Chapter Fifty-Four: Cui Clan’s Changxiao

Song Ci sat in the private room, delighting her eyes once more with the exquisite display before her. The jewelry of ancient times was nothing short of ingenious, both refined and intricate; she could not restrain herself and ordered several pieces, intending them as gifts for the women in her household—ensuring everyone received a share. The shopkeeper was so pleased that his eyes narrowed into a thin line as he smiled.

Having feasted her eyes to her heart’s content, Song Ci took little Song Lingzhou by the hand and ascended to the second floor, where rare books, paintings, and also paper, inkstones, brushes, and ink were sold.

“You’ll soon be attending the clan academy,” Song Ci said, looking down at Song Lingzhou, “so choose a set of scholar’s tools. Consider it a gift from your ancestor to mark the beginning of your studies.”

Song Lingzhou smiled and thanked her, replying, “Aunt has told me that the academy will provide ink and brushes, so there’s no need to bring my own.”

“But you’ll need them for daily practice,” Song Ci said. “I just bought jewelry for the girls, so you boys should have something as well. Choose, and pick a gift for your brothers, too.”

The attendant standing by smiled and said, “Madam, we’ve recently acquired several fine inkstones. They may not rival the rare treasures of the Prime Minister’s collection, but they are of excellent quality. Would you care to have a look?”

He was indeed clever and knew how to speak—clearly suited for sales. Song Ci praised him and went over with Song Lingzhou to inspect the inkstones. In truth, she wasn’t versed in the quality of inkstones or such, but she trusted the reputation of the Grand Treasure Pavilion and her own status—she would not be cheated. So whatever they recommended, she would buy.

Just as Song Ci was about to settle on several Duan inkstones, a voice interrupted.

“Actually, Madam, if you’re choosing an inkstone for your grandson, since he’s just starting his studies, and if money is no concern, you might find that a Tao River inkstone is a few grades superior to the Duan inkstone. Tao River inkstones are renowned—they release ink swiftly, are durable, retain water well, are richly colored and keep the ink moist, and are gentle on the brush. They’re quite suited to someone his age. Of course, even if it’s not for use, it’s a famous inkstone worth collecting.”

Song Ci turned to see a young man dressed in a blue robe, his hair bound with a sandalwood hairpin, a silver-white belt with cloud motifs at his waist, a jade token hanging from it, and holding a purple bamboo flute. He was smiling as he looked at her.

When Song Ci glanced his way, he pressed his hands together, flute in hand, and offered a respectful greeting: “I am Cui Changxiao, greetings to Madam Song. Wishing you prosperity.”

His bearing, his appearance, his voice—what a fine young scholar.

Except, she did not know him.

She looked to Granny Gong—who was this?

Granny Gong leaned in and whispered a few words in her ear.

Well, well—this was a scion of the Cui clan of Qinghe, an illustrious noble family whose ancestors had produced countless scholars and officials, branches flourishing everywhere. The current head, Cui Yonglian, held no official post, yet he was the headmaster of Longshan Academy, a man of vast learning with countless students.

And this Cui Changxiao was his youngest legitimate son, now twenty years old—a child born late in life, his mother having given birth at forty-three, nearly losing her life in the process, and cherishing him as a precious jewel.

Cui Changxiao had already passed the provincial examination, renowned for his literary talent. He was known for his carefree nature, a free spirit, wandering the world rather than seeking an official career. Otherwise, at seventeen when he first passed, had he continued to the imperial examinations, he might already be a jinshi. Yet he refused, delaying year after year, unwilling to take the exams, nor to marry, claiming he would not ruin a young lady’s life without honors to his name—driving his mother nearly to a stroke.

Hearing of his background, Song Ci thought—here was someone born into true nobility, a child with a golden key in his hand, surely possessing refined taste.

Song Ci arranged her features into folds of laughter, smiling like a cunning old wolf. “Young Master Cui, I offer my respects. I have an unreasonable request—would you be willing to grant it?”