Fu Tian glanced at the crowd of villagers gathered in a circle, then at the woman clutching his leg tightly, and finally at the young man glaring at him with hatred from a distance.
Suddenly, he smiled.
Chu Xiangtian’s brows furrowed tightly as he was about to step forward and pull the woman away, but Fu Tian stopped him with a gentle shake of his head.
Fu Huo made no move toward the still-crying woman. Instead, he cupped his fists and bowed slightly to those around him.
“Everyone, I am Fu Huo, the eldest Young Master of the Fu Family Rice Shop. These two are the wife and son of Steward Li…”
Fu Tian deliberately frowned, pretending to be reluctant.
“Although Steward Li has committed a grave mistake, misfortune should not befall his wife and son. I have no intention of pursuing the matter further.”
“Madam Li may simply be unable to accept the situation yet. Therefore, I ask you all to kindly send a request to the county magistrate’s office, to have the officials come here.”
“Once Madam Li calms down, it will be on my behalf that they may meet Steward Li.”
His words were reasonable and persuasive.
At first, the gathered crowd had been hostile, but upon learning his identity, their expressions shifted dramatically, eyes now full of disdain toward the mother and son.
They had originally thought the wealthy Young Master was bullying common folk, but now they united with Fu Tian in shared indignation.
“The Fu Young Master is truly kind-hearted. But that mother and son are shameless. If you don’t want to act, leave it to us,” a stout and spirited woman stepped forward.
She grabbed the woman’s arm with a rough grip, her coarse hand like an iron clamp prying the woman’s fingers loose.
The two were pulled apart.
“Steward Li usually acts arrogantly in town, making many enemies. We all barely scrape by with our livelihoods, yet he lives in luxury with a grand house, and his wife behaves like a noblewoman, looking down on others.”
“As for his son, although he studies well, his character follows his parents’. In school, no ordinary child hasn’t been bullied by him.”
At this, no one stepped forward to defend the pair.
Some even stepped forward, rudely grabbing the woman by the hair and dragging her into the crowd.
She screamed sharply, threatening them fiercely at first, but after a while, she cried and begged for mercy, shouting her son’s name.
The young man who had wanted to quietly retreat froze, and the men surrounding him, who had hesitated to intervene earlier, immediately closed in with ill intentions.
Fu Tian’s face remained calm and gentle, as if oblivious to the scolding mother and son.
After the crowd dispersed, the mother and son’s clothes and hair were in disarray.
Scratches marked the woman’s face, and the son’s condition was even worse; the men had been harsher on him, leaving his face unrecognizable.
“You two should go back early. If you worry about Steward Li, I will speak to the county magistrate to allow you to visit him,” Fu Tian said quietly.
He lowered his head; the pair looked up at him, only seeing his silhouette against the light—like a cold, high and mighty specter, who could crush them with a single hand.
Their earlier arrogance was replaced by regret, and the two shrank back fearfully.
“Li Young Master’s injuries are serious. He probably won’t be able to participate in the Imperial Examination this year,” Fu Tian added, not letting them off easily, his words cutting to the core.
The bruised young man widened his terrified eyes, crawling forward a few steps and hoarsely begging, “We were wrong. Master Zhao forced us to do this. It’s not our fault…”
The Imperial Examination was his only chance at a fresh start.
If he couldn’t take it, how was he any different from the ruffians around him?
The Zhao Family had approached his mother, promising a sum of money if they could ruin Fu Tian’s reputation.
They had thought it would be easy to deal with a powerless youth, even deliberately causing a scene at the Flower Viewing Festival when many people were present.
But they had only made things worse for themselves.
He glanced at his mother beside him, then at the villagers scrutinizing and judging them.
Finally, exhausted and frightened, he slumped to the ground.
“Let’s go,” Fu Tian said without another word, stepping around them and heading toward the Zhai Zi.
They had come to enjoy the flowers; there was no need to ruin their mood over unrelated people.
Chu Xiangtian followed closely, his gaze burning into the back of Fu Tian’s neck.
Yesterday’s memories hadn’t faded, and today Fu Tian revealed yet another side—like a flower bud slowly unfurling, becoming more captivating with each passing day.
After the commotion, the villagers had come to know Fu Tian and would greet them warmly when they crossed paths.
Fu Tian genuinely wanted to stroll through the garden and understand the strange, unfathomable power he possessed.
He now fully believed he could hear the voices of plants—not hallucinations caused by some flaw, but a genuine, eerie ability.
Though he didn’t understand its origin, it hadn’t brought any harm so far.
With fear and hesitation gone, his curiosity grew.
The estate was large, with no residential houses inside—only flowerbeds.
The beds were divided by category, filled with fresh blooms.
Pebbled paths wound through the gardens, allowing visitors to immerse themselves completely in the flowers.
In April, the peonies and tree peonies bloomed beautifully.
The owner clearly favored peonies, as over half the garden was dedicated to various types of peonies.
Other flowers paled in comparison.
Fu Tian himself liked peonies as well.
In the Fu Family garden, many peonies were planted.
He wandered among the peony beds, listening to their quiet complaints.
Peonies were delicate flowers, easily affected by heat, cold, drought, or dampness.
Yet, the peonies here were thriving—each with sturdy roots and stems, their blossoms full and vibrant.
This made their personalities livelier too.
They chirped and chatted among themselves, some grumbling about passersby touching their delicate petals, others complaining about the noisy crowds earlier disturbing their sleep.
Fu Tian slowed his steps, a faint smile curling at the corners of his mouth.
“What are you laughing at?” Chu Xiangtian, curious about his strange gaze at the flower bushes, leaned in.
Everyone else had gone to explore the garden separately, not gathering together.
“Don’t you think peonies are adorable?” Fu Tian pointed to the bushes and asked.
Chu Xiangtian looked at the flowers and then at Fu Tian, frowning in confusion.
“They’re pretty,” he admitted reluctantly.
He had loved martial arts since childhood and had been to the battlefield at a young age.
He wasn’t good at appreciating elegant things.
“You like peonies? I have a Wei Zi that’s grown especially well. I’ll get one for you sometime.”
Fu Tian chuckled softly.
“You know how to grow peonies?”
Chu Xiangtian replied calmly, “Mm, someone gave it to me.”
As they talked, the peonies nearby started to quarrel.
The patch Fu Tian had pointed to was a group of crimson peonies.
He had casually praised them, but the flowers began bickering over who was the one he had complimented.
A flower’s beauty was everything to peonies.
The two best-looking peonies were planted side by side.
Fu Tian’s offhand comment had sparked their rivalry over who was the most charming.
“Of course I’m the most adorable! My color is the prettiest,” one peony declared.
The other was not to be outdone.
“What good is pretty color? My flowers bloom bigger than yours!”
Other peonies found both arguments reasonable and chimed in to calm the dispute.
Fu Tian listened to their bickering, the smile on his face growing wider.
He bent slightly and gently tapped the two quarrelling peonies.
“You’re both adorable,” he said softly.
The arguing peonies instantly quieted.
The prettier-colored one murmured, “He’s so handsome, touching me feels so nice.”
The one with larger blossoms added, “He smells so good—better than I do.”
The two peonies found common ground and quickly made peace, exchanging compliments about Fu Tian in turn.
Clearing his throat, Fu Tian decided to move on.
“Let’s go somewhere else.”
Chu Xiangtian looked on, puzzled.
He felt the Young Master’s ears had turned slightly red.
They left the flowerbeds and followed the crowd moving in one direction.
It was said the Flower King and Flower Queen were about to be revealed.
Fu Huo was curious and went along as well.
The exhibition was in the estate’s center.
A flower platform about a person’s height had been built on an open space.
Layered below the platform were peonies of various kinds, none ordinary in appearance.
At the platform’s highest point, two peonies—a yellow one and a purple one—stood side by side.
The yellow was Yao Huang, the purple was Wei Zi.
Both plants were the same height, their blossoms equally large.
Each was planted in an identical pot.
Beyond their individual beauty, they radiated a strange harmony.
Such peonies, both of exceptional quality and paired as the Flower King and Flower Queen, naturally commanded a high price.
The crowd murmured in admiration, their eyes filled with fascination.
Fu Tian overheard that the two peonies belonged to Zhu Hua, head of the Zhu Family in Fushui Commandery.
The Zhu Family had been renowned for generations for their famous ironworking technique.
Their ancestral smelting produced exceptionally sharp weapons.
The imperial court had often sought to recruit them, but the Zhu Family declined to enter official service.
Aside from the mandated yearly quota of weapons sent to the court to appease them, the Zhu Family mostly sold iron goods privately.
Even so, the Zhu Family was among the most prominent wealthy merchants in all of Greater Chu.
Fu Tian found the name somewhat familiar.
When Zhu Hua himself strode over, he suddenly recalled.
In the previous life’s uprising, the Zhu Family had refused to surrender to the righteous army and were subsequently destroyed.
Many in the family had died, and none of the head lineage survived.
With the Zhu Family’s fate as a lesson, many other wealthy families had chosen to surrender their assets to the righteous army to save their lives.