Chapter 73: Does the Mad Scholar Have Real Skill? Receiving a Fan Letter

As Fu Gui was leaving, he bumped into the Right Chancellor and quickly stepped aside. The Right Chancellor didn’t pay much attention at first, but upon a casual glance, he recognized Fu Gui. As the head enforcer of the Right Chancellor’s retinue, he was familiar to him.

The Right Chancellor called out to him, frowning, "Fu Gui, what are you doing in the inner courtyard?"

Fu Gui dared not deceive the master of the chancellor’s household and hurriedly explained the whole situation.

The Right Chancellor was so angry he nearly cursed, "Don’t go! Don’t you know we need to lay low, not stir trouble? From now on, no matter what orders the madam or the young mistress give you, you must report to me first. Only if I approve can you act. Understood?"

Fu Gui quickly replied, "Understood, my lord."

"You may go."

The Right Chancellor strode into Lady Mei’s chambers and saw the shattered porcelain scattered across the floor. Thinking of what the mother and daughter had planned to do, he saw red, his pulse pounding.

"Didn’t I tell you not to go out and cause trouble during this time? Why won’t you listen?" the Right Chancellor scolded.

Before Lady Mei could defend herself, Zhao Shi shielded her daughter behind her.

Zhao Shi spread her arms, like a mother hen protecting her chick, and shouted at the Right Chancellor, "You storm in here and immediately scold my daughter! Why don’t you ask how much she’s suffered?"

The Right Chancellor was at his wit’s end with his wife. "She was bullying them into selling—does she still have the right to complain?"

"How was she bullying them into selling? Those peasants’ trinkets were worthless! My daughter taking an interest was doing them a favor!" Zhao Shi retorted righteously. "Besides, she didn’t shortchange them—wasn’t 100 strings of cash enough? I think they just saw how much she liked it and tried to extort her. Insatiable leeches!"

The Right Chancellor was so angry he didn’t even know where to begin refuting her.

"Regardless, I forbid her from causing any more trouble during this time!" Unable to reason with them, the Right Chancellor could only issue a stern command. "Don’t you two realize what a precarious situation we’re in? Go out and ask around—every official in the capital, whether a third-rank minister or a lowly fifth-rank clerk, is whispering behind my back about how I, Chancellor Mei, abused my power to drive my former son-in-law out of the imperial city and exile him to the ‘frontier’!"

Zhao Shi grew furious at the mention of Lady Mei’s former husband. "That San Lang, a country bumpkin, actually dared to look down on my daughter! If not for… he wouldn’t even have had the chance! He had the luck to marry my daughter and didn’t cherish her—even dared to take a concubine! How dare he trample over my daughter like that? If you hadn’t had him banished from Bianjing, what face would you have left as the Right Chancellor?"

"Face? Do you even realize this matter is about to reach the Emperor’s ears?" the Right Chancellor roared.

Zhao Shi didn’t care in the slightest. She even lifted her chin proudly and declared, "So what? My Third Sister is the Consort, deeply favored by His Majesty. Even the Empress has to show her some respect—what could the He family possibly do?"

"You—!" The Right Chancellor trembled with rage. "Mark my words—no one is to trouble those two commoners. If I find out otherwise, I’ll wed her to a commoner myself! Haven’t you always looked down on commoners? Then I’ll make sure she becomes a commoner’s wife!"

"You can’t humiliate my daughter like that—she’s your own flesh and blood!" Zhao Shi was frightened now. She couldn’t bear the thought of Lady Mei suffering such disgrace.

"Then keep quiet during this time and don’t let me hear of her causing any more trouble!" The Right Chancellor stormed out.

Only after her father left did Lady Mei dare to speak. "Mother, you can’t mean to ignore this insult? Those dirt-farmers dared defy me, the daughter of the Chancellor’s household! If word gets out, what face will our family have left?"

Zhao Shi fumed with indignation. "Your father is too cautious. But for now, you must behave. If nothing else, you still need to remarry. You can’t possibly marry some lowly commoner. When the gossip fades, I’ll find you a new husband."

"Mother!" Lady Mei tugged at Zhao Shi’s sleeve, refusing to back down.

"Don’t worry. I won’t let you suffer at the hands of those peasants for nothing. Once the uproar over your divorce passes, I’ll make sure they pay dearly. Even if those two scum flee to the ends of the earth, I’ll never let them go!"

Though Lady Mei was fuming, with both the Right Chancellor and Zhao Shi against her, she had no choice but to drop the matter.

The next morning, Lady Mei suddenly found that the wrist struck by He Jing had grown limp—she couldn’t even hold a bowl, shattering it on the floor.

Panicked, she summoned an imperial physician, but he found nothing wrong.

The physician could do nothing, bluntly stating that no medicine was needed—it was a psychological issue.

In other words, there was nothing wrong with Lady Mei’s wrist. She was faking it—too proud to admit a commoner bested her.

This infuriated Right Chancellor Mei even more, causing him to fly into a rage and crack down on Mrs. Mei’s behavior, nipping her schemes in the bud.

Mrs. Mei was so angry that she trashed her chambers.

Late at night in the palace, the Emperor sat enthroned, writing in fits and starts on the imperial desk.

Below, a youth stood ramrod straight, his posture flawless, his back unbent—this was the Crown Prince.

Suddenly, a eunuch scurried in, murmuring in the Emperor’s ear. The Emperor’s expression remained unchanged, and it was unclear what was said.

After a moment of contemplation, the Emperor looked up at the Crown Prince.

"Father, since you were also at the Great Xiangguo Temple today, have you heard any rumors?" The Emperor, along with the Empress and several favored consorts and princes, had visited the Great Xiangguo Temple to pray. The Crown Prince had accompanied them.

Without hesitation, the Crown Prince bowed and replied, "Father, I heard that the daughter of the Right Chancellor was also present and seemed to have had a run-in with two commoners."

The Emperor waved his hand, signaling not to dwell on that, and instead asked, "Do you know the identities of those two commoners?"

The Crown Prince answered, "It seems one of them is a scholar who came to participate in the imperial examinations, outshining even the Shen family’s celebrated third son, known for his talent."

The Emperor raised an eyebrow and said meaningfully, "You’re quick on the uptake, gathering such detailed information in such a short time."

The Crown Prince hastily knelt. "Father, I meant no overstep. It’s just—"

The Emperor extended his right hand, cutting off the Crown Prince’s explanation. He rose from the dragon throne, approached the Crown Prince, and helped him up.

"There’s no need for such wariness between father and son. Crown Prince, since I’ve named you my heir, as long as you do nothing foolish, this position will always be yours. No need to walk on eggshells."

The Emperor led him to a nearby chair and sat down. "Your quick reaction this time is commendable. A ruler must keep his ear to the ground to avoid becoming deaf and blind."

The Crown Prince observed the Emperor’s expression, unsure of his meaning.

This matter involved the Right Chancellor’s household, and everyone knew the Right Chancellor was the father of Consort Shu, the Emperor’s most favored consort. Even the Crown Prince’s own mother, the Empress, had to show Consort Shu considerable respect and avoided provoking her.

Unfortunately, the Emperor’s expression remained unreadable, and the Crown Prince could read nothing from it.

The Emperor continued, "Since you’ve investigated the top candidate and his partner, you must be aware of everything they’ve done."

The Crown Prince nodded.

The Emperor suddenly smiled. "Quite fascinating. They seem like two audacious talents. I wonder how much true skill they possess—it certainly makes me eager to see what they’ll do next."

When Bing Wengu and Nan Jinping returned home, Nan Dalang and Bing Silang eagerly borrowed Nan Jinping’s colored-glaze toy to look at it.

Neither of them had laid eyes on it before.

If even the daughter of the Right Chancellor and the young noble from the Marquis’s household were captivated by it, how could Nan Dalang and Bing Silang resist?

After viewing the colored-glaze toy, aside from being mesmerized, Nan Dalang was also puzzled.

He looked at Bing Silang in confusion. "If your brother-in-law has such skills, how’d your family end up so broke?"

"I—I don’t know!" Bing Silang had no idea how his elder brother had acquired so many abilities. "That’s colored glaze! I’d never laid eyes on it before. I don’t know how my brother knew how to make things with it."

Nan Dalang was equally baffled. Back in the village, the two families had little contact, and the few interactions he’d had with Bing Wengu left him with the impression that the man was arrogant, rude, and untalented. But after spending time with him recently, Nan Dalang realized Bing Wengu was nothing like his previous perception—his skills were far beyond what one would expect from a village bumpkin.

Bing Silang, seeing Nan Dalang’s confusion, suddenly said, "Honestly, I never noticed my brother had these abilities before. If I had to trace it back, it was only after he got engaged to brother-in-law that he seemed to gain sudden enlightenment, succeeding in everything he did."

"Truthfully, I really think brother-in-law is a good-luck charm, bringing fortune to those around him. Otherwise, with my brother’s past level of knowledge—really, even the town’s teacher said he’d only pass the imperial exams if the examiner were blind. But look at him now—even the young noble can’t surpass him, perpetually second-best."

This time it was Bing Silang's turn to counter Nan Dalang, "So, I really want to know, how could your Nan family, with a fortune-bringing star like Jin Geer, still end up living like that! Even my eldest brother, who was once hopeless, has been guided by Jin Geer to become a scholar. How come your family..."

Now it was Nan Dalang's turn to be speechless.

Indeed, looking at it this way, Jin Geer truly had some—no, exceptional luck about him. So the question arose: with such an auspicious figure watching over them, how had the Nan family lived in such poverty before?

Nan Dalang couldn't help but wonder just how down on their luck his family had been in the past, to the point where even a fortune-bringing star couldn't lift them up.

Was his family really that terrible? Just as Nan Dalang sank deep into self-doubt, a sudden flash of insight reminded him of village gossip.

"Actually, I've heard some rumors in our village about the connection between Jin Geer being a fortune-bringing star and the Nan family's poverty," Nan Dalang said hesitantly.

Bing Silang had heard it too and immediately recalled it. "I've heard that as well. It's said that a fortune-bringing star does bring fortune to those around them, but not to everyone. There's a cause-and-effect relationship—the better you treat the fortune-bringer, the more fortune you receive. If you treat them poorly, you'll face misfortune."

Nan Dalang nodded. "The villagers say the Nan family didn't treat Jin Geer well enough, but not poorly either, so we neither faced misfortune nor received the blessings of his fortune."

In truth, the Nan family had treated Nan Jinping quite well. There had never been any mistreatment; in fact, because Nan Jinping was a Shuang Er (a term for someone assigned female at birth but identifying as male), he had even received slightly better treatment than the other children.

But the Nan family's circumstances were what they were. No matter how well they treated Nan Jinping, there were limits. It wasn't as if the whole family could survive on plain steamed bread while the parents gave their own meat to Nan Jinping.

Moreover, Nan Jinping had been mocked by villagers since childhood, which made him determined to prove himself, always afraid of being laughed at for not measuring up. He outworked even his brothers at any task, always striving to prove himself.

Still, the Nan family had genuinely treated Nan Jinping well, giving him all they could within their means.

Yet now, Bing Silang nodded earnestly, agreeing with Nan Dalang. "Indeed, your family didn't treat Jin Geer well enough. If you had treated him as well as my eldest brother does, perhaps your Nan family would already be the wealthiest in our town."

Nan Dalang couldn't argue with that. "Your eldest brother dotes on Jin Geer endlessly. No one in our village pampers their spouse like that."

"Exactly. That's why my eldest brother is now a scholar and well on his way to becoming a juren."

Truthfully, the idea of Nan Jinping being a fortune-bringing star was something Bing Wengu had created to boost his standing. The Nan family had treated Nan Jinping well, and Bing Wengu had never intended to drag them down. The notion that they hadn't received blessings because they hadn't treated him well enough was entirely the villagers' own invention.

Otherwise, how could one explain that despite Nan Jinping being a fortune-bringing star, the Nan family had still lived in poverty?

Yet, the Nan family had indeed treated Nan Jinping well—so well that even the villagers couldn't find fault, forcing them to explain it away like this: good, but not good enough.

Once people believe certain claims, they'll fill in the gaps themselves without needing guidance.

Nan Jinping truly loved the peepshow toy Bing Wengu had made for him. After counting the copper coins they'd earned, he cradled the peepshow toy and played with it.

After a while, though, he still felt uneasy. "Wen Gu, will offending Mrs. Mei really not bring retaliation from the Chancellor's manor?"

Bing Wengu smiled. "Don't worry, husband. If the Chancellor's manor dares to cause trouble, I'll teach you your first lesson on how to stand against powerful foes—how to topple and destroy what seems unshakable."

Whether it was Bing Wengu's calm demeanor or the half-remembered dreamlike flashes in his mind, Nan Jinping suddenly felt strangely convinced that Bing Wengu truly had a solution.

Bing Wengu moved closer to Nan Jinping, soothing him. "Don't overthink it. I already have a plan. Let me share historical tales to settle your nerves."

Nan Jinping nodded. "Alright."

Nan Jinping loved listening to Bing Wengu tell stories or recount the histories of past dynasties—it was always fascinating.

And so, the two of them fell asleep while sharing stories.

In the blink of an eye, exam day was upon them. With the provincial examinations approaching, Bing Wengu stopped going out, and neither did Nan Jinping. He stayed home, keeping him company while he studied.

As the saying goes, enemies always meet on a narrow road—and it's no empty tale. Sure enough, Bing Wengu encountered Shen Qinghe and Jiang Jinghuai outside the examination hall.

Bing Wengu, rarely the one to initiate greetings, called out, "Brother Jinghuai, have you found the answer to the question I asked you last time? When you prayed at the temple, *were you asking for me to win the top rank or for your cousin?*"

"Bing Wengu, if I hadn’t promised Jin Geer not to call you a pup anymore, I’d really be shouting 'Bing Pup' at you right now. How can someone be more dog-like than an actual pup?" Jiang Jinghuai fumed.

Shen Qinghe sneered, "Bing Wengu, don't count your chickens in your moment of triumph. Today, I’ll show you who the perpetual runner-up really is."

Bing Wengu smiled and nodded. "Alright then, Erlang,* let’s see on the day the results are posted."

* [Erlang here is a deliberate insult implying Shen Qinghe is second-best.]

Shen Qinghe wasn’t actually the second son in his family—Bing Wengu knew this and deliberately called him that to provoke him.

Sure enough, Shen Qinghe’s face darkened with rage.

Nan Jinping helplessly tugged at Bing Wengu’s sleeve, and only then did he bite back his retort.

Bing Wengu instructed Nan Jinping, "Don’t worry about me at home. I’ve taken so many exams by now that I’m a seasoned veteran—I’ll eat well and rest well. Just focus on taking care of yourself."

Nan Dalang and Bing Silang were accustomed to such talk, but Bing Silang couldn’t help complaining to Nan Dalang, "Listen to what Eldest Brother is saying—I almost thought hubby was the one about to enter the exam hall."

Nan Dalang chuckled. What could he say? His brother-in-law was fussing over his little brother.

Bing Silang continued grumbling, "I always feel like the rest of us might as well be invisible. In Eldest Brother’s heart, as long as hubby is here to see him off, that’s enough. The rest of us are practically unnecessary. Well, not unnecessary—maybe just a little excessive."

Nan Dalang agreed wholeheartedly, but given his position, he couldn’t join in the complaints and could only offer an awkward laugh.

"That’s something I should be saying," Nan Jinping sighed helplessly.

Bing Wengu smiled carelessly. "We're both husbands—who says it makes a difference?"

"Fine, but you still need to take care of yourself too," Nan Jinping said.

Bing Wengu nodded.

Having taken the Dayong Dynasty’s imperial examinations multiple times, Bing Wengu was a seasoned veteran—nervousness was out of the question.

With a clear mind, he wrote his essays swiftly. While other candidates were still scratching their heads in frustration, Bing Wengu was already napping at his desk.

After finishing the exam without breaking a sweat, Bing Wengu walked out of the hall, one of the rare examinees still bright-eyed.

"Wen Gu, over here!" The moment Bing Wengu stepped out, he saw Nan Jinping waving at him. He made a beeline for him, cradled his husband’s face. "You’ve lost weight."

"It’s only been a few days—how can you even tell Jin Geer has lost weight?" *[sarcastically]* A voice dripping with sarcasm came from behind Bing Wengu.

Bing Wengu turned. "You're here too?"

Jiang Jinghuai snapped, "I’ve been here the whole time! Are you telling me you didn’t notice this giant standing here for ages? Bing Wengu, must you have tunnel vision? Can’t you spare a glance for anyone else?"

Nan Jinping turned beet red with embarrassment, but Bing Wengu remained unapologetic. "Why should I look at others? They’re not my man."

Nan Jinping quickly tugged at Bing Wengu’s sleeve, silently pleading for him to stop before he died of embarrassment.

"Cousin!" Jiang Jinghuai spotted Shen Qinghe being supported as he staggered out and rushed over to help.

Shen Qinghe looked like death warmed over—his face was ashen, with dark circles under his eyes.

Bing Wengu covered his own nose with one hand and Nan Jinping’s with the other. "Brother Qinghe, did you get stuck in the latrine position again?" Bing Wengu said disdainfully. "The stench could knock out an ox. Seems without my hubby’s lucky influence, your luck remains as terrible as ever."

Shen Qinghe had been subjected to the foul odor for several consecutive days and was hanging on by a thread, with no energy left to argue with Bing Wengu. After confirming it was Jiang Jinghuai who had come to fetch him, he collapsed into his cousin’s arms with relief.

Jiang Jinghuai quickly helped him onto the carriage and ordered the servants to return to the Shen residence immediately, without even saying goodbye to Bing Wengu and Nan Jinping.

Shen Qinghe’s mother, Lady He, had been pacing worriedly at the front gate. The moment she spotted Jiang Jinghuai’s carriage, she rushed forward.

"Why did San Lang draw the foul position again?" She didn’t even need to ask—after days of being overwhelmed by the stench, the smell had seeped into his clothes. Lady He got a whiff as soon as she got close.

If this weren’t her own son, she would have steered clear.

While telling the servants to help Jiang Jinghuai carry Shen Qinghe into the bedroom, Lady He also sent someone to fetch a physician.

She first had Jiang Jinghuai wait in the outer chamber. The physician examined Shen Qinghe and said he was fine, just exhausted from lack of rest and the foul odor.

Relieved, Lady He told the servants to strip off all his clothes and give him a thorough scrub with soapy water. She even had Jiang Jinghuai’s hair washed before helping him onto the bed in the inner chamber.

Lady He knew her son’s temperament—he couldn’t stand filth. Even unconscious, he would want to be cleaned up properly.

"Burn all the clothes he was wearing." The outfit Jiang Jinghuai had on wasn’t cheap—it could sustain a farming family for years. But to Lady He, she didn’t bat an eye at the cost.

"I specifically went to Daxiangguo Temple to pray for a talisman to keep San Lang from drawing the foul position. Why didn’t it work this time?" Lady He complained. "Last time, his luck was changing—his fortune had turned. How did he end up with it again?"

Listening to her grievances, Jiang Jinghuai recalled Bing Wengu’s words and hesitantly said, "Aunt, you may not know this, but during our journey back for the exams, my cousin and I met a pair of husbands. The husband in that pair is said to be the incarnation of good fortune, bringing luck to those around him. Last time, my cousin borrowed his luck and avoided the foul position."

Seeing that Shen Qinghe was sleeping peacefully, Lady He left a few servants to tend to him and motioned for Jiang Jinghuai to follow her out of the bedroom.

"I’ve heard a little about this. Isn’t that young man the one who has consistently outperformed Si Lang, earning the title of 'Little Triple Champion'?" Lady He said. "I didn’t realize his husband had such luck. Some people are just born with better fortune than others."

She sighed again. "San Lang has always been fixated on surpassing that 'Little Triple Champion.' Given the circumstances, who knows how the exam results will turn out?"

Without needing Jiang Jinghuai’s consolation, Lady He cheered herself up. "Whatever the outcome, it’s fine. San Lang was born talented—too proud to settle for less. Even if he only achieves Second Place again, it’s not a bad thing. It’ll humble him and teach him that there’s always someone better."

Meanwhile, back at home, the physician Nan Jinping had arranged in advance arrived to examine Bing Wengu. As usual, the diagnosis was the same—Bing Wengu was fit as a fiddle.

Exams, no matter what, were draining. Following his usual habit, Bing Wengu slept for a full day and night to recharge.

Nan Jinping was accustomed to this routine and wasn’t worried.

The days that followed were no different from usual. Bing Wengu continued his studies, though Jiang Jinghuai did visit once during this time.

"Jin Geer, look what I brought you!" Jiang Jinghuai walked in, hands behind his back, followed by Changsheng, who carried a large bamboo basket on his back.

"What is this?" Nan Jinping stood up to inspect the contents of the basket and found it filled with letters from fans.

"Surprised? These are all letters from fans for you!" Jiang Jinghuai chuckled. "Gai Zhongbao says the storytelling’s a hit. Every showing of *Dong Geer’s Rebirth* is packed—sometimes there aren’t enough tickets."

Jiang Jinghuai pulled out two hundred taels of silver from his sleeve and handed them to Nan Jinping. "Your share."

"So much!" Nan Jinping exclaimed. It had only been a little over a month, yet the earnings from the storytelling were already this high—how could she not be shocked?

Jiang Jinghuai said smugly, "And this is just your portion. I’ve already deducted my share."

"How did it earn so much?" Nan Jinping asked.

"Because everyone loves it! At first, only Gai Zhongbao performed *Dong Geer’s Rebirth*. But after it became popular, he couldn’t keep up with the demand. His apprentices wanted to perform it too, so they all joined in. The whole of Bianjing is talking about it—what we’ve earned is nothing compared to Gai Zhongbao’s fifty percent cut."

Nan Jinping leaped with joy. "Wen Gu, did you see? The storybook I wrote is really popular—I even have fans writing to me now!"

Bing Wengu boasted, "Of course! My husband is the best!"

Nan Jinping said happily, "I want to read all the letters and reply to them one by one."

"There's no need for that," Bing Wengu replied. Knowing Nan Jinping had never experienced this before and lacked understanding in many areas, he patiently explained, "My love, the storybooks you write and the things you do go against tradition. While you may have supporters, there will undoubtedly be even more people who tear into you."

Jiang Jinghuai added, "And they’ll say terrible things. But you really don’t need to pay attention to those people—they’re just pathetic clowns, taking it out on women and Shuang Er."

Nan Jinping’s excitement faded as he thought about his storybook and realized his situation.

Jiang Jinghuai asked, "Why not let Yuan Ting screen them first? Skip the nasty ones—stick to the positive ones."

"No, I want to read them myself," Nan Jinping said firmly.

Jiang Jinghuai looked at Bing Wengu, who usually protected Nan Jinping like a mother hen with her brood, but this time, Bing Wengu said, "Let him read them."

Jiang Jinghuai protested urgently, "You have no idea how cruel those scholars get. When they start cursing, sometimes even my granddad can’t stomach it. Yuan Ting, aren’t you the one who cares most about Jin Geer? Aren’t you afraid he won’t be able to take it?"

"I’ve got him," Bing Wengu replied. "If he truly can’t handle it, I’ll stop him from reading further."

"But—"

Bing Wengu cut him off, looking at Jiang Jinghuai seriously. "My husband is an eagle, not a bird in a gilded cage."

Jiang Jinghuai felt a pang in his chest, as if he glimpsed a deeper meaning. What Bing Wengu wanted was never just empty fame for Nan Jinping—he wanted Nan Jinping to stand atop the highest peaks.

Jiang Jinghuai gazed at Bing Wengu with a complicated expression. At that moment, he realized that Bing Wengu’s rise from a humble farmer’s son to earning the 'Little Triple Crown' in the capital wasn’t just luck—it was also due to his profound and unconventional thinking.

Once Jiang Jinghuai grasped the heights Bing Wengu intended to push Nan Jinping toward, he stopped objecting.

"Let’s read them together," Bing Wengu said, sitting beside Nan Jinping. Since both of them needed their hands free to open the letters, Bing Wengu couldn’t hold his husband’s hand, so he leaned his thigh into Nan Jinping’s, wordlessly steadying him.

Nan Jinping understood and smiled at him.

The three of them began opening the letters, grabbing them at random.

Bing Wengu could often guess the content of a letter just by glancing at the handwriting.

Like the first one—at first glance, the writing was flashy but hollow, seemingly impressive, but in reality, it lacked substance.

As for the content, it could be summed up in one line: women and Shuang Er should remain loyal to one man and never entertain the thought of remarrying.

Dong Geer, being a Shuang Er, should’ve gone back to his first husband even after rebirth.

The letter also indignantly condemned Dong Geer as shameless, calling him a slut.

Bing Wengu snorted and chucked the letter away. "Idiot."

Nan Jinping, having finished reading his own letter, asked, "What did that one say?"

Bing Wengu didn’t hide it but didn’t go into detail either. "It cursed Dong Geer, saying he broke all decency and deserved to be drowned."

"What about the letter you’re holding?" Bing Wengu asked.

"They’re tearing into me."

Jiang Jinghuai immediately looked up, terrified Nan Jinping would burst into tears.

But Nan Jinping was surprisingly calm. His thigh pressed tightly against Bing Wengu’s, as if he truly drew strength from him.

"It says that by writing such a storybook, I’m corrupting women and Shuang Er, that my intentions are impure, and I deserve to die for it. It says I should be arrested and severely punished."

Nan Jinping spoke lightly, but both Bing Wengu and Jiang Jinghuai knew the language in the letter must have been far more venomous.

"Are you alright?" Jiang Jinghuai asked worriedly.

Nan Jinping looked into Bing Wengu's eyes. "I'm fine. It's nothing. Way before I began writing these storybooks about women and Shuang Er resisting, Wen Gu told me what I would face. I'm not afraid."

After speaking, Nan Jinping continued reading the other letters.

The three of them read until evening, having gone through only a third of them. Among them, only a handful of letters supported Nan Jinping—almost all written by young women and Shuang Er, and none tackling the male-dominated social order. Instead, they were full of flowery romance. The writers likely hadn’t heard that Mr. Wuwei was a Shuang Er, assuming he was a chivalrous man who pities women and Shuang Er, hoping to marry Nan Jinping or become his concubine.

There was, however, one particularly striking letter, penned under the pseudonym "Wishing Not to Be Reborn as a Shuang Er."

This letter recounted the writer’s own tragic story—almost identical to the author’s own.

The writer poured their heart out, likely weeping as they wrote, leaving large smudges of ink where tears had fallen.

Nan Jinping set the letter down and announced firmly, "I’ve decided!"

Bing Wengu and Jiang Jinghuai both turned to look at him.

"I’ve decided to write even more rebellious stories in the future. I want more oppressed young women and Shuang Er to see that they can resist, that they can have different lives."

"Aren’t you afraid? More people will come after you with insults. These are nothing compared to the backlash you’ll get later!" Jiang Jinghuai said.

"I’m not afraid. What I fear is us staying oppressed forever, Jinghuai. Don’t forget—I’m also a Shuang Er. If not for Wen Gu giving me wings and teaching me how to fly, I’d be among the oppressed. But when the nest is destroyed, no egg survives intact. If all women and Shuang Er are oppressed, how free can I truly be?"

Nan Jinping’s eyes were clear—pure clarity that gave others a sense of purity when he looked at them.

"Just as Wen Gu often tells me, when all Shuang Er and women are unfree, my so-called freedom is merely just fluttering in a gilded cage he forged for me. There’s no real freedom in that."

At this moment, Nan Jinping’s conviction was stronger than ever. He understood with unparalleled clarity the purpose behind writing these storybooks.

"What I want is equal rights—to walk anywhere without being judged for being a Shuang Er. What you men can do, we Shuang Er or young women should be able to do as well, without discrimination."

Jiang Jinghuai gazed at Nan Jinping, awestruck. At this moment, Nan Jinping seemed to glow.

Bing Wengu smiled. This was his little husband. He had always known—Nan Jinping might appear gentle, but beneath that softness lay unyielding resilience.

This was the person he loved—radiating light from his very soul. How could he not love him?