The Marquis Mansion’s Elite Class

Xu Wan began to understand Su Xi, and she even started reflecting on herself—teaching children only the ways of serving as officials and ministers was too rigid. Being an official wasn’t just about facing the emperor and colleagues; it was more about connecting with the common people, empathizing with their emotions, and understanding their real needs.

She suddenly smiled.

Even the flowers waiting to be uprooted in the small garden seemed lovelier now. She turned her head and asked, "Master, should we continue uprooting the flowers?"

Su Xi replied casually, "Of course. How else am I supposed to plant vegetables if we don’t clear them all?"

Xu Wan sincerely suggested, "I’d like to help too. That way, they might not have to work until dark."

She had gained some insight from Su Xi’s teachings and wanted to experience the myriad emotions he encouraged the children to feel. It sounded like a fascinating experience.

"You?" Su Xi was so shocked he waved his hands repeatedly. "No, no, you’d better not. I’ve seen Luo Jingfeng’s bandit-like behavior. Your husband is a military general too—if he’s anything like Luo Jingfeng and finds out I let a noble lady like you dig in the dirt, he’d dismantle this old man’s bones!"

Xu Wan couldn’t help but laugh. "You’re overthinking it. My husband is a dual champion in both civil and military exams—he’s very reasonable."

Su Xi still refused nervously, waving his hands even more vigorously. "No, no, no! If you keep insisting, this old man might just grab his things and flee."

"Alright then," Xu Wan conceded regretfully.

Meanwhile, the children, refreshed after eating, began another round of uprooting flowers. Without adult help, the little rascals grew more skilled, speeding up their work rapidly.

The summer heat grew unbearable even before noon. The boys were drenched in sweat, their sleeves rolled up high, their feet, clothes, and faces splattered with mud.

He ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌‍Zheng, having just uprooted a flower, turned and burst into laughter at the sight of Zong Jincheng’s face. "Big brother, you’ve got so much dirt on your face!"

The little devil glanced at him and retorted, "Yours is practically covering your eyes, and you’re laughing at me?"

He Zheng hastily wiped his face, only to smear the mud more evenly. Zong Wenxiu chuckled and added, "Now I understand why Master Su was covered in mud when he came to the manor yesterday—he must’ve been dragged straight from the fields by the Duke of Huguo’s men."

Shen Yibai, panting as he worked, chimed in, "Luo Jingfeng bullies him, so he takes it out on us. Where’s the justice in that?"

Wei Xinglu resigned himself to fate. "That’s Luo Jingfeng we’re talking about. Who dares seek revenge on him? Of course, he’d pick on soft targets like us."

The other three young troublemakers immediately protested in unison, "Hey! Who’s a soft target?!"

Wei Xinglu: "..."

Compared to Luo Jingfeng, wasn’t it obvious? His brothers were all stubbornly in denial.

As noon approached, the boys sweated even more, their movements slowing down.

He Zheng groaned weakly, "Now I understand the poem—‘Hoeing millet under the noon sun, sweat drips to the earth below.’ If anyone dares waste even a bite of the vegetables grown here, I’ll fight them."

Shen Yibai wheezed, "Oh, stop it with the ‘Sympathy for the Peasants.’ The ‘Seven-Step Poem’ fits better—‘The beanstalk burns beneath the pot, the beans in the pot weep…’ Young master here is about to be boiled alive by this cursed heat!"

Wei Xinglu wailed, "Help! I miss my ice blocks! My big bed! My roof! My parasol! My fan!"

...

The boys’ dramatic cries of misery continued, but Su Xi remained unperturbed, lounging calmly in the small pavilion. Xu Wan couldn’t sit still any longer—she stood by the pavilion, checking the time repeatedly.

There was only one cup of tea’s worth of time left—Su Xi’s designated end point.

She kept a close eye on the children, ready to call a stop at the first sign of heatstroke. Though the boys weren’t used to strenuous activity, their constitutions held up well. Aside from their loud complaints, they showed no adverse reactions.

Xu Wan focused on Zong Wenxiu. Unlike the four troublemakers, he wasn’t as resilient, and his face was starting to look unwell. She turned to Su Xi and said, "Master, may Wenxiu come back to rest? He seems to be struggling."

Su Xi nodded, and Xu Wan hurried over to fetch Zong Wenxiu, informing the others that time was almost up. The boys, seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, sped up their sluggish movements.

Back in the pavilion, servants immediately fanned Zong Wenxiu to cool him down.

Su Xi asked curiously, "If you were struggling, why didn’t you ask to come back earlier?"

Zong Wenxiu shook his head. "My younger brothers didn’t ask to leave. As the eldest, I shouldn’t retreat first."

Su Xi hummed. "At such a young age, you’re more old-fashioned than this old man. Everyone has different limits. If you judge everything by seniority, you’ll wear yourself out one day."

Zong Wenxiu lowered his head, ashamed.

Su Xi added, "Since you’ve been allowed back early, for fairness’ sake, you’ll write two poems. One about your flower-uprooting experience, and one about your… touching brotherly devotion."

Zong Wenxiu flushed, sensing the sarcasm in Su Xi’s words. He murmured, "Yes, Master. I’ll start writing now."

With that, Zong Wenxiu left the pavilion first, heading to the study to compose his reflections.

Xu Wan remained worried about the other four boys, her gaze fixed on the garden as she scrutinized their expressions.

"Alright, call them all back," Su Xi said, sighing. "I’ve never seen such obedient little wolves before. Does your household have some kind of wolf-taming deity?"

Xu Wan had no time for his jest. She gave a quick curtsey and hurried down to summon the boys. Servants brought water to wipe their faces as Xu Wan relayed Su Xi’s next assignment—writing about their digging experience.

Wei Xinglu rolled his eyes. "Here we go again. He just wants us to alternate between working and writing. Why can’t we finish the work first and then write?"

He Zheng muttered, "But if we kept going, we’d be roasted alive, wouldn’t we?"

Wei Xinglu glanced at Zong Wenxiu, who had already retreated, and conceded, "...Fair point."

Shen Yibai wiped the mud off his face, suddenly cheerful. "Ah, the joy of writing poetry! Anything’s better than digging under this scorching sun. I swear, I’m about to melt!"

The little devil stretched, cracking his knuckles and kicking his legs. "Alright, back to the study to write! Whether it’s Hermit Yiyun, ‘Sympathy for the Peasants,’ or the ‘Seven-Step Poem’—this young master is unstoppable now. Just wait till I compose a flower-uprooting masterpiece that’ll be recited for centuries!"