This son-in-law is wicked in a good way!

Lu Qingyin's boudoir.

As her daughter's condition improved, Mrs. Lu was filled with mixed emotions.

In just a short while, Lu Qingyin was already able to get out of bed and walk.

"Mother, who cured my illness?"

Madam Lu laughed and said, "Who else could it be but Physician Hu!"

Lu Qingyin's exquisitely beautiful face was filled with doubt: "He treated me for over ten years without success, how come he suddenly cured me today?"

Madam Lu didn't know how to answer: "Perhaps it was Heaven's mercy, and the 'joyful reunion' worked."

Although Lu Qingyin still had some doubts, she was already seven-tenths convinced.

"Mother, where are the flowers in my room?"

Madam Lu said angrily, "Doctor Hu said that your illness was caused by those flowers. He also instructed that you must not go near flowers anymore."

"Mother, please don't be angry. I will never touch those flowers again."

The thought of all those years she had been tormented by illness filled Lu Qingyin with fear.

"Oh, right, Physician Hu also said that the windows should be opened for one hour every day from now on."

"Yes, daughter, I've got it."

"You rest first, your father and I are going to take care of some things." Seeing that her daughter was alright, Madam Lu gave Lu Chongyang a wink and they left together.

Lu Chongyang's study.

Madam Lu frowned and said, "Judging from our daughter's condition, it seems that the boy has really cured her."

"But do we really want to marry a good-for-nothing who just got out of prison?"

"I heard that kid has severed ties with the Zhang family."

"With Qingyin's looks and qualities, what kind of son-in-law couldn't she find in the future?"

Lu Chongyang raised his thick eyebrows slightly: "I've investigated. This kid went to jail for taking the blame for his older brother."

"Based on this alone, he's far superior to the Zhang family's sons in terms of character. Moreover, he's a coward, so he won't cause any trouble in the future."

Madam Lu said with displeasure, "You don't really want him to marry into the family, do you?"

"I will never agree to this."

Lu Chongyang shook his head: "Madam has misunderstood."

"What I mean is to let him stay in our house for now, just like hiring another servant. Once we find a more suitable candidate, we'll find an excuse to get rid of him."

"Besides, we don't even know if Qingyin's illness has been completely cured. What if we send him away now and Qingyin has another attack?"

Madam Lu then smiled and said, "My lord is very thoughtful. I was wrong to misunderstand you."

Zhang Ping'an left the Prime Minister's residence and faced the capital of the Great Wu Dynasty.

Her Majesty the current Empress is wise and appoints people based on merit, resulting in significant improvements in both the administration and the economy and culture of the Great Wu Dynasty.

Everywhere you look, vendors and laborers are full of energy, while scholars and literati are calm and composed—a scene of bustling prosperity.

Because the empress was a great lover of poetry, the literary atmosphere in the capital flourished, and talented men and women followed suit.

I've heard that the current Empress's close advisor, Miss Mo, was chosen by Her Majesty precisely because she is renowned for her mastery of both the zither and poetry.

A masterpiece is often worth a fortune.

Zhang Ping'an immediately thought of a way to make quick money.

The money spent on learning newspapers, school uniforms, and extended classes during the nine years of compulsory education has finally paid off.

Zhuque Avenue, Wenxin Tower.

This place is known among scholars as the center for poetry and cultural exchange in the entire capital city of Dawu.

A handsome young man in white robes, holding a folding fan, stood at the door with a page in blue robes, gently shaking his head.

"What kind of poetry and cultural exchange center is this, the Great Wu Capital? It's all hype! It doesn't even have a single decent poem."

"Young master, are you interested in buying poems?"

After making some inquiries, Zhang Ping'an arrived at Wenxin Tower. He first observed the young man at the entrance for a while, then identified him as a gentleman with skin even fairer than a woman's.

He was wearing the finest Shu brocade, and his hands were fair and delicate, clearly indicating that he was used to a life of luxury.

Even the young page in blue robes following him was fair-skinned and delicate. Such a person must be either blessed with good fortune or noble status, and he had little social experience, making him the easiest to fool.

The young man in white turned around and looked Zhang Ping'an up and down. Seeing that he was only seventeen or eighteen years old, he immediately felt contempt.

"I won't buy it."

The ability to write poetry and prose is directly proportional to age; this is a consensus among almost all scholars in the Great Wu Dynasty.

How could someone so young possibly produce any good poetry?

Besides, truly talented people all go to Wenxinlou to sell their poems; only those without ability would sit around waiting to be taken advantage of.

It was obvious that this young man had taken advantage of him.

Zhang Ping'an had already known it wouldn't go so smoothly, so he smiled awkwardly but wasn't discouraged and continued, "I heard your complaints earlier, young master."

"I know that you are a truly talented person, and the poems of those people above are simply not worthy of your attention."

"However, I can assure you that if my poems do not satisfy you, I will not charge you a single penny."

"Oh?" The young man in white became interested, raised his crescent-shaped eyebrows, and looked at him suspiciously.

"really?"

"really."

Just then, a gust of wind swept by, blowing the three of them through their long hair.

The young man in white had a sudden inspiration and said, "Write a poem with the theme of wind, but the word 'wind' cannot appear in the entire poem."

Behind him, the young page in blue robes was slightly startled and whispered, "Your Majesty...Young Master, isn't this too difficult?"

The young man in white also felt that this test was a bit difficult, and said with a smile, "Then let's remove the restrictions at the end and compose a poem on the theme of wind."

Zhang Ping'an smiled slightly: "No need, I've already prepared it."

The young man in white was slightly surprised: "So fast! Read it aloud."

She didn't have high hopes; after all, how good could a poem written in such a short time be?

Zhang Ping'an gathered his emotions and immediately began to recite:

"The leaves fall in late autumn,"

It can bloom in February.

Three feet of waves across the river

"Ten thousand bamboo stalks lean."

After the recitation was finished, the young man in white was still in a daze.

A few seconds later, he slammed his folding fan down and exclaimed in surprise.

"What a beautiful poem!"

"The entire poem contains not a single word for wind, yet it is entirely about wind."

The young man in white looked Zhang Ping'an over carefully again, wondering: Could this really be a poem written in less than a minute?

The young page in blue behind him also looked surprised and quietly re-examined Zhang Ping'an.

Although this poem wasn't particularly brilliant—many people in the Great Wu Dynasty could have written one—the difficulty lay in the fact that the other person composed it in less than a minute.

If one is not prepared in advance, then one must be a genius with a constant flow of inspiration!

"I'll buy this poem, young master. Tell me, how much silver?" The young man in white was clearly satisfied, and his gaze towards Zhang Ping'an showed more interest.

Zhang Ping'an, unaware of the market situation, grinned sheepishly and tentatively extended one finger.

The young man in white nodded: "One hundred taels of silver is reasonable."

Zhang Ping'an was overjoyed.

He meant to say one ounce!

Rich, absolutely rich!

"Xiaoyu, pay up." The young man in white waved his folding fan and said magnanimously.

The pageboy in green tossed Zhang Ping'an a money pouch, which even carried a faint fragrance.

"Tap a little."

Zhang Ping'an simply tucked it into his sleeve: "No need. With your character, young master, you certainly won't skimp on the money."

The young man in white smiled slightly: "You certainly know how to talk."

"By the way, do you have any better poems?"

"Of course there is. That song was just an appetizer; the real main course is here."

Zhang Ping'an pointed to his head and laughed.