The Fuxue of Siming Mountain was over ten li from the prefectural city and less than two li from Cheng Zi’an’s home in Qingtan Village. He walked to school morning and evening, arriving in less than half a shichen.
After descending the mountain and rounding the foot, a broad expanse of flat land opened up. The village was crisscrossed with paths, and golden waves of wheat swayed and danced in the fields with the wind. Green rice plants nodded in response.
Ninety percent of the thriving wheat and rice belonged to the Cheng family.
Thatched huts and blue-tiled houses stood interspersed with wicker fences and tall blue-brick walls, revealing both poverty and wealth.
Through the gaps in the wicker fences, brilliant roses stretched out diagonally, while sharp shards of porcelain embedded in the blue-brick walls glinted coldly in the fading sunlight.
The Cheng residence was at the eastern end of the village, a grand seven-bay blue-brick house with tiled roofs, one of the most impressive in the village.
Entering the village, villagers returning from the fields would occasionally stop, their smiles tinged with restraint and reverence as they greeted Cheng Zhen with polite bows.
Although they were all tenants of the Cheng family, Cheng Zhen remained extremely courteous, smiling and exchanging pleasantries with each one. Cheng Zi’an could only follow along with a smile. His originally uneasy mood, after smiling all the way to the doorstep, left his face numb from the effort, but his heart had grown somewhat calmer.
The old servant Old Zhang carried fodder toward the cow shed and donkey pen. Cheng Zhen’s attendant Qingchuan, Old Zhang’s son, tucked the hem of his robe into his waistband and hurried over to help.
From the chimney on the roof, wisps of cooking smoke curled upward. Old Zhang’s wife, Aunt Qin, bustled in front of the stove, calling out in a loud voice to the maid Yunduo tending the fire, “Add more firewood, we need a strong flame.”
Yunduo replied with a cheerful “Yes, ma’am!” followed by the sizzling sounds of cooking. The aroma of yellow wine was released, filling the air with its fragrance.
Eels were at their plumpest before the Dragon Boat Festival, and it seemed dinner would feature Cheng Zi’an’s favorite sizzling eel strips.
Cheng Zhen had remained silent the entire journey, making it impossible to guess his thoughts.
“Let me eat first before the scolding,” Cheng Zi’an thought to himself, harboring no other expectations but secretly hoping.
Cui Suniang emerged from the main house and paused for a moment upon seeing Cheng Zhen. A gentle, elegant smile spread across her lovely face as she hurried down the steps to greet him. “Husband, why have you returned so early?”
Cheng Zhen and Cui Suniang had grown up together as childhood sweethearts. Cheng Zi’an’s maternal grandfather had also once been a Juren (Provincial Graduate), but unfortunately, he lacked the luck to pass the highest imperial exam and become a Jinshi (Successful Candidate of the Highest Imperial Exam). Later, he became a teacher, and it was under his guidance that Cheng Zhen began his education.
The couple shared a deep affection. The Cheng family had dwindled in numbers over generations, with only one male heir per generation for several lifetimes. Cui Suniang had injured her health while giving birth to Cheng Zi’an and could no longer bear children.
At that time, Cheng Zhen’s mother was still alive. Given Cheng Zhen’s promising future, she had urged him, both openly and subtly, to take a concubine to continue the Cheng family line, but he had politely refused each time.
“Nothing urgent, so I returned home early and stopped by the Fuxue on the way,” Cheng Zhen replied with a smile. Then his expression changed as he turned to Cheng Zi’an and said sternly, “Go wash up now.”
Cui Suniang took a closer look at Cheng Zi’an and exclaimed with a laugh, “Oh dear!”
Not only was Cheng Zi’an’s clothing wrinkled, but it was also covered in stains. The bun on his head drooped limply to the right side. His hands were pitch black, and a smudge of ink stained his plump chin.
He had left home neatly groomed in the morning, but by the time he returned in the evening, he was always filthy. Cui Suniang felt both exasperated and amused as she pulled him toward the kitchen, chiding gently, “Have you been causing trouble at school again and angered your father?”
Cheng Zhen frowned and stopped Cui Suniang. “He’s old enough now. Let him wash up on his own.”
The Cheng household was a typical family with a strict father and a kind mother. Cheng Zhen was only about two years older than Cheng Zi’an from his previous life, and due to his sternness, Cheng Zi’an instinctively resisted him and had never grown close.
Cui Suniang was different; who could resist a mother’s natural warmth? Though it had only been a short time, Cheng Zi’an couldn’t help but rely on her. Hearing this, as if provoked, he clung tightly to Cui Suniang’s arm and refused to let go.
Seeing this, Cheng Zhen raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to scold him.
Cui Suniang’s phoenix eyes shimmered as she glanced gently at Cheng Zhen. His words stuck in his throat, and he could only let out a disgruntled huff.
Ink stains were hard to wash off. Cheng Zi’an winced as he was scrubbed, his chin still faintly marked with ink, and his chubby little hands, with their dimpled backs, were even more splotched with ink.
The main room was already lit. After changing his clothes, Cheng Zi’an came out and saw that Cheng Zhen had also changed into slightly worn everyday attire and was reading a scroll.
Aunt Qin and Yunduo were busy setting out the dishes. The lamplight flickered in the room, and the aroma of food filled the air.
If only Cheng Zhen’s expression as he looked at him had been a bit better, the scene would have been truly harmonious.
After expressing his disdain for Cheng Zi’an, Cheng Zhen put down his book and came to the table, ready to eat.
Cui Suniang doted on Cheng Zi’an, constantly serving him eel strips. Cheng Zi’an pushed Cheng Zhen’s attitude to the back of his mind and buried himself in the food, eating with great relish.
After the meal, it was Cheng Zhen’s habit to take Cui Suniang and Cheng Zi’an for a walk to aid digestion. The village at night was both lively and peaceful, with frogs croaking, insects chirping, and the occasional bark of a dog.
The Cheng family was relatively well-off, unlike other rural households who grew vegetables in their yard. Cui Suniang loved flowers, so Cheng Zhen had turned the empty space into a garden. Irises, peonies, gardenias, touch-me-nots, and begonias vied for beauty, their subtle fragrance filling the air.
Cheng Zhen lifted the hem of his robe, picked some touch-me-not flowers, and placed them inside. Smiling at Cui Suniang, he said, “Later, I’ll dye your nails for you.”
Cui Suniang smiled softly and hummed in agreement.
Cheng Zi’an tucked his hands into his sleeves, gazing indifferently at the brilliant stars in the sky.
They were flaunting their affection, leaving him restless and uneasy.
Cheng Zhen was definitely doing it on purpose.
After whispering softly for a while, Cui Suniang suddenly asked, “I heard Zi’an had a test at school today. How did it go?”
Here it comes, here it comes. Finally hearing himself mentioned, Cheng Zi’an immediately tensed up.
Cheng Zhen glanced sideways at Cheng Zi’an and said coldly, “Utterly unruly, his studies are a complete mess.”
No way!
Cheng Zi’an widened his eyes, staring at Cheng Zhen in disbelief.
He had clearly improved!
Though Cui Suniang was loving, she never interfered with Cheng Zhen’s management of Cheng Zi’an’s studies. Hearing this, she merely sighed softly and fell silent.
Without an ally, Cheng Zi’an grew anxious and exclaimed loudly, “I clearly did better than before! Even Mr. Zhou said I’ve made significant progress!”
Cheng Zhen’s face hardened as he sternly said, “Still daring to argue? Is that what you call progress? Your handwriting is a mess, missing strokes and characters—is that your progress?”
Cheng Zi’an opened his mouth, his defiance fading, replaced by frustration.
Mr. Zhou and the others might have been lenient, but Cheng Zhen would not.
Cheng Zhen continued, “You led the commotion in the classroom—is that your progress too?”
Feeling utterly defeated, Cheng Zi’an threw Xin Jinian under the bus, arguing, “Xin Jinian was the one causing the most trouble. He even tore Fang Yin’s clothes and started throwing punches. Before the teacher could get to the bottom of it, Father arrived.”
Cui Suniang gasped in concern and quickly asked, “Was Fang Yin bullied?”
Cheng Zi’an loudly said yes, indignantly adding, “It’s not the first time Xin Jinian has bullied Fang Yin. Anyone could tell you that if you asked. Fang Yin is so pitiful, and no one helps him. When I left, he was still being kept by the teacher. His home is far from the school, and it’s pitch dark at night. What if he falls off the mountain?”
Cheng Zhen observed Fang Yin’s situation without uttering a single word from start to finish.
Cheng Zi’an wasn’t trying to talk back; he wanted to test Cheng Zhen’s attitude toward the matter.
Cheng Zhen’s face remained expressionless as he handed the balsam flowers from his robe to Cui Suniang, saying, “Take these back inside.”
Cui Suniang glanced at the father and son, accepted the flowers, and returned to the house.
Cheng Zhen’s expression turned grave. He casually broke off a branch from the crabapple tree and sternly commanded, “Hold out your hand.”
Cheng Zi’an whimpered pitifully, wailing up at the sky.
No way
He was still going to be beaten?
It definitely wasn’t because of the exam.
But why was he being punished?