Old matters—things Shu Changyu had long since gone over in his mind countless times—were already settled in his heart. Looking at them now, they felt like ordinary past events, as if he were watching someone else’s story, with no ripples left in his emotions.
Before he woke that time, Jing Mu had already ordered Fan Yu’an to be executed in prison. Even his father, the prefect, had been escorted back to the capital with his entire household.
Shu Changyu had not even met the prefect face-to-face before he casually ordered the entire family to be wiped out.
Now it could be considered even.
With just one glance, Shu Changyu stood properly in place. His fingers were still cold, but his expression was warm and composed. “Fan Gongzi.”
Fan Yu’an smiled and asked him, “What is Shu Third Young Master doing here? Why not return to your seat?”
“Just now by the river I saw some greenery peeking from the side of this building,” Shu Changyu said, his gaze sweeping lightly over the area. “I heard that Lord Zhou is fond of willows and had some brought from Jiangnan. I also have a fondness for such scenery, so I came here to appreciate it privately. That golden-thread willow in the courtyard is commonly seen in Jiangnan; this is my first time seeing it grown in the capital.”
He did not give Fan Yu’an a chance to continue the conversation and instead gestured politely. “It is almost time for the banquet to begin. It is not suitable to linger here. Fan Gongzi, shall we go in together?”
Fan Yu’an smiled and nodded, walking alongside him.
“Perhaps I am overthinking,” Fan Yu’an said with a smile. “I intended to make friends with Shu Gongzi, but it seems Shu Gongzi does not quite favor me.”
Naturally I don’t favor you. If you make any moves again in this life, I will be the first to kill you.
Yet Shu Changyu’s expression remained gentle and pleasant. “Fan Gongzi is overthinking. I am naturally lazy in temperament and treat everyone the same. I hope you will not mind.”
After speaking, he cupped his hands in farewell and, without looking back, went to sit beside Dai Wenliang.
“What happened to you just now?” Dai Wenliang leaned over and asked.
Shu Changyu’s expression did not change. “Suddenly had stomach pain. I went to find a place to relieve myself.”
Dai Wenliang nodded. “No wonder it took so long…” Then he reached to the side of his table and picked up a pear, handing it to Shu Changyu. “This is good! They say it was brought from the Western Regions—very sweet!”
Shu Changyu took it with a wry smile. “I already have one here.”
He glanced to his other side and found, unexpectedly, the second-place scholar from the Metropolitan Examination—the one who had been reminded by the emperor on the day of the Qionglin Banquet when he was appointed Imperial Tutor.
Shu Changyu calmly took a bite of the pear; it was indeed sweet. He greeted him with a smile. “Gongzi Zhan.”
Zhan Qun was not good with words. Seeing him greet him, he immediately smiled shyly in return, dimples appearing on his cheeks. “Shu Gongzi.”
By now, most of the guests had arrived. Shu Changyu, as the imperial examination’s top scholar, was already well-known for his talent. As soon as he took his seat, many people stood up and came over to greet and converse with him.
Shu Changyu was also not inclined to social niceties. But scholars were prideful; they would rather suffer injury or death than have their dignity slighted. In his previous life, even with overwhelming power, Shu Changyu had still suffered greatly from these literati, and in the end, it was these scholars and eunuchs together who brought him down within the palace.
It is easy to meet the King of Hell, but difficult to deal with petty ghosts. Thus, even though Shu Changyu’s ambition was high as the heavens, he did not dare to slight these people.
Originally his mood was already poor; after a round of socializing, he only felt more irritated and stifled. Dai Wenliang on the side, however, watched like he was enjoying a show, clicking his tongue in amusement.
When the banquet was about to officially begin, the crowd finally dispersed. Shu Changyu raised his sleeve to cover his mouth and took a sip of tea, then said quietly to Dai Wenliang, who was grinning at him, “You usually curse them so happily—why are you so entertained today when you see them troubling me?”
Dai Wenliang answered matter-of-factly, “They’re annoying you, not me. Watching them annoy you is actually pretty fun.”
Shu Changyu glanced at him and said nothing. When Dai Wenliang looked away, Shu Changyu casually flicked his pear core into Dai Wenliang’s wine cup.
From the side, Zhan Qun was startled. “Shu Gongzi, you…”
Shu Changyu smiled gently, picked up another pear from his tray, and placed it into Zhan Qun’s hands, interrupting him. “This pear is very sweet. Gongzi Zhan, please try it.”
That day at the floating wine-cup banquet, the first cup in the stream stopped in front of Dai Wenliang.
Dai Wenliang could barely read, so when given the choice between drinking and composing poetry, he naturally chose drinking. Under everyone’s gaze, he lifted the wine cup without hesitation, saluting the crowd like a general heading into battle.
But just as he was about to drink, his expression froze.
He stared into the cup, motionless. After a moment, his smile stiffened, and trembling slightly, he set the cup down.
“I…” He looked at the confused scholars around him, paused, then forced a smile that looked worse than crying. “I think… I’ll compose a poem instead.”
That single sentence caused quite a stir.
Among those attending Zhou Third Young Master’s banquet were scholars from across the country who had just arrived in the capital, as well as young noblemen who often mingled with Zhou Third Young Master’s circle.
The scholars did not know Dai Wenliang well, but the young nobles did—Dai Wenliang was a rough martial man who could barely recognize a few characters and had never once been willing to compose poetry at such gatherings. In the past, he would rather drink himself unconscious by the river than recite a single verse.
So how could he…
For a moment, everyone looked at each other in silence. Not a single voice of praise was heard. Only the artificial river flowed before them, gurgling past.
Shu Changyu couldn’t help but laugh.
Up front, Zhou Third Young Master hurried to smooth things over and gave him an easy topic: “Dai Gongzi, composing poetry is excellent! Today the spring scenery is at its peak—why not take ‘spring’ as the theme and compose a quatrain?”
Normally, scholars would deliberately make things difficult—restricting rhyme, tone patterns, or even demanding an elaborate ode. But now even a simple “spring quatrain” was enough to stump Dai Wenliang.
“Spring… spring…” Dai Wenliang cursed inwardly. What was there even to write about spring? Birds chirping, grass turning green, the sun making everything irritating—what was there to praise?
After a long pause, he blurted out, face red: “Spring… sleep… not knowing dawn…” and then forgot the rest.
Laughter rippled through the banquet.
Zhou Third Young Master quickly stepped in again. “Dai Gongzi, original composition is required—reciting existing poetry does not count.”
Original composition? Dai Wenliang likely couldn’t even steal someone else’s words properly.
At that moment, Shu Changyu chuckled and said, “If you cannot compose it, then forget it. As a military man devoted to defending the nation, how could Dai Gongzi be expected to write poetry? There is no need to force yourself—just drink this cup instead.”
He then picked up a wine cup from his own table and handed it to Dai Wenliang.
Although this was meant as a prank, it should not go too far and truly embarrass the Dai family heir.
Dai Wenliang still glared at him after sitting down. “You little rascal—your talent for teasing people is something else!”
Shu Changyu looked innocent and grinned.
By noon, the banquet ended.
Although he had sat the entire time, constant social exchange was mentally exhausting. Shu Changyu, already physically weak, felt drained before the banquet even ended. When everyone began to disperse, he stood and took his leave from Zhou Third Young Master.
Just as he turned to leave, someone grabbed his arm. He turned and saw Fan Yu’an again.
“Does Shu Third Young Master have time tonight?” he asked with a smile. “Drinking and reciting poetry alone is not very enjoyable. Young Master Huang has booked a table at Xincui Tower. Would you do us the honor?”
“I’m afraid not,” Shu Changyu replied flatly, too tired even to maintain a smile. “I am exhausted and will not be attending.”
Fan Yu’an’s smile deepened. “What a coincidence. I was also planning to return. I recently acquired a good set of chess pieces. I heard Third Young Master enjoys chess—why not play a few rounds together?”
Shu Changyu almost laughed coldly.
This Fan Yu’an’s methods of recruitment were exactly the same in both lifetimes—utterly lacking in originality.
How unfortunate that in his past ignorance, he had once treated this man—sharing wine, playing chess, discussing poetry—as a lifelong confidant.
“Fan Gongzi,” he said, stopping and looking him up and down with a mocking expression. “They say a gentleman’s friendship is as light as water. I agree. I have no desire to form a close relationship with you. I also suggest you learn to read people better and avoid making things too obvious.”
Even Fan Yu’an looked embarrassed at this.
“I… I merely thought Third Young Master had an elegant bearing, like a bamboo in the wind, different from ordinary people…”
The same script again.
“Farewell,” Shu Changyu said, turning away without even returning the courtesy.
After his past life’s mistakes in judging people, how could he repeat them in this life?
After boarding the carriage, he still felt exhausted and irritable, even finding himself faintly missing Jing Mu—for no other reason than that only while teaching him could he get a moment of peace amid all these people.
The thought startled him.
Why am I thinking of Jing Mu for no reason?
“Change direction,” he frowned, lifting the curtain. “Go to Yongning Lane north of Qinglong Street.”
The coachman obeyed immediately.
When he got off the carriage, he saw a small tavern with a hanging wine flag and no proper signboard at the entrance.
In his past life, whenever he was idle or troubled, he would come here to drink. Their autumn dew wine was fragrant but not intoxicating, calming the mind and soothing irritation.
Qinglong Street was narrow to begin with. The Shu family carriage alone blocked much of the intersection. Shu Changyu had never made such a grand display when coming here in his past life, so he told the driver, “Go back first. It’s not far from the residence; I’ll walk back myself later.”
The driver hesitated, glancing at the darkening sky, but Shu Changyu impatiently waved him off and walked into the tavern alone.