Becoming a literary master starting from the story of Minglan

Chapter 524 Thinking of an Idea

……

After a tasteless lunch at the Sheng family's house, the male guests in the front yard dispersed. Originally, Liang Han and his wife were preparing to leave together, but Yuan Wenshao suddenly grabbed Liang Han warmly, not letting him go.

"Fourth brother-in-law, wait a moment."

Yuan Wenshao held Liang Han with one hand and Sheng Changquan with the other. He turned to Sheng Changquan with an unprecedented warmth on his face: "I didn't get to have a proper chat with Seventh Brother in the front hall just now."

"I've heard that my father-in-law has recently acquired a painting from the previous dynasty called 'Autumn Evening in the Mountains.' Its brushwork is exquisite and its artistic conception is profound. How about we go to the outer study to appreciate it together? I imagine my fourth brother-in-law is also there. It would be a good opportunity for us brothers to get to know each other better."

These are well-spoken words, but it's clear to everyone that Yuan Wenshao is trying to use the guise of appreciating paintings to bring Liang Han closer to Sheng Changquan, the current key figure and a man with a promising future.

Yuan Wenshao's move was both a gesture of goodwill and an attempt to firmly tie the Yongchang Earl's Mansion to the Sheng family's soon-to-be-launched ship, achieving two goals at once.

Liang Han was quick-witted and immediately understood. He put on a flattered smile and said, "Brother-in-law, how could I refuse your kindness? Besides, I have long wanted to ask my seventh brother for advice on literature and scholarship, but I was afraid of disturbing his preparation for the imperial examination."

"Today is perfect, let's go together!"

He was eager for this opportunity, so naturally he wouldn't refuse.

So the two of them, hand in hand, dragging along the somewhat helpless Sheng Changquan, headed towards Sheng Hong's outer study with smiles on their faces, leaving their respective female relatives in the backyard for the time being.

……

In the backyard, the laughter and chatter from Shou'an Hall, seen through the open windows, felt like countless fine needles, constantly piercing Mo Lan's heart.

Hua Lan chatted and laughed with her stepmother and grandmother, Ru Lan and Hai Chaoyun talked and laughed in hushed tones, and even Ming Lan quietly played with the child, creating a harmonious and joyful atmosphere.

Only she, Sheng Molan, was like a complete outsider, excluded from this warmth and glory. The merciless rebuke from Madam Wang before the meal still echoed in her ears, making her cheeks burn and her restless.

The feeling of being isolated, looked down upon, and humiliated gnawed at her heart like poisonous insects. She could no longer bear the suffocating atmosphere. She forced a smile, made up an excuse that she had "drunk a bit too much and felt a little dizzy, so she wanted to go to the garden for some fresh air," and practically fled from Shou'an Hall.

The warm afternoon sun of spring shines down on you, and the garden is full of blooming flowers, bees and butterflies flutter about, a scene brimming with life.

The servants moved about, their faces beaming with pride, and they kept referring to him as "Seventh Young Master" and "Master Huiyuan" in their conversations.

All of this, however, only irritated Mo Lan. The glory and celebration of the entire mansion had nothing to do with her; instead, it only highlighted her desolation and humiliation.

"Why...why do they get all the benefits..."

Mo Lan twisted the handkerchief in her hands, her fingernails almost tearing the fine silk.

She thought of Lin Qinshuang still suffering in that impoverished estate, of her own unsatisfactory situation in the Yongchang Marquis's mansion, and of Liang Han's complete forgetfulness of his wife, who was only concerned with currying favor with Sheng Changquan...

A strong sense of resentment and an anxious urge to grasp at a straw almost consumed her.

"No, I can't let this go! I must rescue the young lady!" she thought to herself.

Suddenly, a figure flashed through her mind—her older brother, Sheng Changfeng. "That's right! And my third brother too!" Mo Lan's eyes lit up, as if she had grasped the last piece of driftwood. "Although...although my third brother injured his hand because of what happened last time, he might be a little resentful."

"But so much time has passed, even the deepest resentment should have subsided by now. Besides, that woman is his biological mother!"

"Parents are never wrong, so how can he hold a grudge? As long as I talk to him nicely, appealing to his emotions and reasoning with him, he's smart enough to understand that only when his mother comes back will the three of us have a pillar of support and hope to establish ourselves in the mansion!"

Mo Lan selfishly thought, completely immersed in her own logic.

She intentionally or unintentionally ignored the cruel fact that Sheng Changfeng's right hand was crippled and his path to the imperial examinations was completely cut off. To her, it was just an "injury" and "some resentment," a "minor setback" that could be diluted by time and resolved by family affection.

After all, she wasn't the one who got hurt, nor was she the one whose future was ruined.

She spoke without understanding the situation, assuming that Sheng Changfeng should overcome his psychological barriers and put aside personal grudges for the sake of the "bigger picture."

With this thought in mind, Mo Lan suddenly felt she had a direction; she had to go and discuss it with Sheng Changfeng.

After all, they are blood-related siblings, and they are the people most deeply affected by the Lin Qinshuang incident.

perhaps……

Perhaps Father might still have a shred of pity for Third Brother because of his injured hand? Perhaps Third Brother could come up with a good solution?

Clinging to this last sliver of hope, even a self-deceptive one, Mo Lan dismissed the maid who was following her, saying she wanted to be alone. Then, with hurried steps, yet tinged with hesitation and barely perceptible timidity, she headed toward the most secluded and remote courtyard in the Sheng mansion.

That place has now become a almost forgotten corner.

The closer you get, the more distant the surrounding festive noise becomes.

The courtyard gate was ajar, and the dilapidated wooden door creaked as if in lament.

The courtyard was quiet, exuding a deep-seated desolation; even the most active birds of spring seemed unwilling to linger there.

Sunlight filtered through the sparse branches and leaves, casting dappled and desolate shadows on the ground.

Mo Lan pushed open the courtyard gate and saw Sheng Changfeng sitting alone on the old bamboo chair under the eaves, his figure so thin that he looked as if a gust of wind could blow him away.

He held a book with worn edges in his hand, but his eyes were empty and unfocused, lying on the twisted branches of the half-withered old pomegranate tree in the yard, as if he were looking at it, yet as if he saw nothing at all.

Sheng Changfeng wore a slightly worn, plain gray straight-cut shirt, which had faded a bit from washing, making his complexion appear even more sallow and haggard. His eyes were covered in thick, dark circles, and the stubble on his chin was unkempt and looked messy.

Compared to the vibrant energy that permeated the mansion, he exuded a somber, disheartened aura, as if his soul had been emptied, leaving him as nothing more than a walking corpse.

What was particularly jarring was his hands resting on his knees.

The left hand was normal, but the right hand—the right hand that should have been holding a pen and writing, expressing its talents—was now slightly curled at an unnatural angle, the knuckles looked a little stiff, and even a slight, uncontrollable tremor could be seen.

That was the permanent mark left by that "accident," a silent yet incredibly cruel declaration—the imperial examinations were hopeless, and the path to officialdom was over.