Chapter 139 With a flick of the wrist, he offered himself up!
Looking at this courtyard that resembles a fairyland.
The thought in Zhao Wenxuan's mind grew wildly like a vine—he really wanted to be Qian Yueqiu's male concubine.
The thought had barely crossed my mind when it occurred to me.
He broke out in a cold sweat.
As a scholar.
How could anyone have such a shameless thought?
But that thought lingered in his mind like a persistent boil.
After all, the Qian family lives such a good life!
I woke up in the early morning.
The maid had already prepared warm water for washing the face, with a few fresh flower petals floating in the water, emitting a faint fragrance.
The face towel draped over the edge of the copper basin was made of fine cotton, so soft that it wouldn't chafe his delicate scholar's face.
This reminded him of the past.
In his old, dilapidated thatched hut, he could only hastily wipe his face with the icy well water, the rough hemp cloth always chafing his cheeks until they ached.
Breakfast is completely different.
The Qian family's breakfast was a feast for the eyes and ears.
The crystal shrimp dumpling skin is as thin as paper, revealing the tender pink shrimp inside.
The crab roe soup dumplings are steaming hot; with a gentle poke, the golden broth flows out.
And then there was the thick, white porridge, served with six side dishes, each one so elaborate that it left this country boy bewildered.
Back when I lived in my hometown.
Not to mention such exquisite food.
They couldn't even afford steamed buns and rice porridge.
He remembers it most clearly when he was seven years old.
My mother somehow got hold of a small bag of flour and steamed three white flour buns.
That was the first time in his life he had ever seen such snow-white steamed buns, unlike the coarse and dark coarse grain buns they usually ate.
He held the steamed bun and carefully took a small bite.
The soft touch and the pure aroma of wheat almost brought tears to his eyes.
His mother looked at him, tears welling in her eyes, but smiled and said, "Eat slowly, I'll give you the two biggest steamed buns."
She only wanted the smallest one.
Those two white steamed buns.
He ate it for three whole days, each time only tearing off a small piece, chewing it in his mouth for a long time before swallowing it.
Now, however, they live in the Qian family.
White flour steamed buns were the most unremarkable staple food on the table; even the servants ate white flour steamed buns and rice porridge.
Such a comparison.
How can we prevent him from becoming confused?
After all, Zhao Wenruan's father had long since passed away.
His father passed away when he was four years old.
His memories of his father are now hazy; he can only vaguely recall a tall figure…
After the father passed away, the pillar of the family collapsed, plunging the already impoverished family into dire straits.
It wasn't easy for his mother to raise him alone.
She was a stubborn and resilient woman, only in her early thirties, yet life had worn her down to the point of making her look like an old woman.
She works in the fields during the day, but the few acres of barren land produce enough grain to barely make ends meet.
At night, she would wash clothes for people under the oil lamp, sometimes until most of the night.
Zhao Wenruan will never forget those nights.
In the dead of winter, my mother would immerse her hands in the icy water and scrub the clothes again and again.
Her fingers were red and swollen from the cold, with cracks and bleeding, but she simply wrapped them with strips of cloth and continued working.
Sometimes he would wake up in the middle of the night and see his mother mending clothes by the dim light of a lamp...
Even so, his mother still gave him the best.
She actually saved up money to send herself to school.
You should know that going to school in the countryside is extremely expensive!
Brush, ink, paper, and inkstone—which of these doesn't cost money?
The cheapest ream of paper required my mother to wash ten pieces of clothing to earn it.
He will always remember the first time he entered school, when he used the worst quality brush, and the characters he wrote were always forked.
Unable to afford books, he could only borrow his classmates' books to copy.
How many nights?
He copied the book stroke by stroke under the oil lamp, his eyes aching and tears streaming down his face, but he dared not stop, because the book had to be returned on time.
Once, he accidentally spilled a drop of ink on a borrowed copy of the Analects of Confucius. His classmate insisted that he pay for it.
He couldn't afford to pay for it, so his mother had to wash the clothes day and night for three days to calm things down.
Now, all these difficulties have vanished in the Qian family.
The Qian family's library has three floors and contains tens of thousands of books, covering all kinds of classics, histories, philosophical works, and literary collections, as well as many rare and unique books that he had never seen before.
When he first stepped into that place, he was so excited that he almost fainted.
Those classic books that he once longed for but could not obtain now stand quietly on the bookshelf, available for him to read.
The air is filled with the fragrance of books, and the paper and ink shine brightly. This is no longer a library, but a paradise on earth.
Brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones were readily available for use.
The finest Xuan paper is as smooth as grease, the Huzhou brush is soft and elastic, the Huizhou ink has a delicate fragrance after grinding, and the Duan inkstone feels warm to the touch.
When he used these writing tools to write and compose essays, he always felt that his knowledge had improved.
His daily diet was so exquisite that it made him feel uneasy.
Four dishes and a soup, with both meat and vegetables, are a feast for the eyes, nose, and palate.
But.
Even though life was much better than before, he was still living under someone else's roof in the Qian family and had no status.
He was one of the many impoverished students sponsored by the Qian family.
Although they provided food, drink, books, writing materials, and inkstones, they did not give any pocket money.
If you are really short of money, you can apply to the Qian family.
However, it must have a proper purpose.
If it involves things like gambling or going to brothels...
Not only will they not receive any financial assistance, but they will also be driven away by the Qian family...
Even though he became Qian Yueqiu's teacher, his circumstances were better than those of other scholars.
But there's no money left!
Those impoverished students who came to the capital with him still ate from the same communal pot, with seven or eight people sitting around a table, two meat dishes and two vegetable dishes, and plenty of rice and steamed buns.
This is actually quite good for them, who used to live a very frugal life.
But people are often never satisfied.
Because he became Qian Yueqiu's tutor, he could have four dishes and a soup every day and eat alone.
Even his clothes are regularly custom-made by the Qian family.
He even brought his mother to the capital and had her work as a maid in Qian Yueqiu's courtyard.
But he still didn't have any extra money to spend.
After all, even if one receives ten or so taels of silver a month as tuition, it's not enough to go out and socialize even once in a place like the capital.
He really wanted to be Qian Yueqiu's male concubine.
If I give in to her.
Besides living a more comfortable life than now, he would also be able to legitimately ask her for money.
His mother no longer needed to work as a maid; he could hire a servant to take care of her.
He could even use money to smooth things over and pave the way for his future career.
But won't people look down on me if I do that?
He was, after all, a scholar who had studied the classics and learned about propriety, righteousness, integrity, and a sense of shame.
If one were to do such a thing, how would one be any different from those prostitutes who sell themselves in brothels?
Two conflicting thoughts battled fiercely in his mind, making him restless and unable to eat or sleep.
Just as Zhao Wenxuan was hesitating, Qian Yueqiu became somewhat impatient.
She took a few steps closer, almost pressing herself against him, and said softly, "One hundred taels of silver for one night with me. Will you do it?"
One hundred taels!
The number exploded in his ears like a thunderclap.
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