The Overachieving Little Husband of the Top Scholar’s Household - Chapter 94: Proposal

Chapter 94: Proposal

Du Yunse regarded him in silence, his gaze as tranquil and impenetrable as an ancient well untouched by wind.

Li Juren, met with no reply, felt the smile on his face stiffen awkwardly.

Though he had performed well in the provincial examinations, securing the third-highest rank in Liaozhou as Jingkui thanks to his thorough preparation, he could not help but feel apprehensive before the Jieyuan.

After all, becoming Jingkui was already the pinnacle of his aspirations; to attain the title of Jieyuan was beyond his reach, a dream too distant to entertain.

Steeling himself with the reminder that this was his own celebratory banquet, Li Juren tempered his tone with restraint.

“What do you say, Brother Du? Will you stay the night and share a quiet drink with me?”

Wang Yinzhi, inwardly regretting that he had invited Du Yunse to attend, bit his lip and prepared to divert the conversation.

But before he could intervene, Du Yunse unexpectedly reached out and drew the ornamental scholar’s sword from Li Juren’s waist.

Though blunt and ceremonial, the sword’s cold gleam remained intact. Its unsheathing rang out, sharp as the clash of gold and jade, silencing the hall at once.

The flesh on Li Juren’s face twitched involuntarily, sobriety surging through his veins, sweeping away the intoxication that had lingered from his recent triumphs.

“Brother, brother, there’s no need to draw such an inauspicious thing,” he stammered.

Du Yunse studied the blade, his voice calm. “A sword that is never sharpened—how can it be deemed ominous?”

His brows lifted slightly; lashes, long and dark like raven’s feathers, swept upward, flashing with a fierce light.

Then, in one swift motion, the sword fell.

A sharp crack split the air, followed by Li Juren’s startled scream—the long, wide sleeve of his robe had been cleanly sliced off. Despite the blade’s blunt edge, it had torn through silk like paper.

His arm, though unscathed, felt as though it had been severed.

This was no mere scholar—how could a man like this be confined to the scholarly class?

“Even wild geese preserve their chastity and do not consort with sparrows,” Du Yunse declared, voice ringing clear. “Let those present witness this: from this moment on, I sever all ties with you. Should anyone conduct themselves with such dishonor again, their end shall mirror this sleeve.”

He lifted the torn fabric with the sword’s tip, held it aloft for all to see, then flung it, along with the blade, back toward Li Juren.

Without hesitation, he turned and strode out. Wang Yinzhi followed at his side. No one dared rise to stop them.

As they crossed the threshold of the Li household, Wang Yinzhi fell a half-step behind and bowed.

“Brother, I am deeply ashamed that you suffered such affronts because of me.”

Had he not faltered in confidence and asked Du Yunse to accompany him, none of this would have transpired.

Du Yunse shook his head gently.

“The fault lies not with you, but with Li Ruicong. Better to take this opportunity to make restless hearts see the truth, than let them fester and later distress Huanian.”

At the mention of Qiu Huanian, Du Yunse’s stern expression softened, as though descending from storm clouds to sunlight.

Wang Yinzhi sighed. “Despite your youth and acclaim, you have not forsaken your roots. It is truly admirable.”

“At least the banquet was not entirely fruitless,” Wang added, smiling. “I’ve agreed to tutor the Tongzhi family’s eldest son in preparation for next year’s examination—six taels of silver per month. I can finally breathe easier.”

“Congratulations, Brother Wang,” Du Yunse said.

“Once I bring my family to Xiangping Prefecture and settle down, I’ll invite you for a proper drink,” Wang Yinzhi replied with warmth.

…

Du Yunse’s astonishing display at Li Ruicong’s banquet spread through Xiangping within days, eventually reaching Qiu Huanian’s ears.

He heard the tale while inspecting the Qiu family’s Six Staples shop, catching whispers from curious patrons.

Given the high-profile nature of the event—featuring the Jieyuan and the top provincial scorer, with an undercurrent of personal entanglements—it spread like wildfire.

The common folk, ever wary of those who forget their roots after ascending in rank, delighted in Li Ruicong’s public rebuke and applauded Du Yunse’s integrity.

Among the scholarly class, however, opinions were divided.

Some who, like Li Ruicong, had abandoned their wives after achieving success took personal offense at Du Yunse’s actions and nursed a silent resentment. Others, who prided themselves on maneuvering skillfully within bureaucratic circles, dismissed him as impetuous and arrogant.

“Why create such a spectacle among fellow townsmen, all for the sake of an old affection?” they asked. “It’s just youthful pride. In time, he’ll see that taking concubines is tradition, not betrayal.”

“The official world is no place for lone wolves. Offending so many peers at once—Du Jieyuan will come to regret it.”

…

A few days later, a curious gossip dared to question Qiu Huanian about the incident and public sentiment.

Qiu Huanian merely smiled and gestured toward the absence of a sword at the man’s waist.

“Why aren’t you carrying a sword? You came unprepared.”

The man understood instantly, blushing in embarrassment. He offered a few clumsy excuses before fleeing.

Soon, word spread that Qiu Xiangjun and Du Jieyuan were “cut from the same cloth”—both rash, both relying on force to prove their point.

In private, Qiu Huanian complained to Du Yunse, “They’ve wronged me—I’m not that strong,” he said with mock indignation, flexing an arm. “I can’t even cut through paper.”

Du Yunse laughed and took his hand.

“I know. Our Brother Hua is gentle and fair. It’s all just idle talk.”

Pleased, Qiu nodded. “Next time I’ll bring the Fushu Sword Sixteen gave me. If I lack strength, the sword can speak for me. And if they come empty-handed, I’ll lend them mine.”

But Qiu Huanian never had the chance to wield that sword.

Because the next day, an imperial edict arrived in Xiangping Prefecture.

The results of the Liaozhou provincial examination had reached the capital and, after official verification, rewards were dispatched to all successful candidates.

Custom dictated that each scholar receive a black ox-horn scroll bearing the edict, a black robe embroidered with peacocks and trimmed in blue, fifteen mu of land, and tax exemption for fifty mu.

But Du Yunse’s rewards were exceptional.

He was granted an additional fifteen mu of land, and unlike others whose land lay in their hometowns, his was situated in the prized outskirts of the capital.

Even his edict scroll was unique—crafted from gold-leafed paper rather than standard parchment.

Two imperial scrolls reached Du Village—one for Du Yunse, and the other for Qiu Huanian.

The cotton cultivation manual that Qiu had labored over for two years had been submitted and reviewed. The Yuanhua Emperor, thoroughly impressed, ordered the Ministry of Works and the Crown Prince to study it jointly, with plans to implement its techniques across the realm the following year.

Though Qiu’s title did not elevate in rank, he received numerous treasures and an additional honorific: Qi Shu.

From a mere Township Lord, he had risen to Qi Shu Township Lord, a distinction that placed him above peers of equal station and signaled imperial favor.

With the arrival of these two scrolls, the scholars of Xiangping Prefecture were forced to reevaluate Du Yunse.

They recalled how, as a mere scholar, he had executed an imperial order to investigate a corrupt envoy. Now, as a newly minted provincial graduate, he received honors unprecedented for someone of his status.

His husband, too—a commoner who had risen to nobility through agricultural excellence—enjoyed the Emperor’s esteem.

Du Yunse had never walked the same path as the rest.

It was a path beyond their reach, no matter how they tried.

It was no longer Du Yunse who needed to blend into their world—but they who would now seek his favor.

Those who had once judged and mocked him now found themselves hoping their words had not reached his ears.

Far away, in the capital—

Wen Huiyang’s residence had remained sealed for over a year. The modest, single-courtyard house, tucked within the vast city, had grown quiet, its guards idle and listless.

Inside, under the window of the main hall, Wen Huiyang himself, now slightly fuller in face and figure, was diligently compiling historical chronicles.

His confinement had not deprived him of comforts—in fact, his days were leisurely, almost indulgent.

And only a man like Wen Huiyang could turn imperial house arrest into an opportunity to complete a comprehensive history of the realm.

As he laid down the final brushstroke, he cleaned his desk with practiced care and reached for a book published by Qimin Bookstore.

A servant entered, humming softly, to pour tea.

Wen Huiyang raised an eyebrow. “You seem in good spirits of late.”

The servant smiled. “Master once said—once Young Master Yunse reaches the capital for the palace exams, our confinement would be nearing its end.”

“Now that he has passed the provincial examination, doesn’t that mean freedom is close?”

Wen Huiyang chuckled. “Ah, the impatience of youth.”

The servant replied cheekily, “Don’t tell me you don’t want to be free, to see Yunse Gongzi and Township Lord Qi Shu again?”

Wen Huiyang stroked his beard. “What I truly want… is to eat lamb pancakes from the East Market. May Yunse pass quickly.”

After a pause, he asked, “As teacher to Du Yunse, and thus to Township Lord Qi Shu—what gift would be appropriate?”

The servant answered sincerely, “Aside from a calligraphy scroll, Master, I’m afraid you couldn’t afford anything else.”

…

On the eve of the banquet celebrating both Du Yunse’s birthday and his examination success, he invited Qiu Huanian out under the pretext of viewing new garments.

“How do you already know what they look like, yet keep me in the dark?” Qiu asked, growing suspicious.

Du Yunse smiled and took his hand. “We’re almost there, Brother Hua. You’ll understand soon.”

But their destination was no tailor’s shop—it was a small, private courtyard, not far from home.

Crossing the threshold, Qiu Huanian stopped short, stunned.

The courtyard, though modest, had been transformed—red silk draped every surface, and double happiness symbols adorned the walls.

His heart pounded. For a moment, his mind went blank.

“What is this?”

“Come with me,” Du Yunse said.

He closed the gate and led Qiu along a red-silk path into the main hall.

The autumn breeze stirred the silks, and for a moment the world blurred before Qiu’s eyes.

The door stood open. Within, the chamber had been adorned with festive care. At its center stood a rack bearing ceremonial wedding garments—the deep green and crimson robes befitting a Township Lord, complete with phoenix crown and accessories.

Qiu blinked, disbelieving.

After a long pause, he found his voice.

“You planned all this? You said it was just a birthday banquet—but this is—”

“It is our wedding banquet.”

Du Yunse led him to the garments, eyes locked with his.

“From the very beginning, we were bound by fate—love at first sight, and affection only deepening over time.”

“May we remain each other’s perfect match, hearts intertwined, never to part.”

“Tomorrow is an auspicious day. I ask Huanian to become my husband, to walk with me in life and death, forever united.”