Chapter 51: Discussion
Zheng Fa followed Steward Wu into the Madam's secluded pavilion.
The two-story building, usually filled with the melody of silk and bamboo instruments that often captivated passersby, was unusually quiet today, as if deliberately awaiting his arrival.
From the stories and glimpses he had gathered since entering the Zhao Estate, Zheng Fa pieced together an image of the Madam in his mind. She rarely left her pavilion and detested being disturbed by mundane matters. Yet, for twenty years, she had maintained an iron grip on the Zhao Estate, to the point where the household spoke only of the Madam, not the Master of the Estate.
She had raised a son who was naïve yet sharp-tongued—hardly the makings of a family head. Despite the complex web of collateral branches in the Zhao family’s thousand-year legacy, not to mention the numerous illegitimate sons Zhao Master kept in the outer courtyard, none dared challenge the Seventh Young Master’s future position as the heir.
If Zheng Fa had to summarize his impression of the Madam in one sentence, it would be: “A master strategist whose victories leave no trace.”
“Madam hasn’t been in good spirits lately,” Steward Wu muttered softly from ahead.
Zheng Fa glanced at his back.
“But over the past two days, her mood seems to have improved somewhat,” Steward Wu added, as if talking to himself.
“Thank you for the heads-up, Steward Wu,” Zheng Fa said appreciatively in a low voice.A woman who craved absolute control and fiercely protected her son—how could she possibly be at ease knowing Zheng Fa, an uncontrollable and potentially dangerous figure, was near her son?
In Zheng Fa’s estimation, the Madam’s reaction to his mastery of the Linghe Body would likely fall into a few categories:
- View him as a threat and eliminate him—though this risked retaliation from the powerful figure he might be connected to.
- Fear the potential power backing him and turn a blind eye—an unbearable choice for someone like her.
- The most likely approach: feign indifference while quietly distancing her son from Zheng Fa, observing him in secret, cutting off all resources to him, and staying on high alert until the day Zheng Fa exposed that no such power truly backed him, rendering him easy prey.
Without revealing Middle School Mathematics, Zheng Fa believed he could temporarily enjoy a brief period of stability and even flourish within the Zhao Estate—before meeting a grim end.
“Madam doesn’t like interacting with men,” Steward Wu cautioned as they approached the stairs. “She always speaks from behind a curtain and prefers not to talk more than necessary. Mind your eyes and avoid offending her.”
Zheng Fa nodded silently, following Steward Wu up the stairs.
The second floor was shrouded in layers of curtains, obscuring the interior and leaving only faint silhouettes visible.
At the top of the stairs, a maid greeted them. “Madam requests to see Zheng Fa.”
“And me?” Steward Wu asked hesitantly, watching as Zheng Fa stepped behind the curtain.
“You?” The maid glanced at him. “Are you free enough for this?”
Steward Wu touched his face, a not entirely respectful thought flashing through his mind:
Could it be that Madam’s criteria for meeting people weren’t based on gender, but appearance?
...
After passing through several layers of curtains, Zheng Fa finally took in the room’s layout.
A low couch occupied the inner wall of the room. In the center, two low tables were set up, one of which held two familiar books: Middle School Mathematics and Elementary Mathematics. Beside them was a stack of papers covered in writing.
Next to the table, a woman reclined. Her simple black hairpin held her hair in place, though a few playful strands had slipped down to rest on the wide sleeves of her white robe. The rise and fall of her attire outlined a graceful and voluptuous figure.
Without lifting her head at the sound of his footsteps, the woman gestured to the empty table. “Sit and have some tea.”
Zheng Fa hadn’t expected the Madam to appear so youthful, resembling a woman in her early twenties. He knelt at the table, took a sip from the steaming cup, and pondered the repeated use of the word please along the way—a term that suggested respect for whatever power she assumed backed him.
“How is it?”
“I can’t tell,” Zheng Fa admitted truthfully.
“No matter. I brewed it randomly anyway.”
Finally, the Madam looked up, her face expressionless. She gestured to the two books. “Are these for me?”
“They were first intended for the Young Master, then for you.”
“Does the order matter?”
“It does.”
For the first time, the Madam smiled. “The sentiment is nice, but don’t bother next time.”
Zheng Fa was puzzled.
“They give me a headache,” she said, pinching her temples and casting a disdainful glance at the books.
“Now tell me,” she continued, sipping her tea with a more relaxed demeanor, “why give these to my foolish son?”
After a brief silence, Zheng Fa replied, “I regard the Young Master as a friend.”
Her expression turned cold. “He is the Young Master, and you are a study attendant. What makes you think you can call him a friend? Your so-called Nascent Soul benefactor?”
Oh? So I have a Nascent Soul master behind me now? News to me.
Unfazed by her anger, Zheng Fa persisted. “Though I am but a study attendant, I still consider him a friend.”
“Hah, at least you’re consistent from the start,” she remarked with light sarcasm, though her expression seemed to soften slightly.
Both of them understood the underlying message. Zheng Fa was expressing goodwill toward the Seventh Young Master, a sentiment unaltered by any supposed backing from a powerful figure.
The Madam remained silent for a moment before stating flatly, “I don’t believe you. Even if I did, it wouldn’t suffice.”
Zheng Fa understood her meaning.
She wasn’t just a mother but the Zhao Estate’s true master. She was inherently wary of anything—or anyone—she couldn’t control and would never gamble her son’s safety on sentiment.
“I’ve heard the Zhao Estate has two spots for the Immortal Talent Conference,” Zheng Fa said.
“Oh?”
“May I obtain one of them?”
The Madam straightened slightly, scrutinizing him as if seeing him for the first time.
“You’re clever—truly clever,” she said, clapping lightly. “I never expected someone your age to have such insight.”
Her sharp gaze conveyed her comprehension of his subtext: You’re wary of me, so I’ll show you that I need something from you and the Zhao Estate. You hold leverage over me.
“Well then,” she said with a cutting smile. “Now I truly believe you have a powerful benefactor behind you.”
Zheng Fa blinked in surprise. The Seventh Young Master’s constant assertions about his supposed Nascent Soul protector apparently hadn’t convinced her.
“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” she remarked. “My foolish son believes anything he hears. But in the Xuanyi Realm, countless wonders exist. Who says mastering the Linghe Body must require a Nascent Soul expert’s aid?”
“Couldn’t you simply possess a natural Dao body? Or have stumbled upon an Immortal artifact? Or consumed some rare spiritual fruit?”
Zheng Fa: “...”
The Madam pointed to the stack of papers beside her. “Do you know what these are?”
He shook his head.
“They’re records I’ve gathered about you—from people in your village, the estate, your parents’ friends, and even your first teacher.”
She leafed through the pages. “Five years ago, before your father passed, you were ordinary. Slightly sharp in your studies, but nothing special.”
“After his death, you became reclusive, silent, avoiding social interaction while helping with chores.”
“Oh, one person called you a cunning schemer who flatters the Young Master and will lead him astray. He even outlined a detailed plan for how you’d ruin him. Quite talented in bootlicking... Wang Gui, of course.”
Zheng Fa: “...”
“For someone with no social experience, how do you possess such keen insight into human nature?” She tossed the papers aside. “Constitution, treasures, spiritual fruits—none of these explain your understanding. Either you have past-life wisdom, or someone is guiding you.”
Zheng Fa remained silent.
“But one sentence requesting a spot at the Immortal Talent Conference?” she said firmly. “Not enough.”
Hearing her rejection, Zheng Fa smiled.
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