Seeing that Yu Tingzheng was truly ignoring him now, Pei Qingyu felt a flicker of annoyance. He gripped his brush tightly and began to scribble aimlessly on the paper.
This was an old ailment of his; he would occasionally suffer bouts of dizziness. His head would buzz for a few moments and then pass. It wasn’t excruciatingly painful, but it left his entire body feeling limp and weak, making him want nothing more than to lie in bed. If A-Tong were here, he would have surely offered him a piece of candy to help.
But Yu Tingzheng understood none of this.
Thinking of this, Pei Qingyu grew even more disgruntled. With a few quick strokes, he drew a turtle on the paper. He was silently calling Yu Tingzheng a “bastard.” Yet, he immediately felt that such name-calling was beneath him, so he added a few more lines to the turtle until it was unrecognizable.
Yu Tingzheng remained completely unaware of these childish antics. He was focused intently on the teacher’s lecture, though the material left him feeling as if he were lost in a fog. By the end of the day, he was utterly confused and worried, having understood almost nothing.
Throughout the day, Yu Chengfeng hadn’t found a chance to cause him trouble until school was dismissed.
When the bell rang, the students rose in a clamor, packing their book boxes and rushing out of the hall, eager to head home. Yu Tingzheng helped pack Pei Qingyu’s book box. Carrying the Young Master’s box in one hand and his own in the other, he was about to follow Pei Qingyu out when the chubby son of the Village Chief grabbed Yu Chengfeng.
“Chengfeng, isn’t that your brother?” the fat boy asked with a smirk. “How is it that he’s attending school too?”
“What other reason could there be?” someone else chimed in. “Yu Tingzheng has been sold to the Pei family. The Peis are wealthy; they certainly don’t lack silver. In a tiny academy like ours, he can come whenever he pleases. What can anyone do about it?”
Yu Chengfeng had intended to ignore Tingzheng, but hearing these words made him feel incredibly slighted. He stepped forward to block Tingzheng’s path and sneered, “So what if you’ve come to the academy? Do you honestly think a stutterer like you can ever become an official?”
Yu Tingzheng had never dreamed of becoming an official. He came to the academy simply to learn to read, to be educated, and to understand the ways of the world. Hearing his brother’s words, he felt a surge of indignation.
Why can’t a stutterer become an official? he thought. And even if I can’t, does attending school mean you, Yu Chengfeng, will definitely become one?
But he couldn’t say it. If he spoke back, Chengfeng would surely tattle to their parents. Even though he had been sold, he still feared them. In the past, whenever he upset Chengfeng, his father would beat him with a stick and his mother would call him a “wicked-hearted stray.” He didn’t know what “stray” meant, but the word always made his heart ache.
He didn’t know if the Peis might one day send him back, so he still didn’t dare provoke Chengfeng. He simply stood there with a flushed face, puffing out his cheeks in anger. He wanted to scold them but didn’t dare; besides, his stutter would only make him a laughingstock again.
“Who said a stutterer cannot be an official? Your parents, or the teacher?” Pei Qingyu suddenly spoke up.
Yu Chengfeng opened his mouth but found no rebuttal. He truly didn’t know if a stutterer could hold office. Pei Qingyu was a young master from the city; he naturally knew more than a village boy. Chengfeng fell silent, looking disgruntled.
However, the Young Master added unhurriedly, “An official must not be narrow-minded, disrespectful to their elders, conceited, or vain someone like you is the one who will never hold office. If you only study to become an official, you’d be better off going to town with your father to haul goods. It would save him from wasting his hard-earned money on a useless failure like you.”
Yu Tingzheng’s eyes widened as he stared blankly at Pei Qingyu. He hadn’t expected such a beautiful person to say such biting, ruthless words.
Having finished his piece, Pei Qingyu didn’t spare Chengfeng another glance. He gave Tingzheng a look and walked around the group to head outside. Yu Tingzheng looked at Chengfeng, whose face was now purple with rage, teeth gnashing as if he wanted to bite someone and hurriedly scurried after the Young Master.
As they crossed the fields, Tingzheng hopped along, following in Pei Qingyu’s footsteps. “Yu’er, you were… so amazing just now. You talked until Yu Chengfeng couldn’t say a word.”
Hearing the admiration in his voice, Pei Qingyu looked over with indifferent eyes. “It was only a few words. How ‘amazing’ could it be?”
“It was… amazing. I… I couldn’t say it… but Yu’er could. You are… the best.” Yu Tingzheng giggled. Seeing Chengfeng suffer a setback made him incredibly happy, his face glowing red in the evening light.
He looked quite soft; Pei Qingyu wondered how he would feel to the touch.
The Young Master huffed. “That is only because you are stupid.”
Yu Tingzheng nodded vigorously in agreement. “Yu’er… is right. Yu’er is smart… and I am stupid.”
They returned to the fenced courtyard where the servants had already prepared dinner. During the meal, Madam Pei asked about their day. Yu Tingzheng stammered through a long explanation, picking only the good things to say. However, he had few good things to say about himself; half of his stories were about Pei Qingyu—praising his beautiful handwriting and how the teacher had complimented him.
Being praised so much made Pei Qingyu’s face feel hot. He wanted to stuff food into the boy’s mouth to quiet him. With a stern face, he placed a piece of food into Tingzheng’s bowl. “Eat quickly. The food is getting cold.”
“Ah!” Overwhelmed by the favor, Tingzheng quickly ate it. “Thank you… Yu’er.”
Pei Qingyu watched the boy’s bulging cheeks. Before he could speak, Madam Pei reached out and pinched Tingzheng’s cheek. “Why are you thanking him? We are a family. Yu’er is five months older than you; it is only right that he looks after you.”
Seeing the cheek he had been eyeing being pinched by someone else, Pei Qingyu’s fingers fidgeted with his chopsticks, and he fell silent.
Yu Tingzheng, lacking any social awareness, continued to chatter away to Madam Pei. His slow, stuttering speech was quite noisy to Pei Qingyu’s ears, and the Young Master felt the urge to silence him again.
How can he talk so much? Why wasn’t he this talkative when people were bullying him today?
Pei Qingyu didn’t know why he was unhappy again. He simply set down his chopsticks and announced he was full. In reality, he had only eaten a few bites. Madam Pei grew worried. “Are you feeling unwell? Why have you eaten so little?”
“I’m fine, just not hungry.” Pei Qingyu glanced at Yu Tingzheng. “I simply don’t have such a… ‘good’ appetite.”
By now, Yu Tingzheng had already finished two bowls, but his stomach was still empty. He was wondering if he should have a third when he felt self-conscious; seeing the Young Master look at him made him even more embarrassed.
Seeing the boy lick his lips, looking as if he wanted to put the bowl down but couldn’t bear to, Pei Qingyu felt a pang of something. He suppressed his irritation and said, “There is plenty of food left. Don’t let it go to waste.”
Yu Tingzheng immediately refilled his bowl to the brim.
Pei Qingyu: “…”
After dinner and his evening wash, Pei Qingyu sat at his desk in a thin robe, reading. When Tingzheng returned from his own wash, he carried his book box and looked at the Young Master expectantly.
Pei Qingyu glanced at him. “What is it?”
With a smile on his face, Tingzheng asked, “Yu’er, can I… can I… practice my writing… beside you?”
Pei Qingyu huffed and lowered his eyes back to his book. “This room does not belong to me alone. Why do you need to ask?”
That was a “yes.”
Yu Tingzheng hadn’t considered the room his own, but seeing the consent, he carefully moved to sit beside the Young Master. He pulled out his book, brush, inkstone, and inkstick. He clumsily ground the ink and began to copy the characters from the book stroke by stroke, his face full of excitement.
The characters were crooked and messy, barely recognizable. But the act of writing seemed to bring him immense joy. He wrote page after page without tire until he finally saw some improvement.
After a while, Pei Qingyu couldn’t sit still any longer; he needed to lie down. Just as he was about to get up, Yu Tingzheng leaned in, his eyes shining.
“Yu’er,” Tingzheng blinked. “Do you know… how to write… my name?”
What a joke.
Pei Qingyu expressionlessly took the paper and brush from his hand.
It was a total joke. What could be difficult about the three characters of “Yu Tingzheng”? Could he possibly not know how to write them?
With a swift, masterful flourish, he wrote the three characters on the paper. The strokes were powerful and elegant far more beautiful than the printed characters in the book. It was enough to dazzle Yu Tingzheng’s eyes.