The servants of the old mansion all wore matching slate-gray short jackets, with arm sleeves fastened around their forearms and soft-soled thin boots that made no sound as they walked.
People of Shaonan City would secretly gaze enviously at the boots of the Cheng family servants, unaware that while the servants normally walked silently, they deliberately stomped their feet when approaching their masters. On cobblestone paths, this was truly exhausting work. By day's end, one could gauge a servant's standing by how swollen their feet were.
When Cheng Jinzhou had previously lived at home, he was merely a sickly direct descendant. The servants showed him respect but little awe. Now, hearing the deliberate stomping around him, he knew their regard had changed entirely.
Though evening hadn't fully set in, red lanterns already hung high along the paths, their candle flames swaying midair, casting the trees' shifting shadows.
Shiyan walked ahead, carefully matching Cheng Jinzhou's pace—there was purpose to this. Should there be any stones or shallow pits in the path, the lead servant would encounter them first. While statistically unlikely, nobles valued ceremony over practicality. Even if just one pebble was kicked aside, they'd consider it proper. Moreover, those walking ahead always sought to demonstrate their worth.
"This garrison commander seems rather unceremonious," Cheng Jinzhou mused with a slight nod, his hands clasped behind his back in a manner unbefitting a youth.
Only at the second gate did they spot two soldiers in khaki uniforms standing behind the Cheng family servants, looking more like they were lined up for punishment than providing guard or surveillance.
The head steward greeted them with a beaming smile. "Congratulations on Young Master's good health. Several masters and madams await in the Long Hall, conversing with Lord Liu. He's been appointed Transport Commissioner for Hexi—quite a prestigious post."
"Is my mother inside?" Cheng Jinzhou returned the smile. In noble households, head stewards enjoyed privileges far beyond senior servants. Unlike the evasive deputy steward, this one directly disclosed the guest's identity.
The steward bowed slightly. "Yes, Lord Liu's wife is also present. They're conversing quite cheerfully."
With a nod, Cheng Jinzhou entered, leaving Shimu and Shiyan outside.
The Long Hall—more accurately called the Long Pavilion—was one of the Cheng family's finest reception rooms. It resembled a dance floor supported by over a dozen pillars or perhaps an open stadium, though in truth, it was four rooms ingeniously joined together.
Load-bearing walls were either replaced by columns or cleverly concealed behind antiques, murals, and screens, making the four rooms appear seamless—indistinguishable from a single chamber in use. The key difference lay in lower construction costs and, most importantly, compliance with all Great Xia Dynasty regulations.
Of course, the lack of a grand, rounded dome—though exorbitantly expensive—left many feeling regret, a sentiment the nobility might amplify endlessly.
For the esteemed Scholar Cheng, this was his first visit to the Long Hall, and he couldn't help but look around curiously until someone called, "Third Young Master, come meet your uncles."
The speaker was an unfamiliar middle-aged man—either a paternal or maternal uncle Cheng Jinzhou didn't recall.
With a stiff smile, Cheng Jinzhou followed him inside, feeling as though he were strolling through a wooden gymnasium or museum.
At the hall's center lay a natural spring, connected to the mansion's flowing stream, extending underground to the moat before merging with the Mi River. The bubbling spring rose over ten centimeters, filling a shallow fifty-square-meter pool just a finger's depth, its crystal-clear water hosting a dozen vibrantly colored fish.
The fish were tiny, like the two-for-a-coin goldfish sold outside markets. But this was the Cheng family's Shaonan estate—one needn't guess these were rare, pedigreed specimens with documented origins.
Most guests lounged on plush chairs arranged around the spring, appearing relaxed without the usual air of welcoming an important figure, though Lord Liu clearly occupied the seat of honor.
Cheng Jinzhou offered a crisp bow and auspicious greetings. When acknowledged, he moved to sit with his parents—this was no formal meeting, and seating followed family units.
"You admire murals?" Liu Bin had a characteristically square face with a prominent nose and thick, broad lips.
"Somewhat," Cheng Jinzhou shrugged reflexively.
Liu Bin adopted a mentor's tone. "I noticed you studying the murals intently when you entered. Do you prefer rock carvings or heavy pigment paintings?"
Caught unprepared, Cheng Jinzhou had no idea about either technique or why Liu Bin cared. "Both have merits."
"Ah, I forget you're still young. One should indeed explore broadly before narrowing their horizons." Rising amiably, Liu Bin added, "I heard of you from Liu Kuang. Astrologers are clever folk—I was curious what makes you special. He speaks of you glowingly."
Standing, Liu Bin revealed surprisingly broad shoulders and a barrel chest visible even through casual robes. Considering his scholarly background, one could imagine the effort he'd invested as garrison commander.
But his words startled Cheng Jinzhou most. "Well, I suppose I have some modest talent, if I may say so."
"No need for modesty!" Liu Bin laughed heartily. "At twelve, to earn a fourth-rank astrologer's personal attention is remarkable. And you carry yourself well—most noble children I meet rely on their parents, but not you."
"Me?" Cheng Jinzhou pointed at himself.
"Subordinates glance at superiors when answering; children look to parents." Chuckling, Liu Bin reseated himself. "Pity I must bring Astrologer Liu Kuang to Hexi, otherwise..."
He offered Cheng Jinzhou's father, Cheng Yun'an, an apologetic smile.
"Studying under an astrologer has always depended on fortune," Cheng Yun'an said evenly.
"I have friends in the Church who might recommend you. They teach more than theology." Liu Bin produced a card-like object from his robe, handing it to Cheng Jinzhou.
His mother eagerly prompted him to thank Liu Bin. Though the Church held little sway in Great Xia, its capabilities in certain areas were renowned.
The card bore the name Father Kandia, with Liu Bin's signature in one corner and "Sith Sanctum Academy" on the reverse. Scratching his head, Cheng Jinzhou wondered—was he destined for yet another church school?