Chapter Forty-Two: Upon Seeing the Letter

Hearing Jiang Li speak in such a manner, Jiang Yuanbai was momentarily stunned, unsure what expression to wear.

The girl before him had, at some point, grown into a graceful young woman. She appeared even more delicate and fragile than Jiang Youyao, but her features resembled his own more closely. When Jiang Li was sent to the convent, she was only seven years old, a plump little child. Eight years had passed in the blink of an eye; time had transformed her into a lovely maiden and erased the last traces of familiarity.

Jiang Yuanbai felt estranged.

He had missed eight years of Jiang Li’s life, so in his memory she remained the unruly, spoiled child who knew nothing of propriety. Now, as that child stood before him, her clear eyes calm as she voiced her request, Jiang Yuanbai found himself at a loss for how to respond.

He said, “Do you understand what you’re saying? You haven’t been properly educated—how could you keep up with the lessons in Mingyi Hall…”

“Father, I am also your daughter,” Jiang Li interrupted him. “If we are both your daughters, why is my third sister allowed to attend Mingyi Hall, while I can only learn rudimentary knowledge from tutors hired from outside? Father, this is unfair.”

Once again, Jiang Yuanbai was struck speechless. He gazed at Jiang Li, and memories surfaced from before Ji Shuran entered the household, when he had two daughters. The elder, born to a concubine, was somewhat dull. Jiang Li was his legitimate daughter, round and adorable. Back then, he had cherished Jiang Li, the child whom Ye Zhenzhen had fought so hard to bring into the world, often holding her and letting her ride on his shoulders for fun.

There had been moments of familial joy. But later, Jiang Li’s misdeeds had eroded that father-daughter affection. Yet today, as Jiang Yuanbai looked at Jiang Li, for reasons unknown, those memories returned. Her words—“Father, this is unfair”—brought a sudden ache to his heart.

He could not recall when it had started, but Jiang Yuanbai had forgotten he had another daughter. He had spoiled Jiang Youyao as the apple of his eye, while treating Jiang Li with unusual distance. Yet Jiang Li neither fought nor vied, merely stood before him and recounted her case calmly, stirring a sense of guilt within him.

Jiang Li noticed this guilt in his eyes and felt a quiet relief.

She had long since realized that Jiang Yuanbai was not entirely devoid of feeling toward his second daughter. When she returned to the manor, his gaze betrayed a lingering concern. True, Jiang Yuanbai was not an exemplary father, but Ji Shuran had certainly played her part. Jiang Li herself held no affection for him, but if she could use his guilt and maintain peace on the surface, she was willing.

Had she launched into a lengthy tirade about his neglect, Jiang Yuanbai might not have been moved. It was her calm assertion that made him reflect more deeply.

“Li’er, you are not suited to attend Mingyi Hall right now,” Jiang Yuanbai finally spoke, though he refused her, his tone was much gentler.

“Father, the reason you do not wish me to attend Mingyi Hall is merely because you fear gossip, bringing shame to the Jiang family. Your intentions are good, but have you considered that the Emperor himself praises women who pursue learning? As the Grand Chancellor, the foremost scholar, you have your legitimate daughter tutored at home rather than send her to Mingyi Hall—isn’t that a slap in the Emperor’s face?”

Jiang Yuanbai was taken aback.

He had only considered whether Jiang Li would be criticized and the family shamed, and had forgotten Emperor Hongxiao.

“That is one reason. Secondly, Father, our Jiang family has four daughters. Besides my third sister, even the fourth and fifth have entered Mingyi Hall. If I alone am kept at home, it is not only unjust but also draws more attention. Human nature is such that the more openly things are handled, the less others care to gossip; the more you hide, the more they probe. Father, you think keeping me in the manor will shield me from scrutiny, but that is a mistake. The more you do so, the more lively the rumors will become.”

She spoke without particular emotion, as if discussing someone else’s affairs. Yet in Jiang Yuanbai’s ears, it sounded perfectly reasonable. Moreover, even Jiang Yuanxing from the third branch had sent gifts to secure Jiang Yu’e and Jiang Yuyan’s places in Mingyi Hall—how much more so should their own branch.

“Father,” Jiang Li lowered her gaze, “I was wrong before. But who among mortals is free of fault? To know one’s wrongs and not mend them is the greatest error. I was young and ignorant, but now I understand. I grew up without a mother’s guidance, and if I made one misstep, must I repay it for a lifetime? I am willing, but as a daughter of the Jiang family, I do not wish to become its burden.”

Her words, “I grew up without a mother’s guidance,” struck Jiang Yuanbai’s heart, and he trembled.

“Li’er, but you…”

“Father, in the convent at Qingcheng Mountain, I did not neglect my studies. I knew my father was the Grand Chancellor, and I could not disgrace him as an illiterate fool, so I asked the literate nuns to teach me reading and writing. Though my writing is not perfect, I have read all the beginner books and can write many characters.”

She walked to the desk, moved aside the “Tranquility” character Jiang Yuanbai had just written, and laid out fresh paper. Her actions startled Jiang Yuanbai, who instinctively watched her.

Jiang Li rolled up her sleeves and ground ink slowly. Her slender wrist and gentle movements possessed a special elegance, pleasing to the eye. It seemed she had done this countless times, so naturally did she proceed.

Once the ink was ready, she dipped her brush and began to write, speaking softly as she did: “Father, though Mingyi Hall is a place of learning, one can also form valuable connections there. So long as I behave properly, the friends I make will only benefit the Jiang family. I bear the Jiang name, and always hope for the family’s prosperity.”

Her writing style differed from Jiang Yuanbai’s, whose strokes were slow and profound, each character drawn out with care. Jiang Li, though gentle and refined in appearance, wrote with a fierce determination, as if a soldier wielding a blade, ready to fight until dawn.

Jiang Yuanbai watched her profile—elegant and beautiful, like jade, yet brimming with a bold, martial spirit.

She finished a stroke, set the brush aside with a crisp, decisive motion, and said, “It’s done.”

Jiang Yuanbai looked up and was astonished.

The characters were exquisite, vigorous and forceful, the kind that could only result from ten years of diligent practice. Far superior to Jiang Youyao’s handwriting. Moreover, they were not the delicate script favored by women, but bold, upright, and square.

Strength within the square, sharpness within the straight lines.

To see the writing was to see the person: open, forthright, and resilient.

Jiang Yuanbai scrutinized the young woman before him as though she were a stranger. Jiang Li smiled radiantly and asked, “Father, do you now agree to let me attend Mingyi Hall?”

———Aside———
Ali: My calligraphy scores a perfect hundred [smile]