Fifteen-year-old Wang Yuan, with a bright and cheerful face, turned and waved, “Second sister, come here!”
Shuyi and nine-year-old Wang Jie also turned around, looking for their sister.
Zhenyi, hiding behind her grandmother and clutching her clothes, peeked out with her little head tied with a red ribbon, seeing her grandfather for the first time.
A few days ago, Zhenyi had overheard some rumors about her grandfather. Everyone said he had a bad temper and loved to argue. He had argued his way from being the magistrate of Haifeng County to being imprisoned, from Xuanhua Prefecture to Jiaying Prefecture, and then from Jiaying Prefecture back to his home in Jinling…
Therefore, everyone gave him the nickname “Strange Magistrate.”
But Zhenyi felt the rumors were untrue. Her grandfather wasn’t strange at all, nor did he like to argue. After returning home, he only did two things every day.
One of the two things was reading.
Wang Zhefu would read with the children every morning.
The reading place was the library that the Wang family had specially brought to house their books. Before Wang Zhefu returned, the library was always locked, and only Wang Xirui and Wang Xichen could enter to retrieve the books.
Zhenyi had never had the opportunity to access this “forbidden place” before, but after her grandfather’s return, the library’s doors were opened to all the children.
The first time Zhenyi entered the library, she followed her grandfather, with Ju Zi beside her. The two of them craned their necks, looking upwards in the direction the old man pointed, listening as he read the four large characters on the plaque—”Jifang Library.”
In front of Jifang Library was a small pond, and beside the pond stood a pavilion named Defeng Pavilion.
Wang Zhefu told the children that when the weather got warmer, he would take them to the pavilion to read.
Every day at reading time, Wang Jie arrived the earliest. By the time Zhenyi and Ju Zi arrived, he had already finished reading a chapter of “On Teachers.”
Shuyi didn’t come every day. Zhenyi heard that her eldest sister had recently been diligently learning needlework; her third aunt said that was a woman’s “homework” more important than studying. Of course, studying was still necessary; the title of “talented woman” was a nice bonus, and in recent years, women reading and composing poetry had become fashionable, and some women with such talent would be highly regarded by their husbands’ families.
However, the third wife preferred her daughter to attend a private school rather than study under the old man; scholarship was her son Wang Jie’s primary concern.
Every three days, Shuyi would attend a private school in Jinling City, where a lady who had been bestowed a chastity arch by the court was in charge of teaching. There, Shuyi studied the *Rules for Women*, a classic text for women, and learned to compose contemporary boudoir poetry.
Yang Jinniang always looked up to her third sister-in-law, who had raised two excellent children, as a role model. She often sought advice from the third wife on how to educate her daughter, fearing that Zhenyi might fall behind and thus fail to become a virtuous woman.
The Third Madam smiled and told her not to be too nervous; Zhenyi was only five years old, and eight was the best age to enter the girls’ school.
Yang Jinniang nodded silently, counting the days; that meant three more years.
Wang Yuan was often nowhere to be seen while studying. Unlike Shuyi, he spent his days away from the study calling friends and seeking amusement.
But when Wang Zhefu did something else, Wang Yuan was eager to follow.
In the afternoons, Wang Zhefu would always go fishing.
Not far behind the Wang family residence was a small river. On sunny afternoons, Wang Zhefu would walk ahead carrying a small stool, followed by Wang Yuan with his fishing rod, then Zhenyi carrying a fish basket half her height, then Chun’er with a rolled-up mat tucked under one arm and a food box in the other, and lastly, her eyes fixed on the oranges in the food box—containing golden-brown, crispy fried fish.
Wang Yuan often had friends coming to fish, but they would often disappear halfway through, leaving Zhenyi to accompany her grandfather.
This was also the time when her grandfather would give Zhenyi extra lessons. The old man would often take a twig and write a few beautiful, neat characters on the ground, teaching them to her.
A few characters could fill an entire afternoon for Zhenyi.
By the riverbank, spring turning to autumn, one could always see the little girl sitting or squatting on a mat, her small hands holding the twig, repeatedly copying the characters. She was far quieter and more focused than other children.
With a “snap,” whenever the twig in Zhenyi’s hand broke, Ju Zi would bring her a new one.
Ju Zi had several roles; besides watching Zhenyi write, she also helped Wang Yuan keep an eye on the hook.
The autumn air was crisp and clear. King Zhe Fu would occasionally doze off in the afternoon, and Orange would keep a close eye on the fishing hook with her squinting eyes. Whenever a fish bit, Orange would slap the old man awake with two loud thuds.
The old man would jolt awake and quickly reel in his line.
If it were a big fish, he would toss it into the fish basket.
If it were a small fish, it belonged to Orange; this was the rule, and Orange’s rightful wage.
With her meager wages, Orange supported many stray cats within a five-mile radius. The number of cats watching King Zhe Fu fish grew from one or two to three or four, and then to about ten.
Of these ten or so cats, Orange disliked one the most.
It kindly invited everyone to come and collect fish, but one time,e while eating, the black and white cat suddenly dropped its fish and inexplicably chased it for three miles… While it’s true that all cats can be a little eccentric, this level of eccentricity is rare!
As the cats coming to collect fish became more and more consistent, King Fu began to feel a bit of pressure. If he missed a day of fishing, he felt a pang of guilt—what later generations called rest shame—his originally leisurely activity gradually took on an unforgivable, shady character.
Fortunately, the cats weren’t greedy. Each cat would collect one small fish, then hop into the bushes and leave, never taking more than its share.
Orange later discovered that this was because the black and white cat was maintaining order. Oh, that guy actually considered himself the police officer of the feline world, allowing only one fish per cat.
Orange remembered the day it was being relentlessly chased; it was just about to eat its second small fish… In the other cat’s eyes, that was probably violating cat law!
But it was the host, so why should it have the right to interfere? It was just plain crazy!
As Orange cursed the cow-and-cow cat inwardly, Zhenyi suddenly asked curiously, “Orange, did you secretly tell them that someone here is giving away fresh fish?”
Wang Yuan, with a tender piece of fish mint in his mouth, reclining on the mat with his arm as a pillow and legs crossed, squinted and said, “Second sister, you don’t understand Orange’s nature. If you ask me, it must have told the stray cats this—”
As he spoke, Wang Yuan cleared his throat, placed one hand in front of him, and turned his head like an official on a stage, declaring in an arrogant tone, “This great benevolent cat, Orange Master, has hired a farmhand to fish here and is hosting a feast for the villagers!”
Zhenyi laughed, and the “farmhand,” Wang Zhefu, shook his head in agreement, “It’s tough…”
Orange, the “overseer,” sitting at Wang Zhefu’s feet, flicked its tail, not giving Wang Yuan a second glance.
This scene by the river was witnessed by Miss Qian from the neighboring family. She painted a picture and presented it to Zhenyi on the Mid-Autumn Festival.
Miss Qian’s name was Yuling, courtesy name Jiuying. She was one year younger than Shuyi and six years older than Zhenyi. She and Shuyi studied at the same private school, and because their families were neighbors, the girls often visited each other.
Qian Yuling’s deceased grandmother was a renowned calligrapher and painter, and she herself was extremely talented in these arts. Although only eleven years old, her paintings already showed promise.
Qian Yuling adored Zhenyi, and Zhenyi also adored her cheerful and talkative older sister, Jiuying.
On the Mid-Autumn Festival, Zhenyi received a painting as a gift. Qian Yuling and Shuyi, who had recently been learning to compose poetry, jokingly asked Zhenyi to “write a poem” for the painting.
A five-year-old child composing poetry is nothing more than a playful joke, but Zhenyi, with great seriousness, actually composed a childlike poem, reciting it aloud:
[Grandfather holds a fishing rod by the stream,
Attracting seven or eight kittens.
The oranges sit diligently as supervisors,
Only the eldest brother sleeps soundly.]
Qian Yuling and Shuyi were stunned for a moment, then looked at each other and couldn’t help but laugh. Qian Yuling laughed so hard he couldn’t straighten up.
The poem quickly spread throughout the Wang and Qian families. Everyone praised little Zhenyi’s intelligence and wit. Wang Zhefu praised her repeatedly, personally holding Zhenyi’s hand and inscribing the child’s poem on a painting.
Yang Jinniang was also pleased to hear the praise for her daughter, and Wang Xichen also said that his daughter had a talent for reading and composing poetry.
Only Wang Yuan was punished for this.
It was Wang Xirui who struck the child: “Outrageous! Your five-year-old sister can already compose poems, and you, you unfilial son, are still fast asleep!”
After striking the child, Wang Xirui went to complain to his father.
The old man comforted him, “Since you’re not cut out for scholarship, there’s no need to force it… an empty head makes life easier.”
Wang Xirui: “Father, yesterday I tested him on his studies. It was just a poem, asking him what the preceding line of ‘If you don’t work hard when you’re young, you’ll regret it when you’re old.’ Guess what he answered?”
Wang Zhefu was somewhat surprised: “He couldn’t even answer that?”
Wang Xirui lamented, “If he couldn’t answer, he could just admit it, but he racked his brains and answered—’ As the saying goes!'”
Wang Zhefu was silent for a moment, stroking his beard, as if pondering whether there was something wrong with the ancestral graves. Finally, he sighed and stopped trying to comfort his eldest son—an empty head isn’t a problem in itself, but one this empty usually warrants a beating.
So, that night, Wang Yuan received another beating.
Wang Yuan, his bottom still aching, lay in bed for three days before suddenly leaping up to chase after Orange. He ran wildly into the garden, where Orange scrambled up a tree to escape.
Wang Yuan, one hand clutching his bottom, pointed at Orange and berated it for letting go of his favorite thrush.
Orange felt utterly wronged; it hadn’t meant to let it go, it intended to eat it!
Taking advantage of Wang Yuan’s distraction, Orange jumped down from the tree and ran straight to Jifang Study to seek refuge with Zhenyi.
Life at the Wang family’s house was both noisy and peaceful. Autumn passed, winter came, and after a few snowfalls, spring arrived again.
The newly six-year-old Zhenyi secretly rejoiced. Last year, before her fifth birthday, it had truly worked; Mama Lu seemed to have forgotten about binding her feet.
However, in the world of children, “disasters” always strike suddenly and without warning.
In the middle of the first lunar month, the Rain Water solar term arrived as scheduled. Zhenyi was awakened by Ju Zi’s noise before it was time for her to get up.
Zhenyi opened her eyes, and Ju Zi barked at her as if facing a formidable enemy.
Zhenyi sat up and looked out through the open window. She saw her mother standing in the courtyard talking to Mama Lu, who was holding a stack of white cloth in her hands.