[Gold Powder GL] True Elegance Comes with Knowledge - Chapter 9

Dressed in her finest skirt and a modest pearl necklace, Qingqiu followed Yan Hui into the Beijing Bookstore. The moment she stepped inside, her steps unconsciously slowed, her breath caught, and her body stiffened ever so slightly. The hand clutching Yan Hui’s arm instinctively tightened.

Given her scholarly upbringing, Qingqiu had never felt out of place in a bookstore.

But this visit wasn’t for browsing or buying—it was for business. And that, more than anything, made her uneasy.

Sensing her discomfort, Yan Hui gave her hand a reassuring pat before stepping forward to greet the bookstore staff and explain their purpose. Before long, the two were ushered into a back reception room. After a cup of tea, the manager came to meet them.

Qingqiu sat quietly to the side, observing Yan Hui as she calmly laid out the proposal they had worked on together over the past few days. The manager reviewed it with interest, and before long, the two reached an agreement. Qingqiu watched this unfold with a mix of certainty and disbelief.

Of course it worked—Yan Hui had come up with the idea, after all. But Qingqiu hadn’t expected everything to go so smoothly.

Although the plan was presented as a joint effort, Qingqiu knew she had only helped with minor tasks. The core concept and execution had all come from Yan Hui. When she’d first heard the idea, it had sounded far-fetched. But now, even the experienced bookstore manager was impressed, and Qingqiu couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride.

Naturally, it was doable. What felt surreal to Qingqiu wasn’t the outcome—but the realization that the books stored in her home could be used to generate wealth in such a clever way.

As a scholar, she had always cherished books. She knew they held monetary value in times of need, but her thinking had never gone beyond that. She never imagined they could actively create income through a little ingenuity.

Watching it all unfold, Qingqiu felt as if her eyes had been opened for the first time.

But then her gaze fell on Yan Hui, and a strange feeling swept over her—it wasn’t so surprising that she could pull this off.

Yan Hui had an extraordinary aura about her, a natural confidence that made people feel she could do anything. She was brilliant, capable, and reliable—seemingly beyond reach. Take this project as an example: Qingqiu had initially worried that the printed books might not sell, but Yan Hui had proposed a pre-sale “crowdfunding” strategy—collecting deposits in advance and printing based on demand. With this, they eliminated the risk entirely.

To gain public trust for the pre-sale, Yan Hui insisted they partner with a reputable bookstore. Since they lacked expertise in printing and logistics, it made perfect sense to collaborate. So, they brought their plan to the largest bookstore in town—and now the deal was done.

Even after the contract was signed and the books were carted off for printing, Qingqiu still couldn’t believe it.

“It’s really done?” she asked in a daze.

“What else?” Yan Hui replied, lounging in a rocking chair beneath the jujube tree, smiling serenely. “Sometimes, when you find the right method, making money is surprisingly simple.”

Qingqiu sat beside her. When a gust of wind blew a strand of hair across Yan Hui’s face, Qingqiu instinctively reached out to brush it aside. Then, with a trace of awe, she asked, “Is there anything in this world that’s difficult for you?”

“Of course there is,” Yan Hui answered seriously.

Though her expression was calm, her eyes sparkled with something deeper—something Qingqiu couldn’t quite grasp. Her heart skipped a beat, and she took Yan Hui’s hand. A strange sense of distance settled over her, as though Yan Hui’s thoughts were suddenly worlds apart from her own. It left Qingqiu feeling slightly unsettled.

“What’s wrong?” Yan Hui turned to her, puzzled.

Qingqiu shook her head with a faint smile and slowly released her hand. But that fleeting moment of disquiet lingered.

To Yan Hui, it was just another task completed. Life returned to its rhythm: attending classes, tutoring, and nudging Qingqiu to write her novel.

Qingqiu’s debut novel had already been published and created quite a stir. Touching on the disorder of the current times, it sparked discussion among readers, some even writing letters to the newspaper. A few sent notes directly to Qingqiu, sharing their reflections.

Though some letters were critical, Qingqiu felt energized and motivated. She began working on her second novel.

Following Yan Hui’s advice, she now balanced short stories with the planning of a serialized novel intended for publication in a newspaper—a strategy that would further increase her earnings.

Time passed quickly. Before long, the bookstore delivered the first payment along with sample books. The initial payout, based only on deposits, wasn’t large, but it was enough for Qingqiu to buy a bicycle for Jin Yanxi’s birthday—a relief in itself.

Since she’d already planned how to use the money, Qingqiu didn’t dwell on it. What caught her attention was the sample book.

Aside from the title and the bookstore’s logo, the cover bore five delicate characters: “Shuang-Xiu Pavilion Collection.” Qingqiu felt a flush of emotion—pride tinged with embarrassment—as her fingers lingered on the inscription.

“Shuang-Xiu Pavilion” was the name she had given her study. In correspondence, she often signed herself as its master. Upon learning this, Yan Hui had insisted on including it in the publication.

It was a quiet but profound gesture. In the original timeline, Qingqiu later called herself “Master of Piaoyin Pavilion”—a name filled with melancholy. The shift from “Shuang-Xiu” (refined cultivation) to “Piaoyin” (wandering and fading) told its own story. Yan Hui hoped Qingqiu would never lose her purity and passion, and not become that future self shaped by sorrow.

Together, they had designed the style of the seal.

Qingqiu felt slightly shy that this private name had become public, but she was also proud. She had played her part. Despite the plan being Yan Hui’s, she had contributed. If the ancestors who once owned these books could see this, they would surely feel comforted.

Meanwhile, Yanxi had barely seen Qingqiu lately. Even when they crossed paths, he rarely got the chance to speak to her—Yan Hui was always by her side.

What made matters worse was Qingqiu’s shifting attitude: once warm to Yanxi, she had grown distant, while growing visibly closer to Yan Hui. Even when the three of them were together, Qingqiu’s gaze and attention rarely lingered on him.

Still, Yanxi had his charms: he was patient, warmhearted, and gentle with women. Since he had initiated this pursuit, he didn’t mind the occasional setback. In his eyes, both Qingqiu and Yan Hui were remarkable women—so what if he had to be a little humble?

In fact, the more indifferent Qingqiu became, the more he longed for her.

So, when his birthday came around, he seized the opportunity—sending personal invitations to both women and inviting them to celebrate at the Jin Mansion.

Upon receiving the invitation, Qingqiu felt a familiar anxiety. Once, she had harbored feelings for Yanxi. Though she had since let go after recognizing his true character, pride still lingered. She dreaded appearing vulnerable or foolish in front of him and his social circle.

Yan Hui, watching her fret about what gift to prepare beyond the bicycle, and later worrying over what to wear, couldn’t help but find her adorable. Yet, at the same time, it warmed her heart.

In the original story, Yanxi had already proposed to Qingqiu by this point. The two had promised to be together, but Yanxi had been reluctant to introduce her to his family. Even after deciding to marry her, he delayed telling anyone, and his family still assumed he’d marry Bai Xiuzhu.

This kind of avoidance inevitably led to disaster. After marrying into the Jin family, Qingqiu found herself caught in the middle of escalating family tensions. Ill-prepared for such complex dynamics, she suffered deeply after her wedding.

While Qingqiu might have lacked experience, the real fault lay with Yanxi. Despite repeated requests, he never told his family about the engagement—always promising “soon,” but never acting.

Take his birthday party, for instance. The Jin family held a banquet with many guests. Inviting Qingqiu would not have raised eyebrows, but Yanxi never considered it.

Even when rumors of their relationship circulated—thanks to frequent dates—he stayed silent. When the Wu sisters suggested he invite Qingqiu to his party, he simply replied, “I can invite people for many things, but not to celebrate my birthday.”

In truth, he feared Qingqiu wouldn’t fit in and didn’t want her to see his social world. But more than that, he couldn’t risk his “secret” being exposed. He was ashamed to be seen with her, and too afraid to make their relationship public—only willing to act when cornered.

But now, Yan Hui toyed with the very invitation Yanxi had written by hand.

And everything… was different.