Old Zhang had gone off somewhere, while Aunt Qin and Qingchuan hurried along, trying their best to appear inconspicuous, yet clearly making a deliberate effort to avoid the scene.
The kind-hearted mother, Cui Suniang, stood beneath the corridor eaves, her face obscured by the backlight, her expression unreadable. She remained motionless, showing no intention of stepping forward to rescue anyone.
Judging by the situation, Cheng Zi’an was bound to receive this beating. He swiftly tucked his hands behind his back.
First, because it hurt; second, because it was utterly humiliating.
Cheng Zi’an refused to give up, shouting hoarsely, “What have I done wrong? Why are you hitting me?”
Seeing that Cheng Zi’an dared to talk back, Cheng Zhen’s expression darkened further. He roared, “A father beating his son—does that require a reason?”
This was unreasonable. Damn the wicked old society of ancient times!
Realizing that reasoning was futile, Cheng Zi’an turned and fled on his short legs, stretching his arms toward Cui Suniang and wailing pitifully, “Mother, save me! Father is being unreasonable! Father is going to beat me to death!”
Hah! This brat was becoming more disobedient by the day. Cheng Zhen glared in anger, took long strides with his legs, quickly caught up, grabbed the back of Cheng Zi’an’s collar, and tucked him under his arm.
Cheng Zi’an was hoisted up, flailing his arms and legs wildly, his dignity completely lost.
But he was still young—face didn’t matter!
Cui Suniang hesitated, wanting to speak but ultimately forcing herself to turn away and retreat to the bedroom.
Utterly resigned to his fate, Cheng Zi’an was carried by Cheng Zhen to the main hall, placed over his knee. Cheng Zhen discarded the stick and raised his palm instead, smacking Cheng Zi’an’s bottom with loud thwacks.
The flesh on the buttocks was thick, so the sound was thunderous, but it didn’t actually hurt much.
Cheng Zi’an thought he had already suffered enough humiliation, but he was still too young—he hadn’t expected things could get even more embarrassing.
Never forgive!
Cheng Zi’an disliked crying, but inside, tears flowed like a river. He squirmed like a frog suddenly tossed into boiling water.
Cheng Zhen scolded as he struck, “At such a young age, you dare to defy discipline? What will become of you when you grow up?”
“When studying, you always find excuses to slack off. You’ve been practicing calligraphy for years—I don’t demand perfect structure, but at least write the characters correctly. Such simple characters, and you still get them wrong!”
Listening to the accusations, Cheng Zi’an realized this beating was actually about his exam results.
To be honest, aside from arithmetic, where he had cheated, the rest of today’s results were pure luck.
What Cheng Zi’an considered a rare good performance still failed to satisfy Cheng Zhen. Did he expect him to become a Zhuangyuan (First-place Graduate)?
Wishful thinking!
Since he could never meet Cheng Zhen’s expectations, Cheng Zi’an decided to embrace his fate.
Cheng Zhen had only him, this sole heir. Let’s see if he dared not strive—otherwise, his unfilial son would starve to death in the future!
“Lacking courage and strategy, reckless, and senseless.”
Huh? What did that mean?
Had Cheng Zhen seen through his attempt to help Fang Yin but disapproved of his method?
Cheng Zi’an had once asked Cui Suniang about the meaning of Cheng Zhen’s name.
Cui Suniang explained, “Zhen means ‘needle,’ used to treat illnesses. Your father’s courtesy name is Wuji, hoping for a peaceful world, free from sickness and disaster.”
Lofty aspirations, critiquing societal ills—extending from curing diseases to governing the nation and bringing order to the world.
Perhaps all scholars were like this: filled with grand ambitions to govern the country, manage the family, and bring peace to the world. Yet, in the end, scholars all shared the same fate.
Selling their talents to the imperial court.
Cheng Zi’an had no interest in becoming an official in ancient times. He only wanted to be an idle, carefree playboy, enjoying life to the fullest.
As for the family’s decline and what would happen to the next generation—Cheng Zi’an never planned to marry, so it wasn’t even within his consideration.
Cheng Zi’an was puzzled again. Cheng Zhen hadn’t stepped in to help Fang Yin either. For shame, and he was a Juren (Provincial Graduate) highly regarded by their teacher.
Cui Suniang had taken excellent care of Cheng Zi’an during his illness. Having been sick for over a month, while others would grow thinner after an illness, he had instead been nourished to a fair and plump state, gaining several pounds.
Cheng Zhen was lean, and as Cheng Zi’an kept wriggling, he grew tired and began panting heavily, finally stopping and pulling Cheng Zi’an down to the floor.
“Go practice your calligraphy,” Cheng Zhen ordered sternly.
Having been spanked and now told to write, Cheng Zi’an covered his bottom and promptly lay on the ground, howling without tears like thunder without rain.
Cheng Zhen stared at Cheng Zi’an, nearly laughing in exasperation.
He knew best how lightly he had struck; Cheng Zi’an was clearly being mischievous.
Cheng Zi’an had always been naughty, but after his illness, he had gained an extra layer of childish cheekiness.
Cheng Zhen rubbed his temples, ignoring the round, plump lump lying face-down on the floor, and stood up to walk out the door.
The stars twinkled in the night, the stifling heat of the day had receded, and a cool breeze drifted gently.
The knot of frustration in Cheng Zhen’s heart eased. Hearing Cheng Zi’an’s cries gradually soften inside the room, he turned to look.
At this sight, even if Cheng Zhen had been angry again, he couldn’t help but laugh.
That rascal Cheng Zi’an had his bottom stuck high in the air, peeking outside upside down. Those dark, lively eyes were both clever and sly.
Hearing the commotion outside quiet down, Cui Suniang also emerged from the bedroom. Seeing Cheng Zi’an on the floor, she paused for a moment before hurriedly stepping forward to pull him up. “Quick, get up. The floor is cold—be careful of catching a chill and falling ill.”
Cheng Zi’an took the opportunity to stand, gave a few dry sobs, then slipped away like grease underfoot into his own bedroom.
Still concerned, Cui Suniang followed, urging, “You must wash up before sleeping, or you’ll ruin your teeth.”
Cheng Zhen snorted and said, “If his teeth rot, he’ll suffer for it himself. Since he doesn’t listen, why bother with him?”
Despite his words, Cheng Zhen still called Qingchuan to fetch hot water and attend to Cheng Zi’an for rinsing his mouth.
Cui Suniang stepped outside, studying Cheng Zhen, and advised, “Don’t be angry. Zi’an is still young.”
Cheng Zhen sighed, took her hand, and slowly descended the steps, strolling along the courtyard.
“That rascal is clever—he got every question right on the Arithmetic exam—but he just doesn’t apply his mind properly, spending all day thinking about play,” Cheng Zhen said.
Cui Suniang smiled faintly and replied, “Weren’t you the same when you were young? Often skipping homework and punished countless times by Father.”
Exposed, Cheng Zhen didn’t blush. “I had everything under control—I already knew the lessons. That rascal simply refuses to learn. We’re not the same.”
Cui Suniang agreed with a smile, then frowned slightly. “Fang Yin was kept at the school. His parents must be worried.”
Cheng Zhen said, “Mr. Zhou knows what he’s doing. Keeping him is just to offer a few words of comfort, and he’ll send someone to take him home. Fang Daniu, seeing how late it was and his son not yet back, would also go to the school to look for him. Earlier, I had Old Zhang take a bolt of cloth to the Fang family. If anything had happened, Old Zhang would have rushed back with news long ago.”
Cui Suniang relaxed slightly. “Fang Yin is always bullied at school. How can this go on?”
Cheng Zhen replied, “For poor scholars seeking to rise above their station, it’s a hundred times harder than for those from great families. What Fang Yin is facing is just the beginning. At school, with the teacher offering some protection, he only suffers some indignities—it won’t endanger his life. But after passing the exams and Entering Officialdom, those without background or wealth can be swept away in an instant if they’re not careful, not even able to save their lives.”
How could Cui Suniang not understand? She had seen plenty of fawning over the powerful and trampling on the weak. Back when her father was preparing for the Spring Imperial Examination in the capital, everyone treated her family with utmost respect.
But after her father failed the exam, those people’s gazes changed—mocking, gloating, schadenfreude, pity, all mixed together in the most complicated ways.
Cheng Zhen said, “I’m not angry about that rascal’s exam results; I’m angry that he doesn’t understand these truths. Who can guarantee success in the Spring Imperial Examination? If I hadn’t passed, who knows how many would have laughed at us. At the Fuxue, he would also face ridicule and bullying. If he excels in his studies, those people might hold back a little. Don’t underestimate Xin Jinian just because he’s young—he still shows some wariness toward Fang Yin, likely because his family warned him not to bully him too much. If Fang Yin ever rises to prominence, even if the Xin family is powerful and unafraid of him, it would still strain their relationship.”
Cui Suniang never interfered with Cheng Zhen’s strict guidance of Cheng Zi’an’s studies for this very reason. Seeing Qingchuan come out with a basin and towel, she quickly beckoned him over and asked, “Is everything washed?”
Qingchuan replied respectfully, “After washing up, the young master has already fallen asleep.”
It seemed Cheng Zi’an had firmly decided to skip his calligraphy practice tonight.
Cheng Zhen glared in annoyance, while Cui Suniang chuckled and muttered, “Such a handful.”
The “handful” Cheng Zi’an woke up refreshed and, for once without needing Cui Suniang’s urging, finished breakfast and proactively called Qingchuan to carry his book bag, heading to school in the morning light.
Cheng Zi’an was still worried about Fang Yin and wanted to investigate the situation at the Fuxue.
The Fuxue rules stated that all servants and attendants must stop at the main gate.
Cheng Zi’an took his book bag from Qingchuan and slung it over his shoulder. He had barely taken a few steps when someone suddenly bumped into him from behind, sending him stumbling forward and nearly falling flat on his face.
Damn!
Who dared bully the esteemed son of the renowned Cheng Juren?