Can I Become Emperor by Being This Lazy? - Chapter 54

Chapter 54

Duke Du pursed his lips, seemingly unable to swallow his pride. Despite Xue Ling giving him several meaningful glances, he remained unmoved and silent.

Finally, with no other choice, Xue Ling spoke with embarrassment: To be frank, I have a daughter whom I treasure like a pearl. I raised her with utmost care under my wing, but she unfortunately married the wrong man. Recently, he became so shameless as to lay hands on her. I could no longer endure this and forced that heartless scoundrel to write a letter of divorce, thus securing her freedom.

But scarcely had my daughter returned home when various malicious rumors began circulating outside. My poor girl wept day and night, becoming absent-minded in her actions. She took advantage of our momentary inattention to hang herself from a beam. Fortunately, we discovered her in time, otherwise…

Xue Ling heaved a long sigh, slowly raised his head, and looked solemnly at Lin Shuniang and Tang Zhegui before speaking earnestly: I’ve heard the Loyal Army employs many women and has established schools for literacy and education. My daughter has been exceptionally bright since childhood, intelligent as ice and snow, with a clever and perceptive nature. By age three, she already recognized thousands of characters and could recite hundreds of poems. Her literary reputation spreads far and wide. I wonder if she might be permitted to serve as a teacher in the Loyal Army?

Xue Ling explained: Having work to do and something to look forward to might help her stop dwelling on those unpleasant past matters she keeps holding onto.

Lin Shuniang pondered for a long while before asking doubtfully: Why would you consider our Loyal Army? Wouldn’t it be simpler to hire a female tutor to teach her at home?

Xue Ling’s face immediately stiffened. After hesitating for a moment, his lips trembled as he spoke: Since you’re new to Song’an, you may not know about my family’s circumstances. Some years ago, due to my negligence while accepting female students, I failed to provide adequate supervision. One of my students somehow became acquainted with an outside man – a traveling merchant. She developed feelings for him and actually eloped with him.

Everyone accused me of doing this intentionally, claiming that under the guise of teaching, I was secretly accepting money to arrange matches. Xue Ling turned his face away, somewhat ashamed, and fell silent.

Tang Zhegui exclaimed in shock: How utterly unreasonable! What does this have to do with you? The blame should fall on that merchant! What business did he have seducing someone else’s daughter into eloping? Simply disgraceful!

Xue Ling looked up at Tang Zhegui in surprise. Few people shared her perspective. In matters involving men and women, society invariably shifts all blame onto the woman, accusing her of wrongdoing and corrupting morals. Particularly in this case of the eloping student, her family felt so disgraced that they immediately disowned their daughter and moved the entire household away from Song’an.

Those unfamiliar with Song’an might not know that the Du family now has a notorious reputation, far from their former status as an esteemed scholarly family.

The eldest Du son was licentious by nature, addicted to drinking, eating, prostitution, and gambling. Despite repeated beatings and scoldings, his fundamental nature proved impossible to change. In a fit of anger, Duke Du expelled him from the family, and his current whereabouts remain unknown. The second Du son was naturally dull-witted. After years of arduous study yielded no achievements, he abandoned his studies midway to become a monk.

Though the youngest son was intelligent, he was overly cunning. He dared to meddle with the imperial examinations by obtaining advance copies of county exam questions and reselling them to others. Instead of keeping this discreet, he bragged about it everywhere. The scheme was quickly exposed, and he was beheaded to appease the anger of the scholarly community.

Having reached middle age, they were fortunate to finally have a daughter of exceptional talent, whose literary works brimmed with inspiration, promising to restore the Du family’s reputation. Suitors flocked to their door in countless numbers, yet after careful selection, who could have imagined they would choose the worst of the lot—a wolf in sheep’s clothing, wearing one face in public and another in private.

That shameless man took his wife’s poems and sold them at high prices, sparking widespread discussion. He allowed outsiders to freely comment on Madam Du, adding lurid details to her reputation. Enraged, Madam Du burned all her manuscripts to ashes and never picked up a brush to write again.

However, before the incident of the students eloping, Madam Du’s life could only be described as unpleasant—something she could endure by gritting her teeth. But after the elopement scandal, she could no longer hold her head high in her husband’s household. Everyone ordered her around as they pleased.

Her in-laws made things difficult, her husband lingered in pleasure quarters outside, never returning home all day, shirking all responsibilities. The servants looked down on her, and life grew increasingly harsh.

Until during an argument, her husband beat her—viciously, with fists falling like rain. She lay on the ground, utterly powerless.

The entire household heard her cries but watched coldly from the sidelines. Not a single person stepped forward to help. Madam Du’s heart turned completely cold. Even if it meant cutting flesh and shedding blood, she resolutely sought divorce. Yet she never expected life after separation would be just as difficult.

Xue Ling’s eyes grew moist, tears she couldn’t hold back. She quickly dabbed them away with a handkerchief and said to Lin Shuniang, If the Marshal is willing to take in my young mistress and give her a meal, our Du family will henceforth be at the Marshal’s disposal. We’ll present all our land deeds, property titles, and valuable possessions to the Marshal. We still maintain some connections with other prominent families—former students taught by my late master have passed the imperial examinations and now hold office in various regions. If you need us to mediate or negotiate, the Marshal need only command us.

Lin Shuniang felt a stir of emotion in her heart. Truly, parental love knows no bounds—Xue Ling was laying all her cards on the table with extraordinary sincerity.

Please wait a few days, madam, Lin Shuniang soothed Xue Ling’s emotions, speaking softly. I will write to inform the Marshal and seek his decision.

After some thought, Xue Ling proposed writing a letter herself to plead her case to Xu Mao, so both letters could be presented before him without putting Lin Shuniang in a difficult position.

Having reached an understanding, they moved to the study. Old Man Du and Tang Zhegui accompanied them. The room fell into complete silence, broken only by the soft scratching of brush tips across paper.

Wanting to lighten the atmosphere and break the quiet, Old Man Du turned idly to Tang Zhegui and asked, In the army, what books do you all read?

Tang Zhegui replied, At first it was just basic literacy. Our teacher had us recognize characters and learn some phonology, occasionally explaining passages from the Four Books and Five Classics to us.

Old Man Du’s eyes widened in astonishment. So early? Studying the Four Books and Five Classics before you’ve even fully learned characters? Who is your teacher, to be so presumptuous!

Tang Zhegui, uncomfortable with his tone, retorted defiantly, What does it matter if we don’t know all the characters? We’re not three- or four-year-old children. When the teacher explains the principles to us, everyone can understand them.

Then let me test you, Old Man Du said, swaying his head as he recited. The Master said: ‘If I hear the Way in the morning, I can die content in the evening.’ What does this mean?

Tang Zhegui froze, sweat beading on her temples. This she truly didn’t know. During every lesson, she couldn’t even remember what had been taught in the previous session, let alone explain some saying of Confucius.

She looked up at Old Man Du, who was stroking his beard with smug satisfaction, leisurely and complacent, as if saying: See, I knew it.

If you can’t prove yourself with steamed buns, at least fight for your dignity. Tang Zhegui racked her brains, then glared fiercely at Old Du to psych herself up before replying: Of course I understand its meaning… It means if you know the way to your house in the morning, you’ll be dead by evening.

Old Du’s eyes widened abruptly, leaving him stunned on the spot. Was she… was she just spouting nonsense, or deliberately issuing a warning?

Suddenly sobered, Old Du felt a chill run down his spine. He had forgotten that the Loyal Army’s rapid rise to power wasn’t just due to empty talk. Breaking out in a cold sweat, he shut his mouth and remained silent.

Seeing his slightly pale face, as if her words had struck him dumb, Tang Zhegui felt her pride swell immensely. It seemed she did possess some literary talent after all, having effortlessly rendered this scholar speechless.

When Wang Xingzhu received Xu Mao’s letter inquiring about the journals, she first sought Jin Feiyu’s opinion. After obtaining permission, she extracted a small segment about counterfeit jade techniques from the journals to show Xu Mao, briefly summarized other sections, and selected typical cases for detailed explanation.

For instance, when seasonal fruits and vegetables are sold during peak harvest, their prices remain low, whereas selling them ahead of their natural season commands higher prices—especially those that defy seasonal norms sell best.

The underlying reason lies in the relationship between supply and demand: scarcity determines value. When merchants’ supply exceeds buyers’ demand, goods become cheap and prices drop; conversely, when supply falls short of demand, prices naturally rise.

Wang Xingzhu found this fascinating and applied the principle elsewhere. Merchants chase profits—when items are rare and prices high, they flock to invest. Yet precisely because of this, supply suddenly increases, and their share of the profits diminishes accordingly.

Still, she felt somewhat lost about what she should do herself. With the Jin family involved in numerous ventures, she didn’t know how to choose, tempted to learn every skill yet afraid her dullness might lead to failure and disappointment.

Troubled, Wang Xingzhu sent the letter and began flipping through Chou Niang’s journals, searching one by one for the most suitable path for herself.

This one wouldn’t do, so Wang Xingzhu picked up another. The large chest full of journals would take at least ten days to half a month to skim through, even without absorbing the content.

Randomly selecting a volume, she settled down to read patiently. Its cover and pages were aged, indicating it was written quite early, frequently mentioning returning home and revealing a longing between the lines.

Suddenly, she came across a strange tale. Chou Niang wrote that she had heard of a Taoist who, to avoid turmoil, hid deep in the mountains to devote himself to cultivation. One day, while practicing Elixir Crafting by a pond, his alchemical furnace suddenly exploded. Immediately, the wind and clouds shifted, and sweet rain fell, relieving the drought. The Taoist, having achieved merit, was said to have ascended to immortality.

Chou Niang commented: The primitive method of Artificial Rainmaking. The elixir materials contained minerals; after the explosion, dust and mineral particles floated in the air, acting as condensation nuclei. Combined with the windward slope of the mountain facilitating precipitation, ample moisture in the area, and alternating cold and heat, the warm, humid air rose and condensed into rain. However, the legend seems exaggerated—the Taoist likely died and was mistaken for having ascended.

Wang Xingzhu’s eyes widened like copper bells, jaw dropped, fingers trembling slightly, her whole body quivering.

Artificial Rainmaking? Wang Xingzhu suddenly felt the world turned upside down, as if trapped in an illusion—otherwise, how could she be reading such bizarre words?

From childhood, everyone said that whether it rained or not was determined by the heavens. If the heavens saw them honest, diligent, and hardworking, they would send down sweet rain, giving everyone a good harvest.

If they were lazy or deceitful and failed to properly tend the crops, the heavens would grow angry and deliberately withhold rain as punishment for their idleness, letting the crops wither and die in the fields. Only by recognizing their mistakes and correcting them would the heavens release clouds and rain.

Now someone was telling her there was a way to make it rain without depending on the heavens’ whims. Wang Xingzhu’s mind went blank.

She stared fixedly at those words, her resolve gradually solidifying.