The Marquis Mansion’s Elite Class

General Xiaofeng sneered, "Since we can't invite him properly, just arrest him directly."

A guard timidly replied, "General, I’ve heard this great poet fears neither authority nor death. If we push him too hard, might he resort to suicide?"

Scholars across the land love to wield their pens—just a couple of poems could immortalize our misdeeds for a thousand years.

General Xiaofeng gave an indifferent hum. "Then arrest his entire clan. Let’s see if he’s willing to become the one who doomed his whole family."

The guard: "…………"

A few days later, Hermit Yiyun was "invited" over. His plain clothes were dust-stained, his face weathered, as if he’d just returned from tilling the fields, with flecks of mud still clinging to him. The fifty-something-year-old wore a perpetually scowling expression, the kind that made you feel you’d be scolded just for looking at him too long.

Xu Wan swallowed nervously and greeted him respectfully, "Master Su, you must be exhausted from the journey. We’ve prepared a room and hot water for you. Please freshen up first… Are you here of your own will?" She couldn’t keep up the polite formalities—the whole situation reeked of coercion.

Su Xi’s face flushed red with anger, but he gritted his teeth and said, "Of course this old man came voluntarily!"

How could he not? His entire clan had shown up with hoes, threatening to dig up his precious sweet potatoes if he refused to teach for the next month or so. Destroying a man’s crops? That was downright wicked!

Xu Wan was relieved she’d kept her distance, or she might’ve been drenched in his spit. She quickly said, "Shunzi, take Master Su to his quarters to rest."

"Yes, yes!" Shunzi’s eyes sparkled as he stared at Hermit Yiyun.

Su Xi—this was Su Xi!

The most renowned poet of their time, an elusive literary giant. If he could gain even a sliver of his wisdom, not only would the young master benefit, but even Shunzi himself might attain enlightenment.

Watching Su Xi being led away, General Xiaofeng turned to Xu Wan. "Madam Zong, rest assured. Our men will leave once he’s safely inside. Master Su did come willingly—he’s just a bit… temperamental. We appreciate your patience."

Xu Wan replied, "Thank you for your efforts, General Xiaofeng. Please convey our gratitude to the Duke of State Protection. We’ll ensure Master Su is well taken care of."

"I will. Farewell."

After seeing off the general, Xu Wan went to check on Su Xi. Before she could even step inside, she heard the old man bellowing, "Out, all of you! Who needs an audience while bathing? Have I no dignity left? And take these clothes too—what kind of fabric is this? Doesn’t breathe, doesn’t absorb sweat… I brought my own!"

A flurry of maids and servants scurried out, looking aggrieved. Xu Wan cleared her throat. "It’s normal. Eccentricities come with fame. Besides, Master Su’s requests are reasonable. He’s likely accustomed to rural life and isn’t used to the manor’s ways."

Cui Zhi fretted, "Madam, this Master Su doesn’t seem the least bit willing. Do you think the Duke’s men… forced him here?"

"To be honest, I had the same thought," Xu Wan admitted. "Let’s ask him once he’s out. If he was truly coerced, we’ll arrange for his departure."

"Understood."

When Su Xi emerged, the mud was gone, but his hair remained a wild mess. His coarse robe was haphazardly thrown on, and he was gnawing on a half-eaten biscuit so hard he could barely tear into it.

Xu Wan ordered fresh biscuits to be made, then smiled warmly. "Master Su, I’ll skip the pleasantries. Just one question: Did you come here of your own free will?"

Su Xi scoffed. "If I said no, could you stand against the might of Luo Jingfeng?"

Xu Wan’s smile didn’t waver. "If I can’t, others might. If you were indeed forced, we’ll do our best to secure your freedom."

Su Xi’s eyes flickered with surprise before he huffed, "Never thought I’d find someone reasonable in this filthy capital."

Xu Wan disagreed—the capital had its chaos, but it wasn’t entirely devoid of reason. Still, out of respect for the elder, she didn’t argue and simply smiled in response.

Seeing her lack of hostility, Su Xi finally stiffly asked, "Where am I teaching these brats? Take me there."

Xu Wan’s heart leapt—he was willing to stay! "No need to rush, Master Su. You can eat first."

"Food’s just food. Quit dawdling. The sooner I teach them, the sooner I leave," Su Xi grumbled. "Let’s see what kind of children need poetry lessons so badly they’d drag me all the way here."

He took another angry bite of his biscuit, failed to break it, and stuffed it into his robe for later—maybe after soaking it in water to soften.

Marquis Manor Elite Class.

Su Xi squinted at the plaque above the grand study, baffled. "What’s this?"

Xu Wan patiently explained, "It means ‘elite education.’ The plaque is straightforward—no pretentious fluff."

Su Xi grinned. "No pretentious fluff… Now that’s interesting." With that, he strode inside.

Five young boys and their tutors stood in unison, even Baili Xi among them—all eager to witness the legendary Hermit Yiyun.

"Greetings, Master Su," they chorused.

The moment Su Xi entered, the scent of books hit him. He inhaled deeply. "Ah, this room smells divine."

Xu Wan understood—scholars loved the fragrance of paper and ink.

Su Xi scanned the room. The five boys seated in the center were his students. They looked bright-eyed, nothing like spoiled noble brats.

Satisfied, ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‍he sat down and launched straight into his grievances. "I was perfectly happy growing sweet potatoes in the countryside," he began, "until Luo Jingfeng’s tyranny forced my entire clan to threaten my crops with hoes. Nearly ground my teeth to dust in fury!"

Once he’d successfully riled up the boys with his tale of woe, he assigned their first poetry task: "Now, pick up your brushes. Write a poem about this old man’s suffering—and make sure every line curses Luo Jingfeng. The harsher the insults, the better the poem!"