The splendor of the Red Chamber, the power that reigns supreme.

Chapter 124 The Death of Jia Rong, a Close Advisor to the Emperor

As soon as the footsteps faded into the distance, Ximen Da Guanren quickly lifted and shoved Qin Keqing's limp body onto a meditation stool covered with a worn-out cushion next to the offering table in the main hall, as if unloading a heavy, limp bag of incense powder.

The sudden movement jolted Qin Keqing so much that she let out a weak whimper. Her body swayed precariously, and she could barely sit up, on the verge of slipping off again.

"My grandmother! Wake up quickly!" Ximen Qing said in a low voice. He didn't care about anything else. He reached out and patted her cold, smooth cheeks lightly twice, and then rubbed her chest hard. Qin Keqing's eyelids trembled a few times and finally managed to open a crack. Her eyes were unfocused, like waterlogged glass, with no clarity left.
Just as the two were about to speak, Feng Jie's voice came from afar again: "Strange, where did the person go!" As she spoke, she patrolled towards the main hall.

In a flash, Ximen Da Guanren shrank behind the sixteen-foot-tall golden statue of Guanyin Bodhisattva. The statue was solemn and dignified, with a towering lotus pedestal that completely concealed his imposing figure, leaving only a corner of his robe hanging precariously on the edge of the lotus platform.

He held his breath, wishing he could stop his heartbeat, feeling the heavy, stale smell of incense ash and old wood lingering around his nose, mixed with the lingering scent of Qin Keqing's sweat and milk on his body—a smell that was both pleasant and strangely indescribable.

Qin Keqing was in a daze, feeling as if all her bones were limp, and the enormous weight on her chest was heavy and unbearable. Hearing Feng Jie'er's call, she mustered her last breath and, with all her remaining strength, whispered towards the palace door, "Feng girl... I... I'm here..."

"Oh my God!" Sister Feng rushed in like a gust of wind, and when she saw Qin Keqing sitting on the meditation stool, looking like she had lost her soul, with her hair disheveled and her face as white as paper, she was so shocked that she almost lost her mind!

She rushed forward and caught Qin Keqing's limp body. Her hands felt cool and slippery, and although Qin Keqing's clothes were barely tidy, they were damp and sticky with sweat. Her collar was slightly loose, and she had a masculine scent...

Sister Feng, ever quick-witted, immediately understood, but on her face she feigned extreme anxiety and distress: "My dear sister! What happened to you? How did you end up in this chilly hall? Look at your pale face! You must have bumped into something! Quick! Ping'er, lend a hand! Help her back quickly! Give her a bowl of hot ginseng soup to calm her nerves!"

Ping'er rushed forward, and together with Feng Jie, they half-carried and half-embraced Qin Keqing, who had slumped like a pool of spring water, and helped her up. Qin Keqing's legs were unsteady, and she was almost dragged out. As she was about to leave the palace, her unfocused gaze seemed to unconsciously glance at the shadow behind the Guanyin statue, then quickly lowered again, leaving only her eyelashes fluttering.

As the hurried footsteps and Sister Feng's rapid-fire words of concern gradually faded into the distance until they disappeared beyond the courtyard gate, the official finally let out a long, silent breath. He then leaned on the cold, hard lotus platform and slowly emerged from behind the compassionate Guanyin Bodhisattva, standing in the center of the empty hall.

"Amitabha……"

A Buddhist chant, tinged with amusement, suddenly rang out from the corner of the hall, like a drop of cold water falling into a frying pan.

Ximen Qing was startled and turned around sharply—only to see that the old nun Jingxu had silently appeared in the shadows inside the hall. Her worn-out bluish-gray robe seemed to blend into the dimness of the hall, and only her old face, in the dim light of the ever-burning lamp, smiled like a crumpled piece of old yellow paper, every crease revealing a shrewd understanding of the ways of the world.

Her cloudy old eyes, however, shone with an astonishing brightness, like two embers buried deep in ashes, intently and with a playful smile, scrutinizing Ximen Qing from head to toe.

Ximen Qing felt extremely uncomfortable under the old nun's gaze, as if he had been stripped naked and thrown into a bustling marketplace. He forced himself to remain calm, cleared his throat, his Adam's apple bobbing, and was about to utter some polite words to cover his discomfort—

The old nun Jingxu stepped forward, clasping her hands in prayer and bowing with a smile, "My lord, it's quite common to see Bodhisattvas seated beneath begonias, and Vajras reclining among flowers. It's just that immortals have descended to earth to experience the myriad aspects of human life. Next time, please just instruct me to make the arrangements."

Ximen raised an eyebrow; this old nun was quite sensible.

"Well, I'll send someone over another day to send some money for incense and oil, so we can recast the Buddha's statue."

Upon hearing this, the old nun Jingxu's smile widened even more, and she hurriedly clasped her hands together and bowed.

“Amitabha! You are truly a bodhisattva with a heart of gold, and your merits are immeasurable! On behalf of all the monks of the temple, I thank you for your generous gift! Rest assured, this nunnery is quiet and safe, and there is nothing more secure about it! I will have a few more fine courtyards built for you to rest in.”

Ximen Qing merely grunted in response, flicked his sleeves, and strode out of the palace gate.

He had barely run half a mile when he suddenly heard a commotion of horses neighing and people shouting from the direction of the nunnery behind him! The sounds were urgent and chaotic, clearly not ordinary noise. Ximen Qing's heart skipped a beat; he pulled on the reins, and his chrysanthemum-green horse reared up, letting out a long neigh before stopping. He abruptly turned around to look—

Not far from the gate of the nunnery, the two groups of people who had been camping and resting—both dressed in fine clothes, riding spirited horses, and surrounded by servants—had suddenly erupted into chaos.

The servants hurriedly harnessed the carriage to the shafts, and heavy chests were haphazardly loaded onto it. A well-dressed man who looked like a manager was waving his arms and shouting at the top of his lungs, urging the carriage on with a look of panic and anxiety on his face.

Judging from their demeanor, they couldn't wait even a moment longer and were about to break camp and set off immediately! They didn't even have time to dismantle the few temporary, ornate tents adorned with tassels and brocade; they simply rolled them up haphazardly and threw them onto the carriages. For a noble family to travel like this, unless it were something catastrophic, they would never act so hastily and disorganized!
It seems that Jia Rong is truly gone!
Who is Jia Rong? He is the eldest grandson of the main branch of the Ningguo Mansion!
His father, Jia Zhen, inherited the title of a third-rank general and was the rightful head of the Ningguo Mansion! Although Jia Rong was young, he was a sure thing to become a future nobleman, the golden phoenix of the Ningguo Mansion! Qin Keqing was the daughter of Qin Ye, a construction worker, who adopted her from an orphanage. Jia Zhen chose her to marry into the Jia family, which only added to the already wealthy and noble family...

Such a person of such importance, dying so young! Without any descendants, isn't this the collapse of the Ningguo Mansion?
Ximen Qing rode swiftly to the martial arts practice area in the back garden. After practicing for a while, he didn't see Li Ping'er spying on him today, probably because it was too late. After finishing his practice, he instructed the servant, "Bring a large bucket of hot water to the back bedroom!"

Master Ximen stripped naked and strode into the tub. The scalding hot water instantly enveloped him, making every pore on his body open, and he couldn't help but let out a satisfied sigh. After breathing in the tub for a while, he rested his head on the rim, closed his eyes to relax, and actually fell into a deep sleep in the rising steam.

After an unknown amount of time, Ximen Qing slowly awoke. Before his eyelids were fully open, he noticed that the water he was soaking in was still warm, unlike usual water that had long since cooled. Surprised, he abruptly turned around to look—

This casual glance revealed a cushioned nanmu armchair in the corner of the bathhouse! Reclining on the armchair was a stunningly beautiful woman – none other than Pan Jinlian.
Jin Lian'er was only loosely dressed in a red silk nightgown, the neckline half-open, revealing a section of her snow-white, full breasts. Her long, jet-black hair was not combed, but casually draped over her shoulders, which made her small face look even more charming and languid. She was curled up in the chair, her head slightly lowered, clearly having dozed off while keeping watch.

What's most eye-catching is that there's a small copper hand warmer at her feet, with a copper kettle sitting on top of it, and wisps of white steam rising from the kettle's spout!
Ximen Qing immediately understood! This little vixen must have woken up sometime ago, and seeing him sleeping so soundly, she dared not disturb him, simply keeping watch over him so devotedly. The reason the water in the bucket was still warm was because she had carefully added boiling water from the small copper kettle whenever the temperature dropped slightly! He wondered how many times she had added it, and how long she had kept watch, until she herself had become exhausted.

Seeing how devoted and painstakingly this charming woman was to him, Ximen Qing felt a pang of affection. This little man was prone to jealousy, jealous inexplicably and viciously, but once he had her heart firmly in his grasp, he would devote himself entirely to her.

With a splash, he suddenly stood up from the water, creating a spray. Without bothering to dry himself, he strode over to Jinlian.

Startled awake by the sound of water and movement, Jin Lian'er groggily opened her captivating peach blossom eyes. Upon seeing Ximen Qing standing naked before her, Jin Lian'er's face flushed crimson, her eyes instantly glistening with tears, all traces of sleepiness vanishing.
She didn't get up, but remained curled up in the chair, swaying her serpentine waist, and drawing out a soft, sweet voice that could melt a person's bones:

“Oh dear… my darling is finally awake! My heart has been melting with worry! Seeing you sleeping so soundly in the water, I felt so sorry for you but dared not wake you… I could only keep adding hot water to your pot, like a little fire girl, afraid that my dear would get cold… Look at my hands…”

She raised a delicate hand, her fingertips indeed slightly reddened from the heat, and held it out to Ximen Qing, waving it with a pitiful expression.

Seeing that she was taking credit for herself, the official didn't laugh or scold her this time. He just lightly patted her charming little face, then slid his hand down to ruffle her fluffy, dark blue hair. Then, with a quick movement, he lifted her soft, fragrant body, which was only wrapped in a thin nightgown, and carried her steadily in his arms.

This rare, lust-free tenderness stunned Jin Lian'er for a moment. She was used to being pampered and enduring her father's teasing, scolding, and storms; she had never received such treatment that was almost "pity."

Overwhelmed with gratitude and a touch of disbelief, she nestled in Ximen Qing's arms, her small face pressed against his still-damp, firm, and warm chest. Her voice trembled slightly with an unconscious pleading tone: "Father... you're still wet... be careful not to catch a chill. Let me help you dry off?"

Just then, a rustling sound came from the corner of the warm bed, from the pile of brocade quilts. The little maid Xiangling was also awakened by the noise. Still half asleep, she stretched out her white, lotus-root-like arms and rubbed her sleepy eyes. When she saw that it was Ximen Qing holding Jinlian and standing in front of the bed, their bodies still dripping wet, she immediately woke up with a jolt.

She didn't care that she was only wearing a loosely draped light red embroidered butterfly and flower bodice, revealing a large expanse of fair and tender skin on her shoulders and neck. With her bare legs, she lifted the blanket and jumped off the bed.

She slipped on her soft satin embroidered shoes, hurriedly ran to the dressing table, grabbed a brand-new, highly absorbent Songjiang cotton handkerchief, and trotted over to Ximen Qing to wipe herself: "Master..."

Ximen Qing lowered his head and looked at the two maids, letting them help him dry off.

Then he held the two of them in his arms, without saying a word, but turned his head to the left and right and kissed each of them: "Good boy, stop making a fuss, go to sleep."

Jinlian'er and Xiangling both let out a soft "oh" and nestled their soft bodies deeper into Ximen Qing's broad, hot chest, one on each side, resting their heads on his firm shoulders and closing their eyes again.

Before long, only two shallow, yet equally steady breaths remained in the warm pavilion.

The candlelight flickered red, the incense burner emitted fragrance, the brocade curtains hung low, and a warm and peaceful atmosphere prevailed.

The two little ones, somewhat bewildered, hugged their master on either side and fell asleep again.

The two flowers that were struggling in the mud are now completely at ease!
The Ximen mansion here is peaceful and secure.

The Jia family was filled with weeping.

The main hall of Ningguo Mansion was spacious, but now it was filled with a white mist. White curtains hung high, and white candles stood in rows, their flickering light casting the "offering" character hanging high in the hall on and off, giving it an eerie feel.

The finest nanmu coffin stood in the center, its deep lacquer color pressing heavily on everyone's eyes. The scent of incense, candles, and paper offerings, mixed with an overwhelming sandalwood fragrance, enveloped the room, almost suffocatingly so.

Dressed in mourning clothes, Madam You was supported by two old women and slumped on the brocade quilt in front of the coffin. She had been crying so hard that she was completely out of control, her voice hoarse and intermittent, with only dry sobs of "My son... Rong'er..." coming from her throat. Her tears seemed to have run dry, leaving only her swollen eyes and sunken cheeks.

Jia Zhen, the head of the Ningguo Mansion, had disheveled hair and beard, a sallow complexion, and sunken eyes. At first glance, he did indeed look like a gaunt and emaciated man.

His hair and beard were disheveled like straw, his eyes were sunken and bluish, and his face was yellowish-gray. At first glance, he did appear to be in deep grief. He muttered something like "misfortune for the family," "a cursed child who died young," "leaving behind his white-haired father," with a sobbing voice, rising and falling in tone, so sorrowful that it could bring tears to the eyes of those around him.

But beneath those eyelids, a pair of eyes were restless, occasionally darting around, revealing a barely perceptible hint of anxiety and impatience.

This grief was seven parts a dignified performance for the sake of the guests, three parts a genuine sorrow that the only legitimate son had lost his title and lineage, and as for the deep pain of blood ties, it had long been diluted by years of debauchery and a corrupt heart.

Jia Zheng and Jia She, as elders of the clan, were also seated to the side. Jia Zheng's face was solemn, and he frequently stroked his beard, looking at the coffin and Jia Zhen, his eyes filled with deep sighs and worries about the decline of the family.

He occasionally spoke a few words of comfort to Jia Zhen, saying, "Brother Zhen, please take care of yourself." His voice was low and restrained, typical of a scholar.

Jia She, however, seemed somewhat impatient. The death of his nephew did not cause him any real pain; he only felt that the pomp and circumstance disturbed his peace. He sat there, his eyes darting around, occasionally glancing outside the hall, or fiddling with the jade pendant at his waist, hoping that the lengthy ceremony would end soon.

Madam Xing, Madam Wang, and the other women of the household were all sitting in the inner room or side room, with suppressed sobs and whispers emanating from them, mostly social niceties.

The corridor and steps were crowded with servants dressed in white mourning clothes. Stewards Lai Da and Lin Zhixiao stood respectfully with their hands at their sides, their faces showing professional grief, but their eyes were darting around on the abacus beads—this funeral was quite extravagant, with money flowing out like water, and the expenses for social interactions required careful calculation at every step.
The chanting of the monks and Taoist priests was a low, muffled sound, and the striking of the wooden fish was monotonous and dull, just like an old monk chanting scriptures—his mouth moved but his heart remained still.

The leading monk, eyes downcast and seemingly lost in thought, chanted the mantra with perfect fluency, his mind already wandering to the steaming bowl of vegetarian noodles in the dining hall. They were used to the grandeur of these noble mansions; genuine tears, whether real or feigned, were fleeting illusions, while offering silver was the true mark of a true Buddha.

The humming chanting, in this seemingly solemn yet deeply divided mourning hall, was like a layer of powder trying to cover up shame, only making things more obvious.

Qin Keqing was helped into the mansion step by step by Wang Xifeng, while the servant beside her told her what had happened in the past two days.

On the night before Qin Keqing and Wang Xifeng set off.

On this day at the Ningguo Mansion, another lavish banquet was in full swing. The table was littered with cups and plates, and everyone was eating with gusto, their eyes gleaming and ears burning, many becoming slightly tipsy. First, Jia Rong, emboldened by the alcohol, squinted and forced himself to boast: "The other day at the Wan Hua Brothel, those top courtesans almost tore each other apart over a single night to win my favor! Tsk tsk, their methods, their allure..."

He spoke with great enthusiasm, as if he truly possessed such formidable abilities, but the hint of timidity deep in his eyes could not be hidden from his father, Jia Zhen, who knew him well. Jia Zhen simply stroked his beard and smiled, letting his incompetent son boast without pointing out his ignorance.

Jia Lian, a seasoned veteran of the pleasure quarters, was also intrigued, his face clouded by a few drinks. He put down his wine cup, wiped his greasy mouth, and sneered, "Rong-ge'er, your tricks are nothing but childish squabbles over candy! To truly master something, you need to be patient and persistent, constantly innovating, making those girls both love and fear you, unable to resist!" He became increasingly smug as he spoke, recounting how he had spent the entire night in a certain brothel, seducing several women, leaving them crying and begging for mercy, their legs trembling the next day as they saw him off with seductive eyes.

Xue Pan was already drunk, his face as red as a date, and the veins in his neck bulging. Hearing Jia Lian's boasting and seeing Jia Rong's "knowing everything" demeanor, how could he possibly restrain himself?

He slammed his fist on the table, making the cups and saucers jump around, and shouted in a rough voice, "Bullshit! Brother Lian, Brother Rong, what are you two compared to me! When it comes to this skill, hehe, even the Dragon King would have to call me ancestor! In one night, I took over three courtyards, and seven or eight girls took turns serving me. I killed them all, leaving them battered and begging for mercy!"

"I'm not bragging, but even if the courtesan Su Xiaoxiao were alive today, she would be completely captivated by my skills and would be begging to leave the profession with me!"

He spoke with great enthusiasm, his spittle flying everywhere, his words vivid and lifelike.

Jia Rong was filled with jealousy and hatred, yet afraid of revealing his weakness. He could only force himself to maintain his dashing demeanor, glancing sideways and forcing an exaggerated smile as he shrieked, "Oh! Brother Xue, what you're saying sounds like a storyteller's tale from a theater! Seven or eight? Tsk tsk, did you just dream about it? There's a limit to how much you can brag! Be careful not to bite off more than you can chew!"

Jia Lian, his eyes glazed with drunkenness, swirled his wine cup and laughed, "Brother Pan, it's not that I don't believe you. But when it comes to skills in bed, words alone don't count. You have to see the real thing, prove it to everyone! Rong-ge, don't you agree?" He deliberately pointed at Jia Rong.

Jia Rong's heart tightened, and the muscles on his face twitched stiffly. He forced a smile and said, "Second Uncle Lian is absolutely right! Talk is cheap! Brother Xue, are you perhaps... scared?"

Provoked by them, Xue Pan's stubborn temper flared up, his breath reeking of alcohol. He roared, neck stiff, "You bastards! Anyone who chickens out is a coward! You don't believe me? Fine! Fine! If you've got the guts, let's pick a day, find the best courtyard, call up our most beautiful girls, and have a contest right here! Let's see who's all show and no substance, all looks and no substance! The loser has to cover the entire bill, plus ten jars of the finest Jinhua wine! Dare you?"

Upon hearing the phrase "a silver-plated spearhead," Jia Rong felt as if he had been pricked by a needle; his face instantly paled, then flushed an unnatural red. Even more afraid of showing weakness and losing face, he was the first to clap his hands and exclaim, "Brilliant! Brilliant! It's settled then!"

Jia Zhen stroked his beard, a lazy smile on his face as if watching a show, and said slowly, "Hmm... it's quite interesting that Pan-ge'er is in such high spirits. However, the place should be quiet and elegant, so as not to disturb outsiders."

Seeing that the time was right, Jia Lian declared, "What's so difficult about that! Today, I'll be the host and invite you all to Miss Yun'er's place at Jinxiang Courtyard. It's a quiet place, and the girls there are top-notch, especially skilled at serving distinguished guests. Let's see who's the real dragon and who's the fake phoenix! Brother Pan, don't let your legs go weak and you wet your pants at the last minute!"

"Bullshit! Whoever's legs go weak is a bastard!" Xue Pan thumped his chest, his eyes bloodshot with drunkenness, already swearing an oath. Jia Rong laughed so hard he almost fell over, cheering repeatedly, but his laughter was somewhat hollow and unsteady, and fine beads of cold sweat appeared on his forehead, which he quickly wiped with his sleeve.

Outside the warm pavilion, the night breeze was slightly cool, but inside, the air was thick with the smell of alcohol, lewd words, and the bet was settled. An utterly absurd contest of love and lust was thus decided.

But at noon the next day.

Jinxiangyuan let out a piercing scream.

Jia Rong died on the body of a young woman, bleeding from all seven orifices.

Let's leave that aside for now.

Meanwhile, the Ximen family enjoyed two more leisurely days. Master Ximen practiced painting and archery, and spent his free time breathing exercises to cultivate his inner energy. He was living a comfortable life. Yue Niang's face beamed with joy, knowing that her husband had been visiting the brothel Lichun much less lately.

He took out his personal reward for Jinlian'er and Xiangling.

Finally, Lord Lin arrived.

On this day, the Grand Canal wharf in Qinghe County was bustling with activity. Sails and masts stood like a forest, boats lined up one after another, and cargo ships, passenger boats, and barges crowded the waterway.

Today is no ordinary occasion, for the ship anchored at the shore is that of an imperial envoy! The ship's owner is none other than Lin Ruhai, the noble young master of the direct line of the Lin family of Suzhou, whose ancestors had inherited the title of marquis, and who was appointed as the Grand Master of the Imperial Academy and the Salt Commissioner! The Lin family is renowned for its scholarly traditions and its exceptionally noble status.

Lin Ruhai himself was a prodigy who passed the imperial examinations at a young age, achieving the third-highest rank. He now holds the important position of Imperial Censor and the lucrative post of Salt Commissioner, making him a trusted and trusted minister who speaks directly to the Emperor! Although his official rank is not high, he is truly the Emperor's "eyes and ears."

In the past, they would just pass by in a hurry without even entering the city gates. But now, such a person is staying in the small Qinghe County. It's like a phoenix landing in a grassy nest. How could it not cause a stir throughout the county?
Just past Chen Shi (7-9 AM), a large, two-masted official ship, draped in blue curtains and bearing a vermilion plaque reading "Imperial Salt Inspector Lin" hanging high at its bow, steadily docked, surrounded by several small pilot boats. The ship was quite deep in the water, indicating it was carrying a considerable amount of personal belongings. The boatmen dropped the anchor, set up the gangplank, their movements swift yet cautious.

The shore was already crowded with dignitaries. Leading the group was Li Datian, the magistrate of Qinghe County, dressed in a blue robe with a quail-patterned embroidered patch, his well-maintained round face beneath his black gauze hat was now filled with a respectful and eager smile, and his small eyes gleamed with shrewdness.

Half a step behind him was Zhou Xiu, the garrison commander, fully armored, with a burly build, a purplish-red face, and a thick beard that looked like iron. He had a goose-feather saber at his waist, and his armor gleamed brightly in the sunlight, exuding the fierce aura of a military officer.

Further to the side were He Qianhu of Qinghe Guard and Xia Yanling, the Chief of the Judicial Bureau, both dressed in military uniforms. The rest, such as the county magistrate, registrar, clerk, and heads of the patrol office, as well as several prominent local gentry and wealthy families, including Ximen Qing, stood in a dark mass, all holding their breath and remaining completely silent.

Today, Master Ximen specially wore a brand-new light blue brocade robe with dark patterns, over which was a jade-black satin vest, and a jade belt around his waist. He stood out among the officials, with an extraordinary bearing, standing only behind a few commanders.

Once the gangplank was firmly in place, two robust servants in blue robes and small caps disembarked first and stood respectfully on either side. A moment later, a man stepped out of the cabin; it was none other than Master Lin Ruhai.

He appeared to be around forty years old, tall and slender, with a face like jade, and a neatly combed three-strand beard. He wore a black gauze hat, a scarlet official robe made of tribute brocade with subtle patterns, a plain gold and jade belt around his waist, and black boots with pink soles. He wore no extravagant ornaments, except for a piece of mutton-fat jade pendant hanging at his waist, its warm and understated beauty further emphasizing his refined nobility.

His brows showed signs of weariness from his journey, but his eyes were like a deep, clear pool in autumn, exuding an air of composure befitting someone who had long held a high position and served the emperor, as if they had kept the bustling city and the turbid river winds at bay.

He stepped off the diving board at a leisurely pace, his steps steady, his sleeves fluttering lightly, without the slightest hint of dust settling on him.

Upon seeing the arrival of the main figures, Magistrate Li hurriedly stepped forward, bowed deeply to the ground, and loudly proclaimed, "This humble official, Li Datian, Magistrate of Qinghe County, along with all the officials and gentry of the county, respectfully welcomes Lord Lin of the Imperial Archives and Lord Lin of the Salt Bureau! Your journey has been long and arduous, Your Excellencies!"

Garrison Commander Zhou Xiu followed closely behind, clasped his hands in a fist salute, and bowed deeply, his voice booming: "This humble general, Zhou Xiu, Garrison Commander of Qinghe, pays his respects to Lord Lin!"

Commander Xia Yanling hurriedly bowed and said, "This humble servant, Xia Yanling, respectfully welcomes you, sir!"

For a time, cries of "Greetings, Lord Lin!" and "Welcome, Your Excellency!" echoed across the dock, and officials and gentry bowed respectfully, creating a solemn atmosphere.

Lin Ruhai showed no arrogance, only a slight nod and a cupped-hand salute in return. His voice was not loud, but clear and audible: "My colleagues and elders, thank you for your warm welcome. I am unworthy of such hospitality. Please rise, please rise." His movements were composed and his manners impeccable, displaying both the dignity of a noble family and a close advisor to the emperor, and the refinement of a scholar who had passed the imperial examinations.

Just as the solemn atmosphere eased slightly, and everyone straightened up, preparing to escort Lin Ruhai into the city, a muffled thud was heard from the crowd, followed by a young voice, trembling with sobs, shouting:

"Uncle! Your nephew, Wang Sanguan, kowtows to you!"

This shout shattered the silence on the dock. Everyone looked in the direction of the sound and saw a young man dressed in a brand-new silk robe and wearing a square scarf on his head, kneeling on the bluestone ground, kowtowing repeatedly to Lin Ruhai, his forehead hitting the stone slab with a loud thud.

Lin Ruhai stopped in his tracks, his deep eyes falling on Wang Sanguan with obvious scrutiny. He carefully examined the kneeling boy, his brows furrowing slightly, clearly unable to find anything in his memory: "This... I, Lin... seem to have never seen you before? What is this title of 'Uncle'? Please stand up and speak."

Wang Sanguan dared not rise, keeping his head down, his voice filled with fear: "Uncle, please forgive me! My mother's maiden name is Lin, and she avoids the character 'Wan'! She was originally from the Lin clan of the Nine Shepherds! In terms of lineage, she and you are of the same descent!"

At this moment, Li Datian, the magistrate of Qinghe County, seized the opportunity and quickly stepped forward, a smug smile on his face, bowing as he introduced Lin Ruhai:
"Reporting to Lord Lin, this young master comes from a distinguished family in this county. His ancestor was the former Prince of Dongping! His father inherited the rank of Third-Class General and served as the Envoy of Zhaoxuan, known as Wang Zhaoxuan. Now that Wang Zhaoxuan has passed away, this is the young Wang Zhaoxuan. The young master is promising at a young age and has a good reputation in this area."

Magistrate Li's words not only highlighted Wang Sanguan's illustrious background as a member of the imperial family and a prince, but also elevated his father and himself, thus giving them ample face and smoothing over the abrupt family reunion.

Upon hearing the words "former Prince of Dongping," Lin Ruhai's expression instantly turned solemn! As a member of a distinguished family with generations of officials, and having long resided in a prestigious place like Lantai Temple, he was deeply ingrained in the principles of etiquette and hierarchy.

The Prince of the County was a member of the imperial clan of the highest rank, holding an unparalleled and prestigious position, far surpassing that of ordinary nobles. Even though his ancestors had passed away and his father had been demoted to the rank of general, his family was still a branch of the imperial clan, no small matter. His gaze towards Wang Sanguan immediately changed, his scrutiny now imbued with a natural respect for the imperial bloodline, and his previous displeasure subsided.

His posture seemed even more upright, and his tone was more solemn than before, yet still carried a sense of confirmation. His sharp gaze fell upon Wang Sanguan: "Oh? So you are the son of Wang Zhaoxuan, a descendant of the Prince. My apologies. And your mother...?"

Seeing Lin Ruhai's change in attitude, Wang Sanguan was both surprised and delighted. He quickly kowtowed and replied, his voice becoming much clearer: "Reporting to my uncle! My mother's given name is 'Wan,' and her maiden name is Lin! Her ancestral home is Putian, and she is a descendant of Yanchang, the sixth son of the Lin family of Jiumu. Later, she moved to Shandong. My mother often remembers the virtues of her ancestors and mentions that she and the Lin family of Suzhou are of the same bloodline, but they are separated by mountains and rivers and have not been able to get close."

He spoke more clearly this time and emphasized his mother's longing for her relatives.

Upon hearing this, Lin Ruhai's expression softened further. He knew, of course, that the "Sixth Branch Yanchang Gong" lineage was already marginalized within the Nine Shepherds Forest, but since the other party was a descendant of a Prince, his mother was already a third-rank imperial consort, and he came from a collateral branch of the Lin family, this relationship seemed less frivolous.

Her status as a member of the imperial family and her third-rank imperial consort naturally carried weight, commanding the respect of even a high-ranking official like Lin Ruhai. He stepped forward to help her up, his tone calm yet tinged with acknowledgment and courtesy towards a descendant of the imperial family: "So you are a descendant of the sixth branch of the Yan Chang family, and also related by marriage to the late Prince. Hmm, not too distant, really. Please rise. The ground is cold; don't hurt yourself."

The words "It's not too far" sounded like a divine decree to Wang Sanguan! He looked up abruptly, his eyes filled with surprise and disbelief, then kowtowed heavily, his voice trembling with tears, "Thank you, Uncle! Thank you for your compassion!"

With the help of others, she staggered to her feet, her hands and feet trembling with excitement. Her status as the "descendant of the Prince" seemed to have regained its luster thanks to Lin Ruhai's approval.

Magistrate Li, Commander Zhou, and the others understood the situation perfectly, thinking to themselves that Wang Sanguan was lucky to have received such a prestigious position.

Magistrate Li's smile widened even more: "Oh my! Congratulations, Young Master Wang! Congratulations, Lord Lin! This is truly a double blessing, a tremendous stroke of luck! Lord Lin, the inn is already prepared, please move in and rest!"
"It is quite a coincidence that I, Lin, am returning to the capital to report on my mission. On my way, I passed through Qinghe County and had some thoughts of old friends. I wanted to linger and revisit this place. Now that I know that your mother is a descendant of Yanchang, the sixth son of the Lin family of the Nine Shepherds, and has also married into the royal family of the Prince, your family is truly a prominent clan in Qinghe. It is only right and proper that I, Lin, visit your home to see your mother, to fulfill our kinship and to show my respect for the legacy of the Prince."

Lin Ruhai used elegant language, replacing "visit" with the more solemn and caring term "visit" to fulfill the proper etiquette and to make it clear that the visit was mainly for the sake of Wang Sanguan's mother and the Prince's Mansion.

Upon hearing this, Wang Sanguan was overjoyed! Lin Ruhai had not only recognized him as his "nephew," but was also going to personally visit his mother in Zhaoxuan Prefecture! This was an honor he could never have dreamed of!

He was so excited that he stammered, "Uncle... Uncle, you are so kind! I... I thank you on behalf of my mother! If my mother knew that you were here in person, she would be overjoyed!" He subconsciously wanted to kneel down and kowtow again, but Lin Ruhai stopped him by pretending to stop him.

Just then, as if suddenly remembering something important, Wang Sanguan slapped his forehead, a fawning smile spreading across his face. He stepped aside and enthusiastically introduced a distinguished figure in the crowd:
"Uncle! This is my godfather, Master Ximen! He is one of the most prominent local gentry in the county, known for his generosity and wide circle of friends! Godfather, come and greet your uncle!"

Ximen Qing had been waiting for this moment for a long time! He immediately stepped out from the crowd, and under the astonished gazes of all the nobles of Qinghe County, he walked steadily, with just the right amount of respect and enthusiasm on his face.

He stopped three steps away from Lin Ruhai, performed a standard bow with swift movements, and said in a loud yet humble voice: "This student, Ximen Qing, pays his respects to Lord Lin of the Imperial Library and the Elder Lord of the Salt Bureau! I have long admired your esteemed reputation! It is truly an honor to meet you today!"

He deliberately used the self-reference of "student," placing himself in a very humble junior position, with an impeccable attitude. There is a huge difference between "student" and "junior"; the self-reference of "student" teeters on the edge of a scholar, but does not carry the official rank or title of a scholar.

Lin Ruhai was slightly taken aback! For the first time, his deep, cold eyes truly focused on Ximen Qing, with a hint of undisguised astonishment.

He had just heard Magistrate Li introduce Wang Sanguan as a descendant of the "former Prince of Dongping," whose father was a envoy and mother was a third-rank imperial lady. He had assumed that even if such a descendant of the imperial family had fallen on hard times, his adopted father would be a respected scholar or a retired official, or at least from a scholarly family. However, he had not expected him to be a merchant.

"Godfather? A merchant?" This thought flashed through Lin Ruhai's mind, instinctively filling him with an indescribable sense of contempt and absurdity. As a close advisor to the emperor, a man of noble birth, holding a high position in the Imperial Archives, and wielding significant power over salt taxes, he harbored a deep-seated disdain for merchants.

(End of this chapter)