Dream of the Red Chamber: Madam, please have some self-respect!

The twelfth lunar month is already halfway over, and the cold wind is becoming increasingly fierce, whipping up the remaining snow and rustling against the windowpane.

Jia Yun, in the Iron Threshold Temple, was bent over his desk, his fingertips already numb from the cold, and the frostbite on his joints was faintly turning purplish-red.

He carefully copied the last line of scripture before putting down his pen and letting out a long breath of white air.

Looking at the neatly written copy of the Tao Te Ching before him, a book that embodied nearly seven days of effort and dedication, Jia Yun's thin face finally revealed a barely perceptible hint of relief.

The next morning, before dawn, he asked the temple for leave. He carefully wrapped the stack of scriptures and some ingenious diagrams drawn based on his memories of his previous life in a blue cloth bundle, and once again took a carriage into the city.

Inside Jigu Zhai, the charcoal fire was warm and inviting, creating a world apart from the icy, snowy landscape outside. Jia Yun waited for about an hour before Manager Li, who had previously visited the west corridor, finally arrived.

Manager Li examined the scriptures and paintings, a hint of undisguised admiration flashing in his eyes. After carefully putting them away, he did not settle the payment on the spot, but simply said, "Young Master will know the answer after examining them. Yun-ge'er, you've worked hard."

Jia Yun knew that there were certain rules and methods to getting in touch with such important people, so he didn't say much and simply bowed and took his leave.

It was still early when he came out of Jigu Temple. He had taken extra leave this time and it was inconvenient for him to stay at the West Corridor of Rongguo Mansion, so he needed to rush back to the temple that day.

Although Jia Yun had not yet received the generous reward he had expected, he touched the few strings of copper coins that Feng Jie had given him and that he had saved up over the years, and then turned and headed towards the clothing shop in the market.

He carefully selected three thick cotton-padded coats: one navy blue, made of the thickest and most durable material, for Old Man Zhou; one lotus-root pink, with an elegant and simple pattern, for Wan Yan; and the last one was a bright and playful pale yellow, as if he could already see Yingluo wearing it, like a splash of bright spring color suddenly leaping out of this dreary winter.

In this time of year when rice and firewood are scarce, a new cotton-padded coat is no small matter; it could be pawned for a few coins to tide one over. Jia Yun's act cost a considerable sum, but it was a token of his goodwill.

When he returned to the Sanqing Temple carrying the three cotton-padded coats, it was already afternoon. The Zhou father and daughter were both surprised to see him return with these items in his arms.

"Master, Eldest Sister, Junior Sister," Jia Yun said with a smile, presenting each of them with a cotton-padded coat. "With the end of the year approaching and the weather freezing cold, please do not refuse this small token of my appreciation."

Old Zhou took the dark blue cotton-padded jacket, his rough hands stroking the fine stitches. A hint of emotion flashed in his eyes, but he laughed and scolded, "You little monkey! You only earned a few copper coins for copying books, and you're already so extravagant! We martial artists have our bodies forged like burning coals; how can we be so delicate?"

Even so, he happily changed into it on the spot, and the size actually fit quite well.

Yingluo was overjoyed to receive the pale yellow jacket, and immediately put it on and twirled around. The flowing fabric made her small face appear even more radiant.

"Junior brother! You have such good taste! Am I pretty?"

The pale yellow brocade reflected the warm winter sun, and a circle of jade-colored rabbit fur around the neckline gently supported her hibiscus-like face. The waist was cut just right, making her figure appear even more slender.

She was already as beautiful as a peach blossom in March, and now, set against this bright color, she looked like snow reflecting the morning glow, even making the old plum tree in the courtyard lose its color.

A gentle breeze blew by, causing her skirt to flutter lightly, and it seemed as if shimmering light was floating between her sleeves. It was truly a scene that could be described as "If not seen on the Jade Mountain, then met under the moon on the Jade Terrace."

Jia Yun was stunned for a moment, feeling that the person in front of him was even more beautiful than Diao Chan in the play he had seen at the Rongguo Mansion's birthday banquet.

He recalled Zhang Sheng's initial encounter with Cui Yingying in "The Romance of the Western Chamber," where he was "dazzled and speechless," realizing that such a feeling was indeed real.

"It looks beautiful," Jia Yun finally snapped out of her daze, her ears burning, and quickly said, "Senior Sister, you're dressed very well."

Realizing his words were too simplistic, he added, "It looks like it was made especially for my senior sister."

Wanyan took the lotus-colored cotton-padded jacket, thanked him softly, and her gaze lingered briefly on his face before falling back down.

Old Man Zhou, unusually serious, beckoned to Jia Yun: "Yun-ge'er, come here."

Jia Yun stepped forward as instructed.

Old Zhou reached out and pinched his arm and shoulder blade, his face showing a complex expression of surprise and relief.

"You lad... you're truly an anomaly! For an ordinary person, honing their physical foundation takes at least six months to a year before they can even begin to grasp the basics, lest they damage their vital energy. But you, in less than a month, your physical strength and blood circulation have already barely reached the required level! If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I would never have believed it! Such talent is truly one in ten thousand!"

Jia Yun knew this was mostly due to her "rapid recovery" constitution, but she smiled and said, "Master, why are you praising me so suddenly? Could it be because I gave you this new cotton-padded jacket?"

Old Man Zhou was taken aback at first, then laughed and scolded, "You little rascal! How dare you make fun of your master! Take this!"

He gestured as if to strike, but Jia Yun had anticipated this. He laughed and nimbly slid backward like a fish, easily dodging the attack. He pleaded, "Master, please calm down! Your disciple knows his mistake!"

That agile and nimble skill—where is the boy from a month ago who couldn't even stand firmly in a horse stance?

Seeing how well he dodged, Old Man Zhou's admiration deepened. He laughed and scolded, "Go back to your monastery! Come back tomorrow, and I'll teach you a powerful set of spear and fist techniques! So you won't accuse me of holding back!"

After the laughter subsided, Old Man Zhou's expression turned serious, and he shared some family secrets with him. It turned out that Zhou's ancestor was Zhou Tong, a famous martial arts master during the Song Dynasty.

At first, Jia Yun was still skeptical, but when he saw Old Man Zhou holding up the blunt fire stick with one hand and using a series of "Pear Blossom Spear" techniques with great force, he was surprised.

But the sticks flashed like falling petals, and the final move, the Returning Spear, though without a spearhead, pierced a deep pit in the rammed earth wall with a "thud," proving that what he said was true.

From then on, Jia Yun felt even more awe and became more diligent in his cultivation. His "rapid recovery" physique allowed him to progress at an astonishing speed.

Meanwhile, inside the Xuqin Palace behind the Ciqing Palace in the Forbidden City, a completely different scene unfolded.

Although it is nearing the end of the year, glass lanterns have already been hung under the eaves of the Forbidden City, illuminating the carved beams and painted rafters with dazzling light.

The incense burner was warm and cozy, and the smoke from it was filled with the imperial ambergris, creating a scene that seemed like a world apart from the harsh, cold world outside the window.

The young Prince Xin, Chen Jian, leaned casually on a short sandalwood couch inlaid with mother-of-pearl, dressed in a simple dark blue crepe robe with cloud patterns, looking quite relaxed.

He held a warm and smooth mutton-fat jade ruyi in his hand, but his gaze fell on a few blooming red plum trees outside the window, his thoughts drifting away.

Chen Jiansheng was by nature averse to fighting and had a very indifferent attitude towards matters of power.

His elder brother, the Emperor, treated him with great kindness and generosity, showering him with gifts and favors. He was deeply grateful and only wished for his brother's good health and smooth sailing in all things. He himself would live a life of leisure, enjoying the pleasures of life, which would be the greatest joy in his life.

However… Chen Jian gently stroked the jade ruyi, his brows furrowing almost imperceptibly.

Recently, however, there have been some discordant notes in the government.

Led by several censors from the Censorate, they submitted a series of memorials, stating that "the prince is getting old and should go to his fiefdom to consolidate the foundation of the country."

But I'm not married yet. Aren't these people being a little too impatient?

Although his elder brother kept the matter secret and comforted him gently when he summoned him in private, saying, "My brother and I are very close, so don't worry about outside gossip," such actions still made him feel somewhat annoyed.

He had no interest in power or position, and even less desire to leave the capital city where he had grown up for that unfamiliar fiefdom. Chen Jian knew that behind these civil officials was the shadow of the Nine Thousand Years Old.

Because Wei Zhongxian always felt that he was a thorn in his side.

But his elder brother was the crown prince, and he had no reason to take that position. Chen Jian didn't know where the other party's fear came from.

Is a sudden disaster about to strike?

His mother was also worried about him traveling far away. Some time ago, when she inquired about his well-being, she mentioned that she wanted to choose a princess for him, hoping that he could get married as soon as possible and settle down, thus eliminating any grounds for gossip.

Thinking about the selection of concubines, Chen Jian felt even more helpless.

According to ancestral custom, princes usually choose women from humble backgrounds and with good character to avoid trouble from maternal relatives. He was not particular about appearance or social status, but the thought of spending his life with a woman who knew nothing of temperament or interests made him feel disinterested.

All Chen Jian sought was a true confidant. But in this vast sea of ​​people, to whom could he confide such thoughts?