Chapter Thirty-One: Where Does Ambition Lie? Live Well!

To prevent the manuscript from creasing, Ping’er cradled it gingerly in her arms. The scent of fresh ink wafted up, intoxicating her in secret delight.

Her steps were graceful and light, her figure slender and elegant. She had just left Han Fu’s small courtyard, heading toward Bai Li Mingsu’s chambers. The story had engrossed her so deeply that she was caught unawares by the young master’s arrival, and her heart still fluttered with lingering fear. Yet, recalling the moment, she realized he had not been angry—instead, he smiled and asked her how she found the tale.

“The stories the young master writes are always captivating,” Ping’er thought sweetly, as she gently pushed open Bai Li Mingsu’s door.

“My lady.”

With a soft call, she approached Bai Li Mingsu, who was seated at her desk, reading through documents. Placing the manuscript of “Nie Xiaoqian” on the desk, she then drew from her bosom the neatly folded “As If in a Dream.”

“These are the lyrics and the story the young master wrote. Both are wonderful,” Ping’er praised Han Fu as she handed over “As If in a Dream.”

Lian’er was still embroidering. As a personal maid, unless Bai Li Mingsu gave instructions, both Ping’er and Lian’er could do little but occupy themselves with needlework when idle. Now, seeing Ping’er return with the young master’s manuscript, Lian’er peered over curiously, set aside her needle and thread, and hurried over.

“My lady, may I have a look too?” Standing beside Ping’er, Lian’er’s eyes shone with anticipation, her demeanor playful.

“Why are you in such a rush? Let our lady read it first,” Ping’er scolded her for her impatience.

Lian’er stuck out her tongue mischievously, wrinkling her nose. “How am I rushing? I’m simply asking for permission.”

Their banter went unnoticed by Bai Li Mingsu, who picked up “As If in a Dream” and focused her attention on it. The very moment her gaze met the page, the handwriting leapt out at her, stunning her into stillness before her expression turned solemn.

Since childhood, Bai Li Mingsu had read countless scrolls and faithfully copied the works of many renowned calligraphers. Yet the characters on Han Fu’s manuscript seemed to come alive, their style wholly unfamiliar—a script she had neither seen nor heard of before.

It was a new form of calligraphy: though it showed signs of youthful inexperience, it bore a distinct originality. The horizontal strokes were slender and forceful, the structure precise and vigorous, the composition taut and elegant.

Bai Li Mingsu was secretly astonished. Her husband’s poetic talent was unmatched, but his calligraphy, too, hinted at founding a school of his own.

A wave of emotion stirred within her like a stream coursing through her heart. Poetry and calligraphy both sublime, character noble—what more could a wife desire?

Open-hearted and unpretentious, even-keeled in manner; though they had spent less than two days together, Bai Li Mingsu had already formed such an impression of Han Fu.

Whether this was his true nature or a facade, she would need more time to discern. If, after some days, Han Fu truly showed no flaws of character, then sharing a bed with him would not be a thing to refuse.

Her mind wandered off in speculation before she came to herself again, quietly chiding her own response, and returned to the manuscript, carefully reading its content.

“Last night the rain was sparse, the wind harsh, and deep sleep could not dispel the lingering wine… Do you know? Do you know? It should be lush greens and fading reds.”

Just as Ping’er had said, the lyrics were exquisite. The choice of words was masterful, commanding awe—especially the contrast between “lush” and “fading,” which soared with wild imagination. Bai Li Mingsu could not help but click her tongue in admiration; her husband’s pen never disappointed. Another timeless work.

With this single page, her satisfaction with Han Fu deepened. Though he came from humble origins, his talent surpassed even those prodigies born to families steeped in poetry and learning.

Moreover, during lunch today, Han Fu had skillfully steered the conversation toward Zhou Yuantou. When Zhou Qing spat, he did not anger but rewarded her instead. These two things alone proved Han Fu was perceptive and quick-witted, not a bookworm rendered foolish by study.

She felt quietly fortunate. Had the Qin family not ruthlessly broken off the engagement, she would have missed the chance to be with such a man.

But for such a man—what were his ambitions?

Han Fu showed little eagerness for an official career, as his words at lunch had made clear. For the moment, Bai Li Mingsu could not fathom his aspirations.

Since pondering brought her no closer to an answer, she carefully folded up “As If in a Dream” and tucked it away, then turned to “Nie Xiaoqian.”

Lian’er, who had been waiting eagerly, pouted, while Ping’er stifled a laugh.

“You’re far too careless. Better you don’t touch the lyrics, lest you ruin them. You can read the story later,” Bai Li Mingsu said gently, her tone refined.

Lian’er nodded happily, “Yes, thank you, my lady.”

...

As for his ambitions—for now, Han Fu’s aim was simple: to live, and to live well.

At the beginning of his journey across worlds, he had nothing: no family, no wealth, no friends, and the land was one of hardship and upheaval. All he’d wanted was to survive, so he’d taken a marriage contract and traveled far to Dingxing.

Then the Qin family broke the engagement, and he found himself on the martial stage, eventually marrying into the Zhou family.

Having survived, his new aim was to live well. Now, as a son-in-law of the Zhou family, with meals and clothing provided, he had fulfilled that requirement.

But the empire was in turmoil, the future uncertain. If he wished to continue living well, he must remain vigilant and make preparations in advance, so that even if chaos descended, he could face it unflinchingly.

Reading, practicing calligraphy, learning martial arts, seeking fortune—all of it was for this purpose.

He had no experience in life-and-death combat, so now he could only learn by watching others. But Zhou Yuantou was unreliable—he had promised to teach, yet had not shown up.

“Sigh…”

There was little he could do—he could hardly complain to the old madam. That would force Zhou Yuantou to comply, but the cost would be an unsavory reputation, not worth the gain.

With no better option, Han Fu simply practiced tai chi in intervals, along with squats and push-ups.

His body was weak for now; it was not too late to learn the arts of combat once he grew stronger.

So absorbed was he in his training that he failed to notice the pair of eyes peering over the wall.

After a while, the head retreated. Outside the courtyard, Zhou Yuantou hopped down from Ge Liang’s broad shoulders, clapped his hands, and said, “As expected, he’s still soft. Let’s go—we’ll teach him real skills in a few days.”

Ge Liang was tall and powerfully built, his skin tanned, a full beard on his face. Not much of a talker, he still ventured, “Second Young Master, didn’t you promise to teach him this afternoon?”

Zhou Yuantou spread his hands helplessly. “No apples left, and my monthly allowance’s all spent.”

“You could use wilted vegetable leaves,” Ge Liang suggested.

“Wilted leaves?” Zhou Yuantou scoffed, prideful. “Who am I? The second son of the Zhou family. If word got out that I trained my brother-in-law using scraps, I’d be the laughingstock.”

Ge Liang considered, then replied, “Fine, don’t teach him. But you could still spar.”

Zhou Yuantou shot him a glance, pointing toward the main hall. “My elder brother is still being scolded. You want me to beat up my brother-in-law, then rescue my brother from trouble?”

With that, Zhou Yuantou strode away, Ge Liang trailing behind.

That afternoon, Han Fu spent several rounds practicing tai chi, ten sets of two hundred squats, ten sets of two hundred push-ups, interspersed with reading. Running and calligraphy he reserved for the morning.

By dusk, the sky was dim. Bai Li Mingda arrived uninvited, carrying a tray of food and two new books for Han Fu. After supper, the two read by candlelight into the night.

Suddenly, the main gates of the Zhou estate opened. Zhou Yuanshan, who had been lectured by Madam Wang for half the day, hurried out to keep his appointment at Incense Pavilion.