Hearing this, Fu Songcheng raised an eyebrow slightly and turned to look at Yu Huaiting standing at the door.
At this moment, Yu Huaiting was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, trying hard to strike a cold, vigilant pose.
Unfortunately, he hadn’t slept well last night, and had woken up too early this morning. Right now his eyelids were fighting each other uncontrollably.
His head kept nodding down, then jerking awake, only to stubbornly lean back against the wall to look cool again.
The morning light through the window lattice fell on Yu Huaiting’s profile, outlining his high nose bridge and sharp jawline with particular clarity.
Honestly speaking, Yu Huaiting’s face really was impeccable. Even in this state, he still radiated a rugged, unruly handsomeness.
Fu Songcheng silently acknowledged his good looks.
But he immediately snapped back—that wasn’t what he’d meant to think about!
Fu Songcheng withdrew his gaze and turned back to the servant, his tone flat, as if making small talk: “Since the Young Master comes often, you must often be here attending him. I’ve just arrived and don’t know much about the household.”
“Yesterday I heard another family was holding a funeral. Which family was it?”
The servant lowered his head, his voice docile: “In reply to Young Madam, it’s the Lin residence in the east of the city.”
Fu Songcheng narrowed his eyes. “Who died?”
“The Lin family’s eldest daughter.” The servant answered quickly. “They say it was a sudden illness—couldn’t be saved. Old Master Lin was grief-stricken, and who’d have thought it would collide with our Yu family’s happy occasion…”
“Understood.” Fu Songcheng nodded in acknowledgment.
A red affair colliding with a white one—the Yu family’s young master taking a bride, the Lin family’s eldest daughter’s funeral.
There had to be a connection.
He waved a hand to dismiss the servant, then walked to the desk and sat down, spreading the books he’d picked out across the tabletop.
He first opened the thread-bound volumes on feng shui and geomancy.
The pages were yellowed and gave off a musty, stale smell.
He quickly skimmed the contents, focusing on finding information about yin-yang formations, ghost-and-god taboos, and methods for dispelling illusion curses.
Before long, his gaze stopped on a chapter recording the “Soul-Guiding Formation.”
The book said this formation could forcibly detain nearby wandering souls, or draw out spirits of the dead with deep obsessions.
After noting the formation down, he took out that ABC of Communism so out of place among the other books.
Opening the title page and looking at the block-printed characters, Fu Songcheng pondered. This book had been hidden at the very bottom of the shelf.
Against the Republican-era backdrop of the instance, it was clearly a banned book at the time—otherwise it wouldn’t have been hidden.
The Yu family’s young master reading banned books?
Time slipped by, second by second.
The study was very quiet, only the occasional rustle of turning pages. Fu Songcheng naturally wasn’t planning to read the socialist work carefully—his ideology was already quite upright.
But he still flipped through The ABC of Communism many times.
This book was strange. It looked new on the outside, but the main text pages inside were already somewhat wrinkled.
Yu Huaiting, who’d been leaning against the doorframe trying to look cool, had at some point shuffled over to Fu Songcheng’s side.
He first pulled over a chair and sat down beside Fu Songcheng, stared at him for a while, and seeing Fu Songcheng completely absorbed in the book and ignoring him, leaned closer and closer.
Finally, Yu Huaiting simply tilted his head and plopped it heavily onto Fu Songcheng’s shoulder, closing his eyes and starting to doze off with perfect peace of mind.
Fu Songcheng’s shoulder sank from the weight. He frowned slightly and turned to glance at Yu Huaiting, whose breathing against him was gradually evening out.
“Sleeping anywhere and everywhere, even in an instance?”
Fu Songcheng muttered under his breath, but didn’t push him away—just adjusted his sitting posture to bear the weight more steadily, then continued flipping through the book one-handed.
After about half an hour, Fu Songcheng had quickly gone through all the books he’d selected, and several vague threads of clues had already taken shape in his mind.
Just then, footsteps came from outside the door.
“Young Master, Young Madam.”
A young maid stood outside the door and called respectfully, “The Master and Old Madam ask you both to come to the front hall for lunch.”
Fu Songcheng closed the book and raised a hand to pat Yu Huaiting’s cheek. “Wake up, Huaiting.”
Yu Huaiting, disturbed from his sweet dream, frowned in great displeasure and let out an irritable nasal hum.
“Sleepy.” He mumbled, and instead of getting up, he reached out and hugged Fu Songcheng’s waist, burying his face in the hollow of his neck and rubbing against it.
Fu Songcheng gently pushed his head away and stood up to keep Yu Huaiting from clinging further. “Let’s go.”
Yu Huaiting stood up reluctantly and stretched.
Seeing the books Fu Songcheng had been reading on the table, he casually scooped them up into his arms.
The two walked out of the study one after the other and first returned to the bedroom.
Yu Huaiting walked in and casually tossed the stack of books onto the table with a dull thud.
“Why do we have to eat with the NPCs on the very first day of marriage?”
Yu Huaiting turned and headed out.
Fu Songcheng couldn’t help but smile. “Because an ugly daughter-in-law must eventually meet her parents-in-law.”
“Who says?” Yu Huaiting turned back and threw Fu Songcheng a flirtatious wink. “Brother Fu is the prettiest.”
Fu Songcheng let out a soft laugh and followed behind him—but when he reached the table, his footsteps stopped.
He looked at the conspicuous books on the table, especially The ABC of Communism, and somehow felt uneasy.
Fu Songcheng raised a hand and swept all the books on the table into his system backpack.
Only after doing that did he feel a little more at ease, and he caught up with Yu Huaiting’s steps.
The front hall of the main house.
A square table was already laden with a sumptuous lunch.
Old Master Yu and Old Madam Yu sat upright in the seats of honor.
Fu Songcheng and Yu Huaiting entered together.
Both wore the attire commonly worn by youths of the Republican era.
Yu Huaiting was in a well-tailored black stand-collar Zhongshan suit, looking tall and stern; while Fu Songcheng wore a moon-white long gown and a pair of black-rimmed glasses, looking refined and cool.
“Songcheng is here—sit, sit, quickly.”
The moment Old Madam Yu saw Fu Songcheng, her face immediately filled with a kindly smile.
“You two.”
Fu Songcheng followed the etiquette, bowing his head slightly in acknowledgment, then sat down beside Yu Huaiting.
“Good child.” Old Master Yu also stroked his beard and nodded in satisfaction. “Marrying into our Yu family—you’ve been put out. Our two families are well-matched. Your ancestors for several generations were all imperial examination graduates—a true scholarly household, versed in letters and reason. Huaiting, this child, has a wild temperament. You’ll have to bear with him in the future.”
Something stirred slightly in Fu Songcheng’s heart.
An official’s daughter?
Several generations of imperial examination graduates?
Versed in letters and reason?
His identity in the instance was not low.
Well, of course—with the Yu residence’s grand scale, this “Young Madam” of his naturally couldn’t be inferior either.
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