Lin Jinlou left the Hall of Knowing Spring and headed straight for the front study. Pushing the door open, he saw Shu Ran directing two young servants to divide the local specialties he had brought back from other provinces into several portions, preparing to send them to various households later.
Seeing Lin Jinlou enter, Shu Ran hurried forward to greet him, saying, "Eldest Master, everything has been sorted. Please take a look, and if there’s anything unsatisfactory, I’ll rearrange it."
Lin Jinlou nodded and examined the items one by one. Some were gifts of writing brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones, while others were scented sachets and hair oil. For the elders, most were nourishing foods, medicinal herbs, and silks. As he sorted through them, he remarked, "Don’t forget Song Yima from the second branch. Her share should match Second Madam’s, and her two children should receive the same as the young masters and misses of the estate."
Shu Ran quickly replied, "Of course, it’s all prepared."
Lin Jinlou added, "Among the boxes brought back, there’s a calligraphy piece by Shen. Where did you put it?"
Shu Ran said, "I noticed it was wrapped in red silk, so I thought it was something precious and placed it in the drawer under the curio cabinet." She then took out a key and retrieved the calligraphy piece.
Lin Jinlou unwrapped the red silk and flipped through the pages. Shen, also known as the Master of Bamboo Dwelling, was a descendant of the Wu School of painting, excelling in landscapes and also skilled in elegant, free-flowing calligraphy. On this trip, a subordinate had presented him with Shen’s "Heavenly Dark Clouds Scroll." Initially, he had intended to gift it to his father, but after seeing Xianglan’s calligraphy, he changed his mind. Tucking the scroll into his sleeve, he turned to leave but suddenly remembered something and instructed, "Set aside a portion of the hair oil and scented powder and send it to Xianglan in the east wing."
Shu Ran was greatly surprised but immediately lowered her head and replied, "Yes, understood." She courteously saw Lin Jinlou out. Returning to the room, she took a bottle of hair oil and a box of powder from a chest. After a moment’s thought, she added a scented sachet, then paused briefly before including a string of glass bracelets. Finally, she wrapped the items in a piece of pink silk.
Shu Ran was eighteen years old, of average height, with a round face and delicate features. Though her looks were considered ordinary among the vibrant and competitive maids of the Lin estate, her gentle and amiable nature, along with her ever-present smile, made her especially approachable. Originally a second-tier maid serving Qin Shi, Shu Ran had been assigned to Lin Jinlou after Qin Shi noticed her steady, clever, cautious, and cheerful disposition. Having served by Lin Jinlou’s side for five years, she had weathered many storms and earned his deep trust, moving freely between the inner and outer residences without restraint. Everyone in the estate respectfully addressed her as "Sister Shu Ran" and showed her due regard. Previously, her parents had tentatively suggested she become Lin Jinlou’s concubine, but Shu Ran immediately approached Lin Jinlou to request a respectable marriage, clarifying her intentions. Lin Jinlou then betrothed her to Xu Fu, a highly respected senior steward, with plans to release her from service in the coming years.Shu Ran's recent actions had earned the respect of everyone in the Yang household, and even Qin Shi had praised her a few times. Yet Shu Ran herself saw things clearly—over the years, she had witnessed Lin Jinlou's decisive and ruthless nature. While others saw him as a languid, refined gentleman, she knew he was a Living Yama. Many of his methods still sent chills down her spine when she recalled them. Moreover, this master never lacked for female companions, and at his bedside sat a wife who was like an Ogress. Being clever, she had long abandoned any improper thoughts and devoted herself wholeheartedly to serving Lin Jinlou as her master. Seeing Lin Jinlou take an interest in a mere maid like Xianglan, though surprising, Shu Ran had honed her instincts over the years. She knew better than to ask unnecessary questions, silently thinking that the Eldest Master's household might soon welcome a new addition.
To show sincerity and extend goodwill to the "new Concubine," Shu Ran felt she couldn't simply send a junior maid to deliver the items as she had last time when Lin Jinlou rewarded Xianglan with ointment. This time, she decided to personally deliver the gifts and engage in some warm, friendly conversation.
But let's set aside Shu Ran's plans for now. Lin Jinlou, carrying the calligraphy copy, made his way to Cong Cui Residence. As he rounded the artificial hill, he saw a group of women gathered there, along with several young ladies and married women clustered around a large table set up in the courtyard, chattering animatedly.
It turned out they had finished composing poems and were now enthusiastically critiquing them together.
They went through each poem one by one. If they encountered a good one, they would praise it in unison and discuss its merits; if it was poor, they would simply laugh it off; for those that were mediocre, they would pick out interesting lines to comment on briefly. Qinglan had failed to complete a full poem before the incense burned out, so she had hastily submitted Xianglan's poem as her own. Thus, when they came to the poem "Fading Fragrance," few people praised it.
Lin Dongqi thought to herself, "Qinglan is my elder brother's beloved concubine. It's already remarkable that she can read and write, let alone compose a poem. Since she organized this poetry gathering, we shouldn't let her lose face too much." So she smiled and said, "Though this poem is short, it carries a profound sense of melancholy. With just a few lines, it creates an exceptionally beautiful artistic conception."
Qinglan, who had been displeased by the lack of praise, immediately brightened at Lin Dongqi's words and laughed, "Second Miss, you flatter me too much. It's not that good..."
Lin Dongqi smiled faintly and was about to move on to the next poem with the others when she heard Huamei giggle and say, "'Whose white magnolia?' Isn't that just Qinglan's 'Lan'? Sister, you're the one held dear in the Eldest Master's heart now, so why talk about 'left behind in the spring breeze' with such despondence..."
Lin Dongqi immediately frowned, inwardly blaming Huamei for speaking without considering the occasion. In front of so many officials' wives and wealthy ladies, she had uttered such inappropriate words. Zhao Yuechan's face had already turned cold, and she snapped, "Hold your tongue!" Though stung by Huamei's remark about "the one held dear," she hated even more that Qinglan, this little seductress, dared to compete with her at every turn.
Fearing that Huamei's words would embarrass her, Zhao Yuechan smiled warmly and changed the subject, saying to Lin Dongqi, "Dear sister, please read the next one for me and see who wrote it."
Lin Dongqi looked and saw it was by Song Zan Chai. The assigned topic was "The Phoenix Tree," so she read:
"Where to seek autumn's thoughts, I ask in vain,
Half-rolling the blinds, I glimpse the emerald shade's gleam.
Borrowing the west wind's three parts chill,
And stealing the jade toad's wisp of pure light.
Through heavy mist and frost, withered lotuses stand,
Over wide rivers and low clouds, a lone wild goose cries.""Through all ages, none has known my soul's true tone; Lonely parasol tree, quiet window alone."
As Lin Dongqi recited each line, the crowd praised in unison, marveling that Song Zancha possessed such depth of feeling. Even Zheng Jingxian's haughty expression softened somewhat, and she looked at Song Zancha with newfound respect, saying, "I never imagined Sister Zan had such talent. This poem could easily take the top prize."
Song Zancha's cheeks flushed slightly as she replied, "It's not that good. Sister Xian's poem hasn't been seen yet... and Sister Qi's is also well-written." As she spoke, her gaze swept toward Lin Dongling—unfortunately, Lin Jinting was not in the residence that day, and without her usual ghostwriter, Lin Dongling had cobbled together something haphazardly, which naturally received poor marks. Seeing Lin Dongling's face turn ashen, Song Zancha fell silent.
Zheng Jingxian hurriedly covered her own poem, laughing, "I thought mine was good, but compared to yours, I see it falls short. It's better not to show this poem—I should just burn it."
The others naturally protested, exclaiming, "How can that be? Quickly, let us hear it."
Zheng Jingxian dodged left and right, but in a sudden move, Lin Dongxiu snatched the poem away and began to read:
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