You Stole My Husband, So I Seduced Your Son - Chapter 14

“Now that you’ve come of age, you’ll likely become an official after the imperial examinations. In officialdom, drinking and visiting courtesans are commonplace. Being a good scholar alone won’t make you a good official. If you remain as aloof and arrogant as you are now, you’ll likely be ostracized and face many difficulties.”

Upon hearing this, Ji Moyang’s expression changed. He had always believed that by studying diligently and becoming the most learned scholar in the land, he would naturally become the most upright and impartial official in the imperial court.

Little did he realize that if he maintained his self-righteousness, he might never even get the chance to stand in the court, being pushed into obscurity by others.

Seeing that Ji Moyang understood, Lu Zhengwen patted his shoulder and said earnestly, “To learn how to be an official, you must first learn how to be a person. Scholarship comes second.”

Ji Moyang suddenly understood, bowing deeply to Lu Zhengwen. “Thank you for your guidance, Elder Brother.”

After bidding farewell to Old Madam Song, Song Xuwan remembered the matter she had asked Second Madam Song to inquire about and turned toward the Second Branch.

Unfortunately, Second Madam Song was out. Instead, she encountered her second elder brother, Song Zhili, who was dressed in a purple brocade robe of Hangzhou silk, cinched with a white jade belt edged in gold—a picture of imposing nobility.

She recalled that her second brother, as Deputy Commander of the Five Wards Directorate, dealt with all sorts of people in the Capital. Perhaps his extensive knowledge and connections could lead her to a similar medicine.

After exchanging formal greetings, Song Xuwan feigned curiosity and asked, “Second Brother, do you know if there’s any medicine in the world that can render a man infertile?”

Song Zhili didn’t dwell on the question. He gazed at Song Xuwan with a gentle smile and replied softly, “Why resort to such subtle methods? If Zhou Minghai acts up, just break his legs.”

Well, in Second Brother’s eyes, breaking legs seems as easy as snapping chopsticks.

But physical torment paled in comparison to psychological torment. Song Xuwan shook her head in disagreement. “Don’t jump to conclusions, Second Brother. I’m just curious. My husband and I are doing fine.”

“Then I wouldn’t know,” Song Zhili admitted truthfully.

However, since his little sister had come all the way to ask him, he pondered for a moment and said, “I’ll ask around and let you know if I find anything.”

After bidding farewell to Second Master Song, Song Xuwan had barely left the gate when she bumped into her eldest brother, Song Zhijian. Lost in her thoughts, she hadn’t noticed him approaching.

“What are you thinking about? Watch where you’re going!” he scolded, his hand instinctively steadying her.

Looking up, Song Xuwan saw her elder brother standing tall and imposing. He wore a simple, straight-hemmed robe of fine cloth, yet his bearing betrayed none of the formidable aura of the Left Censor-in-Chief of the Censorate, a position that made the entire court tremble.

The robe appeared unassuming, but its value far exceeded even the finest Hangzhou silk. It was a study in understated luxury, much like Song Zhijian himself—seemingly warm and gentle as a spring breeze, yet radiating an unspoken authority that commanded respect.

“I’m fine,” Song Xuwan said flatly.

Her brother’s mind was sharp and meticulous. If he detected even the slightest hint of trouble, he would act swiftly, making Min Rongxue and her family vanish from the Capital without a trace.

The problem would be solved, but Zhou Minghai would likely live in terror for the rest of his life. What meaning would her days hold then?

“Your face looks terrible. How can you say you’re fine? Did that Zhou Minghai bully you?” Song Zhijian asked.

“Nonsense. He wouldn’t dare.”

Song Xuwan remembered how, shortly after her marriage, she had casually complained about Zhou Minghai to her brother—it wasn’t even a proper accusation.

Upon hearing this, Song Zhijian invited his brother-in-law to the Imperial Prison for a “meal” and kept him there for a candlelit “chat” that night. Zhou Minghai emerged from the prison a broken man, collapsing into a severe illness from sheer terror.

From then on, Zhou Minghai treated Song Xuwan with extreme caution, making her feel like she had married a spineless coward, utterly lacking in manly vigor.

Yet she couldn’t return to her maiden home to gossip; Zhou Minghai would be terrified into idiocy, and she certainly didn’t want a simpleton for a husband. Better to tolerate his cowardice.

Fearing her elder brother wouldn’t believe her, Song Xuwan quickly added, “Not only does Zhou Minghai not dare bully me, but his elder brother’s family wouldn’t dare mistreat me either.”

Ever since the Imperial Prison incident, every member of the Zhou family had treated her with utmost respect. Madam Zhu, her sister-in-law whom she interacted with daily, had completely abandoned any pretense of seniority, almost treating Song Xuwan, the younger sister-in-law, with the deference due a mother-in-law.

Madam Zhu had endured considerable humiliation back then, so after Zhou Minghai’s parents died, she immediately demanded a family division, unwilling to share a roof with Song Xuwan for another moment.

Recalling these events, Song Xuwan couldn’t help but smile. She hadn’t done anything to the Zhou family, yet they were all so terrified of her.

Seeing the faint smile spreading across Song Xuwan’s lips, Song Zhijian concluded that everything was likely fine, or at least not serious. He refrained from asking further questions.

With his authority looming, the entire Zhou family would behave themselves.

Back home, Song Xuwan continued to monitor Ji Moyang’s movements.

“We lost a lot of things,” a servant reported. “At first, Young Master Ji wouldn’t even glance at them, his face frighteningly cold. But then, for some reason, he started helping us look.”

Song Xuwan slowly smiled. So much for being a young genius and a virtuous gentleman, she thought. In the end, he’s just an ordinary man. No man is truly uninterested in such things.

Meanwhile, at Fuyun Temple, after Ji Moyang saw the erotic painting and left with a dark expression, Xia Yongyan and Zu Hongyuan dared not mention the incident again.

One day, Zu Hongyuan and Xia Yongyan were huddled together studying when Ji Moyang and Lu Zhengwen happened to walk by.

Terrified of causing another unpleasant scene, Zu Hongyuan frantically tried to hide his pouch, but by sheer misfortune, one of the love poems slipped out.

Just when everyone expected Ji Moyang to scowl and leave, he bent down, picked it up, and glanced at the poem.

“The writing is mediocre. What’s so interesting about this?”

Seeing Ji Moyang’s reaction, Xia Yongyan immediately chimed in with a teasing remark: “The young lady hasn’t had much schooling, of course her writing isn’t refined. But if you, the great scholar Ji Moyang, were to write a love poem, it would surely become a timeless masterpiece!”

Fearing Ji Moyang would be upset by the teasing, Lu Zhengwen was about to smooth things over when Ji Moyang chuckled softly and said, “I’m just too lazy to write.”

It wasn’t that he refused, he simply couldn’t be bothered.

Sensing the shift in Ji Moyang’s attitude, Xia Yongyan perked up immediately. He quickly grabbed Ji Moyang, who was about to leave, and whispered, “Brother Ji, I have a favor to ask.”

“You know my wife is a tigress. When I return after the imperial examination, I’ll inevitably face a grilling. Please, Brother Ji, take pity on me and write a few love poems for me to send home. If you can appease my wife, I’ll treat you as my own brother from now on.”

Ji Moyang hesitated, wanting to refuse. But considering their recently improved relations, he finally relented after a long pause. “Alright,” he agreed.

After a moment’s thought, several exquisitely written love poems flowed effortlessly onto the paper.

Xia Yongyan read through them one by one, filled with phrases like “delicate brows and radiant eyes,” “mad with longing,” and “graceful as a startled swan.”

The writing was undeniably superb, but…

“They lack a certain flavor,” Xia Yongyan remarked.

“Flavor? Love poems have flavor?” Zu Hongyuan asked, puzzled.