Chapter Thirty: Amitabha, A Leisurely Conversation on the Path Home

“If another child is to be born, then let it be so. The Zhou family is vast and prosperous; a flourishing lineage is a blessing.” Lady Wang of the Zhou family did not oppose Zhou Yuanshan’s wish for another child; on the contrary, a rare hint of a smile appeared on her face.

But the smile faded in an instant. She composed herself and looked at Zhou Yuanshan. Seeing he wished to speak yet hesitated, she said calmly, “No need to explain. Some things are better left unsaid.”

She lowered her eyes, pressed her palms together, and intoned a Buddhist benediction.

“Amitabha.”

As her words fell, the room instantly grew solemn.

Han Fu was inwardly puzzled, unable to grasp the meaning.

Zhou Xinyi put down her chopsticks and said, “I am full.” Then, turning to Han Fu with a serious expression, she said, “Though you are a son-in-law living with your wife’s family, do not lose heart. With your talent, it is only a matter of time before you rise. No one in the Zhou family looks down on you. As for when your time will come, do not be anxious. I still have some connections at court; with a little effort, I should be able to persuade His Majesty.”

In terms of poetic talent, Han Fu was truly a man of great gifts. Even now, as a son-in-law, Zhou Xinyi did not wish for his abilities to go to waste.

It would be too great a pity.

Her words were clear: they were spoken to reassure Han Fu.

Even though Han Fu himself was not particularly attached to the idea of serving as an official at court, the open-mindedness of the Zhou family moved him deeply.

Han Fu rose and bowed sincerely. “Thank you, Uncle. But there is no need to rush this matter; let things follow their natural course.”

“I have my own plans,” Zhou Xinyi replied as she stood, then turned and left.

“I am full as well.”

“Aunt, I am heading back,” Zhou Yuantuo said, rising as well, followed by Baili Mingda.

“Husband, let us go too,” Bai Li Mingsu said softly at Han Fu’s side.

I’m not quite full yet… Han Fu nodded with a smile. “All right.”

The two left together, followed by Zhou Qinshi, who held little Zhou Qing by the hand.

In the main hall, only Lady Wang and Zhou Yuanshan remained.

Once through the gates, the couple parted ways with Zhou Qinshi.

Bai Li Mingsu smiled. “After today, no one in the household will dare show you disrespect.”

Han Fu nodded and sighed. “Aunt has gone to great lengths—it is truly moving. But my elder brother has suffered for it, serving as a warning to others.”

“Well, he does have a remarkable son, after all,” Bai Li Mingsu replied with a gentle smile that lit her face.

“In a while, he might have two,” Han Fu said, thinking of the troublesome Zhou Qing, and couldn’t help but laugh.

He’s a good child; I misunderstood him before.

Bai Li Mingsu smiled without a word, gazing at the scenery along the path: the vibrant autumn chrysanthemums, fragrant and vivid, and the fallen leaves drifting by on the breeze.

Han Fu tilted his head to see her lovely profile, and indeed, she was worthy of her reputation as a peerless beauty.

Her cheeks were fairer than snow, her slender jade neck graceful and smooth, pearl earrings shining, a silken lock of hair falling by her temple.

As he admired her, he finally spoke. “There is one thing I cannot understand.”

“Oh?” Bai Li Mingsu turned to meet his gaze, her eyes as clear as water, without a trace of girlish shyness.

She smiled. “What troubles you, husband?”

“Aunt has a gentle face and a kind, pleasant manner. Why does everyone seem so afraid of her?” Han Fu asked the question that had been on his mind.

“Ah, so that’s it.” Bai Li Mingsu shook her head with a smile. After a moment’s thought, she said, “Aunt is indeed a good person. As for why we fear her…”

“My husband may not know—Aunt is gentle by nature, but her standards at home are very strict. From childhood on, whenever my older brother or I made a mistake, she would never beat or scold us. She would only admonish us with great patience, guiding us to understand right from wrong.”

“Is that not a good thing?” Han Fu asked, puzzled.

“It should be,” Bai Li Mingsu agreed, then sighed. “But each lesson would last at least three hours. Do you still think it is good?”

Three hours—if calculated by the standards of the previous world, that would be six hours, at the very least…

Han Fu suddenly understood, and couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s rather interesting.”

“It sounds amusing, but experiencing it is another matter. But you need not worry, husband. Aunt would never treat you that way.”

“Yes, after all, in terms of blood, I am still an outsider and must avoid suspicion.” Han Fu secretly rejoiced.

He was not like Zhou Yuanshan and his siblings, who were Lady Wang’s own children and could be educated behind closed doors without restraint.

As for Bai Li Mingsu and Zhou Qinshi, being women, there was even less to worry about.

Baili Mingda had been raised by Lady Wang since childhood, so there was nothing unusual there.

But Han Fu was different.

For one, he was a man; for another, he was not related by blood to the Zhou family.

Naturally, Lady Wang would not lecture him as she did the other children.

“At least three hours?” Han Fu asked again, unable to contain his curiosity.

Bai Li Mingsu furrowed her brows slightly, thought for a moment, and said, “It was usually so, never less than two hours.”

“To be lectured for two hours at a time—my poor elder brother.” Han Fu silently mourned for Zhou Yuanshan.

They chatted as they walked, and before long had arrived at the gate of Bai Li Mingsu’s courtyard, where both stopped in tacit understanding.

Bai Li Mingsu gazed at Han Fu with a smile. “I have a question for you as well, husband.”

“About Zhou Qing?” Han Fu asked.

Conversing with someone intelligent was truly a pleasure. Bai Li Mingsu was quite at ease and nodded. “Yes.”

“It’s nothing, really…” Han Fu smiled, then recounted the matter in detail from beginning to end.

Bai Li Mingsu listened in silence as the wind played with their garments, standing there calm and poised, a beauty beyond compare.

When Han Fu finished, a smile softened her brows and eyes. She looked at him for a moment, then shook her head gently, stepped into the courtyard, and said, “Don’t forget, husband—we share a chamber tonight. I have no wish to be summoned by Aunt for a private lecture.”

“All right,” Han Fu replied, and returned to his own small courtyard.

The fallen crabapple fruits beneath the tree had already been swept away, and the flagstone path was once more clean and tidy.

The fruit still hanging on the branches swayed in the breeze, seeming to welcome their master home.

Since it was unwise to exercise after a meal, Han Fu went straight inside to rest and wait for Zhou Yuantuo to come find him.

Bian’er had not yet left. She was bent over the desk, utterly absorbed, and did not notice Han Fu’s entrance.

Seeing this, Han Fu walked over quietly.

Leaning down, he saw that the little maid had nearly finished reading all he had written that morning.

It’s easy to read a book, hard to write one… Han Fu thought with some amusement and asked, “How do you find my writing?”

“Ah?” Bian’er started and straightened up abruptly.

Seeing it was Han Fu, she let out a breath, instinctively smoothed her chest to calm herself, then realized it was improper and quickly hid her hands behind her back, staring anxiously at her restless toes.

“Master, I…” she stammered, her face flushed and her eyes brimming with tears.

To read her master’s writing without permission was a serious matter. If not for Bai Li Mingsu’s instructions, Bian’er would never have dared touch the manuscript.

But she had been so engrossed, she’d forgotten to be cautious.

Now she was anxious, unsure if Han Fu would be angry.

“Master, I won’t do it again.”

Han Fu smiled. “It’s nothing secret. If you want to read, read. I was just asking if you thought the story was good.”

Bian’er looked up and saw Han Fu smiling, not at all angry, and her heart leapt with relief.

“Yes, it’s wonderful,” she said, nodding vigorously.

Han Fu noticed that the poem “Dreamlike Tune” was gone—no doubt tucked safely away by Bian’er. “If you liked it, then take it to Mingsu as well. Just return it to me when you’re done.”

“I understand.” Bian’er carefully gathered up the manuscript of “Nie Xiaoqian,” and seeing Han Fu still watching her, blushed and fled.

“Master, I’ll take my leave.”