Wen Boli’s expression darkened, glaring at Fu Ji with displeasure. “You, a subordinate, treat guests who bring gifts like this?”
After speaking, he turned to walk inside, but Fu Ji stepped forward to block him, calm yet firm.
“Master Wen, Young Master has expressly forbidden you from stepping through the Fu family’s main gate. Please do not put us in a difficult position.”
The guests behind Wen Boli watched the standoff between the two silently, deciding not to intervene and instead gathered around to watch the spectacle.
Fu Youqin had always had a cordial relationship with Wen Boli and his group, but she had no idea the two sides had now reached the point of bitter enmity.
One perceptive servant sensed the tension was off and hurried into the courtyard to inform Fu Tian.
When Fu Tian arrived upon hearing the news and saw the two men facing off, the smile on his face immediately faded. He fixed a cold glare on Wen Boli. “What brings you here?”
Faced with Fu Tian, Wen Boli’s taut expression softened into a smile. “You’ve succeeded. As a father, it’s natural I come to congratulate you.”
He opened the box in his hand to reveal a jade paperweight, talking to himself, “Take a look—do you like it? If not, your old man can get you something else.”
He was pushing the gift toward Fu Tian.
Fu Tian was utterly disgusted by him. Wen Boli’s gaze was all too familiar—previously, such expectant eyes were always directed at Wen Zeming, but toward him, they were only perfunctory and tinged with unmistakable disdain.
He had thought Wen Boli’s affections lay with Bai Ruihe, so he tolerated Wen Zeming as part of the package. Now it seemed the son Wen Boli favored was merely the one who could bring him face and prestige.
Who this son was didn’t really matter.
“I’ve told you before, my surname is Fu. I have no relation whatsoever to you.”
Fu Tian’s face remained impassive. “There’s no need for you to put on airs. I passed the Xiucai exam, bringing honor to the Fu family name—not a shred of it has anything to do with your Wen family.”
Wen Boli’s expression twisted, nearly snarling. “You may deny it, but you still carry Wen blood.”
“So what?” Fu Tian raised his chin arrogantly, meeting his gaze. “Every bit of my honor belongs to the Fu family, not you.”
“Have you ever guided me for a single day? Your time and energy have all been poured into Wen Zeming, that mistress of yours,” Fu Tian sneered.
“Too bad all that effort produced nothing but a good-for-nothing who’s your own kin.”
The surrounding crowd fell silent. The guests’ whispers ceased; some looked at Fu Tian with disapproval—filial piety was paramount, and Fu Tian’s words had crossed a line.
“Fu Ji, get him out of here. Don’t let him ruin this fine occasion.”
Fu Youqin strode over swiftly, her face flushed with anger. This peaceful banquet was now thoroughly spoiled by Wen Boli’s troublemaking.
“You’re his mother? You go around badmouthing me every day, causing him to deny me as his father?” Wen Boli charged angrily.
Fu Youqin didn’t want to argue with him. She waved her hand, signaling the servants to handle him.
Some guests couldn’t bear the scene and spoke up as peacemakers. “Madam Fu, Master Wen came here sincerely to congratulate. Isn’t this a bit too much?”
Fu Youqin turned to the speaker—a lady known to be from the Wang family, though not on the guest list. She curled her lips slightly and replied gently, “Madam Wang, this is a matter of the Fu family.”
The Wang lady blushed, slightly flustered but persisted, “I think Young Master Fu’s success owes some credit to Master Wen. Why be so hard-hearted?”
Not long after, Li Qingnian arrived and immediately frowned at the words. He was close to Fu Tian and knew all about Wen Boli’s affairs.
Wen Boli being able to speak on behalf of Fu was incredible. He shouted furiously, “Youling passing the Xiucai exam is his own achievement. What does it have to do with Wen Boli? If it were Wen Boli, why didn’t Youling pass before, and only after Wen Boli left did he succeed?”
“If you ask me, he’s a jinx—wherever he goes, trouble follows. Just look at that mistress of Wen Boli’s. Didn’t people say she’d pass? What’s the result now?”
Li Qingnian cast a malicious glance at the lady defending Wen Boli and said pointedly, “Madam Wang supports him, but why not have him guide your Wang Gong? Maybe he can help him pass next year.”
Madam Wang’s face darkened with anger, and she spat a curse before quickly leaving.
The guests, previously diverse in their attitudes, now no longer looked on Wen Boli with sympathy.
It was true—the Fu family had raised two outstanding children, Fu Tian and Fu Shuyue, both well-educated and accomplished.
As for Wen Boli’s mistress, though said to be favored and studying in Lehe Town with good results, what was the reality?
It seemed the children’s success and sensibility were due to good parenting by Madam Fu.
The other ladies approached, smiling warmly as they handed their gifts to Fu Ji, crowding around Fu Youqin with praise. “Madam Fu, raising two such excellent children, you must teach us your ways…”
Wen Boli, now looking miserable, was unceremoniously grabbed by two servants who firmly seized his arms and dragged him out.
The curious townsfolk on the street watched Wen Boli, his clothes disheveled and face flushed with anger and confusion.
He trembled with fury, then suddenly turned to see Wen Zeming—someone who shouldn’t have been here at all.
Wen Zeming’s smile hadn’t faded, as if mocking him. Wen Boli fumed, “What are you doing here?!”
Wen Zeming’s expression flickered unpredictably, his mind clouded with jealousy and hatred as he sneered, “Of course, I’m here to watch your humiliation.”
“You’re so eager to suck up to others, yet no one treats you kindly.”
Wen Boli’s eyes widened in disbelief, glaring at the youth.
After a few harsh breaths, he pointed shaking fingers and cursed, “If you were any good, would I need to curry favor with Fu? You’ve disgraced the Wen family name!”
Saying this, he angrily swept his sleeve and stormed off. Wen Zeming’s gaze darkened with a cryptic sneer.
***
At the Fu residence, Li Qingnian surrounded Fu Tian and his friends, still indignant. “Wen Boli has no shame. Even I say he had nothing to do with your success! You passed because you’re clever, none of his business!”
Li Qingnian spoke honestly. Though Fu Tian was obedient and sensible, anyone who knew him would only ever describe him as “that naive little marquis of the Wen family.”
Naive and sheltered were hardly compliments for a sixteen-year-old like Fu Tian. If he caused trouble, he might be lumped in with Li Qingnian and his group of playboys.
Fu Tian chuckled and thanked Li Qingnian, then signaled the group to mingle.
The young masters who drank with them last time arrived, each bearing gifts. Fu Tian hadn’t expected such civility and accepted their presents, handing them to Dai Fu for safekeeping before escorting them to their seats.
He assigned them their own table but still needed to entertain other male guests. He asked Li Qingnian to look after his group first, promising to join them once finished.
Fu Youqin and Fu Shuyue were busy attending to the women in the inner courtyard, so Fu Tian was responsible for the outside guests.
The young masters at one table watched him expertly weave through the crowd, toasting and chatting occasionally, then sighed in unison.
If it were them, they’d surely fail miserably.
He Chengliang still dwelled on the previous day’s events and whispered, “Do you think Fu Tian would be willing to teach us?”
After sobering up, a few gathered and discussed hoping Fu Tian might guide them. Although they spent their days indulging, who didn’t have ambitions? They just lacked direction and incentive, so they drifted along.
Now seeing Fu Tian not only taking over the family business but also passing the Xiucai exam at such a young age—and holding his own among many family heads in their thirties and forties—no one dared underestimate him.
Envy mixed with hope stirred in them.
If Fu Tian could mentor them, perhaps they could achieve something for their families. Not expecting Fu Tian’s level of brilliance, even half would be enough to shock their elders.
Fu Tian lifted his cup, finishing a round of toasts. His head was starting to spin; he wasn’t good with alcohol.
The wine was watered down, but after several rounds, he was struggling. Dishes had begun arriving, and he supported his dizzy head, urging everyone to eat and drink well, then slipped back to Li Qingnian’s table.
Among familiar friends, Fu Tian gulped a cup of detox tea and complained softly, “These guys really can drink.”
Laughter followed, with everyone bickering good-naturedly. Then Li Qingnian cautiously brought up their shared idea.
The whole table looked at Fu Tian nervously. He hadn’t expected them to be so serious, but he could talk about worldly affairs. He scratched his cheek and smiled, agreeing.
“But it’ll have to wait a couple of days.” He needed time to recall what he’d learned in his previous life, some of which might help them now.
When Fu Tian agreed so readily, the anxious crowd erupted in joy, bustling around him with noisy chatter. This time, Fu Tian only drank detox tea; the young masters drank for both of them.
After a full day’s busyness, once the guests had been sent off, night had fallen. A servant brought hot water, and Fu Tian soaked in a warm bath to ease the day’s fatigue.
Changing into soft clothes, he yawned and climbed into bed to rest. But whether from the bath or the alcohol, he felt restless and hot. After tossing and turning, he finally got up and told Dai Fu to bring the ice fan.
When Dai Fu brought it, he waved it a few times, but the cold wind made Fu Tian’s head ache. He said, “Not that one. The one with the rabbit design—that’s the one I want.”
“That’s in the storage room. I’ll go get it,” Dai Fu said quickly and hurried out.
Fu Tian sat cross-legged on the bed, restless and agitated. He stood and went to the window for fresh air.
Chu Xiangtian arrived, dusty and hurried. Seeing the dim candlelight inside and the young master in thin clothing standing by the window, lost in thought, he understood the mood.
Having resolved the court’s troubles, Chu Xiangtian had left the rest to Huangxiong.
The Crown Prince’s Mother and Huangxiong were reluctant to let him leave, but he insisted on bringing back someone he cared about, so they relented, telling him to hurry and show them.
Chu Xiangtian smiled bitterly to himself—it wasn’t so simple. Thinking of that person’s sudden disappearance, he hesitated, unsure how long the little marquis would stay mad.
“Youling, I’m back,” Chu Xiangtian said slowly, voice tense and dry.
Fu Tian’s back stiffened, standing motionless and refusing to turn around.
He’s really angry… Chu Xiangtian’s heart sank, but he stepped forward, reaching out to touch his hair, then hesitated and withdrew his hand, voice hoarse, “I’m sorry. I can explain.”
Clenching his fingers tightly, Fu Tian slowly turned around.
The boy who had been gone so long, though a little unkempt, was unmistakably the one Fu Tian had quietly missed.
The long-suppressed emotions burst like a dam breaking. Chu Xiangtian was the floodgate.
Now standing before Fu Tian, Fu Tian could no longer hold back the surge of feelings. He threw himself into Chu Xiangtian’s arms, clutching him tightly.
Startled by the sudden embrace of the thin body, Chu Xiangtian froze. This wasn’t quite what he expected.
But soon he stopped being surprised because the person holding him was trembling slightly—a sound he knew well.
The little marquis was crying.
“Don’t cry.” Chu Xiangtian pulled back slightly, intending to look at him properly, but Fu Tian’s hands gripped his waist, refusing to loosen, cheeks rubbing against his chest as he buried himself deeper, his restrained sobs turning into pitiful whimpers.
“Don’t cry…” Chu Xiangtian’s throat was hoarse as he gently stroked his back, softening his voice to comfort him. “It’s okay… It’s my fault…”
Fu Tian wiped his tears and snot on Chu Xiangtian’s clothes. Though Zhou Chuanqing had promised he’d return, deep down he had always worried he might never come back.
The endless waiting was like a rope tightening slowly around his heart, making him ache in silence.
Now that he was here, the rope loosened, leaving a bittersweet numbness. He wanted to spin around with joy but was overcome by the sting of lingering hurt.
The one in his arms sobbed uncontrollably. Chu Xiangtian sighed and kissed the top of his head to soothe him.
Suddenly, hurried footsteps sounded at the door. Fu Tian didn’t notice, but Chu Xiangtian’s sharp eyes caught sight of the startled Dai Fu carrying the ice fan.
Dai Fu shivered under his gaze, glanced at the young master in his arms, muttered a few times, then carefully set the fan down by the bedside and quickly ducked out.
Chu Xiangtian pressed a kiss to the ear of the one in his arms and lifted him up.
Fu Tian instinctively wrapped his arms around Chu Xiangtian’s neck, his damp cheeks pressing into the hollow of his neck, unwilling to raise his head.