The Marquis Mansion’s Elite Class

Chapter 142

Despite foreseeing the inevitable outcome, the little troublemaker, Zong Jincheng, still refused to give up and attempted one last desperate effort.

It must be said that this time, his approach truly struck a chord in the hearts of the elderly couple. The old lady immediately felt a pang in her chest, and a wave of guilt washed over her.

The old marquis, thinking of Zong Yan, also felt a deep sorrow.

At this moment, the old couple stopped their coughing and fell into a shared silence.

Zong Jincheng continued, "My brother would never waste money recklessly. If you want Xu Wan to manage me, I’ll listen. But can you be a little kinder to my brother?"

These ?????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????last words nearly shattered the old lady’s heart.

How could they not want to treat Zong Wenxiu well? How could they bear to be harsh with him?

Tears welled up in the old lady’s eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment. The old marquis, clearly seeing through the little rascal’s intentions, was too emotionally drained to intervene.

For some reason, the usually sentimental old lady suddenly became resolute. With reddened eyes, she spoke earnestly, "Jin Cheng, we’ve heard what you’ve said, but this matter is of great importance. Your grandfather and I need a couple of days to think it over. Go back and rest well for now. Let’s discuss this after your birthday, alright?"

Seeing his grandmother’s red eyes, Zong Jincheng felt that he had managed to sway her and obediently bid farewell before leaving.

As soon as the little troublemaker was gone, the old lady’s tears finally fell, and her quiet sobs followed.

The old marquis put an arm around her shoulders and sighed, comforting her, "That boy Jin Cheng knows exactly how to tug at heartstrings. It’s good that someone like Xu Wan can keep him in check now. Without her, I truly fear what kind of person he might grow up to be."

The old lady wiped her tears and said, "Thankfully, we’ve realized this in time. We can’t let things continue like this. We mustn’t interfere anymore, even if it means Wenxiu has to endure some hardship for now. Only by guiding Jin Cheng onto the right path can we fulfill Zhao'er’s trust in us."

The old marquis suggested, "Once Jin Cheng’s birthday is over tomorrow, let’s return to the country estate. I’m afraid if we stay any longer, we won’t be able to resist his relentless pleading. That boy’s skills are becoming more refined by the day."

"Ah, I had hoped to spend a few more days with Wenxiu after just reuniting with him…" the old lady sighed wistfully. "But their healthy growth is more important. Let’s leave tomorrow afternoon."

"Very well, I’ll have the servants start packing."

Unbeknownst to Zong Jincheng, his grand move had not only failed to persuade the elderly couple but had instead strengthened their resolve to leave as soon as possible.

During the holiday break, with all the teachers gone, Zong Jincheng found excuses to sneak into his brother’s room and share his bed.

"Though it’s a bit cramped with two people on this small bed," he remarked.

Zong Wenxiu chuckled, "Then why do you insist on squeezing in with me? I could sleep on Teacher Zhao’s bed and leave this one to you."

Zong Jincheng grabbed his arm and said, "No, I want to sleep with you. Besides, a smaller bed isn’t so bad. I’ve been kicking the blankets less—there’s no room to move, haha."

Zong Wenxiu laughed along and asked, "Where did you go earlier? I didn’t see you for a while."

Zong Jincheng replied, "I went to ask Xu Wan for money, but she refused. So, I went to see Grandfather and Grandmother instead. I think I managed to sway them a bit. Maybe in a couple of days, they’ll give you some money."

"Give me money?" Zong Wenxiu was surprised. "You went to ask for money on my behalf? There’s no need for that. I don’t lack for silver."

Zong Jincheng waved it off casually, "You do lack it. You just aren’t used to spending it yet. You don’t know how liberating it feels to spend freely. I used to be so happy, buying whatever I wanted without a care."

Zong Wenxiu smiled faintly, "I don’t have any particular fondness for spending money. My only wish is for everyone around me to live well. That’s all I want."

Having grown up in the slums, he had witnessed too much suffering, illness, and death. He knew how fortunate and precious it was to have loved ones alive and well.

Zong Jincheng, oblivious to such experiences, continued chattering about the joys of spending money freely.

Zong Wenxiu listened with a smile and said, "Let me tell you a story."

"Oh? Alright, go ahead. I’m listening," Zong Jincheng said eagerly, lying down on the bed and ready to hear the tale.

Zong Wenxiu began softly, "When I was seven, I saw a boy about thirteen years old kneeling in an alley, begging for a bowl of coarse rice porridge. He kowtowed to anyone who passed by, his forehead bleeding from the force. But the people in the slums were too preoccupied with their own survival to help him. In such a place, even kindness was a luxury, as it could bring disaster upon oneself. That very night, his mother died—starved to death. He had to watch her die, powerless to save her. A few days later, the boy went mad. In the dead of winter, he ran around in tattered clothes, shouting, ‘Please, give me a bowl of coarse rice porridge! Please, give me a bowl of coarse rice porridge!’"

"Oh… that’s so heartbreaking…" Zong Jincheng’s heart ached. "What happened to him after that?"

"I never saw him again. Maybe he died, or maybe he’s still out there, begging for that bowl of porridge," Zong Wenxiu replied.

In the slums, death was a daily occurrence. Whether one person died or two, no one paid much attention.

Zong Wenxiu turned to his brother and asked, "Do you know how much a bowl of coarse rice porridge costs?"

Zong Jincheng thought for a moment. He knew that a bowl of porridge he drank would cost several taels, but now aware of the disparity in prices, he guessed the cheapest porridge might be…

Zong Wenxiu said, "One copper coin can buy three taels of coarse rice."

"One coin? Three taels!" Zong Jincheng was stunned. "That’s enough to make so many bowls of porridge…"

Zong Wenxiu smiled, "Yes, coarse rice porridge is that cheap, yet some people go mad begging for it and still can’t get it."

Tears glistened in Zong Jincheng’s eyes as he felt the pain of that story.

Zong Wenxiu continued, "That’s why, when I first returned to the manor, I was afraid to spend money. I preferred wearing simple hemp clothes, hesitated to waste ink and paper, and even when sending food to my aunt and uncle, I always bought the cheapest sorghum flour. It wasn’t that I didn’t have money—I just couldn’t bring myself to spend it, because I’d always think of that bowl of porridge that couldn’t be begged for."

"Brother…" Zong Jincheng called out softly.

Zong Wenxiu turned to him with a patient smile and said, "So, you don’t need to ask for money on my behalf. I don’t lack for silver. What I have now is more than I ever dreamed of."