[Gold Powder GL] True Elegance Comes with Knowledge - Chapter 18

The silence that followed Yan Hui’s announcement was as heavy as lead, falling over the room like an unexpected snowfall in early spring—beautiful, perhaps, but undeniably startling.

Even Leng Qingqiu herself was stunned.

Of all people, she had never imagined Yan Hui would be the one to declare such a bold ambition so openly. In her worldview, people only shared their grand goals when they were absolutely certain of achieving them. Speaking out too early, before success was in hand, was like gambling your pride on a whisper of hope.

And if one failed after such a proclamation? The fall from grace would be swift and merciless, the ridicule even harsher.

But when she turned around and caught sight of Yan Hui’s composed expression, any lingering disbelief slowly melted away.

Yan Hui didn’t carry herself like someone who had just made a reckless boast. On the contrary, her demeanor was serene, her voice calm, and her eyes clear. She acted as though she had simply shared a fact, like stating the time of day or the name of a childhood friend.

And perhaps, to Yan Hui, it really was that simple.

She had always been that way—firm in purpose, unflustered in action. A woman whose poise gave people the impression that she had seen the world unravel and still stood unmoved. For her, there seemed to be nothing too grand, too impossible, or too dangerous to say out loud.

Maybe it was that very calmness—her almost infuriating confidence—that softened the collective surprise in the room. After a few fleeting moments of stunned silence, no one dared show their true shock. Even those who had doubted her words at first bit their tongues in deference to her unshakable presence.

Yan Hui even added, with a raised eyebrow and an amused smile, “What? Is it that strange?”

Her tone bordered on playful, and it was Hui Chang, Yanwi’s second sister-in-law, who was the first to respond, her voice filled with approval. “Not strange at all. A school is meant to be tested into. You’re doing exactly what it was built for.”

Hui Chang was known for being a strong advocate of women’s rights and independence. She had long supported charitable efforts for girls’ education, and to see a young woman boldly announce her intention to apply to Peking University thrilled her. In her eyes, both Yan Hui and Qingqiu represented the very future she was fighting for.

Meili, another young woman presents at the gathering, chimed in with a touch of melancholy, “I didn’t think you were aiming for Peking University. I suppose that means we won’t be classmates.”

Her disappointment was genuine, the sort of gentle wistfulness that came from realizing paths were beginning to diverge.

Qingqiu offered a reassuring smile. “What does it matter? After school, we’ll still have time to be together.”

That one line lifted the mood again, and others joined in with cheerful agreement. They spoke of ambition, of friendship, of the future, and for a brief moment, the room was alight with possibility.

Still, amidst all the laughter and light conversation, one person remained noticeably silent.

Yanxi.

He sat back, quiet, like a stone sunk to the bottom of a lake. Most chose to ignore it. Whether out of politeness or awareness of his past feelings toward Qingqiu, no one dared to bring it up.

Everyone knew that while the Jin family was prestigious and powerful, Yanxi himself had not achieved much. He spoke often of studying and self-improvement, but his actions never quite matched his words. Once upon a time, Leng Qingqiu’s association with him was viewed as her “marrying up.” But now, as she prepared to reach for Peking University, it was he who found himself falling behind.

Only one person didn’t let him off the hook so easily.

Bai Xiuzhu.

She glanced at him from across the room, her eyes sharp and clear. She smiled with a thinness that carried venom beneath its sweetness.

“Miss Jin and Miss Leng have such noble aspirations. They’re bound to become pillars of the nation. But why does Master Yan not look pleased?”

Her words sliced through the air, drawing every gaze toward Yanxi.

He froze.

Bai Xiuzhu knew exactly what she was doing. Though she had long stopped considering marriage to Yanxi as the goal of her life, the bitterness of his betrayal still lingered. When she had believed they were to be married, he had already set his eyes elsewhere. And if Leng Qingqiu had shown any interest in him, Bai Xiuzhu might have lost herself to jealousy. But now, she was simply a spectator watching a comedy unfold.

Cornered, Yanxi struggled to compose himself. The sharp eyes of his peers were not easy to evade. He forced a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“What do you mean?” he asked, voice faintly strained. “Of course I’m happy. You’re all headed for great things.”

The word “you” was loaded, and everyone could hear it. It wasn’t just meant for Qingqiu—it was for Xiuzhu, too.

Jin Yanxi, the host of this gathering, was another matter entirely. Despite the growing complexity of his relationships with the women around him, he retained a kind of childishness when it came to affection. He liked to keep everyone happy, to gather people he admired, and bathe in the warmth of their admiration in return.

In that way, he resembled a modern-day Jia Baoyu—charming, impulsive, and oblivious to the destruction he left in his wake.

But even Baoyu had to confront the cruel truth that he could not possess every gem in the world. And Jin Yanxi, for all his privileges, lived in a modern era that demanded loyalty, demanded choice. And above all—monogamy.

He didn’t know how to make choices. He wanted to hold onto everything, every glimmer of joy and affection. When he was with one woman, he felt guilty about the other. And when he tried to balance them both, he ended up hurting everyone—including himself.

In the original story, he eventually married Leng Qingqiu. From the outside, it appeared that she had won. But in truth, even Jin Yanxi believed that since she had “won” him, she should be satisfied and not expect more. He took her for granted. He never truly accepted the responsibilities of marriage, often escaping to social scenes and neglecting their home.

But now, with Yan Hui in the picture, that old storyline had begun to unravel. Everything was shifting.

Yet one thing remained unchanged—Jin Yanxi’s temperament.

Tonight, he was clearly in low spirits. Though the banquet was held in his family’s home, he was no longer the focal point. The announcement that Bai Xiuzhu might soon leave the country with Andrew, coupled with Leng Qingqiu’s determination to take the Peking University entrance exam, hit him like cold water poured over his head.

He felt abandoned. Left behind.

And he couldn’t even understand why.

Instead of expressing it, he buried it under a grin and murmured, “We should have had champagne to celebrate such a wonderful occasion.”

Xiuzhu saw right through him and didn’t miss the chance to jab back. “That’s easily fixed,” she said brightly. “We can call someone to bring it over.”

But Qingqiu, already slightly embarrassed by the attention, interjected quickly. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I haven’t passed yet. If we celebrate now and I fail, I’ll be too ashamed to see anyone again.”

Yan Hui nodded in agreement but with less caution. “It’s true—but don’t worry. We’ll celebrate properly after we pass.”

There was a quiet confidence in her voice. To her, failure wasn’t a consideration. She had spent too long preparing, hired the best tutors, and sacrificed her rest for months. She had made up her mind—there was no turning back.

The rest of the night passed in a haze of toasts, laughter, and music. The wine flowed freely, and many guests raised their glasses to the future scholars—especially Yan Hui and Qingqiu.

Yan Hui, protective of Qingqiu, drank for her several times, forgetting that her own tolerance had weakened in recent years. By the time the guests began to leave, she could barely stand straight.

The Jin family driver took them home, dropping Qingqiu off at Luohua Hutong. When Yan Hui got out of the car to help her, Mrs. Leng took one look at the girls and immediately insisted they stay the night. Yan Hui tried to refuse, but it was no use.

And so it happened that the two of them shared a room that evening.

Later, under the dim glow of a bedside lamp, Qingqiu stood frozen in the doorway, staring at the bed where Yan Hui sat, smiling softly.

They had slept in the same bed before, during childhood visits or study weekends—but tonight, something felt different.

Qingqiu didn’t know why her heart skipped. But it did.

“Why are you standing there?” Yan Hui asked, tilting her head.

Snapped from her thoughts, Qingqiu flushed, her ears burning. She crossed the room and busied herself with smoothing the bed covers. “I realized something today,” she said, voice slightly too loud. “The sisters-in-law of the Jin family are all so capable. I wish I had gotten to know them earlier.”

Yan Hui nodded. “It’s a pity. After marriage, a woman often becomes someone else entirely.”

Qingqiu turned. “That sounds… cynical. Do you really think so?”

Yan Hui looked at her seriously. “How well do you think those three marriages are doing?”

“They seem fine,” Qingqiu replied. “The Jin family has good values.”

Yan Hui smiled, a little sadly. “Every family has its skeletons.”

Then, voice lowered, she told her the truth. The first master had a mistress, the second a notorious “modern girl,” and the third supported a famous opera singer. And Jin Yanxi—he would soon start keeping a woman named Bai Lianhua.

Qingqiu was stunned.

It was all too much.

“So…” Yan Hui suddenly turned, eyes gleaming, “we must pass the Peking University exam.”

Qingqiu laughed despite herself. “You always say things so seriously.”

Yan Hui leaned forward. “Because it is serious. If we don’t take control of our lives, we’ll end up as pawns in someone else’s.”

Qingqiu thought about that in silence.

She had always known life was harder for women—but not like this. Not in such stark detail. Hearing it laid bare by Yan Hui cracked something open in her.

As if sensing it, Yan Hui reached out and pulled her into an embrace.

“Hug me,” she whispered. “Don’t be sad.”

And in the quiet of that room, surrounded by fading perfume and candlelight, something wordless passed between them—an understanding, a connection, a beginning.

What a pity.

That the world was as it was.

But also—what a wonder.

That even in such a world, there were girls like them, daring to dream.