Chapter 8: The Beauty's Midnight Rush to Save Her Husband

Jiangzhou Prefecture, Jianglin, Bureau of Academic Administration.

After days of continuous rain, the skies finally cleared. Sunlight once more bathed this great city north of the river.

There were few people in the bureau today. The academy examinations had long since concluded, and with the emperor’s recent passing, the provincial examinations for the year had been canceled as well. There simply wasn’t much official business to attend to.

Deng Yu, however, had arrived quite early. Now in his fifties, he had served at the Jiangzhou Bureau of Academic Administration for nearly three years. The landscapes of the south, the refined and scholarly atmosphere—Deng Yu was deeply attached to Jiangzhou. His own hometown, Weizhou, lay not far away, giving him a natural affinity for this place.

In his youth, Deng Yu was renowned for his virtue, propriety, and wisdom—a man of both erudition and elegance. Here in Jiangzhou, he devoted himself wholeheartedly to his duties, watching generation after generation of scholars come and go, as if seeing his younger self reflected in them. Jiangzhou was, after all, a place blessed with talent and beauty, a land that had produced countless distinguished officials and excelled in the imperial examinations. This year’s academy exams had gone quite well, and Deng Yu was pleased. With little hope left for advancement in his own career, he found contentment in guiding the younger generation—surely not a waste of all those years immersed in the classics, nor unworthy of his charge as Superintendent of Academics in Jiangzhou.

As he mused, someone entered.

“What wind brings you here so early, Deheng? Come, have a seat,” Deng Yu called to the newcomer.

The Bureau of Academic Administration was not as strict or hierarchical as other official offices. It was more like an academic institution; the atmosphere among colleagues was relaxed, especially in such quiet times.

“My lord, you may not know—today I heard something quite strange and felt I must share it,” said the visitor, an elderly man whose lean cheeks, deep-set, bright eyes, and white goatee made him look every bit the seasoned professor.

“Oh? What matter could surprise you so, Deheng?” Deng Yu was curious. With little to do, why not listen? What oddity had Gao Da encountered this time?

“Does my lord recall the top scorer in this year’s academy examination?” asked Gao Da.

Deng Yu hesitated. Surely, as the superintendent, overseeing the academy exams was his chief responsibility—how could he not remember, after only a few days? Was his age showing that obviously?

“Deheng, you may speak plainly.”

“Yes, it’s that Lu Jin from Shangqing County.”

Of course it was—but I never said a word, and here you are, answering yourself as if I had. Deng Yu was speechless.

“Well, what about Lu Jin?” As superintendent, any trouble concerning the top scorer demanded attention; this was no trivial matter.

“He’s gone missing!”

“What?” Deng Yu shot up from his chair in shock. The top scorer, missing?

“Some students from Shangqing County claim they can’t find Lu Jin anywhere.”

Upon hearing this, Deng Yu slumped back into his seat, more annoyed at Gao Da—who, for all his scholarly appearance, never seemed to have anything serious to say.

How could a grown man just vanish? Couldn’t he have simply returned home after the results were posted? Or gone traveling with classmates? Such things were common enough in these times, with slow communication and poor transportation making contact less immediate.

“Tell me the details,” Deng Yu said, sipping his tea.

“On the day the results were posted, Lu Jin was so overjoyed to learn he’d taken first place that he fainted on the spot. He was carried to a medical clinic for treatment. Later, when his classmates went to visit him, he was nowhere to be found. The clinic staff said he’d left on his own, but no one knew where…”

“And that’s the problem?” Deng Yu raised an eyebrow, still unconvinced why the old scholar thought the top scorer was missing.

“The problem is, his fellow townsmen haven’t been able to find him for days,” Gao Da finally finished.

“Perhaps he went home, or traveled elsewhere with classmates?” Deng Yu still doubted anything was amiss. He’d met Lu Jin before—handsome, refined, though a bit delicate in temperament; fainting upon winning top honors was proof enough.

The two men chatted aimlessly, getting nowhere. Still, Deng Yu made a note of the matter. Though he didn’t oversee local affairs or the economy, Lu Jin was, after all, his student. For now, there were too many possibilities; best to wait and see. Still, it was odd—the boy hadn’t come to pay his respects since the results were posted.

Unbeknownst to Deng Yu, his top scorer had already become the son-in-law of the Shen family. The Shen family did indeed wield power in Jiangzhou, but not everything that happened within their walls became public knowledge—especially something handled as hastily and discreetly as this.

The matter would have come to light eventually. After all, marrying off a son-in-law was meant to quash any imperial ambitions. But before word could spread, the emperor died, and the Shen family had no reason to broadcast the news—why invite ridicule upon themselves?

Thus, those who knew were very few. With the emperor’s passing, state affairs soon drowned out all gossip.

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Shen Residence, Crescent Pavilion.

After days of illness, Lu Jin finally awoke completely.

His throat was parched, his head heavy, and his body sore—but at least he was alive.

He’d been plagued by strange dreams these past days—all of his home in Shangqing County. Though he knew nothing of the place, it appeared vividly in his dreams, which was odd enough. Yet, upon waking, he could recall no details at all.

The room was empty; he lay on his side, not knowing how he’d gotten back, how much time had passed, or who had cared for him.

Lu Jin lay quietly, gazing at the room, his mind at peace.

He could not remain in the Shen household—he could not afford to provoke them.

The problem was, blind as he was to the world outside, where could he go?

Though he was awake, his injuries had not fully healed; he needed to be cautious. Most important now was to recover his strength.

Lost in these idle thoughts, he heard footsteps outside the door.

“You’re awake, young master?” The maid, Caiyun, entered and exclaimed with delight upon seeing Lu Jin conscious.

“I just woke up a little while ago,” Lu Jin replied, his voice hoarse.

“Oh, young master, you gave us such a fright!” Caiyun set down her water basin and hurried to his side.

“I’m fine now, see? Nothing to worry about.”

“How can you say that? They were so ruthless—you were covered in blood!” Caiyun shuddered at the memory, tears streaming down her face like pearls.

Lu Jin had nothing to say. What could he do but count himself lucky to be alive?

“For a scholar like you, to suffer such treatment…” Caiyun was indignant on his behalf.

“It’s nothing. I’ve always been tough. But you’ve had a hard time, I’m sorry…” Lu Jin felt a little embarrassed. He’d been unable to move or speak for days, surely a burden on the maid.

“Don’t say that, young master. It’s only right that I look after you.”

“Caiyun, I need to use the privy.” He’d wanted to go earlier, but every movement brought such pain he had no strength to manage. He’d have to trouble the maid once again. Who knew what the future would bring—perhaps he should ask if she’d be willing to leave with him.

“Alright, ah—” Caiyun’s face flushed bright red. Flustered, she spun around and ran out.

Lu Jin was baffled. What was so strange? He’d managed before, even while unconscious—why not now?

In the end, he’d have to rely on himself.

With no other options, Lu Jin endured the pain, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and grasped the frame to pull himself upright.

Such simple movements left him drenched in sweat, his legs shaky and weak.

He let out a long breath and, step by step, made his way outside.