Chapter 52: He Really Does Like Jade Feet

While Jiang Han was strolling through the bustling main street with Qin Yunmian, in the inner courtyard of the Gu residence, Gu Liancheng, Yin Rong, and Gu Xirou were gathered together.

"You mean Jiang Han actually composed poetry in public?"

Gu Liancheng furrowed his brow deeply and questioned, "It is not that I disbelieve you, but if Jiang Zhensheng's son truly possessed such talent, why has he remained so mediocre and accomplished nothing all these years?"

Yin Rong said in a deep voice, "It is absolute truth. Xirou and I witnessed it with our own eyes, and that tune *Butterfly Loves Flowers* by Yuxiaonu, the courtesan of the Nanyan Pavilion, was also composed by him."

"What?" Gu Liancheng was startled. Over the past two days, a new ci-poetry had suddenly spread through the pleasure quarters, and overnight, almost all courtesans were singing that very *Butterfly Loves Flowers*. As it turned out, it still came from the hand of Jiang Han?

"Is there any possibility that the poem was actually ghostwritten by Jiang Zhensheng?" Gu Liancheng pondered for a moment before speaking.

At this moment, Gu Ting, who stood nearby, could not help but interject, "Father, that poem was most likely written by Jiang Han. There is something I haven't mentioned yet; a few days ago, I happened to run into Jiang Han at the Nanyan Pavilion..."

Right then, he recounted the events of that day.

"Jiang Han composed more than just one poem that day. That *Butterfly Loves Flowers* later on must have been written after Jiang Han became a favored guest of Zhou Yun."

Gu Ting's words plunged both Gu Liancheng and Yin Rong into silence.

They had originally thought Jiang Han was a good-for-nothing who stole poetry, but now it seemed not only was he not that, but he was also a person of extraordinary talent.

If one could compose even a single such poem, it would be enough to boast about for half a lifetime, yet how many pieces had that scoundrel Jiang Han written? He had even given a piece like *Butterfly Loves Flowers* as a gift to a mere courtesan.

Yin Rong felt that Jiang Han was simply an utterly foolish idiot. Had he been the one to compose *Butterfly Loves Flowers*, he would never have given it to a woman of the pleasure quarters; instead, he would have presented it to the daughters of dukes and ministers. Once he won their hearts, his career might have soared effortlessly.

The person whose emotions fluctuated the most among those present was Gu Xirou. No matter how hard she tried, she could not fathom how Jiang Han, who had always been completely submissive and obedient to her, could possibly write such exceptional poetry.

Jiang Han had possessed this talent all along, yet he had deliberately concealed his literary prowess and only recently exposed it.

After a brief moment of daze, Gu Xirou was overcome by an intense wave of anger.

Since Jiang Han had such talent, why did he keep it a secret from her? He clearly should have told her, and even the formula for the Lingxiang Dew ought to have been shared with her. It was simply too much!

"He kept proclaiming his love for me, yet refused to tell me any of this? Breaking off the engagement was the right choice!" Gu Xirou thought resentfully.

At that moment, a servant came to report, "Young Miss, Miss Wang is here to see you."

Gu Xirou said, "Have her wait for me in the study."

Gu Xirou went to the study to meet Wang Siyi. After a few brief words of idle chatter, she could not help venting her indignation to her close friend: "Siyi, tell me, why would Jiang Han hide his light under a bushel? And the other day, he even wrote a poem to mock me!"

Wang Siyi was taken aback and said, "I don't know either... Xirou, do you regret it?"

Gu Xirou bit her lower lip and retorted, "Who regrets it? I, Gu Xirou, will never regret calling off the engagement! So what if he writes good poetry? What of it? Can good poetry be exchanged for official rank and fame? Hmph, writing poetry for a courtesan as well—how base!"

Wang Siyi asked, "Are you referring to that *Butterfly Loves Flowers*?"

Gu Xirou sneered, "Indeed. The poem itself is fine, but it is a pity it was written for a courtesan. Such a waste of a good piece!"

Wang Siyi hesitated for a moment before saying, "Xirou, have you ever considered that Jiang Han's *Butterfly Loves Flowers* might not have been written for Zhou Yun at all, but for you?"

Gu Xirou froze: "What did you say?"

Wang Siyi reasoned, "Think about it. How long have Jiang Han and Zhou Yun known each other? Even if he were to gift her a poem, he wouldn't write lines like *'My clothes grow looser by the day, yet I feel no regret; for her, I waste away in sorrow and fret.'* For whom would his clothes grow loose? For whom would he waste away in sorrow? It can only be you."

Gu Xirou was stunned: "So, that poem was actually written for me?"

Wang Siyi nodded. "Aside from you, who else could it be?"

Gu Xirou thought about it and realized it made sense; that poem indeed could not possibly have been written for Zhou Yun.

The moment she thought of how Zhou Yun had risen to fame—and might even be remembered in history—solely because of Jiang Han's *Butterfly Loves Flowers*, Gu Xirou felt a surge of anger.

That poem was originally supposed to belong to her; the chance to leave her name in the history books was originally hers. Yet now, a courtesan had reaped the benefits!

However, this also proved that Jiang Han still held her in his heart, and it was only because he was depressed after the annulment of the engagement that he had given that poem to a courtesan.

Gu Xirou murmured, "That is to say, Jiang Han still loves me deep down."

Wang Siyi opened her mouth to speak: "Xirou, now that you are betrothed to Young Master Yin as well, you should just forget about Jiang Han."

Gu Xirou sneered, "Siyi, do you really think I regret it? Would I fall for Jiang Han just because of a few poems? Impossible. Once I make a decision, I never regret it. I am simply angry that he kept all of this hidden from me."

Wang Siyi sighed inwardly. *You bring up Jiang Han once in every three sentences, yet you claim you don't regret it.*

The parties involved are deluded, while onlookers see clearly. Wang Siyi noticed that nowadays, whenever Gu Xirou chatted, she would bring up Jiang Han. She mentioned Jiang Han even more frequently than she mentioned Yin Rong, and she no longer praised Yin Rong's literary talent.

In Wang Siyi's view, Gu Xirou would definitely regret this.

Even if she did not regret it now, what if Jiang Han composed a few more poems in the future that would be immortalized in history?

Although poems that endure through the ages are rare, Jiang Han had already produced three pieces of *Yearning* and two pieces of *Butterfly Loves Flowers*. Who could guarantee that the poems he wrote next would not go down in history?

However, even if she did regret it, it would be of no use; Jiang Han had already found someone better.

Thinking of what she had witnessed on her way here just moments ago, an unnatural expression crossed Wang Siyi's face. She had witnessed Jiang Han strolling through the bustling streets with that young maiden.

She still did not know the maiden's identity, but she could roughly guess it—the background was clearly extraordinarily prominent.

Young ladies of noble, scholarly families rarely went out walking on the streets, and even if they did, they were accompanied by close female companions. A setup like Jiang Han and Qin Yunmian's, riding together in the same carriage, made their relationship self-evident.

...

"I'm going to wash my feet ahead."

Unwittingly, they had walked far away from the bustling market town and arrived beside a secluded stream.

Qin Yunmian crouched down like a kitten, slipped off her boots, and let her feet breathe freely.

Then she carried her boots over to a large rock by the stream, sat down upon it, removed her pristine cloth socks, and revealed a pair of pearly-white little feet.

Plunging her little feet into the cool stream water, the sensation was beyond comfortable.

Jiang Han stared blankly, thinking to himself: *Is it really alright for her to wash her feet right in front of me? Didn't they say ancient people were conservative, and a woman's feet could only be seen by her husband?*

With keen interest, he watched as Qin Yunmian playfully splashed the water with her little feet, her gaze drifting from her face to her shoulders, her slender willow waist, and finally her splashing feet.

Qin Yunmian had walked all day and only wanted to soak her feet in the stream to ease the soreness, completely unaware of how seductive her actions were, nor noticing that Jiang Han's eyes were already glued to her.

"Ah, something is biting my foot." Qin Yunmian suddenly let out a soft cry, pulling back her left foot in mild pain.

"What is it?" Jiang Han thought it might be a snake and, startled, walked over to take a look, only to let out a sigh of relief.

He saw a tiny little crab crawling out from a crack between the stones, using its pincers to grip Qin Yunmian's pearly-white little foot.

Without much thought, Jiang Han reached out, grasped Qin Yunmian's smooth and fair little foot, removed the little crab, and tossed it onto a rock, failing to notice that Qin Yunmian's face had already flushed red.

"The little crab is so hateful. Shall I smack it to death?"

"No, don't! Give it to me."

Delightedly, Qin Yunmian cupped the little crab in her palm and teased it, while the little crab raised its pincers high in her palm, putting on a defiant display.

Suddenly, Qin Yunmian furrowed her brows slightly, raised her head, and looked at Jiang Han: "Jiang Han, could you stop holding my foot? You're gripping it a bit too hard..."

"Oh, I was just checking if there were any injuries. Don't worry, I am a gentleman of upright character who remains unmoved even when holding a beauty."

Spouting virtuous nonsense, Jiang Han continued to hold Qin Yunmian's tender, white little foot and inspected it closely.

Six inches of rounded, flawless skin; five toes as white and tender as delicate shoots, resembling tiny buds; the toenails small and neat, immensely adorable.

The heel was plump, the arch exquisitely smooth, and upon closer inspection, the delicate blood vessels beneath the translucent skin were faintly visible.

This little foot was dainty and exquisite, fitting perfectly in the palm of one's hand.

If the foot-fetishist old perverts from his past life were to see this, they would undoubtedly declare: *To merely take a bite of it, nay, even to catch a single sniff, would be enough to prolong one's life...*

*If she could put on black silk stockings and step on me with this, how wonderful that would be... Ah, stop, I mustn't think any further...* Calmly and nonchalantly, Jiang Han set Qin Yunmian's little foot down and said, "Oh, no injuries. Be more careful next time."

With that, he stood up, turned his back, and nonchalantly stared at the distant mountain woods.

Qin Yunmian knitted her brows and glared at Jiang Han. "Jiang Han, do you have a thing for feet?"

"Nonsense!" Jiang Han said with a completely serious expression, "I, Jiang Mou, am upright and aboveboard; how could I possibly like your stinky feet? What kind of person do you take me for? Besides, what's so great about feet? Can you eat them or what?"

"My feet aren't stinky at all!"

"I don't believe it, unless you let me sniff them."

"..."

After Qin Yunmian finished washing her feet, she put on her shoes and socks, returned to the bustling town with Jiang Han, boarded the carriage, and headed home.

She dropped Jiang Han off at his shop first before taking the carriage back to Cuiyun Pavilion. She sat alone by the window, cupping her chin and gazing at the scenery outside, lost in her own thoughts.

"Princess," a maid suddenly approached and said, "Young Master Jiang really did buy some books at that bookstore."

Qin Yunmian turned her head and asked, "What kind of books?"

The maid slightly furrowed her brows: "Aside from a few... a few popular novels, there was also a set of *Appreciation of Jade Feet*."

Qin Yunmian's clear eyes narrowed. *This fellow really does have a thing for feet! What a strange hobby...*

What was so great about little feet? Why did he like them so much?

She lowered her head, intending to look at her own feet, but only managed to catch sight of her own chest.

The young maiden's delicate nose wrinkled slightly. She lifted her own little foot, looked at it, and still couldn't make heads or tails of it.