May 15, 2026
Chapter 91 — The Little Things Ling Jingxuan Cares About
“Confucius said: ‘To learn and practice it from time to time, is that not a pleasure? To have friends come from afar, is that not a joy? To remain unresentful when unrecognized, is that not the mark of a gentleman?’”
Before he even stepped through the doors of Qingchen Bookshop, Ling Jingxuan—carrying another jar of grape wine—heard the sound of children reciting from the back courtyard. His steps paused involuntarily, and a faint smile crept onto his lips.
There really was nothing more soothing than the tender voices of children studying aloud.
Of course, speaking purely for himself, he held very little respect for this kind of classical rote learning. Compared to the notoriously rigid, exam-driven education system of 21st-century China, this place was even worse—almost entirely reliant on blind memorization. No wonder so many scholars could spend their entire lives buried in books and still fail to earn even the lowest degree.
Studying wasn’t about memorizing everything word for word. The key was application—drawing inferences, forming your own understanding from what you learned.
Because of that, whenever he had time, he taught the kids things like the multiplication table, basic principles of dealing with people, and practical reasoning. The two little buns were clever too—they often combined what he taught with what they learned from Chu Ci, forming their own perspectives. To others, that might seem a little unconventional.
But to Ling Jingxuan, it was exactly what he wanted to see.
“Teacher Chu.”
Stepping into the shop, he saw Chu Ci sitting behind the counter with a book in hand, seemingly lost in thought. Ling Jingxuan strolled over and casually set the jar of grape wine on the counter.
Coming back to himself, Chu Ci gave the jar a brief glance, his gaze lingering for no more than a moment. Over the past month, Ling Jingxuan had often sent the children over with jam or various novel snacks he’d made himself. By now, Chu Ci was long used to it.
“Something you need?”
Even after all this time, Chu Ci remained as cold as ever when facing him.
Ling Jingxuan didn’t seem bothered. He pulled over a chair and sat down leisurely. “Nothing much. Just brought you a jar of wine I brewed myself… and thought I’d stop by to see you.”
Alright—before meeting Zeng Shaoqing, his intentions really had been that simple.
Now, though… not necessarily.
Though he hadn’t shown it, there was something he’d been quietly concerned about all along—and the only person who could give him answers was the man sitting in front of him.
“Grape wine? You’re quite capable—managing to produce even Dongguo’s national drink. Is there anything you can’t do?”
The mention of grape wine clearly caught Chu Ci’s attention. His eyes flicked back to the oddly shaped jar despite himself. As always, his tone was anything but polite.
“There’s plenty I can’t do. Even more I don’t understand.” Ling Jingxuan leaned sideways against the counter, looking almost boyishly mischievous. “Chu Ci, guess who I just saw at Xinyuan Restaurant?”
After speaking, he even threw him an exaggerated wink.
For some reason, despite not knowing him for long, he rather liked this Chu Ci.
Chu Ci shuddered dramatically and shot him a cold glare. His vermilion lips moved slightly as he said flatly, “And that concerns me… how?”
In other words—if it didn’t, he’d rather not hear it.
“Does it concern you… or not?” Ling Jingxuan drawled lazily. “I heard he’s the owner of Xinyuan Restaurant?”
Clatter!
The moment the words “owner” left his mouth, the book in Chu Ci’s hand fell to the ground with a sharp sound. The aloof composure on his handsome face cracked ever so slightly. In his phoenix eyes flickered unmistakable tension, fear, and confusion.
Ling Jingxuan caught every bit of it.
“Relax,” he quickly reassured, “I didn’t mention anything about you. I just talked business with him—about the wine.”
After knowing him for a while—and seeing how sincerely he taught the children—Ling Jingxuan couldn’t help but grow curious.
Why was he hiding here alone with a child?
And why did anything related to the imperial capital seem to terrify him so much?
But he also knew—Chu Ci would never tell him. Not unless… or perhaps not until Yan Shengrui recovered his memories.
“…Is he doing well?”
After a long silence, Chu Ci finally forced out those stiff, awkward words.
Ling Jingxuan’s brows knit almost imperceptibly.
“He’s the son of the foremost marquis’s household—and the richest merchant in Da Qing. Do you really think he wouldn’t be?”
Could it be that the two of them… had some kind of private affair?
But that didn’t quite make sense.
Setting aside the fact that Chu Ci was raising a nine-year-old child—judging by the boy’s features, he clearly shared a bloodline with Yan Shengrui. And then there was Zeng Shaoqing: nearly thirty and still unmarried. One look and you could tell he was the type who didn’t give a damn about social conventions—unrestrained, almost reckless.
If there really was something between them, Chu Ci would’ve long since become Madam Zeng. Why go to such lengths to hide and struggle like this?
With Zeng Shaoqing’s ability, how could he possibly fail to protect him?
“Heh… you’re thinking too simply.”
Chu Ci let out a faint, almost powerless chuckle as he bent down to pick up the book from the floor, deliberately steering the conversation elsewhere.
“Whether it’s the foremost marquis’s household or the richest merchant in the realm, it all comes down to a single word from the Emperor. Under heaven, the only one who would dare say ‘no’ to him… is the one in your household.”
He paused, then glanced at the wine jar.
“How much did you sell this grape wine to him for?”
His smile was pale, lacking any real strength.
As long as he was doing well, that was enough.
He truly didn’t want to talk about anything related to the imperial capital. If he had a choice, he would rather spend his entire life dressed in coarse cloth than ever return to that gilded cage again.
“One hundred taels.”
Noticing the deliberate avoidance, Ling Jingxuan didn’t press further. He simply raised a finger.
For him, a hundred taels was already an astronomical price—but…
“Too cheap. He’ll resell it for at least a thousand.”
A rare trace of mischief flickered through Chu Ci’s phoenix eyes.
Ling Jingxuan, who had just been feeling rather pleased, immediately darkened.
“A thousand taels? Is he robbing people blind?! That’s ten times my price. Where does this dynasty even get that many rich people?”
“Don’t underestimate the meritorious aristocracy—let alone the Imperial Family.”
Chu Ci spoke lightly, as if seeing straight through his thoughts.
“Grape wine is an excellent beauty tonic for women. And the palace? What it lacks least… is women. With Shaoqing’s capabilities, getting that wine into the Imperial Court would be effortless.”
The extravagance of the nobility was beyond ordinary comprehension.
Sometimes, what they spent in a single day could sustain an average family in comfort for a lifetime.
“…Alright, I really did underestimate their spending power.”
Ling Jingxuan shook his head helplessly, then suddenly leaned forward over the counter, his eyes unusually undisguised—bright, intent, almost predatory.
“But whatever. I’ve already made more than enough.”
“Chu Ci, there’s something I want to ask you.”
Chu Ci raised a brow, noncommittal, then reached out and poked his forehead, pushing him back slightly.
“If you’ve got something to say, then say it. Don’t look at me like a starving wolf. Anyone who didn’t know better might think you’ve taken a fancy to me.”
Given their relationship, a bit of teasing was acceptable—but no more than that.
“Please, as if you’re some unparalleled beauty.”
Ling Jingxuan rolled his eyes.
“My Shengrui is way more handsome than you.”
Then, dropping the banter, he got straight to the point.
“I heard from Shopkeeper Zhang that there’s a rumor in the capital—saying Shengrui and Zeng Shaoqing are lovers. What’s that about?”
This was the issue.
If he didn’t get to the bottom of it, it would keep bothering him.
Truth be told, the moment he saw Zeng Shaoqing, he was already certain the two of them couldn’t possibly be in that kind of relationship. But what he believed was one thing—what the truth actually was, another.
He was just that petty.
He didn’t like other people stirring up rumors about his man. Simple as that.
“Hah? Hehe…”
Chu Ci froze for a split second—then covered his mouth and laughed.
Wasn’t this man usually sharp as a blade? How did he turn foolish at a time like this?
Shengrui and Shaoqing? Don’t be ridiculous.
Even if everyone in the world died and only those two were left, they still wouldn’t become lovers.
Others might not know, but he had practically watched them grow up. Those two—each more arrogant and domineering than the other. The idea that they’d fall for each other? That would be the real miracle.
“Done laughing? Then answer me.”
Ling Jingxuan’s face darkened.
He knew the question sounded stupid—but he cared.
“I can’t guarantee everything,” Chu Ci said, still suppressing his laughter, forcing a straight face, though the amusement in his eyes was impossible to hide.
“But this, you can rest assured about.”
“As for why that rumor spread in the capital… it’s probably because neither of them wanted to marry, so they made something up and deliberately let it circulate.”
“They grew up together—close enough to be called inseparable. People who don’t know the inside story believing it? That’s perfectly normal.”
The cold, aloof beauty from before was nowhere to be seen—only someone barely holding back laughter.
“I see…”
Ling Jingxuan sat back down, his gaze lowering slightly.
People in this era married early. For the imperial family and great clans, it was even earlier—continuing the bloodline took priority above all else.
Shengrui and Zeng Shaoqing were both nearing thirty. Using a trick like this to avoid marriage… it wasn’t surprising.
But still…
“…aren’t they afraid the Emperor might actually arrange a marriage for them?”
Men could marry men.
Hadn’t the current Emperor deposed his Empress five years ago—who was also a man?
Who knew—what started as a rumor might one day turn real. The Emperor could very well grant them a marriage decree.
As Chu Ci had said earlier, whether prince or marquis, it all came down to a single word from the Emperor. If he truly bestowed a marriage, would they dare defy an imperial edict?
“Looks like you really don’t understand Shengrui.”
At the mention of the Imperial Family, the trace of a smile on Chu Ci’s lips quietly faded. After a long pause, he met Ling Jingxuan’s intrigued gaze and continued:
“If you did, the question you’d be asking right now wouldn’t be whether he fears the Emperor… but whether the Emperor fears provoking him.”
“The current Emperor can’t exactly be called a wise ruler, but he’s diligent enough—a middling sovereign at best. Shengrui not only commands significant military power, he also holds a legitimate claim to the throne as an Imperial Prince. The only thing he lacks… is the ambition to seize it.”
“In that case, why would the Emperor risk angering him so easily?”
“If he doesn’t want to marry, then even the Emperor—and even the Empress Dowager—can do nothing about it.”
“Besides…” Chu Ci’s voice dipped slightly, “I suspect the Emperor doesn’t want him to marry.”
The only Imperial Prince in Da Qing who held real military authority—respected in the army, the court, and among the common people alike.
If he were to marry and produce heirs… even if he himself had no such ambitions, others would surely begin plotting in the shadows.
“Heh… the Emperor really is a strange one.”
Ling Jingxuan caught on quickly—he always did.
“To think he’d rather keep someone like that unmarried.”
“Then what about his sons? Aren’t they wary of Shengrui?”
Truthfully, he was rather relieved that Shengrui had no desire for the throne.
What was so good about being Emperor anyway?
A thankless job—endless exhaustion, constant suspicion, always guarding against this and that. Do well, and it’s expected. Do poorly, and you risk eternal infamy.
Better to live as an ordinary person—free and at ease.
Looking across five thousand years of Chinese history, how many emperors had actually lived long lives?
He had no desire to see his Shengrui work himself to death.
“What do you think?”
Chu Ci shot him a brief glance before lowering his gaze back to the book in his hands—though his eyes clearly weren’t focused on the page.
“Shengrui is the Emperor’s youngest brother—the ninth prince. He’s twenty-seven this year. The Emperor, the eldest son, is already past forty. Even the Crown Prince is well into his twenties.”
“Add to that the fact that the Emperor’s health has been declining these past couple of years…”
“If they weren’t anxious, that would be the real surprise.”
He didn’t know why he was telling Ling Jingxuan all this.
Perhaps, deep down, he had already begun to see him as a friend.
Because if Ling Jingxuan remained ignorant, then the day Shengrui regained his memories—and returned to the capital—he would almost certainly be devoured whole.
Those people were wolves.
Each more ruthless than the last.
Blood ties meant nothing to them anymore.
“I see…”
No wonder Shengrui had been injured.
Those Imperial Princes likely had a hand in it.
At the thought, Ling Jingxuan smiled.
A cold, bloodthirsty smile.
Let them be princes or emperors—it made no difference to him.
What had happened in the past, he neither could nor cared to change.
But if they ever dared to come after him in the future…
He wouldn’t mind settling old scores and new ones together.
Of course—
That was assuming he and Yan Shengrui would continue walking this path side by side.
If you enjoy reading Poisonous Peasant ‘Concubine’, consider buying me a coffee! A little coffee goes a long way!
Translator: LazyHermitGal
Author: LazyHermitGal
A Lazy Hermit Gal wondering in the void and falling into the translation abyss.
