Cheng Zi’an had fair skin, and after spending a morning in the fields under the sun, his face flushed red like a rejuvenated Guan Gong. Returning home, Cui Suniang was so distressed she didn’t know what to do, and for once, she privately complained and scolded Cheng Zhen behind his back.
Cheng Zhen truly couldn’t explain himself clearly. He chuckled and said, “Look at that boy—he was busy all morning, yet his basket is empty. He didn’t suffer in the slightest. Not only did he stroll around the fields, but he also managed to get a bunch of snacks to eat. If everyone were like him, wheat would be more valuable than gold.”
Cui Suniang said unhappily, “Zi’an is still young, and the sun is scorching. Even adults can’t stand being out in it for long without doing anything. Yet you still expect him to work? If he falls ill, I won’t let you off.”
Cheng Zhen immediately surrendered, saying repeatedly, “Alright, alright, alright. If he doesn’t go, he doesn’t go. I’m afraid if he goes a few more times, he’ll empty the entire house.”
“However, although this boy isn’t serious about his studies, he has a kind heart.” Cheng Zhen changed the subject and began talking about Cheng Zi’an’s performance in the fields.
Cui Suniang listened with a smile in her eyes and chided, “My son has always been good. It’s just you who can’t see him in a good light.”
Cheng Zhen laughed, then sighed. “If only he could channel this cleverness into his studies.”
Cui Suniang said, “No one can be perfect in every way. Besides, Zi’an is still young. He’ll come around once he matures.”
Although Cheng Zhen didn’t quite agree with Cui Suniang’s view, he was accustomed to not arguing with his wife, so he swallowed his doubts.
There was another matter Cheng Zhen kept hidden in his heart.
He couldn’t help but feel that Xin Jinian’s fall had something to do with Cheng Zi’an.
Mr. Zhou had mentioned a few things—after the exam results were released, Xin Jinian accused Cheng Zi’an of cheating in class, and the other students joined in.
Cheng Zhen thought about it. If it were him, he would have defended himself on the spot to clear his name.
But Cheng Zi’an didn’t do that. Instead, he skillfully deflected the situation, turning it into a matter of collective anxiety.
Whether intentional or not, Cheng Zhen was pleased.
When censors act on hearsay and impeach someone, the accused must write a memorial to defend themselves.
Although the innocent remain innocent, it’s often difficult to prove. Cheng Zi’an’s approach was akin to dragging the censor who acted on hearsay into the mud, letting him experience the frustration of being unable to defend himself.
However, if Xin Jinian’s incident was truly Cheng Zi’an’s doing, Cheng Zhen’s feelings became complicated.
Scheming behind someone’s back is not the behavior of a gentleman. Yet the boldness of the act was coupled with meticulousness, leaving himself completely unscathed.
If Cheng Zi’an were to luckily pass the exams and become a renowned official or a treacherous one, it would be hard to say.
Cheng Zhen’s heart was filled with mixed emotions, but Cheng Zi’an didn’t dwell on such thoughts. After walking around the fields all morning, he felt he needed to replenish his energy and ate two full bowls of rice for lunch.
If Cui Suniang hadn’t stopped him, he could have eaten another half bowl. After filling his stomach, he took a satisfying nap, and his previously wilted spirits were instantly restored.
After puttering around in his room for a while, Cheng Zi’an carried a fully loaded basket to the main hall and called out, “Father, let’s go to the fields!”
Cheng Zhen was studying in his study and was startled by Cheng Zi’an’s shout. He came out and asked suspiciously, “What’s in your basket?”
Cheng Zi’an enthusiastically replied, “Gifts for the children.”
Children? You’re still a child yourself. Cheng Zhen was almost amused by Cheng Zi’an’s childish words. He stepped forward and rummaged through the basket, his face instantly darkening.
“What is this?” Cheng Zhen picked up a book and asked.
Cheng Zi’an answered innocently, “Books.”
Cheng Zhen gritted his teeth and said, “These are the books you need for school.”
Cheng Zi’an replied without changing his expression, “Yes, they are my school books. Some of them are studying in private schools but don’t have books, so I gave these to them.”
Cheng Zhen roared, “If you give your books away, how will you study?”
Cheng Zi’an rolled his dark, lively eyes and said earnestly, “I’ll just tell the teacher I lost my books. The Fuxue has plenty of books anyway—they’ll give me another set.”
Cheng Zhen took a deep breath to suppress the urge to hit him.
This rascal clearly didn’t want to study or do his homework, and now he was even giving away all his books.
It wasn’t that the Fuxue lacked books, but if word got out that a student had lost his books, it wouldn’t be the books that were lost—it would be his own old face.
Cheng Zhen’s face turned cold as he scolded, “Put those books back right now and go do your homework. Otherwise, I’ll give you a beating!”
Cheng Zi’an let out a wail, feeling utterly dejected.
When he gave the books away, he definitely had some sneaky ideas. The Fuxue wasn’t short of books, and he wasn’t afraid of losing face—he could always ask for another set later.
Even if they didn’t give him one, it didn’t matter. For a poor student like him, books were just for show.
Cheng Zi’an considered himself a kind-hearted person. Hearing that some of the children in the village were also studying in private schools and lacked books, writing brushes, ink, and paper, he thought he might as well do a good deed and give them some.
Cheng Zi’an didn’t demand anything in return, but he believed that doing good deeds and receiving some kind of feedback would encourage more people to engage in acts of kindness.
Not everyone could rise above their station through studying, but education was the only path they had to overcome their humble origins.
With the idea of casting a wide net, Cheng Zi’an thought he might just catch one or two promising individuals. He aspired to be a carefree, pleasure-seeking dandy, and if someone remembered his kindness now and could protect him a little in the future, his life as a dandy would be much smoother.
Still unwilling to give up, Cheng Zi’an pleaded, “Can I at least give them some writing brushes, ink, and paper?”
Cheng Zhen looked at Cheng Zi’an’s hopeful face and found himself unable to refuse. He called Qingchuan over and instructed, “Qingchuan, go to the city and buy some ordinary writing brushes, ink, and paper for the children in the village who are studying.”
Qingchuan acknowledged the order. Cheng Zi’an thought to himself that it made sense—the village children were just starting their studies, and like him, using high-quality writing materials would be a waste.
Cheng Zi’an had heard from Qingchuan that the city was especially lively during festivals, filled with delicious food and fun activities.
Hearing that he could go to the city, Cheng Zi’an’s mind began to race. His eyes sparkled as he immediately said, “Father, I’ll go with Qingchuan to help pick them out.”
Cheng Zhen refused without hesitation, saying, “Go back to your room and focus on your homework. If you don’t finish it, don’t even think about going out to play!”
Cheng Zi’an wailed again and reluctantly carried his basket back to his room.
Cheng Zhen snorted and said, “If you don’t finish writing ten large characters, you’ll go without dinner.”
Cheng Zi’an lazily replied, “Yes,” and Cheng Zhen glared at his chubby back before turning and returning to his study.
The sky gradually darkened. Chickens and ducks returned to their coops, cows lowed, and the courtyard began to grow lively in the evening.
Cheng Zhen put down his book, stretched, and prepared to light the lamp.
The west room was quiet, and he couldn’t help but glance over, wondering if Cheng Zi’an was diligently doing his homework. The room was dimly lit, and he worried it might strain his eyes.
Unable to rest easy, Cheng Zhen took a fire striker and headed to the west room.
The room was empty; Cheng Zi’an must have slipped out to play long ago. By the window, the desk was cluttered with a chaotic mess of brushes, ink, paper, and inkstone.
The ink in the inkstone had dried up, and a brush was carelessly laid across it, its tip hardened into a clump.
Cheng Zhen picked up the large-character practice sheets held down by a paperweight and flipped through them swiftly—exactly ten in total.
With each sheet he turned, his anger mounted. Cheng Zhen held back again and again, but in the end, he couldn’t restrain himself, roaring, “Cheng Zi’an, get out here right now!”