Summary 7

This page contains an original arc analysis written for readers of the English translation.

Arc Seven: The Failed Son-in-Law’s Comeback — Reputation Is a Battlefield

Arc Seven drops the farming tools and picks up something far sharper: reputation. If earlier arcs asked whether Ji Xiu could survive, this one asks whether he can stand upright in a world that has already decided he is worthless.

Ji Xiu enters this arc as a man with no standing in his wife’s family. He is a live-in son-in-law, mocked by servants, dismissed by elders, and quietly pitied by scholars. Four failed provincial exams have reduced his value to a punchline. In this society, failure is not neutral; it is contagious. Once you fail enough times, people stop seeing effort and start seeing a moral flaw.

The arc opens quietly, with Ji Xiu returning to study. He doesn’t announce grand ambitions. He doesn’t argue with anyone. He reads, organizes his books, exercises, and eats with his daughter. This restraint is important. Ji Xiu understands something the people around him don’t: reputation cannot be rebuilt by shouting. It can only be rebuilt by consistency.

But the world is not interested in letting him improve in peace.

The first real conflict arrives through Zhang Ping, a parasite disguised as a friend. Zhang Ping represents Ji Xiu’s past life choices: drinking, gambling, spending money to buy companionship. When Ji Xiu cuts him off, Zhang Ping panics. Not because he cares about friendship, but because he is about to lose his meal ticket.

The confrontation between them is one of the arc’s most satisfying moments. Ji Xiu doesn’t argue politely. He doesn’t try to explain. He severs the relationship cleanly and publicly, drawing a line so sharp that it humiliates Zhang Ping in front of his own lackeys. The fallout is brutal. Zhang Ping’s life collapses almost instantly. His “friends” disappear. His lover abandons him. He ends up worse off than before.

This isn’t revenge. It’s gravity.

Arc Seven makes it clear that Ji Xiu is not interested in saving people who drag others down. Growth requires pruning. That applies to trees, reputations, and friendships.

The second major shift in this arc is Ji Xiu’s return to the county school. This is where the story turns from domestic tension to intellectual warfare. Ji Xiu doesn’t just read harder; he reads smarter. He seeks teachers. He accepts guidance. He humbles himself without groveling.

His reunion with Yin Xiang, a former classmate who succeeded where he failed, could have been humiliating. Instead, it becomes quietly transformative. Yin Xiang offers him family-annotated books—knowledge that is not meant to circulate freely. This is not charity. It is recognition. Yin Xiang sees that Ji Xiu has finally matured into someone worth helping.

This moment matters because it exposes the real reason Ji Xiu failed before. It wasn’t intelligence. It wasn’t memory. It was pride mixed with fragility. He avoided successful peers because their existence reminded him of his own stagnation. Now, that insecurity is gone.

At the same time, the arc sharpens its focus on the Su family’s internal dynamics. Ji Xiu’s relationship with Su Ling’er deepens in ways that unsettle everyone else. He treats her as a child when she needs comfort and as a person when she needs respect. This balance terrifies Su Xiangyu, who has spent years molding her daughter into a flawless successor.

The dinner at Xinghua Courtyard is the emotional core of the arc. Ji Xiu watches his daughter shrink under the weight of rigid elders and suffocating etiquette. When she breaks down and cries, he does something unthinkable in that household: he chooses her feelings over appearances.

He picks her up and leaves.

This single action redraws every power line in the Su family. In that moment, Ji Xiu is no longer a useless son-in-law. He is a father who refuses to let his child be crushed by tradition. Su Xiangyu follows him. The elders are left sitting at a full table with no one to eat.

It’s quiet rebellion, and it’s devastating.

From here, the arc escalates into its most dangerous thread: Qi Feng.

Qi Feng arrives wearing the mask of a poor but ambitious scholar. He claims moral high ground. He speaks of filial piety and broken engagements. But Ji Xiu sees through him instantly. Qi Feng doesn’t want a wife. He wants a ladder. Marrying Su Ling’er would give him wealth, connections, and academic backing.

Ji Xiu dismantles him without raising his voice.

He reframes the engagement as mutually unwanted, forces Qi Feng to reveal his greed, and corners him until the only thing left is his hypocrisy. Qi Feng refuses compensation not because he is noble, but because he believes money is less valuable than control.

This arc is merciless in exposing false virtue. Qi Feng talks about honor, but berates neighbors. He claims to protect his sister, yet uses her illness as leverage. When his sister’s true identity is revealed and she is taken in by her real family, Qi Feng’s reaction is not relief—it is calculation.

The arc makes it painfully clear: Qi Feng does not love his sister. He loves ownership.

Ji Xiu, by contrast, consistently gives his daughter agency. He protects her without turning her into a bargaining chip. This contrast is deliberate and sharp. One man sees family as leverage. The other sees family as responsibility.

By the end of Arc Seven, several things have shifted permanently. Ji Xiu has reclaimed his dignity, not through status, but through boundaries. He has allies in the scholarly world. He has cut away exploitative relationships. Most importantly, he has made it clear that Su Ling’er is not a commodity, not a political token, and not a reward for ambition.

This arc matters because it marks Ji Xiu’s full transformation. He is no longer reacting to the world. He is shaping it. Every decision here ripples forward—into politics, into marriage plots, and into future power struggles.

Arc Seven proves something essential:
A man who has lost everything and rebuilt himself quietly is far more dangerous than one who has never fallen.