Zong Yan stood frozen for a long moment before finally murmuring, "Morning..."
The young boy set down the tray, placing the steamed buns and porridge naturally at their respective spots before sitting across from him.
Zong Wenxiu looked up with a smile. "Grandmother said you prefer strong flavors, but Uncle mentioned you’ve been advised to eat lightly these days. So, could you bear with it for a while longer? We’ll make you something delicious once you’re better."
Zong Yan remained standing, visibly flustered.
The sudden appearance of a son felt surreal, like a dream. He didn’t know how to act around the boy, afraid that any misstep might hurt him.
Zong Wenxiu was nervous too, his back damp with sweat, but he remembered his uncle’s advice—he couldn’t back down now. His father was hesitant and needed his guidance to move forward.
"Dad? Does that sound more natural?" Zong Wenxiu asked sheepishly. "My friends all call their fathers that, but since it’s my first time meeting you, I was worried you might not like it."
The boy was sincere, speaking his mind without reservation.
He seemed exceptionally good-natured.
A true gentleman, gentle as jade.
Zong Yan lowered his gaze and replied softly, "I don’t mind."
Encouraged by his father’s response, Zong Wenxiu beamed. "Then would you like to try my cooking? I make pretty good porridge—never burned it once."
Having grown up in the Marquis Manor, Zong Yan had always enjoyed the finest food and never needed to cook. Yet here was this child, confidently claiming culinary skill...
Zong Yan sat down, accepting the bowl of porridge handed to him, and asked casually, "Do you enjoy cooking?"
Zong Wenxiu chuckled. "Not really. It’s just a survival skill—nothing to like or dislike. Compared to the kitchen, I’d much rather be in the study. Reading is far more interesting."
Zong Yan followed up, "Which academy do you attend?"
Zong Wenxiu’s eyes crinkled with amusement. "Dad, I took the imperial exams last April and placed second. After that, I joined the Hanlin Academy as a seventh-rank compiler."
Zong Yan’s hand paused mid-sip. "You’ve been in the civil service for a year already?"
He remembered how even his elder brother, as exceptional as he was, had only achieved the dual titles of top scholar in both civil and martial arts at fifteen.
Yet this boy—his son—had placed second in the imperial exams at just thirteen?
Zong Yan found it even harder to believe.
"Yeah. Aunt Xu is amazing—she helped both me and my younger brother secure top ranks in the exams," Zong Wenxiu explained patiently, seeing his father’s rapt attention. "At first, she only taught the two of us. We turned the grand study into the Marquis Manor Elite Class, and later, even the spoiled noble kids from the capital started joining..."
Zong Yan listened intently.
The tales of the Marquis Manor Elite Class, the young scholars’ dedication—the soothing voice beside him was strangely comforting. By the time the stories ended, most of the morning had slipped away.
Zong Wenxiu grinned. "That’s how things are now. After Jin Cheng became emperor, he grew even more impressive. He debates seasoned scholars in court and pushes all of us to improve so we can support him in the future. Dad, Jin Cheng is truly remarkable. With him ruling, I feel like the future is bright."
Zong Yan nodded. "You’re all outstanding children."
Zong Wenxiu clasped his hand earnestly. "And you’re an amazing person too. Once you’re better, I’d love to learn martial arts from you. My archery is terrible—even Shen Yibai is better than me."
Zong Yan frowned. "You can’t even beat a scholar’s son?"
Zong Wenxiu nodded sheepishly. "Shen Yibai is a year younger, but he’s been practicing arrow-throwing, football, and hunting since childhood. I never learned those things, and once I started focusing on studies and official duties, there was even less time."
Zong Yan’s expression darkened as he stood. "Come on. I’ll teach you."
Zong Wenxiu’s eyes lit up. "Yes!"
The manor had no dedicated training ground—even Zong Yan had always practiced at the Martial Academy.
But when Zong Zhao heard about it, he cleared out a courtyard, set up targets, and provided an assortment of bows and arrows.
Seeing the bow he once used, Zong Yan’s gaze wavered momentarily before he remembered—he was home now.
After a brief silence, he handed it to Zong Wenxiu. "Try this first. Let me see your skill."
Zong Wenxiu nocked the arrow, his posture textbook-perfect. He aimed at the target for a long moment before releasing—only for the arrow to fly past it entirely.
Zong Yan: "..."
Zong Wenxiu’s face flushed crimson. "D-Dad, I told you I’m terrible at this."
In his first two years back at the manor, he’d occasionally joined his younger brother on hunts. But as studies intensified, his archery skills had deteriorated from neglect.
Zong Yan had always been the top student at the Martial Academy. Even those less skilled rarely missed the target entirely.
This was truly abysmal.
He took the bow from Zong Wenxiu, drew the string, and fixed his gaze unwaveringly on the bullseye. "Archery demands steadiness—in mind and hand. The longer you hesitate, the worse your aim gets."
The moment he finished speaking, the arrow shot forth.
Thunk!—dead center.
Zong Wenxiu gaped before clapping excitedly. "Dad, you’re incredible! How are you still this accurate after so long? Doesn’t your hand get rusty?"
Zong Yan had always loved praise, and now, with his son admiring him, his cheeks warmed. "Once you’ve trained enough, it becomes part of you."
Zong Wenxiu marveled. "Is that really how it works? Like when Jin Cheng brags, 'I am the sea of knowledge, the sea of knowledge is me'?"
Zong Yan: "..."
At the mention of Jin Cheng’s infamous boast, he replied dryly, "I’m not that arrogant."
"Hahaha..."
Father and son bantered like old friends, discussing archery techniques. With each passing moment, Zong Yan grew more accustomed to being called "Dad," responding to every remark—almost docile in his attentiveness.
Later, Zong Zhao recounted the events to Xu Wan, sighing. "Once Zong Yan adjusts to Wenxiu’s presence, I’ll introduce him to Suxue."
Xu Wan, bent over playing with a child, turned to him with an amused look. "Planning to give him another shock?"
Zong Zhao shook his head. "Not a shock. I just think this approach suits Zong Yan best right now. He’s like a snail retreating into its shell—someone needs to coax him out."
Xu Wan disagreed. "That makes sense, but not all relationships work the same way."
"Why not?" Zong Zhao asked.
Xu Wan considered her words. "Because kinship and love are different. He might accept Wenxiu easily due to blood ties. But Suxue? I know they’re married, but forcing a connection without genuine feelings isn’t help—it’s pressure disguised as familial duty."
