◎Mom! Pay Up~◎
Chen Yan had excellent examination techniques, skillfully allocating his time and fortunate enough to be assigned a relatively spacious and clean examination cell. Aside from the stubble growing around his lips, he remained in fairly good condition.
“Did you miss Daddy?” Chen Yan asked.
“Yes!”
Lin Yuebai caught up and urged: “Come down quickly, Daddy is very tired.”
“How did you get here?” Chen Yan emerged from the narrow examination cell, his face lighting up at the unexpected sight of his wife and child.
“Ping’an missed you and insisted on coming to pick you up,” Lin Yuebai said.
“That’s not true!” Ping’an mercilessly exposed her: “It was clearly Mother who wanted to come, using me as an excuse.”
Lin Yuebai pinched his cheek: “You just have to talk so much.”
Ping’an wriggled away, then took his father’s hand with one hand and his mother’s with the other, skipping and jumping along the bustling Gongyuan Street.
The street entrance was crowded with carriages waiting to take examination candidates home, with numerous vendors lingering to solicit business, completely blocking the entire Gongyuan Street. This was how he and his mother had made their way in.
The caramelized aroma of boiling sugar wafted by, and Ping’an’s attention was captured by a sugar figurine stall at the roadside. Letting go of his parents’ hands, he darted straight toward it. Grandmother never allowed him to eat sugar at home, but now that they were in the provincial capital, he intended to indulge to his heart’s content.
“Slow down!” his parents called after him repeatedly.
The stall owner pinched off a fingernail-sized piece of malt sugar, pulling out a long strand as he prepared to put it in his mouth.
Ping’an stood on tiptoe, his dark, bright eyes fixed on the man: “Mister, I want to blow it myself.”
The stall owner found it hard to resist such a jade-like, adorable child and handed the slender sugar tube to his lips.
As Ping’an blew air into it, the stall owner skillfully shaped the sugar. In just a few movements, the form of a cute little dog began to take shape.
“Make the ears bigger, the mouth shorter, and the tail curlier,” Ping’an instructed admiringly: “You’re amazing, mister! It looks just like our Aji.”
“Your dog is named Aji?” The sugar figurine vendor handed him the sugar puppy skewered on a bamboo stick. Charmed by the boy’s cuteness, he even drew the characters “Aji” in sugar and gave it to him.
Ping’an happily reached for money, only to find his sleeves empty. He had almost forgotten – he was currently penniless.
He called out to the crowd: “Mom! Pay up~”
Several passersby turned to look, seemingly curious to see who this little boy’s parents were.
Lin Yuebai approached and took out a silver-red carp-shaped purse from her waist, extracting a few copper coins to give to the vendor.
“Mom!” Ping’an jumped up: “So you were the one who took my purse!”
Lin Yuebai held the purse high as she hid behind Chen Yan. The three of them played a game of “eagle catches chicks” for a while before Chen Yan lifted Ping’an up.
Ping’an struggled fiercely: “Give me back all my treasures!”
…
The Xiang Examination results were typically announced in mid-September, so the family of three only stayed one night at an inn in the provincial capital before setting out the next day to return to Sheng’an County and await news.
The first thing Ping’an did upon returning home was to reclaim his treasures – which had been bundled up and thrown into the dry well in the western courtyard. Even worse, half of the savings he had accumulated over four years, a full fifteen taels and eight mace of silver, had been spent by his mother… and she had confiscated all the substantial money given by his grandfather, leaving him with only a small ten-tael silver ingot.
Well, ten taels was still ten taels – after all, he had actually gained three taels overall.
Ping’an counted his lost-and-found toys and silver notes over and over again.
In the examination hall, Chen Yan had been sustained by sheer willpower and hadn’t felt particularly tired. But upon returning home, after shaving, washing up, and freshening himself inside and out, the moment he lay down on his long-missed pillow and bedding, the soreness and exhaustion from every limb and meridian surged through him all at once.
By the time Ping’an was counting the silver notes for the third time, he saw that Old Dad had already fallen asleep.
He carefully put away his treasures, tiptoed to cover Old Dad with a woolen blanket, found a spot beside him to lie down, and holding his Tiger-Head Pillow, fell into a deep sleep—after all, hadn’t he been through just as much hardship!
…
During the days waiting for the exam results to be posted, Ping’an finally had the chance to spend day and night with his parents, and Chen Yan finally witnessed how his wife taught their son to read—through storybooks.
Of course, Lin Yuebai had done some filtering—the inappropriate ones she kept for herself and would never let Ping’an see.
The publishing industry in Da Yong was highly developed, with lenient policies allowing everyone to write and publish books. Various types of books emerged like bamboo shoots after rain.
The recently popular serialized novel—”The Three Heroes Quelling Demons”—told the story of two boys and one girl, three young heroes who braved dangers to slay demons and save the people. The entire novel was fast-paced, full of perilous situations, and every word was thrilling. It had been warmly embraced by a wide readership since its release.
What made this book remarkable was its appeal to all ages—men and women, young and old could find reflections of themselves in it. And the author, “Kongshan Xianke,” was none other than Ping’an’s granduncle Chen Jingshi. Chen Yan and Ping’an had long known this, but to maintain an air of mystery, they chose to keep it from Mother.
Chen Yan asked in disbelief, “You’re using a novel to teach him how to read?”
Lin Yuebai looked up, “What’s the problem?”
“Shouldn’t he start with the ‘Three Hundred Thousand’?” Chen Yan asked.
Lin Yuebai smiled faintly and asked Ping’an to demonstrate for his father.
Ping’an randomly flipped to a page, pointed at a line, and haltingly read it out.
Chen Yan was slightly surprised. He hadn’t known that Ping’an could recognize so many characters, thinking he only knew his own name and numbers.
Lin Yuebai said proudly, “He can now read through the ‘Three Character Classic’ in its entirety. Isn’t it more efficient than teaching him character by character?”
Ping’an secretly felt proud. In truth, like most users of simplified characters, reading traditional characters wasn’t much of a burden for him—it felt almost innate. Learning traditional characters individually was indeed tedious, but in context, like in a novel, it was different.
However, after his initial surprise, Chen Yan simply said, “Ping’an reads well, but outside this door, don’t tell others that you know so many characters.”
Ping’an’s smile froze, and he asked curiously, “Why?”
“Just do as I say,” Chen Yan replied.
Ping’an let out a somewhat disappointed “Oh.” Chen Yan told him to go out and play, so Jiu Huan took the shuttlecock and jump rope and brought him to the courtyard.
Lin Yuebai removed her earrings in front of the mirror, her tone clearly displeased, “He’s just over four years old and knows so many characters, yet you pour cold water on him. Is literacy something shameful? Why can’t he tell others?”
“I have his best interests at heart,” Chen Yan said.
Lin Yuebai found him baffling but didn’t dwell on it, picking up her book to continue reading.
Chen Yan leaned in closer to help her remove the other earring, lowering his voice to a whisper as he gently suggested, “It would be better to read him some proper foundational texts. The I Ching says, ‘Enlightenment nurtures correctness, the sage’s achievement lies herein.’ The essence of ‘enlightenment nurturing’ lies in ‘nurturing’—not just literacy, but laying the groundwork for moral cultivation.”
Lin Yuebai pondered for a moment before agreeing, “You’re right. From now on, I won’t be lazy—I’ll start teaching him with the ‘Three Hundred Thousand’ primers.”
“Excellent.” Chen Yan smiled. “At his age, while his mind is still unformed, reading such lowbrow miscellaneous books might distort his innate nature.”
No sooner had he spoken than Lin Yuebai’s expression shifted instantly. “What do you know? This ‘Kongshan Xianke’ must be a refined and cultured gentleman—how could his work be considered lowbrow?”
She could accept criticism about her teaching methods and correct them, but she would never tolerate anyone calling “The Three Heroes Quelling Demons” a vulgar miscellaneous book!
“As for him…” Chen Yan chuckled inwardly. Having grown up with Chen Jingshi, how could he not know whether his uncle was truly a refined gentleman?
But then he noticed his wife’s face had turned frosty as she uttered just three words: “Very well, then.”
Chen Yan thought to himself: three consecutive “wells” probably meant things were not well at all. He dared not say more, yet his silence seemed to irritate her further. That very night, both father and son were once again banished to the front courtyard.
After washing up, Ping’an hugged his Tiger-Head Pillow and sat cross-legged on the bed, his small face full of resentment. “Father, next time you provoke Mother, could you let me hide somewhere far away? I always get implicated because of you.”
Chen Yan replied, “Didn’t I tell you to leave?”
Ping’an grew even more glum. “Then why was I driven out too?”
“You’re not the only one,” Chen Yan said.
Ping’an glanced at the unlucky little dog curled up in the corner—at least he still had Aji for company.
A Xiang entered carrying a freshly sun-dried thin quilt to make the bed. Chen Yan helped untie his son’s hair and coaxed, “Since we’re here, we might as well accept it. Perhaps by daybreak tomorrow, Mother will let us return.”
Ping’an made a face at him, hugged his Tiger-Head Pillow, and rolled to the foot of the bed, curling up in a corner to stare blankly.
“Not sleeping yet?” Chen Yan asked.
“Can’t sleep. Mother has been telling me bedtime stories these past few days—from ‘Investiture of the Gods,'” Ping’an said.
Chen Yan went to the outer room and scanned the bookshelf but found no copy of “Investiture of the Gods.” Returning, he asked, “All I have is ‘Extended Meaning of the Great Learning.’ Will you listen to that?”
Ping’an had never heard of “Extended Meaning of the Great Learning,” but with no other options, he nodded reluctantly. “I’ll listen.”
Chen Yan opened the book, skipped the preface, and began reading in a gentle, flowing voice: “The Canon of Yao says: He investigated antiquity, and of the Emperor Yao, it is said he was Fangxun, reverent, intelligent, accomplished, thoughtful, naturally and unassuming, sincerely respectful, and capable of modesty…”
When he looked up again, Ping’an was already asleep in the corner.
That was remarkably fast.
Chen Yan murmured to himself, “I should have used this method to lull him to sleep when he was little.”
After speaking, he picked up Ping’an, arranged him in a more comfortable position, and tucked the small quilt around him. Then he quietly washed up and changed clothes. Suddenly, he heard his son murmuring in his sleep.
“Father, Father…”
Chen Yan turned to look at his sleeping son’s face, a smile unconsciously touching his lips. How adorable that he still dreamed of his father even in sleep.
“You failed the imperial exams!”
Chen Yan: “…”
Ping’an giggled a few times, half-opened his eyes, kicked off the quilt, and fell soundly asleep.
[Author’s Note]
I’ll randomly send out 20 red envelopes as a token of appreciation for everyone’s support~ [kiss]