"Isn't this what you donated on my behalf?" Song Lin asked impatiently.
"Since you wanted to curry favor with me, drop the coy act. These past two days, your targeting of Wanwan has already greatly displeased me. If you want me to give you a pleasant look, you must first sweet-talk Wanwan and offer her a respectful apology!"
"..."
Lu Wanwan was utterly astounded by his sheer shamelessness.
Her hand moved faster than her brain, and by the time she registered what she was doing, her palm had already struck Song Lin's face.
*Smack!*
"If you ever dare ruin my reputation again, I'll slap you straight into the wall like a fresco!"
Song Lin was stunned by the blow, his face swelling to a ridiculous degree.
Meng Wan anxiously searched for medicine to apply to his cheek.
Lu Wanwan vigorously rubbed her hand. Fortunately, Song Lin hadn't spoken loudly, and only her own people had heard, saving her from too much humiliation.
The experience of having been married to the likes of Song Lin was truly a dark history too shameful to speak of, far worse than serving time in prison.
She turned to Master Liaoran. "My Eldest Sister-in-law had someone send three hundred taels just now. She is feeling unwell, so she asked me to donate it in her stead."
Master Liaoran was clearly someone who had seen it all. He acted as if nothing had happened and nodded gently.
"..."
Realizing he had misunderstood, Song Lin found himself in an awkward spot.
In his past life, Lu Wanwan had managed the household finances, and he was long accustomed to her providing the money for such trivial matters. Seeing her step forward just now, he had naturally and presumptuously assumed she was preparing the donation for him.
Lu Wanwan... she had never dared speak to him like that before, let alone hit him!
He never expected she could be so disrespectful to him merely because of Meng Wan. He was right about her all along—she was a vicious shrew.
Completely ignoring his unsightly expression, Lu Wanwan turned and walked away.
In any case, Song Lin could only harbor a petty rage; even if he jumped up, he couldn't reach her knees.
Song Lin cared about his face—with his face swollen from the slap, he cared about it even more. He couldn't bring himself to ask Lu Wanwan to make the donation for him, so he took out his money pouch.
Noticing the many gazes already drawn by the commotion, he gritted his teeth, took out the last five hundred taels he had on him, and dropped them into the merit box.
"Brother Lin—" Meng Wan gasped.
That was five hundred taels!
Her tone was filled with extreme heartache.
Maintaining a calm composure, Song Lin said, "The Buddha delivers all living beings from suffering. As mortals, we should feel gratitude, and it is only right to donate more incense money."
"Amitabha, the benefactor's merit is boundless," Master Liaoran said.
Song Lin nodded slightly, though his heart was bleeding.
He had once seen countless treasures and sat atop boundless wealth, but now, with empty pockets, he had to take these five hundred taels seriously.
However, under the watchful eyes of the crowd, having already lost face twice yesterday and just moments ago, he desperately needed to reclaim his dignity and showcase his financial foundation to everyone.
Only when he saw their expressions of astonishment did Song Lin finally feel a venting of his frustration.
"Who is this sucker..." someone muttered softly.
"And what a fool. He dares donate the exact same amount as the Eldest Princess and the Heir of Prince Ping. You can tell he's got pig brains and no grasp of worldly etiquette."
"Could his brain have been beaten into a pulp?"
Song Lin, who had already stepped out of the main hall, did not hear the discussion behind him.
Meng Wan grabbed him tightly and said, "Brother Lin, I noticed most of those matrons and young ladies donated one or two hundred taels, and even the Eldest Princess only gave five hundred. You haven't even taken an official post yet, why bother trying to match them?"
"The Jing'an Temple is deeply valued by His Majesty. Being able to leave my name here is already well worth it."
"But—"
"There are no buts." Song Lin frowned at her, discovering for the first time that the beloved in his memories was so remarkably short-sighted. "The palace examination is nine days away, and I am bound to place first as the top scholar. It won't be long before I step out of the Hanlin Academy and enter the Ministry of Revenue, rising steadily all the way! You must get used to this early on. In the future, rare treasures and tens of thousands of gold will be mere playthings in your hands; do not fuss over a mere five hundred taels!"
Captivated by the future he painted, Meng Wan subconsciously began to yearn for it.
"I understand. You always have such far-reaching vision, Brother Lin!" She sighed with regret. "Still, if I had known... we shouldn't have come to Jing'an Temple at all."
Not only had they failed to make connections with someone like the Eldest Princess, but they had also lost a massive sum of money, and Song Lin had taken a slap that left his face swollen as thick as if it had been run over by a cart.
In truth, Song Lin was regretting it just as much.
All that talk about being valued by His Majesty was merely a way to comfort himself and Meng Wan; he never should have come to Jing'an Temple.
In an instant, resentment flared in his heart toward Xie Yanxi, the one who had brought them here.
Knowing full well that he was currently strapped for cash, Xie Yanxi had actually brought him to attend this money-burning Dharma assembly. And as if that weren't enough, knowing he hadn't made his fortune yet, Xie Yanxi hadn't even prepared the incense money for him.
The Eastern Depot had confiscated countless households and must be immensely wealthy. In his past life, Xie Yanxi had been willing to donate thousands of taels of silver for him every year, yet in this life, Xie Yanxi was holding onto every single coin...
Just as dissatisfaction was about to well up in his chest, he heard Meng Wan ask, "By the way, Brother Lin, how much money do you have left?"
Song Lin's body stiffened. "How much do you have?"
"My father originally gave me two hundred taels, but before we left, my mother took away one hundred. After deducting our expenses along the road, I only have forty taels left."
"What can forty taels do? That's barely enough for a single meal!" Song Lin frowned.
Meng Wan bit her lip and stayed silent.
Song Lin didn't expect her to make any money either. After pondering for a moment, he still reluctantly walked toward the Heir of Prince Ping.
The Heir of Prince Ping was standing outside by the railing, supporting the pale-faced Minister Zhou.
Song Lin stepped forward and gave a polite, cupped-hand salute. "Greetings, Your Grace."
The Heir of Prince Ping subconsciously looked toward him, but then remembered Lu Wanwan's instruction—"You are not allowed to look at Song Lin"—and immediately and resolutely turned his head back.
The smile that had barely blossomed on Song Lin's face froze.
Meanwhile, Minister Zhou, who had suddenly found himself in close-range eye contact with the Heir of Prince Ping, was completely baffled, his heart trembling with fright.
Why did everyone with the surname Xie act like they had a mental illness?
He quietly stepped back. "His Grace seems to have important matters to attend to, so this old official will not intrude further."
"Take care, Minister."
Watching Minister Zhou hurry away while the Heir of Prince Ping maintained his posture of gazing after him, Song Lin felt a wave of displeasure. He had originally wanted the man to take a good look at his face, so he could go back and reprimand that vicious shrew, Lu Wanwan.
Suppressing his discontent, Song Lin said, "Your Grace's respect for men of talent is a blessing for our Great Chu."
"Do you need something?"
Song Lin paused for a fraction of a second. "Not particularly, I merely saw Your Grace just now and came over to greet you."
"Mm."
Seeing the Heir of Prince Ping turn his head and prepare to leave, Song Lin hurriedly brought the matter up with subtle implication. "I assumed Your Grace wouldn't come to Jing'an Temple. I never expected that you and the Princess Consort would be so devout in your Buddhist faith, arriving bright and early—and even donating such a large sum of incense money."
With that, he seemed to catch himself and let out a bitter laugh. "Ah, but I was worrying needlessly. Five hundred taels may empty my household coffers, but to Your Grace, it is no more than a drop in the ocean. It was foolish of me to worry on your behalf."
Having spoken, he simply waited.
He had already rehearsed the script in his mind—the multiple polite refusals followed by the "inevitable" acceptance—so that the Heir of Prince Ping would understand this was something he was being begged to take.
"Mm."
Song Lin waited for a moment, but when the Heir of Prince Ping truly said nothing more and certainly didn't hand over any money, he began to wonder if he hadn't made himself clear enough.
"Speaking of which, I am so strapped for cash that I can't even scrape together the silver for my return journey..."
"If you have no money, why did you donate incense money?" The Heir of Prince Ping had never seen anyone so stupid. "Is Jing'an Temple a bandit den that forced you to donate?"
"Of course not, it's simply that in my heart, I hold deep reverence—"
"What does that have to do with this Prince?"
The Heir of Prince Ping impatiently interrupted him.
Song Lin stared in disbelief at the back of the Heir of Prince Ping's head.
What was going on here?
In his past life, with the Heir of Prince Ping and Xie Yanxi around, he had never once lacked for money, nor had he ever experienced financial straits. Every time he merely hinted at the slightest difficulty, the Heir of Prince Ping would eagerly shove money at him, thoughtfully fabricating excuses so he could accept the funds with a clear conscience.
Yet now...
The Heir of Prince Ping couldn't even be bothered to look him straight in the eye.
Could it be because he hadn't yet demonstrated his literary talent?
That had to be it.
"The other day, I was struck by inspiration and wrote a poem, and I am currently troubled by having no one to share it with. Perhaps Your Grace might care to appreciate it. Before the hall—"
"Farewell."
Without waiting for Song Lin to finish reciting his poem, the Heir of Prince Ping flicked his sleeve and walked away, keeping his gaze firmly fixed ahead without casting even a sliver of peripheral vision in Song Lin's direction.
Song Lin: "..." Was his face cursed with poison?
In front of the main hall.
Eldest Miss Lu watched her husband approach and asked in confusion, "What did he want with you?"
"I don't know."
The Heir of Prince Ping shook his head and very honestly recounted the entire exchange.
Eldest Miss Lu understood in a second and amusedly remarked, "Yesterday at the Lu family banquet, he went around trying to network and curry favor, and even left early—showing such utter disrespect—and yet he actually has the nerve to come asking you for money?"
Funding a poor scholar was no big deal, and they were more than happy to buy some goodwill, but with Song Lin's character... did he take everyone for blind?
Lu Wanwan harbored an intense aversion to Song Lin as well, but Eldest Miss Lu felt there was something fishy about all this.
"I heard from Eldest Sister-in-law that Xie Yanxi treats Song Lin quite differently," she said thoughtfully. "Xie Yanxi is right there in the meditation rooms; go find him and sound him out."
Recalling that this man had been blessed with a cunning and calculating face yet possessed a brain that couldn't calculate a thing, she added, "Stay sharp. Don't let him lead you around by the nose again. This concerns our little sister—if you mess things up for her, I'll be very upset."
The Heir of Prince Ping's expression turned serious. "I will dig up every last secret Xie Yanxi has!"
Eldest Miss Lu smiled and reached out to stroke his face in approval.