Chapter Ninety-Eight: Nowhere to Hide

Liu Qin let out a sigh. Since Cui Liu did not wish to marry, then so be it. Perhaps in a couple of years, she would come around, the feelings would have faded, and then it would be time to find a more suitable match for her. After all, they had shared this journey together, and Liu Qin always hoped that Cui Liu could find a good home and live happily.

After such an upheaval, it was inevitable that none of them slept well that night. Although Liu Qin did not toss and turn, she lay awake for a long time, unable to close her eyes, her heart heavy. The thought of her teacher—such a clear and refined figure, as bright as a breeze or moonlight—embroiled in a romance with his student made her jaw ache with the absurdity of it all.

But that was not the crux of the matter. The true issue was that she herself had been the unwitting instigator of this teacher-student affair. If she hadn’t arranged for Cui Liu and Cui Yu to study together, Cui Liu would never have met the teacher. If she hadn’t tried to bring Cui Liu and Lei Hu together, Cui Liu wouldn’t have been sent so frequently to deliver things. If she hadn’t been willfully blind to it all, how else would the two of them have had so many opportunities for private contact?

Alas, though she had lived again for six years, she had never truly blended into the rhythms of life here, always relying on the habits and standards of her previous existence. There was nothing inherently wrong with freedom of marriage, but in a world where people lacked personal and physical freedom, insisting on liberty in marriage alone was bound to court trouble.

If Cui Liu had not received her encouragement, had not developed the idea of making her own choices, would she have resigned herself to the household’s arrangements and perhaps been more at peace—even if not happier? And if Liu Qin herself had not clung so stubbornly to the belief that she must not break up another’s family or become a concubine, but had instead followed local custom and acquiesced to Cui Liu’s wishes, would that not have resulted in a happy ending for all?

But what was the use of such speculation? Turning a blind eye was not something she couldn’t do, but rather something she was unwilling to do. Since this ill-fated connection had been inadvertently caused by her, it was hers to sever.

The next day, all three of them bore red, swollen eyes. Liu Qin did not mention forbidding the two from attending their lessons, but everyone tacitly agreed to have the little maid in the courtyard carry the basket of school supplies, escorting Liu Qin to the front hall.

In class, Master Zhou’s tone remained gentle, his bearing calm. Yet Liu Qin sensed something was off; the teacher’s gaze lingered a little too long on the empty seat in the last row.

After class was dismissed, Master Zhou did not leave directly as he usually did, but instead lingered at his desk, slowly tidying up his brushes, ink, paper, and inkstone.

Liu Qin leaned in and whispered a word to Jiang Li, who nodded, bid the teacher farewell, and led the others out. Xiao Wu, understanding Liu Qin’s intention, also rose and left.

Liu Qin hurried to Master Zhou’s side and scrutinized him up close. From appearance alone, the teacher was indeed quite attractive: fair-faced, refined, and especially touched by a scholarly elegance that could easily move a person’s heart.

Alas, it was no wonder Cui Liu fell for him. If she herself were at the age of first awakening to love, she too might have found herself helplessly drawn to such a man.

Master Zhou, feeling the intense gaze of his young student, could not help but blush slightly despite her youth. He shifted, coughed, and finally asked, “Young miss, is there something you need?”

“It’s nothing much,” Liu Qin replied. “I just wanted to let you know that Cui Liu and Cui Yu will no longer be attending your lessons.”

As she spoke, Liu Qin fixed her eyes on Master Zhou, seeking any sign of unrest in his.

“They won’t be coming?” Master Zhou’s hand, busy with the books, paused for a heartbeat before he nonchalantly picked up a brush. “I understand.”

He did not ask why. His lowered lashes shielded his eyes from Liu Qin’s scrutiny. He seemed about to write something, but changed his mind, setting the brush down again. After a moment of silent reflection, he looked up, his eyes clear, his voice gentle. “Is there anything else, miss?”

“Teacher, do you miss your wife and children?”

Master Zhou smiled faintly. “Of course.”

“Since you do, then bring them here.”

“Bring them?”

“Yes. There’s more than enough room in the estate. If your wife and children come, your family would be reunited. Wouldn’t that be wonderful? And you’ll have someone to care for you.”

“But…”

“Don’t you want your wife to come?”

“It’s not that—I just don’t wish to trouble your household any further.”

“How could it be any trouble? If your wife is here, others will have no reason to get ideas.”

Liu Qin suddenly clapped a hand to her mouth. How had she let that slip?

Master Zhou’s face flushed a deep red at her words, his embarrassment plain. He had already begun to suspect Liu Qin had noticed something; now it was clear as day. She was warning him, if not outright admonishing him.

He had always thought himself blameless, having done nothing improper, but faced with Liu Qin’s clear, mirror-bright eyes, all those indistinct feelings he could not quite name now seemed sordid. If the ground had opened beneath his feet, he would have gladly vanished into it.

He had often pondered his feelings for Cui Liu. After all, who among us is made of wood or stone? If, at first, he had regarded her as just another student, fulfilling his duty as a teacher, over time her gentle consideration seeped into his heart, drop by drop, wearing away his defenses.

Sometimes as he read, as he wrote, even as he prepared for sleep, that shy, softly smiling figure would drift across his mind, always watching him with timidity and longing.

She would bring him food and drink, offer him a bowl of sober-up soup after he’d had a bit too much, or brew a medicine when he was ill—always saying it was at the young mistress’s behest.

But he knew, these were her own hands’ work.

Later, when his clothes grew worn, they would be quietly mended. When his shoes were old, a new pair would appear by the window…

He knew full well these were not the young mistress’s orders, yet he could neither harden his heart to refuse nor bear to reject them. He simply lied to himself, claiming it was all the young mistress’s filial regard for her teacher.

That pair of shoes, he had caressed for a long time. Even in the dim lamplight, the fine, even stitches were visible, the thick soles, the blue satin uppers—solid and exquisite. When he slipped them on, they fit perfectly, neither pinching nor leaving any gap.

Looking at those shoes, his eyes had grown misty. He could almost see a good girl, sitting by lamplight, out of sight of others, stitching each seam with a sweet, contented smile.

Who, when cherished and cared for so attentively, could fail to be moved? He was no sage, nor was he a paragon of virtue unmoved by temptation. Yet he dared not admit his feelings for her, let alone face them, much less contemplate any future together. The thought of taking both a beautiful wife and a favored concubine was more than he could dare to dream.

“Teacher, what kind of person is your wife?”

The delicate voice of a child broke the heavy silence in the room.

His wife? What kind of person was she?

She was the one who insisted on marrying him even at his lowest, most wretched moment.

She was the one who kept her faith in him when others mocked and scorned.

She was the one who toiled in the fields so he could study and write indoors.

She was the one who bore his children, suffered countless hardships, and yet smiled, never once regretting her choice.

His wife had done so much for him. He had once promised never to let her down—yet what had he done?

In that instant, Master Zhou suddenly came to his senses, overwhelmed with shame and self-reproach.

Fortunately, things had not gone beyond the point of no return. Thankfully, his student’s timely intervention, though embarrassing, had served its purpose.

“My wife is the best person in the world,” he said quietly.

As he spoke, his heart settled. It was time to bring Xuanrong to his side, and their children, Zhi and Mei as well. At the thought of his wife and children, a happy smile bloomed on Master Zhou’s face.