Futile Devices Scans

Each residence had its own rules and miscellany, and the Library Chamber was no exception.

Before dawn, one had to rise. Every day meant wiping shelves, sweeping floors, dusting volumes. In winter, frost had to be cleared as well. The chamber housed too many precious texts—charcoal fires were strictly forbidden—so if frost was not removed for even a single day, it would thicken overnight into a stubborn layer, nearly impossible to scrape away.

The weekly airing of books to dispel dampness was even more exhausting. The collection was vast, and the steward exacting; the overseer, in turn, was equally strict. Each page had to be turned one by one under the sun—only when every leaf had been fully aired could the task be considered complete. Though nominally a once-a-week duty, there were too few hands and too many books, so the three of them ended up airing a portion daily, barely managing to cover the entire collection once per week, before starting over again the next.

At month’s end, the overseer would personally arrive to supervise revisions, cataloging, and record-keeping. Though changes were rarely significant, everything had to be documented in meticulous detail.

At first light, Ning Xuan carried out a tall stack of books.

Though he had not slept all night, his worldview—his very understanding of life—had been overturned so completely that, aside from the dark circles beneath his eyes, he didn’t even yawn.

Beyond the long corridor before the chamber lay a lotus pond. In summer, lotus blossoms would bloom in abundance, surrounded by flourishing greenery in vibrant hues. A graceful pavilion stood in the distance, shaded by towering trees—cool, serene, and picturesque.

Yet Ning Xuan had no mind for such elegance.

The mere sight of the lotus pond made his body stiffen, goosebumps rising one after another. In his mind surfaced an image—fragrant, moonlit, and swaying with ambiguous allure—while faint echoes of breathless moans lingered in his ears…

A place he had visited countless times now felt unbearably awkward.

Last night’s scene lingered vividly before his eyes. Glancing at the rockery nearby, then at a spot not far to his right, Ning Xuan jolted as though struck by lightning and edged closer to the artificial hill, seeking some small measure of safety.

It was just a dream. Just a dream…

I must be starved of affection lately—that’s why I’m having such ridiculous spring dreams. Sure, the “protagonists” were a bit… unusual, but that’s beside the point!

Ning Xuan shook his head vigorously, forcing himself to steady his thoughts. Lowering his gaze, he focused inward, committing himself to the mountain of work awaiting him—and to the thought of a proper meal at noon.

“Been looking for you everywhere—why’d you wander off here alone?”

Qing Zhu suddenly slapped him on the back.

“There’s so much to do today. If we don’t start early, we’ll miss the meal again,” Ning Xuan replied, ignoring the oddly bright grin on Qing Zhu’s face.

“You’re unusually diligent today. Never see you this motivated,” Qing Zhu muttered.

By now, the sky was fully bright. Mo Qi emerged last, arms full of books. Seeing the two crouched together whispering, he unceremoniously kicked Qing Zhu—who was empty-handed.

“Stop fooling around. Go carry your share.”

Qing Zhu yelped, clutching his sore backside as he slunk away.

The sun rose higher, and the estate gradually came alive.

Though the Library Chamber itself was often deserted, the surrounding gardens filled with laughter and chatter—ladies and young masters admiring flowers and sipping tea, servants bustling about in every direction.

The three of them worked in mechanical repetition: turning pages, airing books, closing them, carrying them in and out.

Qing Zhu, bored out of his mind, couldn’t keep quiet. Though he usually bantered with Ning Xuan, today Ning Xuan’s dark, forbidding expression clearly warned keep away, even to someone as thick-skinned as Qing Zhu. Unable to hold his tongue, he turned to Mo Qi instead, eager to share the latest gossip.

“Heard a few days ago the master took in a young gentleman—said he’s stunning. Even had a special chamber prepared in the west wing, with the steward personally overseeing everything. And from what Pei’er in Madam Liu’s quarters said, the master dotes on him like crazy—hasn’t even paid Madam Liu any attention these past days.”

Qing Zhu spoke with relish.

Mo Qi showed little interest.

But Ning Xuan—though unwilling—couldn’t help but overhear, and jolted inwardly.

He was, after all, a modern man, educated and open-minded. It wasn’t that he couldn’t accept such matters—but ideals and reality were never quite the same. What unsettled him was not the concept itself, but the fact that he had stumbled into such a vivid, unfiltered scene without warning.

His sensibilities still required a more gradual adjustment.

“Mm,” Mo Qi responded briefly, hands never pausing.

“They say this young master has completely monopolized the master’s favor. Eating together, living together, coming and going side by side without a care—no wonder the east and west wing households are seething with jealousy. The servants over there are all on edge now.”

Qing Zhu grew more animated as he spoke.

“See? I had foresight—got myself transferred out of that mess early. Look at me now—free and easy. And I even get to watch those arrogant servants who used to strut around with their noses in the air now walking on eggshells. Quite entertaining~”

“That’s not foresight,” Ning Xuan cut in, unable to bear it. “That’s being kicked out.”

Qing Zhu snorted. “Oh? Since when did you start eavesdropping? What I say—what’s it to you?”

Eavesdropping…

Ning Xuan’s face darkened instantly.

“If it’s something meant to be whispered behind walls, then kindly lower your voice,” he shot back. “You’re practically announcing it to the whole world.”

Back and forth they went, and Qing Zhu only grew more excited. With a leap, he landed beside Ning Xuan, slinging an arm over his shoulder, grinning mischievously.

“Aren’t you curious what that young gentleman looks like? Must be something, to captivate the master like this.”

Ning Xuan scoffed. “How different can a man look? Eyes, nose—everything in the right place. Look at you, then look at Mo Qi. Even if not identical, it’s close enough.”

Qing Zhu narrowed his eyes, his grin turning sly. He stroked his chin, gaze roaming shamelessly over Ning Xuan.

“That’s what I used to think,” he drawled. “But you… you’ve overturned quite a few of my assumptions.”

His tone grew teasing.

“If they were all as… enchanting as you, then it’s no wonder the masters keep a few young gentlemen around.”

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