Cui Suniang didn’t know what had happened at the school, but her voice sounded somewhat anxious. “What should we do? Could this implicate Zi’an?”
Cheng Zhen remained silent. Cheng Zi’an’s heart tightened. Thinking he couldn’t hear clearly from a distance, he slipped out of bed and, using the light from outside the window, made his way to the desk beneath it. He crouched there, eavesdropping.
“What could happen to Zi’an? Don’t worry. Xin Zhong is just angry and embarrassed. While he loves his son, it’s another matter entirely that his son is unpopular at school.”
Cheng Zhen’s voice turned cold as he said, “Xin Zhong doesn’t have the final say in the Xin family, and Fuxue isn’t a place the Xins can dominate. It’s not worth tarnishing the entire family’s reputation for Xin Jinian.”
Cheng Zi’an secretly sighed in relief. He heard Cui Suniang exhale deeply, just as he had, and say, “It’s good for a family to flourish, but when there are too many people, it becomes hard to manage. With Old Master Xin around, things can still be kept somewhat in check. Once he’s gone, if no one in the Xin family can take up the mantle, the family will decline.”
Cheng Zhen chuckled in agreement. “Exactly. No foundation lasts forever. Xin Zhong has always been useless. If it weren’t for his sister marrying into the Yong’an Marquis’s household, Old Master Xin would have dealt with him long ago.”
Cui Suniang hesitated for a moment before asking, “Did Xin Jinian really fall on his own, or was someone behind it?”
Cheng Zi’an’s heart, which had just settled, tightened again. As he tried to shift his stance, his hand accidentally knocked against something, producing a clattering sound.
The conversation stopped, and footsteps drew nearer. Cheng Zi’an felt a pang of regret. He raised his hand to rub his eyes, pretending to be drowsy.
Cheng Zhen entered the room, took out a fire striker to light the lamp, and examined Cheng Zi’an. “What are you doing?” he asked.
Cheng Zi’an yawned and mumbled, “I need to pee.”
Cheng Zhen was taken aback. “Then hurry up and go.”
Cheng Zi’an quickly agreed, shuffled off to the washroom, and returned to bed.
After Cheng Zhen and Cui Suniang went back to their room to wash up, Cheng Zi’an lay in bed thinking for a while. Sleepiness soon overcame him, and he drifted off peacefully, sleeping soundly until dawn.
Even though he didn’t have to go to school, Cheng Zi’an was still woken up early. After washing up, he saw Cheng Zhen entering the room, his shoes covered in grass clippings and dew, radiating warmth from outside.
Cheng Zhen frowned at him, stepped forward, and pinched his arm. “You’re too weak. This won’t do.”
Cheng Zi’an looked at Cheng Zhen warily, only to hear him say, “Later, you’ll go to the fields to pick up wheat ears.”
What did that mean?
Cheng Zhen glared at him. “Look at your expression. Stop making a fuss. ‘Who knows that each grain in the bowl comes from hard toil?’”
Cheng Zi’an recognized the poem. Did Cheng Zhen mean for him to go to the fields for labor training?
After breakfast, Cui Suniang dug out a set of slightly worn short clothes for Cheng Zi’an to change into and handed him a small, exquisite basket. “Don’t play around too much. Take breaks while you’re picking. The wheat ears are prickly, so be careful not to get anything in your eyes.”
Cheng Zi’an felt like crying. The sun was scorching, enough to make a person sweat oil. Since working in the fields was so hard, and Cui Suniang was clearly worried, why did she listen to Cheng Zhen? As his doting, loving mother, she should have stepped in to stop him!
Cheng Zhen, also dressed in short clothes, dragged Cheng Zi’an out the door. Most of the wheat in the fields had already been harvested. Farmers, sweating profusely, bent over to bundle the wheat they had cut early in the morning, loading it onto carts and donkey carts to haul to the drying grounds.
In the cleared fields, children bent over, carefully picking up fallen wheat ears. Sparrows and other birds fluttered about from time to time, competing with them for food.
Cheng Zhen chatted with the villagers as he walked, pointing at the children and saying, “You see, they’re even younger than you, yet they already know how to help their families. The wheat ears they gather can be ground to add an extra bowl of rice to the household.”
Cheng Zi’an had walked all the way under the sun and was already sweating, his cheeks flushed red. This kind of exercise was both strenuous and pointless. If it ever came to him having to gather grains in the fields to help feed the family, Cheng Zhen would surely be in tears.
The children watched Cheng Zi’an with a mix of curiosity and shyness. Seeing that he couldn’t escape, Cheng Zi’an smiled generously at them, slung his basket over his shoulder, and stepped into the field.
There weren’t many fallen wheat ears in the field. Cheng Zi’an strolled around as if window-shopping, and when he finally spotted one, he didn’t bend down to pick it up. Instead, he called out to a little girl with two buns on her head, “There’s one here.”
The little girl paused for a moment, then stepped forward with a smile, picked it up, and thanked him in a clear, sweet voice.
Cheng Zi’an smiled and said it was nothing, continuing his leisurely stroll through the field. Whenever he spotted a wheat ear, he would call over the nearest child to pick it up.
Gradually, the children’s initial shyness faded away, and they happily gathered around Cheng Zi’an. One child offered him a grass root, saying eagerly, “Brother, eat this. It’s really sweet.”
Cheng Zi’an patted the child’s buns, took the grass root, and popped it into his mouth, chewing with exaggerated delight. “It’s delicious! You’re amazing for finding such a sweet grass root.”
The grass root had a faint, refreshing sweetness. For children who often only ate half-full meals, it was already a rare treat.
The child, praised, beamed with joy, eyes narrowing into slits. Seeing this, the other children eagerly stepped forward to offer their own treasures.
Cheng Zi’an laughed heartily, accepting each one with a smile. “That’s enough, that’s enough. You should eat some too.”
After discussing this year’s harvest with the tenant farmers, Cheng Zhen came over and saw Cheng Zi’an had become the king of the children, his basket empty. He couldn’t help but feel both exasperated and amused.
Cheng Zi’an wanted to repay his little followers and called out loudly, “Dad, I’m hungry! I want peaches, loquats, zongzi, salted duck eggs, and pine nut candy!”
Hearing Cheng Zi’an list a whole array of snacks, Cheng Zhen shot him a few stern looks before going back and asking Qingchuan to bring two large food boxes.
Cheng Zi’an stood with his hands on his hips, waving his arm to gather all the children. “It’s too hot. Let’s take a break first and come back later to gather more.”
The children happily followed Cheng Zi’an to the edge of the field, where they saw Qingchuan spread out a mat on the ground and arrange all the fruits and snacks from the food boxes.
The fruits were fresh, the zongzi fragrant, the salted duck eggs had thin shells, the pine nut candy was sweet and satisfying, and the mung bean soup was just the right temperature.
The children’s mouths watered as they stared longingly, but none dared to step forward.
Cheng Zi’an said, “Wash your hands first.” The water in the ditch was clear and cool. He crouched down to wash his hands, and the children followed suit, washing their hands obediently before standing there quietly.
Cheng Zi’an said generously, “You treated me to snacks earlier, so now it’s my turn to treat you. That’s how friendships work. Come on, come on, take whatever you like. Don’t be shy!”
Only then did the children cheer, imitating him by sitting on the mat, choosing their favorite foods, and eating with relish.
Cheng Zi’an drank half a bowl of mung bean soup to quench his thirst, casually picked up a loquat, and slowly peeled it while observing the village children.
The little girls were more reserved and restrained. They took the snacks in front of them, their eyes lighting up with delight, but they ate in small, careful bites, leaving half in their hands.
As if sensing Cheng Zi’an’s gaze, she blushed and asked nervously, “Young Master Cheng, if I can’t finish this, may I take it back for my mother?”
Cheng Zi’an paused. He wanted to laugh but couldn’t bring himself to. He quickly replied, “Of course, of course.” Turning to Qingchuan, he instructed, “Go pick some clean leaves so they can wrap the food.”
Qingchuan acknowledged and left, returning shortly with banana leaves, which he trimmed and laid out on the mat.
The children were sensible. Peaches and loquats were not particularly scarce in the countryside, though they weren’t as sweet as the ones before them. Still, they weren’t considered rare treats.
Zongzi, salted duck eggs, and pine nut candies, however, were truly precious. The Cheng family’s zongzi included plain ones, red bean paste-filled ones, and some stuffed with large chunks of meat.
Every household in the village raised chickens and ducks, but the eggs they laid were too precious to eat—they were sold in the market to supplement the family income. Meat and eggs were only tasted during festivals and the New Year.
Sugar was expensive, and the only kind families could bring themselves to buy was maltose. How could it compare to the fragrant, crispy pine nut candies?
The children chattered excitedly as they happily divided the treats, then politely thanked Cheng Zi’an, saying, “Brother, we’re going to gather wheat ears now.”
He was here to experience life; they were here to survive. Cheng Zi’an looked up at the sun overhead but ultimately refrained from dissuading them. Instead, he stood up and followed them into the field.
As before, Cheng Zi’an didn’t gather any wheat ears himself. Whenever he spotted one, he pointed it out for the children to collect.
Cheng Zhen stood with his hands behind his back on the ridge, watching Cheng Zi’an, who hadn’t bent his waist even once. His expression was unreadable, but a glimmer of approval shone in his eyes.