Chapter 125
**Chapter 125: Do Your Best and Leave the Rest to Fate**
Fugui narrowed his eyes slightly, a dangerous glint lurking in their depths. But Xiang'er was blissfully unaware, having finished her complaint, she left in high spirits.
Fugui watched her retreating figure, then turned to the little eunuch behind him, sighing, “She speaks without thinking, full of nonsense. I believe this lady has lost her mind. If she’s gone mad, she’s not to leave the courtyard again.”
The little eunuch bowed his head, “Yes, my lord, I understand. I’ll make the arrangements right away.”
Fugui shook his head inwardly. The princess had brought these low-born girls into the palace as concubines, then completely disregarded their fates.
Once innocent and kind-hearted, these girls were driven to madness by the oppressive atmosphere of the palace, which was truly pitiful.
But who in the palace was not deserving of pity?
...
In the elegant room of Qixiangzhai’s backyard, a thick beaded curtain separated Shen Wei from the elderly Mr. Yang Xuanji. Mr. Yang, in his seventies, had graying hair and a frail figure, yet his spirit was remarkably vibrant.
He sat on the outside of the curtain, not touching the cup of tea on the table.
Mr. Yang wanted to buy the renowned “Yuyan Powder” as a birthday gift for his wife. However, his luck was abysmal; he simply couldn’t get his hands on this wildly popular cosmetic.
Several prestigious families in Yanjing, noticing Mr. Yang’s intentions, spent a fortune to acquire the “Yuyan Powder” and presented it to him. But with his upright character, he despised the bribes from the powerful and wealthy, refusing to accept anything from them.
As his wife’s birthday approached, and with no gift prepared, Mr. Yang had no choice but to seek out the shopkeeper Ye at Qixiangzhai, hoping to meet the shop’s mysterious owner.
“I am well-read and possess countless rare ancient texts,” Mr. Yang began politely, “I would be willing to exchange ten rare books for a box of Yuyan Powder.”
From behind the curtain, Shen Wei replied calmly, “I’m not well-versed in literature, so rare books would be of no use to me.”
Mr. Yang was taken aback.
The mysterious owner of Qixiangzhai was, surprisingly, a young woman?
With a furrowed brow, Mr. Yang lamented, “Then what does this young friend wish for me to offer in exchange?”
Having resigned from his official position, Yang Xuanji was cautious with the gold bestowed upon him by the emperor. Aware of his advancing age and limited time left, he wished to leave his wealth for his wife’s comfort in her later years. He had no children, and he wanted to ensure she would be taken care of.
Shen Wei smiled, “I hope you can assist me with a favor. In the outskirts of Yanjing, at the Confucian Temple, there is a student named Shen Xiuming who is preparing for next spring’s imperial examination. However, he lacks a good teacher and is struggling. As a learned scholar, if you could lend him a hand, I would gladly gift you the powder.”
With a loud clap, Mr. Yang stood up in anger, turning to leave. “You’re trying to scheme against me!”
Yang Xuanji wasn’t foolish; upon hearing Shen Wei’s words, he quickly realized he had fallen into a trap. Qixiangzhai had deliberately withheld the powder to coax him out of retirement to guide the student.
Which official’s scheme was this?
Shen Wei instructed the shopkeeper Ye to stop Yang Xuanji.
“Mr. Yang, you’ve misunderstood. I come from humble beginnings; my family is not among the powerful of Yanjing.”
Mr. Yang, still fuming, paused his steps.
Shen Wei continued, “The student you would teach, Shen Xiuming, comes from a poor farming family. His mother has done me a great favor, and seeing him struggle without guidance, I wish to help.”
Mr. Yang remained skeptical.
But ultimately, he returned to the room and sat back at the table. Coldly, he said, “Today, I have some free time. I will go to the Confucian Temple to verify the truth of your words.”
Hearing this, Shen Wei knew Yang Xuanji was wavering.
Yang Xuanji himself came from a farming background, with generations of his family working the land. His mother toiled in the fields by day and wove cloth by night, struggling to support his education. He had not disappointed her expectations, passing the imperial examination with flying colors. After years in office, he had often helped those from similar humble origins.
“I have prepared a box of concealer that works even better than Yuyan Powder. Let me show it to you, Mr. Yang,” Shen Wei said gently.
Ye Qiushuang entered the room with a woman whose face bore scars.
The woman’s face was marred by burns, leaving ugly scars that resembled centipedes. Ye Qiushuang opened a small white porcelain jar, dipped a small brush into the concealer, and carefully applied it to the woman’s burns.
After a little over half an hour, Ye Qiushuang finished the makeup.
Mr. Yang stared in astonishment.
The woman’s once hideous scars were completely concealed! The concealer matched her skin tone perfectly, with no signs of being out of place.
This was a special concealer Shen Wei had crafted; its ingredients were similar to Yuyan Powder but included mica and lanolin, enhancing its concealing effect.
Shen Wei said, “If Mr. Yang is willing to teach Shen Xiuming for three months, Qixiangzhai will provide your wife with a lifetime supply of concealer at no cost. Mr. Yang, your wife hasn’t left the house in days, has she?”
Mr. Yang’s resolve began to waver.
His wife, Luo Shi, had once loved to travel and explore. After her face was burned, she rarely ventured out. When she did, she always wore a veil and a hat.
Two summers ago, Luo Shi had a rare moment of good spirits and took a boat ride to enjoy the lotus flowers. The wind blew her hat off, revealing her disfigured face, causing children on a nearby boat to scream, “The ghostly old lady is coming!” This deeply affected her, leaving her in tears.
Mr. Yang had witnessed it all, feeling anxious. He wished to help his wife regain her confidence.
Shen Wei said, “This box of concealer is a gift for you. You may first go to the Confucian Temple to investigate. If you are unwilling to teach, I will not force you.”
Ye Qiushuang handed over the exquisite little box containing the concealer.
Mr. Yang hesitated for a moment before accepting it.
Ye Qiushuang escorted him out. Inside, Shen Wei slowly sipped a cup of osmanthus tea, the delicate fragrance spreading in her mouth.
“Master, what if Mr. Yang still refuses to teach Shen Xiuming? What then?” Rong Mama still worried.
Shen Wei smiled, “Don’t worry, he will definitely become Shen Xiuming’s teacher.”
The reason was simple: the Shen family was truly poor, with no connections. When Yang Xuanji visited the Confucian Temple, he would see a hardworking old mother and a diligent student.
In other words, Shen Xiuming was a reflection of Yang Xuanji’s past. Seeing someone with a similar background, Yang Xuanji would surely impart all his knowledge.
She was doing everything she could for this brother.
Do your best and leave the rest to fate. If Shen Xiuming still couldn’t pass, Shen Wei would have to temporarily give up on him and seek another path.
Shen Wei supported Rong Mama and slowly stood up. Four months pregnant, her belly was beginning to show, and she walked carefully.
She glanced at the clear sky. “Let’s go to Wangfeng Fabric Shop and buy two bolts of fine cloth, and some sheepskin as well.”
Autumn had arrived; it was time to make a new outfit for the Prince of Yan and a new pair of boots, a testament to her unwavering love.
...
The wheels of the carriage rolled over the muddy road, the cart swaying as it sped toward the Confucian Temple in the outskirts of the capital. Inside, Mr. Yang clutched the box containing the concealer, his brow furrowed.
The carriage stopped outside the temple.
Yang Xuanji lifted the curtain and instructed the round-faced servant, “Qinghe, go nearby and inquire about Shen Xiuming’s situation among the farmers. I will enter the temple alone to meet this young man.”
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