Chapter 247: What? You Like the Emperors Mother-in-Law??? (2 / 2)

Xu Yanmiao had the same thought.

That night, when someone knocked on his door, he could only see a tall figure standing outside, his features completely obscured by the darkness. “Who’s there?”

The man spoke awkwardly. “Sir Xu, I am the eldest son of the Senior Secretary of the Ministry of Justice. My surname is Liang, my given name is Youwen, and my courtesy name is Cihan. I have heard my father mention you before. Earlier today, I behaved rudely and have come to apologize.”

As he lit a small firestarter, Xu Yanmiao noticed a large black bag at his feet.

“It’s not money or anything like that,” Liang Youwen explained hurriedly. “It’s some homemade pickled spicy chicken feet that my wife and I prepared. I heard that you enjoy good food, so I…”

Before he could finish speaking, an angry shout suddenly rang out in the night.

“Get lost! Do you take me for some kind of person?!”

A carriage turned the corner, and as the curtain lifted, a wooden sculpture of a lady was thrown out. Carved from tree roots, the statue was plump and full-figured, beautifully crafted, and clearly expensive.

Unfortunately, its owner was furious and had thrown it with great force, causing the statue’s nose to break off in a large chunk.

Then, a scholar with a face as pale as paper sheepishly stepped forward, picked up the broken statue, and awkwardly addressed the person inside the carriage. “Chief Academic Examiner, I shall take my leave now.” He then placed the statue on the carriage’s footboard.

A cold snort came from inside the carriage.

As the scholar, looking utterly dejected, passed by the carriage window, the examiner lifted the curtain and looked at him with a half-smile.

“Liang Youwu, out of respect for your father, I’ll pretend I didn’t see you tonight. But if you try to snoop around for the examination questions again, you’ll be sent back to Heyang to study properly under your teacher!”

The scholar’s face turned red with shame, and he lowered his head, quickly walking away.

The Grand Academician of the Imperial College was about to drop the curtain when he suddenly caught sight of a tall figure standing in the firelight, staring at him with bright, piercing eyes.

“Xu Yanmiao?!”

At that moment, his hand trembled, and the gray cloth curtain snapped back against the window with a smack.

Then, a voice echoed in his mind: [Eh? Why such a big reaction?!]

The Grand Academician of the Imperial College took a deep breath to compose himself. After a few moments, he turned his face toward the outside, just about to speak—when his gaze landed on the person in front of Xu Yanmiao and the black bag at their feet. His tone turned a bit strange.

“Sir Xu, so late at night… what exactly are you two doing…?”

Xu Yanmiao replied, “Spicy pickled chicken feet. A gift of apology from this gentleman. Would you like to take a look?”

The Grand Academician: “……”

Stepping out of the carriage, he flipped open the bag—only to find that it really was just spicy pickled chicken feet. Not a single trace of gold or silver. The strong sour and spicy aroma hit his nose, both oddly familiar and appetite-inducing.@@novelbin@@

His initial excitement instantly cooled. After exchanging farewells with Xu Yanmiao, he rode off in his carriage. Inside, he muttered under his breath, “What the hell?!”

Who delivers spicy chicken feet in the middle of the night?!

Xu Yanmiao didn’t even accept the chicken feet. But he had to admit…

[Senior Secretary Liang really knows how to raise a son.]

The next morning, during the court assembly, Xu Yanmiao sighed with this thought.

Liang Rui froze for a moment, wondering what his son could have done to make Xu Yanmiao think of them during the meeting.

It must be something good… right?

[He showed me the menstrual cloth, then formally apologized… Wait a minute. He bumped into Gao He—why did he only apologize but not offer a gift?]

[Does he look down on Gao He’s status?]

[That’s not right either. He didn’t go to Lian Hang either. Why did he only come to me?]

[Hmm???]

[Wait—he isn’t married. That menstrual cloth… was it just old cotton mixed with chicken blood?!]

Silence.

Liang Rui’s expression went blank.

A vague, ominous feeling crept over him—his son… was about to drag him into a mess.

[Huh?! He’s been guarding the palace gates every day, waiting for me to get off duty for an entire month, just to find out what I like to eat? Then he personally made a whole bag of spicy chicken feet, deliberately picked a day when I was with others, and crashed into them on purpose?!]

[What is he after…]

[What?!]

[He likes the old emperor’s mother-in-law and hopes that, as the emperor’s favored minister, I can help him be a matchmaker?!]

The old emperor: ???

His mother-in-law?!

His mother-in-law was—

[The late empress’s mother, Lady Yuchi… who is ninety-five years old?!]

Liang Rui’s vision went dark.

No wonder his son was already thirty-two and still refused to marry. Every time he was asked, he said he had no one he liked. When pressed about his type, he always replied:

“I prefer women who are gentle yet firm, understanding yet authoritative, with a strong presence, wisdom, extensive experience, decisiveness, and a commanding personality.”

If he couldn’t find such a woman, he would rather remain single.

Madam Yuchi indeed met all those criteria, but… she wouldn’t be around much longer!

As for Liang Rui’s eldest son, a historical reference:

In the second year of Emperor Jing’s reign, Li Ji wished to marry Lord Pingyuan’s mother. Emperor Jing was furious, had Li Ji arrested, and stripped him of his title.

— Records of the Grand Historian (Shiji)

(Lord Pingyuan’s mother was the mother of Empress Wang and grandmother of Emperor Wu.)

In writing today, pens are typically made with sharp tips, as scholars writing examination essays only use the very point of the pen to form characters on paper, paying no heed to calligraphic structure. Thus, such pens are commonly made for easy sale. However, I write with the heart of the brush, which these pens cannot accommodate. Each time I dip the brush, the tip wears down too quickly, making it difficult to use. Alas, just as writing follows trends, so do pens conform to popular habits. Once a practice gains widespread acceptance, it becomes irreversible. To seek the skill of imprinting on seal mud or drawing on sand using such tools is as futile as chasing a galloping steed while riding a lame donkey. However, brushes with even tips tend to wear down easily—only skilled artisans who meticulously select bristles and ensure they are full-bodied and sturdy can create durable ones.

— One of the Six Arts Record

During the late Qing Dynasty, in the reign of Emperor Tongzhi, a scholar from Anhui named Xie Songdai sought to relieve students from the burden of grinding ink by developing and selling bottled ink. His product was well-received, and he later opened a shop in Beijing’s Liulichang to sell it.

— Seeing China from the World: The Centenary Essays of Zhou Youguang