Dream of the Red Chamber: A Refined and Elegant Young Man in a Turbid World

Feng Ziying and the others, being experts, stepped forward with smiles and took Xue Pan's hands.

"It's just brothers joking around, why take it so seriously?" Saying this, he grabbed Xue Pan's hand and winked at Jia Cong.

Jia Cong understood the situation clearly, so he could only force a smile and step forward.

"It was just playful banter after drinking. I'll punish myself with three drinks!"

Xue Pan, who was initially somewhat sullen, quickly recovered from the teasing and joking of the crowd. Instead, he patted his chest and laughed heartily, "Alright, alright, for the sake of all you brothers, let him off this time!"

After everyone returned to their seats and drank two more cups, Feng Ziying casually approached them.

"May I ask how long you've been practicing martial arts, Brother Cong?"

Jia Cong knew the other party was a skilled martial artist, so he didn't want to hide it and just gave vague answers.

"This kind of rudimentary skill can be mastered in just two or three months."

The fact that Jia Cong was allowed to practice martial arts was common knowledge in both the Rong and Ning mansions. Feng Ziying had probably learned this information from Jia Rong, which is why he only smiled slightly.

"Brother Cong is highly talented, unlike us dullards. His skill is so agile that it seems he has only been practicing for a few months."

Jia Cong knew it was just mutual flattery, so he didn't dare to be proud. He picked up his wine glass and kept his tone humble.

"Brother Feng, you flatter me. I only managed to gain some advantage because my master was willing to give me careful guidance and Brother Xue happened to show mercy today. It's nothing to speak of skill."

Having said that, he drank the wine in his cup in one gulp.

"Brother Feng, you honed your martial arts skills on horseback in your early years. My meager skills are nothing more than showing off my limited abilities in front of you."

Seeing Jia Cong's respectful manner, Feng Ziying refrained from asking further questions and simply raised his wine cup and drank it all in one gulp. He then laughed loudly:

"Brother, your humility makes me seem like I've been too talkative."

Seeing that everyone was getting more and more into the drink, Jia Rong instructed the servants to quickly get the opera singers ready.

Upon receiving the message, the servants led the way with ram's horn lanterns, guiding everyone to the stage in the garden.

The stage was by the water, with crimson silk and gold curtains hanging on all four sides. Several round pear wood tables were set up underneath, with fresh fruits, candied fruits, cold dishes, and hot dishes already laid out on them.

Xue Pan, already flushed from drinking, slammed his hand on the table and shouted, "Let's sing 'Drunkenly Beating the Mountain Gate' first! That reckless monk Lu Zhishen is the real deal!" This drew laughter from the crowd.

The sound of gongs and drums rang out, and a martial arts performer on stage somersaulted onto the stage, drawing cheers from the audience and further fueling the drinking atmosphere.

As the group of noble family disciples were engrossed in their conversation, Jia Cong suddenly felt the urge to urinate. Seeing that no one paid any attention to him, he decided to wander off alone to find a latrine.

He followed the wall to a secluded corner of the garden, and just as he found the outhouse hidden by a clump of banana trees, he heard a very soft rustling of fabric coming from the covered walkway beside him.

Jia Cong looked up and saw Qin Keqing standing there, leaning against a vermilion pillar. Her moon-white silk skirt was damp with night dew, and the silver hairpin with jewels in her hair was slightly loose. Her face looked even paler and more tired than during the day.

He quickly composed himself and stepped aside to avoid it, but unexpectedly, his foot landed on a loose bluestone slab, making a soft sound.

Qin Keqing turned her head at the sound of his voice. When she saw it was him, she was startled at first, but then forced a smile. Her voice was very low, with a hint of panic: "What are you doing here, Uncle Cong?"

Jia Cong bowed slightly, but his gaze swept lightly over her reddened eyes. His tone remained calm, yet held a hint of amusement: "You've had a bit too much to drink, so you came out for some fresh air. Is your wife feeling unwell? Why are you standing here alone on such a chilly night?"

As he spoke, he slowly stepped forward and casually picked up a plain-colored handkerchief that had fallen under the eaves. It was something she had accidentally dropped while wiping her sweat. As he handed it to her, his fingertips brushed against the back of her hand almost imperceptibly.

Qin Keqing trembled, hurriedly withdrew her hand, clenched the handkerchief, lowered her eyes to avoid his gaze, and said in an even softer voice, "Thank you, Third Uncle, I... I was just feeling very stuffy."

The sounds of servants laughing and talking drifted from afar, accompanied by the gongs and drums from the stage, making the corridor seem even quieter.

Jia Cong didn't leave; he just leaned against a pillar, looking at her with a half-smile.

"The frustration in my niece-in-law's heart is something that cannot be resolved by a play."

These words struck a nerve. Qin Keqing looked up at him abruptly, a hint of panic flashing in her eyes, which were then covered by a layer of tears.

The night breeze carried the fragrance of osmanthus blossoms, mingling with her faint, warm scent, making one's heart tighten.

Seeing this, Jia Cong slowly took a step closer, lowered his voice, and said with a hint of enticement, "This garden isn't secluded enough. If you want some fresh air, I'll accompany you."

Before he could finish speaking, Qin Keqing suddenly grabbed his sleeve!

The opera in the distance reached its climax, the deafening gongs and drums drowning out all the noise under the eaves. Jia Cong looked at her reddened eyes, slowly curved his lips into a smile, and gently reached out to support her swaying body.

The banana leaves rustled, blocking out the moonlight in half the corridor. Qin Keqing lowered her head, her steps unsteady, yet she let him lead her. Her skirt swept across the grass, making a soft rustling sound, which intertwined with the singing in the distance, gradually disappearing into the deep night.

Turning past a few old osmanthus trees, you'll find her residence; the door is ajar, which conveniently shuts out the noise from the garden.

Jia Cong pushed open the door, stepped aside to let her in, but kept his hand on hers until he led her into the room, at which point he slowly released his grip.

Qin Keqing sat down, supporting herself on the edge of the bed. She looked down at the dappled light and shadow on the ground, her chest rising and falling slightly, her breathing still a little erratic.

Jia Cong sat down beside her, not too close, but not giving her any room to move away either.

"You don't need to hide your bitterness, niece-in-law. No one will come right now."

Her body trembled, her shoulders shook slightly, and it took her a long time to raise her head. The mist in her eyes had already turned into tears, which slid down her pale cheeks.

Jia Cong raised his hand and gently wiped away the tear stains on her cheek with his fingertips, the action carrying a hint of probing.

Qin Keqing did not flinch. Instead, as if burned by the warmth, she abruptly closed her eyes, and two streams of tears fell even more rapidly.

The opera in the distance had changed its tune at some point, the singing soft and lingering, leaving only a faint sound.

Jia Cong's fingertips slowly descended along her cheek, stopping at her chin. He gently lifted it, forcing her to open her eyes. Their eyes met; in his eyes was undisguised fervor, and in hers was a struggle followed by surrender, a mixture of panic and shyness, which ultimately culminated in a barely audible sigh.

Qin Keqing raised her hand and gently grasped his collar.

"Third...Third Uncle, I'm not clean...The walls in the manor have never been high..."

But Jia Cong was shrewd enough to know that this was not the time to procrastinate. Jia Rong had not yet noticed and was probably drunk. Jia Zhen had not summoned Qin Keqing to talk to him either. It was the perfect opportunity!

Without hesitation, he pinched the other person's delicate chin.

"It's alright, I'll ask the old lady another day to let you help Sister Feng manage that perfume workshop..."

Qin Keqing trembled violently, but then curled up again, only a low sob escaping her throat.