan now understood his mother’s intention. He had thought to let the matter unfold, but at this, he could no longer remain silent and quickly said, “Mother, what I said afterward was: ‘He and Mingsu should be married properly, not by having him marry into our family. If he disagreed, the Zhou family could intervene—even if it meant paying a price, perhaps we could persuade His Majesty to change his decree.’”

Madam Zhou paid him no heed and turned instead to Zhou Qing. “And today?”

Zhou Qing looked at Han Fu and said, enunciating each word: “Don’t forget your status—son-in-law.”

Zhou Yuanshan was struck as if by lightning. Looking at his beloved son, he asked with a strained voice, “And what else?”

Zhou Qing shook his head. “I forgot.”

“You…” Zhou Yuanshan could only sigh deeply, his feelings difficult to express.

A bit frightened, Zhou Qing buried himself in Madam Zhou Qinshi’s embrace, peeking timidly at Zhou Yuanshan with innocent eyes.

Taking a deep breath, Zhou Yuanshan accepted reality and bowed respectfully. “Father, Mother, I would like to have another son.”

“That is your own affair,” Zhou Xinyi finally spoke, her tone indifferent.

“Kukuku…” Zhou Yuantu struggled to hold back his laughter, but failed, emitting a strange noise.

All eyes turned to him, and he immediately sat upright, his face red and neck swollen with the effort to restrain himself.

“Kukuku…” Baili Mingda ducked under the table, covering his mouth with all his might.

After a chorus of odd sounds, he finally sat up, straightened himself, and said with mock seriousness, “I couldn’t help it. I let out a few farts, but I’ll wake up once I get back.”

No one paid him any mind.

At that moment, Han Fu felt Zhou Yuanshan was truly pitiful—but he chose not to defend him.

Because there was no need.