Chapter 1758: Overbearing
At the moment he stepped through the door, eight maidservants, delicate and charming, with dignified features and graceful figures, stood waiting. It was like when you fly first class and the flight attendants bow and greet you—except this time, there were eight of them, far more than any plane's crew. In unison, they bowed and called out, as if they had rehearsed it beforehand. Their voices were perfectly synchronized, though not loud enough to shake the rafters. Still, Wang Xueqian was startled.
Fortunately, the shocks he had endured throughout the day had nearly numbed his heart. Clearly, his mother had prepared everything in advance. She must have had recent photos of him around the house, so the servants could recognize him. Still, for Wang Xueqian, a warm feeling stirred in his chest. When someone remembers you, it's impossible not to be moved.
"Qian'er, take a look around. If you like it, you can move in," Chen Yushu said as she gracefully ascended the Victorian-style spiral staircase. The soles of her shoes pressed against the thick hardwood steps, producing a rhythmic, melodic sound. Clearly, Chen Yushu wasn't wearing the embroidered shoes that women of this era favored; instead, she wore hard-soled high heels. No wonder she appeared so tall and upright. Suddenly, as if remembering something, she turned back, smiled, and gave a parting instruction. Wang Xueqian had been waiting for this moment for a long time. He hadn't expected Chen Yushu to be so open-minded, which immediately put him at ease.
But people often find joy turning to sorrow.
"However, you must come home for dinner every evening," Chen Yushu said before heading upstairs alone, presumably to change clothes.
He casually sat down on the sofa, adjusting to a more comfortable position that was almost like lounging. A servant brought coffee and pastries—French-style coffee and desserts. The entire house felt completely cut off from the mountains, lakes, and scenery outside, which was somewhat disorienting.
He lifted his eyes and glanced at the coffee table.
Huh? This thing seemed completely out of place. The furniture was in British classical style, luxurious yet carrying a rustic charm. Of course, in Europe, British taste had never been highly regarded, often becoming the target of mockery by top designers. Still, among the aristocracy, the items they used—furniture, architecture, even daily habits—were largely similar.
The era of the "nouveau riche" as a recognized class had not yet arrived.
Lobsters cost a shilling each, and no one would order a two-dollar—no, correction—a two-pound one.
Throwing money around on the streets was still considered the behavior of a madman. The nobility were reserved, even mysterious to commoners. Although they needed mystery to highlight their noble status, once they reached a certain level of living, pursuing quality of life was what nobles universally agreed upon. It was like wealthy American businessmen, who generally held low status in Europe—unless they belonged to families like the Astors, whose patriarch was a member of the House of Lords and held a British title.
They only interacted and intermarried among equals, which in Eastern customs was called "matching doors and households."
Thus, consistency in room decor was the most basic requirement of aristocratic life.
But on a palace-style coffee table sat a thread-bound book. This...
Wang Xueqian couldn't resist picking up the book, which was already somewhat worn from being read. When he opened it, the blank spaces were filled with inscriptions and seals from various book collectors. What surprised him even more was that his mother's inscriptions were among them. There was no mistaking it—her handwriting was the most abundant and the longest. The seal was a bit unusual, reading "Jade Free Spirit." But at the end of the inscriptions, he still saw Chen Yushu's signature. Fortunately, these traditional Chinese characters weren't hard to recognize. With his sharp eyes, Wang Xueqian identified them at a glance. Seeing the neat, delicate small regular script, like blue butterflies dancing gracefully through a forest, seemed to carry a rhythmic, fluttering quality. This made Wang Xueqian draw in a sharp breath.
So, the outside world's claim that the Wang family mastered both Chinese and Western learning wasn't actually about the family head, Wang Hongrong.
It was someone else.
The book had a strange title: "Subjects' Guide."
When he opened it, almost every chapter had a marginal note of no less than forty or fifty characters. The neat handwriting only surprised him slightly; it was the content that made him uneasy.
Things like:
"When an emperor acts, it lies in his own heart; mistakes belong to the subjects."
"Taking out of context: for a ruler, it's acceptable to be unable to distinguish right from wrong, but mistakes are still mistakes. The idea that 'those above set an example and those below follow' is merely to deceive others."
"Show fools sincerity; interact with the wise by being skilled in debate."
No matter how he looked at it, these words seemed somewhat treasonous. Besides, in this household, the only person who would casually pick up a book and leave it on the coffee table was undoubtedly his mother, Chen Yushu.
The problem was, although Wang Xueqian sensed something was off, if he had to pinpoint exactly what was wrong, he would be at a loss. His classical Chinese foundation was such that lines like "The grass spreads across the plain, withering and flourishing each year" were no challenge for him.
"A man of Chu had a sacrificer who gave his retainers a cup of wine. The retainers said to each other: 'If several of us drink it, it's not enough; if one drinks it, there's too much. Let's draw a snake on the ground; whoever finishes first gets the wine.'"
Stories like "Drawing a Snake and Adding Legs," which were simple and easy to understand classical texts, he could recite off the top of his head. In short, anything from the nine-year compulsory education system below sixth grade, he could handle.
It was a bit embarrassing to admit, but classical Chinese was something you learned a lot of but rarely used. Besides, in daily conversation, no one spoke in classical Chinese. For example, if two neighbors met in an alley, one might say: "Second Brother, have you eaten?"
"Not yet."
"Oh, perfect timing. The dumplings at home just went into the pot. Come over and have some."
"No need. My wife made zhajiang noodles. I'll eat when I get back."
"Zhajiang noodles! That sounds satisfying! Alright, see you later!"
"See you!"
But if you tried to translate that into classical Chinese, even a pedantic scholar who had passed the imperial examinations on the Four Books and Five Classics would find it painful. Like this: the same scene, two neighbors meeting in an alley. One greets: "Second Elder Brother, have you dined?"
The other rolls his eyes, grins, and says: "My stomach is empty; I feel quite famished."
"Dumplings are delicious; would you care for some?"
"My humble wife has prepared a meal, only zhajiang noodles."
"Oh my, this is excellent! Farewell! Farewell!"
"Take care! Take care!"
Even the most foolish, pedantic scholar wouldn't speak so awkwardly in conversation. So, unless someone was determined to study classical literature, there was no need to learn classical Chinese just to make life difficult. As for the inheritance of Eastern traditional wisdom and culture? If you didn't learn it, someone else would. There were plenty of people who enjoyed it tirelessly. There was no need to shoulder all that responsibility yourself—it was too exhausting.
But Wang Xueqian urgently wanted to know the true thoughts of the woman upstairs. Reading the marginal notes in the books she enjoyed was undoubtedly the simplest shortcut. Yet, to his frustration, he couldn't understand them!
Not understanding was one thing, but why was it that every character was easy to recognize, yet he couldn't grasp even a single simple sentence?
While he was stewing in frustration, he heard a delicate voice by his ear: "Young Master!"
Only then did he realize someone was tugging at his shoelaces. Wang Xueqian was immediately annoyed. He thought, "Where did this maid come from? She's so disrespectful, daring to tease her master by pulling his shoelaces. Isn't she trying to make me look foolish in the room?"
But when he looked down, he couldn't stay angry. At his feet knelt two exquisitely carved little girls. Even if they were a bit older than little Ruan Lingyu, they couldn't be more than a year or two older. Their faces were chubby, with the "baby fat" on their cheeks not yet faded. Both girls were sweating from anxiety, looking very nervous.
He noticed one of the little girls holding a pair of new house slippers, clearly meant for him to change into.
Taking a closer look, Wang Xueqian found them amusing. Suddenly, a playful mood struck him. He looked left and right—it seemed the two girls were carved from the same mold. They were twins.
"I'll do it myself," Wang Xueqian said as he took the cloth shoes and slipped them on. They were a bit too big. One of the little girls said, "Young Master, the shoes are too big. The Madam has prepared other sizes. Shall I get you a different pair?"
"Forget it. I think they fit fine."
"Young Master!"
The little girl seemed very serious, but as Wang Xueqian studied her closely, he was even more amazed. The two girls spoke in unison, yet to his ears, it sounded like one person talking.
Could this be the legendary "twin lotuses"?
Finding it amusing, Wang Xueqian picked up one of the little girls and set her on his knee. Suddenly, the girl's face turned red all the way to her neck, and she lowered her head without speaking.
Wang Xueqian didn't notice and instead asked cheerfully, "Tell uncle, what are your names? Who's the older sister, and who's the younger? If you tell me correctly, I'll take you to West Lake to see the goldfish! Oh, no, to eat candy."
Only when he noticed the little girl on his knee trembling did he realize both girls looked like startled mimosa plants, almost burying their heads in their arms, afraid to look up.
He then realized his behavior might have been inappropriate.
He was used to it at home in Shanghai. Little Lingyu liked to lie on his lap, looking up at him with adoring eyes as he rambled on.
But with a different girl, it was a different story. In this era, girls in their teens were already somewhat aware of what a woman's modesty required.
If Wang Xueqian weren't their master, they might have already screamed, "Catch the pervert!"
The reason the little girls didn't scream was because of Wang Xueqian's status. Maids who were sold into servitude had no autonomy. Although as early as the Ming Dynasty, such contracts of indenture were prohibited, people always found a way to circumvent the law. For example, they would set the term at fifty years.
By the time a girl reached fifty or sixty, even the master would have lost interest in keeping her.
It was essentially the same as being sold into slavery.
Trying to cover up the awkwardness, Wang Xueqian put on a face like he was coaxing a child—though he actually was trying to coax a child: "You two, have you studied?"
In wealthy households, maids sometimes had the chance to learn to read.
Wang Xueqian wasn't just talking nonsense. Seeing the two little girls exchange encouraging glances, as if they felt the "uncle" in front of them seemed friendly, they nodded in unison. Wang Xueqian had no ill intentions; he was just asking like an elder: "What have you studied?"
"The Three Character Classic."
"The Thousand Character Classic."
"The Rules for Disciples."
"The Classic of Filial Piety."
"The Admonitions for Women."
"The Nine Chapters on the Mathematical Art."
"The Madam says we will also need to learn English and French in the future."
"That doesn't seem necessary!" Wang Xueqian looked suspiciously at the two little girls. Their expressions were extremely serious, not like they were faking it. This left him speechless. Learning so much—could a child even manage it?
Besides, he thought a child like little Lingyu was just fine.
She always wore a worried expression when it came to homework, but when she heard about playing or snacks, she would bounce a foot high, happier than anything. It wasn't that Wang Xueqian didn't believe them, but he doubted whether these two children could handle so many lessons.
Pointing at the ancient book on the coffee table, which he had been treating like a heavenly text, he put on a stern face and asked, "What do these two characters read?"
One of them, who seemed a bit more timid, looked at the other little girl.
As if summoning great courage, the one who had been relied upon nodded and said, "This is 'Subjects' Guide.' It was written by Empress Wu Zetian of the Great Zhou Dynasty to regulate the words and conduct of subjects..." She cautiously glanced at Wang Xueqian. Seeing that this legendary eldest young master seemed easygoing and not the kind of harsh master, she grew bolder: "The Madam says this book shouldn't be read alone. It needs to be read together with Emperor Taizong of the Great Tang's 'Emperor's Guide' to truly grasp its essence..."
The two little ones, one after the other, left Wang Xueqian stunned.
At such a young age, did they already understand the art of imperial rule?
Originally, Wang Xueqian had thought his father might be somewhat pedantic but still capable. He never expected his mother to be so formidable—spending her free time studying the art of imperial rule, and an empress's version at that. This was already beyond mortal comprehension! And Wu Zetian was really something—did she have to write down her experiences as an emperor? Wasn't that just causing trouble for future generations?
If Wang Xueqian had foolishly charged in, who knows how badly he would have been toyed with?
Wang Xueqian could only silently recite: "Father, forgive your son for being unfilial. I can't help you. It's not that our army is incompetent, but the enemy is too strong."
Or had the art of imperial rule become as common as dirt? Or had Empress Dowager Cixi, upon realizing that women's status wasn't guaranteed, secretly allocated a huge sum from the palace to raise women's awareness across the board?
In any case, Wang Xueqian felt these two children were extraordinary. Of course they were—they could leave an adult completely dumbfounded. Besides, Wang Xueqian wasn't an illiterate person. Feeling his confidence on the verge of collapse, Wang Xueqian decisively ended this discussion on the merits of two imperial arts. But the two little girls seemed to be having too much fun, as if they had forgotten their earlier embarrassment: "So, as a qualified maid, you need to step forward when the master needs you and take the blame. This way..."
Clearly, these two girls didn't have many people to talk to in the household. Meeting Wang Xueqian was apparently unexpected. To stop a discussion that was making even his head spin, he cut in decisively: "What are your names?"
"I'm 'Ruo Xi.'"
"Ruo Xue."
"Which of you is the older sister, and which is the younger?" Wang Xueqian asked, but the two little girls fell silent, looking at each other as if hesitating.
"I bet you're the younger sister!"
Wang Xueqian stared at one of the little girls—the one who had been talking the most, named Ruo Xi—and grinned mischievously at her face. The latter took a fearful step back, unwilling to accept it: "Young Master, how did you figure it out?"
Wang Xueqian laughed inwardly. After all, they were children. A little bluff, and they fell right into the trap. Their hearts were still honest: "Just now, you were the one talking the most happily, the most talkative, and the most articulate. To be honest, do you usually steal your sister's snacks?"
"I don't! I just... I just eat fast..."
"Young Master, Ruo Xi is very obedient."
The older sister naturally wanted to defend her younger sister's image and spoke up for her.
"Oh my, you've already started chatting with 'Ruo Xi' and 'Ruo Xue'? These two children are usually very proud," Chen Yushu said with a sigh. "That's right. Children grow up and know to find a wife. 'Ruo Xi' and 'Ruo Xue' were originally meant to be your chamber maids. You can't bully them in the future. But they're only eleven. Let your mother train them for another two years."
Wang Xueqian turned around in shock: "Are you kidding me?"
Of course, teasing a little girl was one thing, but how could he actually lay a hand on a child of ten or eleven?
Besides, what was all this about?
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