TSWPF -Chapter 229 Sorrow

The old man glanced sideways at Liu Zhimou and smiled warmly. “No wonder Mr. Luo treats you differently at first sight. So there’s such a connection.” He had suspected it all along—how could Mr. Luo have been so easy to talk to otherwise?

The reason was this…

“Grandfather, you make it sound like Zhimou only got Mr. Luo’s attention because of his father’s connections. If Zhimou had no real ability, I’m afraid Mr. Luo wouldn’t look at him differently either.” Li Qingling quickly spoke up to comfort Liu Zhimou, fearing he might feel bad.

As she said this, she shot the old man a sharp glance, warning him to watch his words and not let anything slip.

The old man noticed the glare and snorted. If Liu Zhimou were that fragile, why would he even bother taking the imperial exams? Better to go back to Niutou Village and farm.

This girl worries too much.

Liu Zhimou reached out and patted Li Qingling’s hand, signaling her not to get worked up. He hadn’t taken it personally; in his heart, his father really was far more capable than him.

That was a fact he couldn’t dispute.

But he wasn’t weak either; he wouldn’t belittle himself over this.

“I can guarantee it: if it weren’t for Young Master Liu, Mr. Luo wouldn’t have lightly commented on Zhimou’s writing, nor would he have willingly told him to come tomorrow.” The old man glanced at Li Qingling. No matter how much she glared, he wouldn’t take back his words. “Even if your eyes pop out, it won’t stop me from speaking the truth.”

Girls are so outspoken—he’d just have to get used to it.

“Yes, Grandpa is right. If it weren’t for my father, it would probably have been difficult just to meet Mr. Luo once,” Liu Zhimou said with a calm smile, accepting the old man’s words. “Anyway, this counts as a slight advantage over others, allowing Mr. Luo to treat me differently.”

Luck is also a kind of strength—he would never deny that.

A gentleman is straightforward. He saw no reason to hide anything.

If others envied him and made snide remarks, it was only because they didn’t have such a formidable father.

Seeing Liu Zhimou unaffected and still composed, the old man felt relieved. This kind of breadth of mind is what great men possess.

He turned to Li Qingling and widened his eyes at her. “You should learn from Zhimou. Don’t fuss over such small things.”

“Yes, I understand. I’ll change,” Li Qingling quickly admitted, leaving the old man momentarily speechless. How could he scold her when she apologized so fast?

“Correct mistakes when you make them, and nothing more need be said,” he finally said dryly.

Liu Zhimou smiled faintly and squeezed Li Qingling’s hand. This little girl had outmaneuvered the old man, leaving him speechless.

Li Qingling looked at Liu Zhimou, playfully winking at him. Having known the old man for so long, she understood him well. She had quickly admitted her mistake just to stop him from nagging.

See? She admitted it so fast, and now the old man can’t argue.

Her quick apology made her quietly amused.

Unaware of the little schemes in Li Qingling’s mind, the old man explained some matters of the imperial court to Liu Zhimou to help him get familiar with the city and its politics.

These matters were important, and Liu Zhimou listened carefully. Whenever he had a question, he waited until the old man finished explaining before asking, stopping only when his doubts were clarified.

Even Li Qingling listened attentively. Though she wouldn’t take the imperial exams, understanding these things could benefit her too.

For example, if someone tried to trick her into attending a date or event, knowing these connections could help her navigate it.

As the saying goes, how wives get along can influence how their husbands interact.

She could not hold Liu Zhimou back. Whatever she needed to learn, she had to learn seriously, so he could focus on managing his affairs without worries.

Only when both the front and back of the household were in order could their home be secure.

The next day, after breakfast, Liu Zhimou went alone to Mr. Luo’s residence.

Mr. Luo was sitting in a pavilion, playing a game of chess with himself. Dressed in white robes, he exuded the refined elegance of a scholar.

When the servant informed him that Liu Zhimou had arrived, he waved his hand, signaling for Liu Zhimou to be brought over.

As Liu Zhimou entered the pavilion, Mr. Luo said without looking up, “Do you play chess? Come sit and play a couple of games with me.”

“…”, Liu Zhimou had no chance to object. He drew in a breath, sat opposite Mr. Luo, and looked down at the half-played board. The tumultuous arrangement of pieces made his heart skip a beat.

Watching chess is like watching a person. From Mr. Luo’s style, he wasn’t as calm on the surface as he appeared.

No wonder he was his father’s teacher—truly formidable.

“Your move,” Mr. Luo said faintly, looking at Liu Zhimou.

Liu Zhimou nodded and picked up a white piece to continue the game.

Observing Liu Zhimou’s style, Mr. Luo raised the corner of his mouth. “Who taught you?”

Even knowing that Mr. Luo might recognize him, Liu Zhimou respectfully replied, “My father…” He paused. “From the moment I could speak, my father personally taught me to play chess.”

From initially losing every game to slowly losing fewer pieces, he eventually could even play evenly against his father.

His father once said that next time he would be cleverer, perhaps surpassing him.

Thinking of his father, who passed away early, Liu Zhimou couldn’t help feeling a pang of sorrow.

With a clack, Mr. Luo placed a black piece, remaining silent.

When they finished the game, Liu Zhimou had lost only three pieces. Mr. Luo’s eyes carried a faint smile as he toyed with a black piece. “Not bad. I’d really like to meet your father someday.”

He really wanted to meet that wayward student and teach him about the path of a teacher.

Liu Zhimou pursed his lips and said, “My father… passed away many years ago.”

Hearing this, Mr. Luo dropped the black piece onto the ground with a clatter, staring at Liu Zhimou. “You… what did you say?” Had he heard wrong? That unfilial student… was dead?

“My father passed away many years ago,” Liu Zhimou repeated. Mr. Luo’s calm eyes reddened instantly.

“How… did he go?”

Liu Zhimou took a deep breath, suppressing the lump in his throat, and briefly recounted the circumstances.

After listening, Mr. Luo fell silent for a long while before speaking hoarsely, “Go back for now. Come again tomorrow.”

Liu Zhimou sensed Mr. Luo’s grief and nodded before leaving the pavilion.

Once Liu Zhimou left, Mr. Luo could no longer restrain his emotions. Covering his eyes, tears streamed down.

Although they were teacher and student, their bond was as close as father and son.

He vividly remembered punishing that mischievous student, who would simultaneously scold him while being reprimanded.

He had even threatened that when he lived to a hundred, he wouldn’t give him money, forcing him to live frugally.

Yet that wayward student had died young? How could he allow a parent to see a child die before their time?

If only he could have stopped him from leaving the capital…

No matter the regret or heartbreak now, nothing could bring him back.

He would never see that student again—the one he loved and was frustrated with at the same time.

That student was also heartless, leaving the capital for over ten years without a single letter or inquiry.

Had it not been for meeting his son this time and learning the truth from him, he might never have known.

“What’s the matter with the teacher?” The steward, standing nearby, worried upon hearing Mr. Luo’s suppressed sobs.

The teacher rarely showed emotion. Why was he crying today?

Worried, the steward looked up at the young emperor. “Your Majesty…”

Emperor Xuanyuan Yao waved him off. He would go ask the teacher himself. Having known him for decades, he had never seen him like this.

The steward glanced once more at Mr. Luo, then bowed and left.

Xuanyuan Yao swallowed nervously, walking slowly to the pavilion. He wasn’t afraid of his father, but he feared this teacher above all.

“Teacher, your student has come to see you.”

Hearing the voice, the crying Mr. Luo paused and hastily wiped his tears, not looking up as he asked why he had come.

Where was the steward? Why hadn’t he informed him? Seeing the teacher like this in front of his student embarrassed him.

The emperor sat on the stool opposite Mr. Luo, eyes turned away, not daring to look directly, fearing any retribution.

Mr. Luo drew in a few quiet breaths, calming himself, cleared his throat, and asked, “What brings you here?”

“Nothing. I just missed you, so I came by.” Who knew he would get such luck to see his teacher crying? “Teacher, if there’s anything troubling you, just tell me. Don’t keep it to yourself.”

Mr. Luo glanced at the emperor. After a long pause, he asked faintly, “Has that rascal contacted you over these years?”

Little junior apprentice?

The only person he would call that was Liu Zhimou, Young Master Liu, his junior disciple.