The Marquis Mansion’s Elite Class

Xu Wan scratched her head awkwardly.

Given Jin Cheng's temperament, his flaws were hard to correct—his writing often drifted aimlessly. She had previously tried her best to guide him to leverage his strengths according to his personality, but the progress was like a drop in the bucket. In Su Xi's eyes, it was nothing more than a clumsy display.

She said earnestly, "Two and a half years ago, Jin Cheng couldn’t even recognize a single character, let alone write his own name. But he’s clever, diligent, and eager to learn, which is why he’s mastered all subjects except poetry in such a short time. Now, with the imperial exams approaching, his poetry remains stagnant. We’re truly at our wits' end, which is why we’ve invited you, sir, to guide him."

Su Xi couldn’t understand it at all. "Exams, exams… You people are so strange. Everything revolves around the imperial exams. With such impure motives, how can one write good poetry?"

Xu Wan reminded him meekly, "Sir, you once participated in the imperial exams yourself and even entered officialdom…" Shouldn’t you reflect on your own words before criticizing others?

Su Xi replied without hesitation, "Exactly! That’s why I couldn’t write good poetry after becoming an official. Everyone in the bureaucracy was so petty. Every time I wrote poems mocking them, I’d get demoted. It infuriated me so much that I eventually resigned and ran far away, finding secluded places to write poems—specifically to curse those old turtles. And look, once freed from constraints, I could curse as I pleased, and my poetry naturally flourished."

Xu Wan: "…" That… kind of makes sense.

Su Xi snorted. "Since you’ve entrusted those boys to me, you’ll have to let me teach them my way for this month. Otherwise, there’s nothing I can do. Poetry, you see, requires wildness and spontaneity. How can one create under rigid rules?"

Xu Wan understood his point—art indeed needed a free environment. She smiled and replied, "Don’t worry, sir. I’ll do my best to cooperate. Just let me know if you need anything."

Su Xi was satisfied. "You’re quite reasonable. We’ll see how it goes. Tell those boys to come to the study at mao hour tomorrow to learn poetry."

Xu Wan asked, "The beginning of mao hour? Isn’t that too early? They usually wake at chen hour. Children their age need more sleep for proper growth."

Adjusting from seven to five in the morning was indeed a bit early, and Xu Wan felt reluctant.

Su Xi countered, "Should we do it your way, then?"

Realizing her mistake, Xu Wan quickly backtracked. "No, no, we’ll follow your instructions. I’ll inform them right away." Waking up early for a month wouldn’t hurt too much. She’d just have them sleep earlier and make up for it after the exams.

"Much better," Su Xi said, taking another bite of his pancake. As he turned, he accidentally caught sight of Zong Jincheng’s poem again and pushed it away with disdain.

After finishing her conversation with Su Xi, Xu Wan had someone escort him to his room. Given the old scholar’s eccentricities, the silk quilts in the mansion were replaced with cotton ones—yet Su Xi still complained they were too luxurious.

By the time the old man was settled, it was very late, and the children had already gone to bed. Xu Wan sent word to the servants in their respective courtyards to wake them at mao hour the next morning.

Returning to her own room, she found Zong Zhao sitting at the desk reading. He looked up and asked, "Finished?"

Xu Wan smiled. "Yes, Su Xi is finally settled. He’s quite temperamental and demanding. Today, he even argued with Jin Cheng. I think the next month is going to keep me busy."

"What were they arguing about?" Zong Zhao asked. "What did you discuss today?"

Xu Wan thought for a moment. "Su Xi was forced here by Luo Jingfeng, so he was in a bad mood. He made the kids spend the afternoon writing poems—all to mock Luo Jingfeng."

Zong Zhao fell silent for a moment before replying, "Then I’ll warn Luo Jingfeng not to visit the mansion anytime soon, lest Su Xi curse him to his face."

Xu Wan burst into laughter. "Haha, good point…"

The next morning, mao hour.

The ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​‍boys, deep in sweet dreams, were abruptly awakened by their servants: "Young masters, it’s time to get up and go to the study."

"Whaaat??" The five boys sat up in bed, each more bewildered than the last, as if questioning their very existence.

Zong Jincheng yawned and glanced outside—the sky wasn’t even fully lit yet. Rubbing his eyes, he asked, "Is it cloudy today?"

Shunzi replied timidly, "No, it’s just mao hour."

The little troublemaker was instantly jolted awake. He stared at Shunzi in disbelief. "You’re waking me up at this hour? I always sleep until chen hour!"

Shunzi said helplessly, "I only received Madam’s message last night. She said everyone must wake at mao hour today. Su Xi and Madam are already waiting in the study."

"Mother?" At the mention of Xu Wan, Zong Jincheng immediately jumped out of bed, dressed and washed up in a flash, then hurried to the study.

All five arrived hastily, their appearances decent but their expressions dazed—clearly victims of a rude awakening.

"Good morning, poetry failures," Su Xi greeted them like a devil.

The boys instantly perked up: "!!!"

Who in the world gets called failures the moment they wake up?!

But since the insult came from Su Xi, a renowned poet, and Xu Wan was sitting right there, none of them dared to retort. The five young scholars forced out a meek, "Good morning, sir."

Su Xi, who always rose at this hour, was full of energy. "Tsk, look at how feeble you are. Truly the pampered young masters of a wealthy household—can’t lift a thing, can’t carry a load. All you’re good for is holding a brush and scribbling a few doggerel verses for amusement."

Zong Jincheng, the target of the jab, glared at Su Xi: This old weirdo is at it again with his veiled insults!

Su Xi commanded, "Alright, failures, let’s get you moving to wake you up."

The boys had no idea what he meant—until servants arrived carrying hoes.

"???" The five exchanged confused glances.

Weren’t we supposed to learn poetry?

Why are there hoes involved?

Su Xi handed each of them a hoe and announced matter-of-factly, "Your task this morning is to dig up all the flowers in this courtyard."

They were standing in the study’s courtyard—a two-story building with a small pavilion and a garden full of blooming flowers, vibrant and beautiful in the summer.

Zong Wenxiu, who hated waste, was the first to ask, "Sir, these flowers are at their peak. Why dig them up?"

Su Xi grinned. "Because I love water spinach and want to grow some for myself."

"Water spinach?" Zong Wenxiu was stunned. The vegetable was dirt-cheap and available everywhere. To uproot an entire garden of expensive flowers for it seemed absurd.

Wei Xinglu, recognizing the flowers, pointed out bluntly, "These flowers are worth a fortune. Water spinach costs nothing. If you want some, sir, just have the kitchen buy it."

Shen Yibai nodded and said, "That's right, it's not worth it."

One by one, the young men voiced their agreement, all convinced that water spinach wasn’t valuable enough to justify uprooting their flowers. When it came to weighing priorities, they clearly understood what mattered more—a key reason why their strategic essays were so well-written.