By the time Song Yan returned, it was nearly the hour of Shen (between 3 p.m. and 5 p.m.). Lanterns along both sides of the corridor were already lit, and all the thrush birds under the eaves were covered with dark cloths, with only the occasional chirping breaking the evening silence. He ran along the corridor, crossed the arched bridge, and breathlessly entered Guanju Courtyard.

  Today, he had almost won—just a little bit more experience, and he would have had a complete victory. If he had succeeded, he wouldn't need to endure anyone's threats anymore, and he could save his junior brother A Heng and that poor little boy. But, unfortunately, he'd fallen just short. Now, standing in front of Song Chuyi, who wore an expressionless look, he felt his heart racing like a restless rabbit trapped inside his chest.

  Song Chuyi looked at him across the huanghuali wood desk, her voice ft and unchanging. "I remember telling you to think carefully about whether you wanted to tell me the truth. It seems you chose not to..."

  Song Yan hung his head like a child who had done something wrong, unable to find the words to defend himself.

  "I heard that you withdrew three thousand taels of silver from the accounts yesterday." Song Chuyi observed his sudden, anxious expression as he lifted his head and smiled faintly. "Did you think you could do this secretly? Do you even know that any rge withdrawal has to be reported to both Aunt and the Old Lady?"

  Young noblemen often thought the family's money was endless, unaware of the need for record-keeping and reporting. At her words, Song Yan's confidence crumbled, and he nervously fidgeted with his robe.

  Without waiting for him to speak, Song Chuyi pulled a stack of papers from her drawer and tossed them in front of him. "These are records of the gamblers you've been associating with recently. What help have they given you?"

  Song Yan stared wide-eyed at the list of names on the page, feeling a chill run through his fingertips. He couldn't utter a single word.

  He thought of A Heng, trapped in the gambling den, his son so ill he was near death. Lowering his head, Song Yan's voice dropped to a murmur. "When I was in Shuzhong, I had a junior brother who traveled there monthly just to attend our teacher's lectures... Though he was poor, he was generous and kind to us. When we gave him something or treated him to a meal, his wife would always make little gifts to give back as a token of gratitude..." Song Yan gnced at Song Chuyi, encouraged by her attentive expression, and continued. "But when I returned to the capital, I found out he had borrowed money at high interest. I scolded him for his foolishness and gave him three hundred taels, telling him to go home and prepare for next year's imperial exam. But he said it wasn't enough—his wife and children were being held by the gambling den... I went there, but they refused to let them go, saying he owed almost twenty thousand taels..."

  It was a trap—a meticulous scheme that led Song Yan step by step into a pitfall. The one who id the trap was cunning and patient.

  Looking at Song Yan, who stood helplessly waiting to be scolded, Song Chuyi's heart softened. She had always known that Song Yan was a soft-hearted child. This was partly her own fault—she'd taught him the principles of being a good person but neglected to teach him the dangers of the world. Reading a thousand books and traveling a thousand miles—Song Yan had only achieved half of this wisdom. But luckily, she wasn't too te. Everything was still within reach.

  "You don't have twenty thousand taels, but they're pressuring your friend A Heng more and more. His wife and children are suffering, so you couldn't stand by, yet you were afraid to trouble the family. So you decided to follow the gambling den's demands and take a gamble yourself?" Song Chuyi's tone was gentle, far calmer than when she'd confronted him before, as if she was no longer angry.

  Song Yan nodded. "They threatened to cut off A Heng's fingers. How can a disabled man ever hope to have a career?"

  Song Chuyi smiled and, instead of answering directly, posed a question. "But think about it, Yan'er—someone who's addicted to gambling and willing to put his wife and children at risk by borrowing money with high interest, do you really think he'd make a good official? He's not young—he's a full cycle older than you. You say he respects your teacher, but if that's true, why hasn't your teacher accepted him as a disciple? Alright, maybe there's a limited number of disciple slots, and including you, your teacher has only taken on seven disciples. But why hasn't he even let him attend the academy? He only allows him to listen to lectures once a month, lectures that even the young men of Qu County can attend. Doesn't that strike you as odd?"

  Song Yan froze, realizing for the first time how strange it was. Why would his teacher, who was always sympathetic to the poor, be so strict with this junior brother who had stayed in Shuzhong for three years? Normally, the teacher would be more than willing to welcome poor students into the academy to learn from the senior students...

  "Moreover, this junior brother of yours appeared at an awfully convenient time, didn't he?" Song Chuyi prompted him further. "In Shuzhong, did he only associate with you and your six senior brothers? And after you returned to the capital, how did he conveniently end up in such desperate circumstances, just in time to seek your help?"

  This man's character was deeply fwed from the start, which was why neither the teacher nor the senior students liked him or allowed him to attend csses at the academy, even after he'd spent three years trying to persuade them.

  As Song Yan reflected, he remembered each time he'd hired someone to help select fighting cocks, seeing A Heng's anxious gaze...

  Suddenly, everything clicked, as if he'd been struck with a cold realization. He stood there in shock, unable to process it fully. A Heng had deceived him, exploiting his compassion and their three years of camaraderie, using the pitiful situation of his wife and children to manipute him.

  He recalled the promissory note he'd signed today at the gambling den, his voice trembling. "Sister, I signed a promissory note for five thousand taels at the gambling den today..."

  The amount didn't matter; what mattered was that it was a gambling debt, with his signature and seal.

  Just as he finished speaking, there was a loud knock on the door. Qingying entered with a pale face, clutching a letter so tightly that the envelope had become deformed. She handed the letter to Song Chuyi. "Miss, it's a letter delivered especially for you by Guanshan, who serves the Marquis of Jinxiang's son. It came from the Old Master's side."

  This was a provocation, pure and btant. If it weren't for the agreement with Old Master Song to give her three days, he would likely have already called for family discipline. Song Chuyi gnced at Song Yan, then took the letter in her hand.