[Gold Powder GL] True Elegance Comes with Knowledge - Chapter 6

Although Qingqiu felt deeply humiliated and angry, she didn’t let those emotions linger. Part of the reason was that Yan Hui was still present, and she didn’t want her to suspect anything. Another reason was rooted in her own life circumstances—her father passed away early, leaving her to live with her mother and unreliable uncle. Despite being a girl, Qingqiu had long since resolved to earn money after graduation to help support her family. Compared to other girls her age, her resolve was naturally firmer.

Though it was embarrassing to think about what had happened, at least no one else had seen the letter—only she had read it. That, at least, was some small comfort.

Even though she had already chosen Zhong Yanxi in her heart, she had kept her feelings well hidden. Her mother may have sensed something, but as long as time passed and feelings faded, she likely wouldn’t bring it up again.

Thinking this way helped Qingqiu calm down. She reopened the book, flipping through its pages with a slight smile and saying, “It may be silly, but I still want to look through it again. Now that I know what’s inside, I won’t be easily fooled next time.”

“That makes sense,” Yan Hui said naturally, moving closer to peer at the pages with her.

Qingqiu turned back to a previous page and reread a passage carefully, again and again, trying to remember what she had felt in that moment.

She had already memorized Jin Yanxi’s letter by heart. Leaving out the greeting and signature, there were exactly 160 characters, punctuation included:
A curtain of auspicious air, and the blue bird came. Know when the fairy peach is ripe, and when the jade tree flowers are in bloom. It suddenly occurred to me that the lantern lights were shining yesterday evening and the magpies are so happy today, all for a good reason.

The lady is in her prime, with a graceful and intelligent character, so she is the predecessor of the bright moon and she never ages. Yan often admired Qing Fan and was deeply in love with him. What a night it is, how can I not extend my wishes to him? There are some rare items from Lianzhou and some precious treasures from the bottom of springs.

I have tried to keep them at home, but they have never been appreciated. Now I respectfully express my sincerity in presenting you the sword by composing this ode to Nanshan. I dare say that I invite your pity on my palm, comparing it to the cold light, and taking it to record the events so that you may have something to trust! I am writing this letter to express my congratulations and to wish you endless wisdom!

The ironic part was that when she compared the text word for word, she realized that Jin Yanxi had copied it wholesale from a book.
The second half differed only because the gift—the occasion—was different.

Her heart stirred again, and Qingqiu quickly flipped through the pages.

“What’s wrong?” Yan Hui asked, seeing how fast she was turning the pages.

“I want to find… the one about gifting pearls,” Qingqiu said. She had been so thrilled when she received the pearl necklace, but now that joy had become embarrassment.

What did he think she was?

Yan Hui helped her flip through the book, but they couldn’t find anything for a while. Then she got up and said, “Actually, I bought more than one of these books.”

She pulled out a rattan box from under the bed, opened it, and took out seven or eight more books.

Qingqiu: “…”

So many? That only confirmed how large the market for such books was. Clearly, Jin Yanxi wasn’t alone in his shallowness—there must be many men like him, uneducated and indulgent. Thinking about it, it was both ridiculous and sobering.

Yan Hui had collected nearly all the popular letter-writing books. Qingqiu flipped through them for a long while until she finally found the source of the letter’s second half.

As usual, she compared the text carefully and discovered that only two words had been changed: the original phrase was replaced with “Nanshan” to suit a birthday. Those two words—the only ones he wrote himself.

Thankfully, he had at least understood that “Nanshan” was a symbolic birthday greeting. Qingqiu’s anger faded and was replaced by bitter amusement.

The entire situation was so absurd that she felt even if she wanted to confront him, he wouldn’t understand what he had done wrong.

But what she didn’t know was that even those two words weren’t his. They had been lifted from another birthday-themed article. In fact, aside from the character “Yan” in his name, not a single word in the letter had come from him.

When Yan Hui noticed her focusing on the same page repeatedly, she guessed that Qingqiu had figured everything out. Worried she might fall into despair, she gently redirected her attention. “Why do you keep reading this one?” she teased, fingers trailing across the page. “That line about ‘the predecessor of the bright moon’ may come from a poem, but it suits you perfectly. Still, no need to dwell on it.”

Qingqiu blushed and snapped the book shut. “Stop spouting nonsense.”

“I’m just being honest,” Yan Hui grinned, reading the line aloud again. “I look up at the stars and sing to the hermit. The flowing water today is the predecessor of the bright moon. That’s exactly how I felt the first time I saw you.”

That sentence had once been Qingqiu’s favorite in the entire letter. Hearing Yan Hui say it now stirred real joy in her heart. She covered Yan Hui’s mouth with a laugh. “Say another word and I’ll ignore you forever.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll shut up.” Yan Hui gave in, smiling.

Lying back on the bed, Qingqiu suddenly recalled a poem that Yanxi had written in public, and doubt crept in again.

“Tell me,” She asked Yan Hui, “if someone can barely read or write, and has to copy love letters from a book—could he really compose a poem on his own?”

“If you’re asking me,” Yan Hui replied, “you’re the one who writes poetry. Shouldn’t you answer that yourself?”

“But what about the public poem he composed?” Qingqiu frowned.

“Oh, that? Those competitions are mostly recycled themes anyway. What’s to stop someone from preparing a few generic verses ahead of time and just reciting them from memory? If you already know the theme, it’s even easier.”

Qingqiu thought of Jin Yanxi’s flowery verses and felt even more ridiculous. She had once admired him. But in hindsight, even his companions—though crude—at least composed their own poems. Compared to them, Yanxi’s pretenses were worse.

Yet her uncle had claimed those poems were truly Yanxi’s work…

Wait. Did someone write them for him?

Who would he trust with something so private?

Suddenly, Qingqiu remembered her uncle’s strange reaction that day—when she praised Yanxi’s poetry, he had looked as though he wanted to speak but stopped himself.

Maybe he had written those poems.

When her uncle came home drunk one evening, she questioned him. He let slip—without much resistance—that yes, he had written both of those poems.

Qingqiu left her study in silence and returned to her room, feeling hollow.

She recalled how she had first asked her uncle for poems to read, and how he later sent her his own work, asking for critique—treating her like a fool. He went so far as to help Yanxi maintain a false image of talent.

Even the painting he had given her—Yanxi hadn’t painted it, only inscribed his pseudonym on it. Qingqiu had once ignored the signs. But now, she saw clearly: character reveals itself in the smallest of actions.

And what had blinded her to the truth?

Qingqiu closed her eyes. The blush had faded from her cheeks, leaving her pale.

It was… money and status. She had always thought herself upright and noble, but from the outside, she must’ve looked like just another girl dazzled by wealth. It was a hard truth.

What did Jin Yanxi see in her?

Rising from the bed, she opened the box and took out the string of pearls. The necklace now felt scorching in her hands. She wanted to return it, but that seemed abrupt—and it had been so long. She had worn it.

Pretending otherwise now felt like self-deception.

And there had been so many other gifts.

She sighed. Since she now understood his intentions, perhaps it was better to forget it altogether. But how could she repay him? A few thousand dollars was a small fortune.

The Leng family had fallen on hard times, and Qingqiu often felt the burden of money—but never had it felt as heavy as now.

Jin Yanxi was indeed vulgar—he used money to buy affection—but she couldn’t even afford to reject him.

That night, Qingqiu didn’t eat dinner and remained gloomy. The next day, when Yan Hui sent a car, she made an excuse not to go.

But in the afternoon, Yan Hui came in person. Qingqiu was startled to hear her speaking with Mrs. Leng outside. She stepped out, lifted the curtain, and saw it was indeed her.

Yan Hui smiled, “I heard you weren’t feeling well, so I came to visit.” She took Qingqiu’s arm, examining her. “You do look pale. Want to go to the hospital?”

As she spoke, she gently tried to lead her out.

“No need,” Qingqiu quickly pulled away. “Maybe it’s just summer fatigue. Even the best doctor couldn’t fix that.”

“Perfect! I brought the cure,” Yan Hui laughed, leading her to the table. “Come see if it works.”

Before they even reached the table, Qingqiu caught the sour scent of bayberries and lit up. “Where did you get these?”

“Someone picked them in the mountains and brought them to town. A friend of mine bought the whole batch and gave some to me. I figured you had no appetite and might want something refreshing.”

“Thank you,” Qingqiu smiled, popping one into her mouth.

The tartness made her feel awake again. “No wonder these taste different—much better than the ones sold in the market.”

After eating, she pulled Yan Hui into the room to talk.

Yan Hui spotted a bundled package and asked, “Going somewhere?”

“No. It’s a gift I received. I’ve been fretting over it. I can’t return it as-is, and I can’t afford to repay or reciprocate properly.”

Yan Hui didn’t need to ask why—obviously, the gift’s value was the problem. “How much is it worth?”

“A few thousand,” Qingqiu said.

“That generous? Was it… Mr. Jin Qi?” Yan Hui asked deliberately.

Qingqiu flinched. She hadn’t expected her to guess so quickly and covered her face shyly. “Yes… He recently rented a courtyard behind ours, saying he wanted to start a poetry club. We’ve seen more of each other since. He’s always sending new gifts.”

She opened the bundle to reveal the necklace. “This one was for my birthday. I loved it then, but now I feel uneasy. I don’t know what to do.”

Yan Hui smiled. Since Qingqiu had confided in her, she had to help. “You can’t return it directly—it’d be rude. But how about this: give it back to him quietly, then wait until his birthday next month and offer a return gift.”

“What kind of gift could match a pearl necklace?”

“Unless you spend just as much, nothing will. But I doubt Mr. Qi cares about the price. Something novel and fun would probably please him more.”

Qingqiu fell into deep thought again. She realized she didn’t know Yanxi at all. And the excitement she once felt for him now seemed absurd.

She asked, “Then what sort of gift is ‘novel and fun’ enough to impress someone like him?”