◎Has My Father Gone Mad from Studying?◎
Hearing these words, Chen Yan felt a pang of heartache and guilt, letting out an almost imperceptible sigh.
Coincidentally, Sun Zhixian’s seven sons returned from school, and the magistrate had them greet Chen Yan.
“Hello, Uncle Chen.”
The seven spoke in unison.
Chen Yan looked at the boys of varying sizes before him—the eldest around eight or nine, the youngest at least four or five—and felt a wave of trypophobia. A mouthful of saliva stuck in his throat, taking half a day to swallow.
Sun Zhixian said with considerable pride, “I also have a young daughter, still in swaddling clothes, so it’s inconvenient for her to meet guests.”
Chen Yan opened his mouth, wanting to speak but holding back. He distinctly remembered Sun Zhixian had only one wife—eight children in nine years. Was that even humanly possible?
Sun Zhixian looked at the children and cheerfully pointed out four of them: “These four are my elder brother’s children. My brother passed away early, and my sister-in-law remarried. My Zhuojing is kind-hearted and took them all in to raise herself.”
Chen Yan suddenly understood.
“After the Autumn Examination, bring your An Ge’er over. Let them play together,” Sun Zhixian said. “Actually, when officials are assigned to remote posts and transferred frequently, most leave their children in their hometowns. But wherever I go, I take them with me and teach them personally.”
Looking at the seven polite and well-mannered children, Chen Yan felt inexplicably envious—not of Sun Zhixian having many children, but of each being cultured and reasonable. Unlike Ping’an’s cousins, who staged havoc in Chen Family Alley every day, leaving his son with few playmates and talking to dogs daily.
Everyone thinks their own child is best. With his fatherly bias, Chen Yan still refused to admit that Chen Ping’an was no easy child either.
…
Sun Zhixian’s words had a profound impact on Chen Yan.
Most diligent scholars are highly action-oriented. As soon as he returned home that evening, he took his wife and son to the best restaurant in the county, ordering seven or eight dishes.
“A pot of sour plum juice and a pot of fine Apricot Blossom White,” Chen Yan handed a silver coin to the waiter, instructing, “Less salt and oil. After frying with scallions, ginger, and spices, pick them out carefully before serving.”
The waiter eagerly acknowledged.
Ping’an whispered to his mother, “Mother, has my father gone mad from studying?”
Lin Yuebai lightly scolded, “No respect! How can you speak of your own father like that?”
“Really,” Ping’an said. “I tried to pick a fight with him this morning, and he’s treating me to a meal.”
Lin Yuebai nearly laughed in exasperation, “So you think you deserve a spanking, is that it?”
Ping’an sheepishly picked up his chopsticks, “Better just eat.”
With no festival or holiday, the restaurant was sparsely populated, and the dishes arrived quickly. Soon, the table was covered with colorful dishes.
Watching Ping’an devour the food with delight, Chen Yan felt even more apologetic. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had taken the child out to eat.
“Truly, food from another pot tastes better. It’s not like we starve you at home,” Lin Yuebai teased while wiping Ping’an’s mouth with a handkerchief.
Eating out naturally felt different—not only delicious but also novel and fun. Every dish seemed to suit his taste perfectly.
Ping’an had never been a picky eater since childhood, enjoying his meals heartily and eating neatly, promptly wiping away any grease at the corner of his mouth. Hearing this, he grinned at his mother and pointed at the sour plum juice in the distance.
Understanding, Chen Yan lifted the pot and poured some into the small cup in front of him.
“Thank you, Father.”
The chilled sour plum juice was refreshing and cut through the greasiness. Ping’an squinted contentedly with a smile: “Mother, can we stay out a bit longer before heading home?”
Usually, it was Mother and Grandfather who spent the most time with him. Grandfather was wonderful too, but after all, he wasn’t Father or Mother. Only when both Father and Mother were with him could he temporarily set aside his anxieties and fears.
Lin Yuebai glanced at Chen Yan. The Xiang Examination was only a month away, and everyone else was seizing every moment to study diligently.
Chen Yan smiled and said, “In a little while, let Mother go stroll around the streets first. I’ll take you somewhere.”
“Where are you taking him? So mysterious,” Lin Yuebai asked.
“Porcelain Workshop Street,” Chen Yan replied. “Come pick us up in two hours.”
After eating and drinking their fill, Lin Yuebai took two maids and rode in the carriage to drop the father and son off at Porcelain Workshop Street before heading to the nearby market.
Sheng’an County was known for its ceramics, cotton yarn, and brown sugar. The entire street was lined with hundreds of ceramic shops and porcelain workshops, large and small, creating a dazzling scene. Among them was their Chen family’s business.
Chen Yan led Ping’an through the streets and alleys, deliberately bypassing the Chen Family Porcelain Workshop, and entered a very inconspicuous small courtyard at the corner of the street. Judging by the pile of defective porcelain stacked like a small mountain in the corner, Ping’an guessed it must also be a small porcelain workshop.
Inside the courtyard, earthen walls and thatched cottages stood alongside moss-covered paths, with branches and leaves tangled in the overgrown plants, exuding a humble charm of tranquility amid the bustle.
As they entered the small yard, Ping’an craned his neck and peered around, looking very much like he was sneaking about.
Chen Yan asked him, “Why are you walking like Aji?”
“Shh—” Ping’an lowered his voice. “Father, we didn’t knock. Won’t we be mistaken for petty thieves?”
Chen Yan chuckled derisively, a teasing expression on his face, and called out loudly, “A guest brings wine! Where is the host?”
Ping’an was startled. Had Old Dad had too much to drink today? How dare he be so bold as to trespass?
A voice came from inside the room: “Come in on your own.”
“Let’s go,” Chen Yan said, taking Ping’an’s small hand.
Pushing the door open, they saw a simply furnished room with a table, a chair, and shelves of books lining the walls. By the window, a man in his thirties, handsome and dignified, sat at a desk, writing furiously.
Chen Yan bowed respectfully to the man and placed the Apricot Blossom White he was carrying on the desk.
The man finished the text he was working on before setting down his brush and looking up. His eyes fell on the little boy beside Chen Yan, and he greeted him warmly: “Chen Ping’an.”
Ping’an blinked, feeling slightly offended—aside from when he was about to be punished, he was rarely addressed so formally.
Chen Yan, however, acted as if he were in his own home, picking up the kettle to boil water on the small stove for tea.
The man bent down and straightened the slightly wrinkled collar of Ping’an’s clothes, asking him, “Guess who I am?”
Ping’an glanced around. Having spent his days tagging along with Grandfather, he had gained some insight. If his eyes didn’t deceive him, none of the seemingly simple and unadorned furnishings in the room were without value.
Taking a closer look at the man, he noticed some resemblance to Old Dad in his features, though his demeanor carried a more carefree and unrestrained air.
“Little Granduncle,” Ping’an said with certainty.
Chen Jingshi exclaimed in surprise, “This son of yours is so clever! The last time he saw me, he wasn’t even three years old!”
Chen Yan looked up and smiled modestly. “Just average, really.”
Then, they heard Chen Jingshi shake his head and sigh, “What a pity he was born into the Chen family.”
Chen Yan stared at him speechlessly.
Ping’an often heard stories about his granduncle from his grandparents. Chen Jingshi, the “great rebel” of the Chen family, had been known as a child prodigy since childhood. He never studied seriously yet excelled in brewing wine, tasting tea, collecting antiques, cooking delicacies, cockfighting, and raising insects—all while maintaining outstanding academic results. In his youth, he showed no interest in official ranks and refused to take the Imperial Exam. It wasn’t until he was thirty that he sat for the examinations for the first time, effortlessly passing both the Prefectural and Imperial Examinations. Had he not been stripped of his Student status, he would have been a sure candidate for this year’s Xiang Examination.
Such a proud man was now forever barred from the Imperial Exam. Later, he simply proposed dividing the family property and moved out of Chen Family Alley.
This small porcelain workshop was among the assets he received from the family division. Never managed with care, the business remained sluggish.
Yet Chen Jingshi never lacked money. Possessing unconventional talents, his storybooks were wildly popular among common folks, while his poetry and paintings were equally masterful. People flocked to request his literary and artistic works, and his earnings from manuscripts and brushwork were beyond calculation.
Chen Jingshi gazed into Ping’an’s spirited eyes, growing fonder by the minute. He untied the flawless white jade plaque from his waist and pressed it into Ping’an’s hands: “Take it to play with.”
Ping’an looked toward Chen Yan, expecting the usual polite refusal between elders.
But Chen Yan said: “Keep it carefully. Don’t lose it.”
Only then did Ping’an cautiously accept it: “Thank you, Granduncle.”
Chen Jingshi remarked: “When you pass the imperial examination, take him to your post early. Don’t let him stay in Chen Family Alley and pick up bad habits.”
Chen Yan stared at him speechlessly again: “Not in front of the child.”
Chen Jingshi then told Ping’an: “Don’t be fooled by how proper your father looks now. When he was your age, even the family dog would tremble at the sight of him.”
“Really?” Ping’an’s large eyes sparkled with curiosity.
Chen Yan insisted: “Slander.”
Chen Yan hurriedly served his uncle a cup of hot tea and called to Ping’an: “Let’s go to the workshop in the backyard. Your mother’s birthday is next month—she likes pottery. We’ll make her a vase.”
Ping’an jumped up excitedly. No wonder Father had mysteriously sent Mother away earlier—he planned to handcraft a birthday gift to surprise her!
He remembered how he had knocked over the flower stand last month, shattering Mother’s favorite vase. Though she never mentioned it, he had carried the guilt ever since.
As they walked, Chen Yan told him: “Even unintentional mistakes should be remedied whenever possible. Never neglect making amends just because she’s the closest to you.”
Ping’an nodded earnestly: “Understood.”
Chen Yan led them familiarly to the backyard, where a small workshop stood. Two shirtless craftsmen were working inside.
“Your ‘Black General’ needs a pot too,” Chen Yan added.
Ping’an grew even more excited, tugging at his father’s hand and urging: “Hurry and make it, Father! Quickly, quickly!”