As Chuxia’s figure gradually disappeared, the young master stood still, not leaving, his voice slightly colder: “Have you checked on him?” “Yes,” Cang Qianlang nodded, “Qinglong even exchanged blows with the opponent. I’ll have him come over.” When Qinglong entered, the young master was arranging chess pieces by the lamp, seemingly pondering over a game, tapping the agate chess piece on the table, creating a tapping sound, with the lamp’s flame gently trembling. “Young Master,” Qinglong leaned in to look closely, haphazardly pointing, “Place it here.” The young master lazily moved his hand away, standing up, “When I taught you chess, did you learn anything?” Qinglong, thick-skinned, gave a dry laugh, “Is the Young Master looking for me because of Scholar Su?” Without waiting for the young master to ask, he continued, “Today’s opponent was a woman with a very strange martial arts style, one I’ve never seen before.” The young master slightly frowned: “A martial arts style you’ve never seen?” Qinglong nodded affirmatively, “It’s a soft and vicious martial art, suitable for women. I can’t think of which school or sect it belongs to.” The young master was silent for a moment, then asked, “What about Su Fenghua? Did he say why he was being chased?” “He’s still unconscious,” Qinglong said with some disdain, “Chuxia was just feeding him medicine.” The young master gave an “uh,” and slowly said, “You said… Chuxia was feeding him medicine?” “Yes,” Qinglong scratched his head, “Who else would take care of a bookworm like him?” The smile on the young master’s lips faded as he turned and threw a chess piece back onto the board, disrupting the game: “Let’s go, take me to see him.” As they entered the room, a strong smell of medicine hit them. The young master squinted slightly, just in time to see Chuxia placing down the medicine bowl, then wiping the corner of the man’s mouth with a handkerchief. Qinglong coughed, and Chuxia turned around, surprised to see the young master. Due to the warmth of the late spring evening, Chuxia was dressed lightly, with a silk ribbon tied around her waist, swaying gently with the breeze outside. She got up to close the window, walked to the young master, and whispered, “Young Master, what are you doing here?” The young master glanced at her sideways, his thin lips pursed, not speaking, and walked straight to the bed, bending down to look at something. Chuxia wanted to follow, but Qinglong held her back, gesturing for her to stay calm. The man on the bed groaned softly and woke up. Chuxia could no longer hold back, squeezing next to the young master, happily saying, “Hey, Scholar Su, Bai Xue said you wouldn’t wake up until tomorrow night at the earliest!” The young master removed his hand from Su Fenghua’s Baihui point, his gaze falling on the small table beside the bed where a dish of candied fruit was thoughtfully placed to counter the bitterness of the medicine. His face grew colder, expressionless, he said, “I didn’t realize you cared so much about him.” Chuxia, hearing the displeasure in his voice, looked at him puzzled: “He’s new to Jun Mansion, has no friends, if I don’t take care of him, who would?” The young master’s lips curled into a slight smile, raising his chin, and said to Qinglong behind him, “Where are the things?” Qinglong, holding a stack of ledger-like documents, hurried forward and placed them beside Scholar Su’s pillow, then carefully gauged the young master’s expression. The young master’s face was somber, reminiscent of times when he didn’t practice properly and was caught for a surprise inspection, only to be punished — Qinglong recalled the past, slightly sympathizing with Scholar Su, but dared not say more, stepping back. “Is it you?” Su Fenghua, unaware of the passage of time, his gaze scattered for a while, finally recognized the familiar figure by the bed, “Miss Chuxia?” Chuxia smiled: “Yes, it’s me. Now you’re fine, rest well.” The young master’s phoenix eyes narrowed slightly, clearly not in agreement. He turned to Chuxia: “Do you want him to help in the accounting room?” Chuxia nodded, puzzled by his serious question. “If he wants to stay, he should look at the ledgers, right?” The young master gave a faint smile and casually picked up the topmost ledger. “Mr. Su, take a look at this. From the end of the year until now, are we at a loss or a profit?” Su Fenghua looked bewildered at this unfamiliar young man and then at Chuxia, as if he had no idea what was going on. “Master, he’s so severely injured, can’t you wait a few days?” Chuxia interrupted anxiously, her eyes wide like a cat whose fur had been ruffled. “Is his injury in the head?” the young master replied lightly, turning back to sit down slowly. “Mr. Su, can you understand this?” After some back and forth, with Chuxia gradually explaining to Su Fenghua, Scholar Su finally understood who this young man was and why he was here. However, he adamantly refused to look at the ledger, standing firm with righteousness, “I am accustomed to reading the classics of the sages, hum… the ways of commerce, cough, cough… I am not inclined to engage in such matters…”
Chuxia was both angry at the young master’s insistence and annoyed by the scholar’s stubbornness, pleasing neither side. In frustration, she slammed the ledger down, gritting her teeth and remaining silent. The room fell quiet; the young master sipped his tea calmly, while Scholar Su, lying on the bed with a look of defiance, secretly glanced at Chuxia — seeing the young girl clutching her skirt, almost in tears, he felt a pang of sympathy. He coughed heavily again, his voice somewhat defeated, “A gentleman’s wealth comes from righteous means… I, I will take a look.”
Upon hearing him relent, Chuxia quickly glanced at the young master. The young master sat upright, his profile in the light and shadow appearing exceedingly refined, yet he remained silent. Su Fenghua tried to sit up, but the movement tugged at his wounds, pain flashing across his face. Chuxia quickly pressed him back, saying, “Lie down, I’ll hold the ledger for you, and you can read it slowly.”
The young master set his tea cup back on the table with a faint sound, watching the two without a word. Chuxia turned the pages for him one by one, and after a while, couldn’t help but turn back to the young master, “Master, perhaps we should check this tomorrow? It’s so late today.” Qinglong, looking somewhat troubled, glanced at Chuxia then at the young master, also unable to hold back, “Master, I also think…”
“That… that…” This time, the one to speak was Scholar Su, who was lying there like a corpse. He closed his eyes tightly and then opened them, feeling dizzy. “Did you understand?” Chuxia silently mouthed. Scholar Su’s pupils became even more unfocused, shaking his head as if on the brink of death. Knowing it would be like this, Chuxia was troubled. After some thought, she silently conveyed, “In February, there was a profit of nearly three thousand taels of silver.” Su Fenghua rolled his eyes, weakly repeating, “In February, there was a profit of nearly three thousand taels of silver.” The young master gave a slight smile, and Chuxia, seizing the opportunity, said, “Master, you see, Scholar Su can understand the ledger.”
The young master stood up and walked to the bedside, not looking at the half-dazed scholar but bending down to look intently at Chuxia, his gaze puzzled, “Chuxia, why are you helping him like this?” Chuxia’s face flushed, stubbornly retorting, “How am I helping him?” The young master’s smile was ambiguous, “Then ask him where the profit comes from, where the expenditures go?”
