◎As the common saying goes: If the father is untaught, it is the son’s fault.◎
Sheng’an was located in the Jiangnan region, and by the beginning of the fifth month, the onslaught of summer heat could already be felt.
The adults had all changed into their summer clothes of spun silk, and four cold dishes had been added to the dining table. The maids pulled on hand-cranked fans, the creaking sound bringing a hint of coolness to the sweltering weather.
Today, the whole family was celebrating Ping’an’s birthday. Granny Liu had specially made his favorite Scallion Juice Tofu Skin Shrimp Buns. The outer skin was fried to a crispy perfection, the shrimp filling was tender and smooth, and they were wrapped into tiny portions, just right for a single bite.
While waiting for the elders to be seated, Ping’an sat in a corner, chipping away at a block of ice. He was making a Plum and Mulberry Drink with a base of crushed floral tea ice—his mother’s favorite.
The family was small. Ping’an had no uncles, his two aunts were married and lived elsewhere, and Chen Yan and Lin Yuebai had only him as their child, making the household feel a bit desolate.
Chen Yan had always been a man of few words, especially so during his exam preparations. Lin Yuebai also didn’t talk much in front of her in-laws. Her mother-in-law had a strong personality and managed everything both inside and outside the home, so she simply chose to say less and do less. Weren’t novels and storybooks more interesting than the clan’s property accounts?
The Chen family members appeared exceptionally harmonious because their personalities were so complementary. Yet, beneath this harmony lay a hint of dullness and boredom. At the dinner table, usually only Chen Laoye and Ping’an vied to speak. The old master had accomplished little in his life, but he was exceptionally talkative. He often told jokes, some good and some bad, at the table to liven up the atmosphere.
The Chen family, after all, was not a great aristocratic clan and had no rule of “no talking at meals, no speaking in bed.” Ping’an was also a particularly appreciative audience and could always get the mood going. But for some reason today, on such a fine day, he seemed distracted.
He had a terrible nightmare at noon today. In the dream, thunder rumbled under a clear sky, and a sudden storm brought a dramatic change.
A fifteen-year-old boy, travel-worn and weary, rushed home from the academy. Having just received the devastating news that his parents had been beheaded and their bodies displayed in the market, he was sealed within the square courtyard. His grandfather’s cold head rested on his lap, and his grandmother, dressed in her finest, hung silently from a beam in the room.
It was indeed recorded in the book that his grandparents seemed to have had a premonition. Within a month, they had hastily married off three of his female cousins from a collateral branch and repudiated the new brides of two of his male cousins. They had saved all whom they could, then followed their son and daughter-in-law in death.
…
Chen Laoye asked tentatively, “My dear grandson, if you don’t like the name ‘Ping’an,’ shall Grandfather help you change it back?”
The whole family turned their gazes toward him.
Ping’an shook his head like a rattle drum. No, that wouldn’t be necessary.
Lin Yuebai touched his forehead, a little worried. “Son, are you not feeling well somewhere?”
He squeezed out a handsome smile. “Mother, it’s nothing. I’m just teasing you!”
The atmosphere at the table livened up again. Granny Liu placed a small bowl of chicken noodle soup in front of him. The noodles were coated in egg white and rolled out thinly, topped with shredded chicken and green vegetables, and a poached egg nestled within.
Ping’an told himself to cheer up. After all, once he finished this bowl of birthday noodles, he would be a full four years old.
Four years old—an age for striving. He absolutely could not choose comfort, absolutely could not give up and let things rot. He had to change his own and his family’s fate through his own efforts.
…
The first step to changing fate was to fully understand the environment he was in.
Before, he had been too young. When he went out, he only looked for food, toys, brilliant lanterns, and lively acrobatic shows. He was a glutton for food and fun, carefree and without worries, and had never actively observed his surroundings.
Taking the opportunity of his grandfather wanting to take him to the street to buy a few birthday gifts, he planned to start with Chen Family Alley.
Before they left, his grandmother instructed them, “Don’t go too far, eat fewer snacks, and come back early.”
Her demeanor was as if she were instructing two grandsons.
“We know!” Ping’an answered, following his grandfather out the door.
They walked north along Chen Family Alley and crossed a small stone bridge. At the head of the bridge stood a tall, green-stone archway. This archway had been there for as long as Ping’an could remember; it was quite old.
He stopped at the head of the bridge, looking at the archway engraved with several strings of names, and asked, “Grandfather, what is this for?”
Chen Laoye picked him up and set him on his shoulders, teaching him to read the three large characters at the top of the archway: “Ju. Ren. Fang.”
Ping’an’s eyes lit up. “I know! The names carved on it are the people from our Chen clan who became Juren.”
“Er—” Chen Laoye gave an awkward, dry laugh. “It’s the people from their Northern Chen family who became Juren.”
Ping’an looked around and saw that a small river cut Chen Family Alley into northern and southern sections. The Northern Chen family lived clustered north of the small bridge, while the South Chen lived to the south.
The Chen family was an oddity in all of Sheng’an County. One ancestral hall housed two separate genealogical records. Houses, fields, burial grounds, shops… all property accounts were clearly divided. For the New Year’s ancestral worship, one family would perform the rites at the Yin hour, the other at the Mao hour—twice in total. Even when the children of the two families attended the same clan school for their primary education, their desks and chairs were separated by a wide aisle.
The Northern Chen family produced one talented person after another, and the “Juren Archway” standing at the head of the bridge was proof. Ping’an turned his head to look at their Southern Chen Family’s territory. There were no archways or stone tablets, just smooth green-stone slabs leading straight to the end.
Chen Laoye felt even more sheepish and said in a low voice, “Don’t look that way. No one’s passed the exam yet.”
Ping’an retorted, “Not a single one?”
Chen Laoye said, “Isn’t your father studying for it now?”
After generations of effort, the Southern Chen Family had produced a total of two Students. One was Chen Laoye’s youngest brother, Ping’an’s granduncle Chen Jingshi, and the other was Chen Yan.
Chen Laoye clearly didn’t want to continue this topic. Before Ping’an could ask another question, he pulled him along and they quickly passed through the archway.
Ping’an was still young and couldn’t fully grasp the intricate family relationships. “Grandfather, since we’re all one clan, why are we divided into southern and northern families?”
“Ah, that’s a long story,” Chen Laoye began to explain.
It turned out that two brothers in the Chen family’s ancestry had a falling out and moved to live on opposite banks of the river, each making their own living. The ancestor of the North Chen spent all his family’s fortune on studying for the imperial examinations, while the ancestor of the South Chen managed the family business until it flourished. From that time on, the gap between “scholars” and “merchants” between the two families widened.
Although the members of the South Chen clan were wealthy, they were a step below the North Chen in every aspect because they had no one in the imperial court.
It is often said, “A common man is innocent, but his treasure makes him guilty.” Having no one in the court was like being a lamb waiting for slaughter; a vast family fortune could be reduced to ashes in an instant. Therefore, in times of peace, any family with some means would spare no effort to cultivate their children to study and become officials. After entering officialdom, they would use their official status to give back to the family, making it even more prosperous and prominent.
The year before last, a murder case occurred in the Northern Chen family. A bride died unnaturally just three days after her wedding. The Northern Chen family used their connections through marriage to quickly smooth things over.
The deceased happened to be the maternal niece of Ping’an’s granduncle, Chen Jingshi—that is, the niece of his late wife, Meng. How could Chen Jingshi let the matter rest? He wrote a petition on behalf of the deceased to clarify the injustice, but was instead stripped of his Student status by the Education Circuit Intendant on the charge of “instigating litigation for personal gain.” Thus, one of the Southern Chen Family’s only two Students was lost.
The relationship between the two families plunged to a historic low.
Now, the two families appeared to be at peace on the surface, but in their hearts, they were competing. Therefore, Chen Yan’s participation in the imperial examinations was of great significance to the entire South Chen.
In the eyes of the clansmen, Chen Yan becoming a Juren was almost a certainty, and they had pinned the entire future of the family on him.
…
“The entire future of the family,” Ping’an murmured.
But if their trust was misplaced, it would be a family-wide game of elimination.
“Of course.” Chen Laoye’s voice was filled with pride as he rattled off his son’s glorious achievements as if they were family treasures. Things like fully reciting the 《Three Hundred Thousand Characters》 at age three, reading the Four Books at six, and being able to compose poetry at eight…
Ping’an could almost recite these words himself.
But so what? For a family that was about to be wiped out, what future was there to speak of?
“Perhaps if everyone hadn’t tried so hard from the beginning, they might have lived a little longer,” he commented.
“What did you say?” Chen Laoye didn’t hear clearly.
Ping’an came back to his senses and wrapped his arms around his grandfather’s neck. “I said I’m hungry.”
“Ah, I knew you hadn’t eaten your fill.” Chen Laoye quickened his pace.
Riding on his grandfather’s shoulders, Ping’an’s field of vision widened. They continued north, merging into the bustling and lively evening market.
…
The next day after school, in the front study, Ping’an stood motionless, tilting his head as he looked at Chen Yan.
It wasn’t that he was being protective, nor was he judging a book by its cover, but his father just didn’t look like some great, wicked villain.
It was clearly recorded in the 《Records of Traitors》 that Chen Yan had a face like jade, with open brows and bright eyes. His posture, whether walking, sitting, or standing, was like that of a gentleman who had stepped out of the Four Books. His calligraphy was as fluid as moving clouds and flowing water, and his handsome appearance had been a considerable help to his official career.
Of course, Ping’an had heard many historical anecdotes. Most treacherous ministers were skilled calligraphers, and perhaps they had once been upstanding and virtuous youths, or even devastatingly handsome and wild heartthrobs… One couldn’t judge a person by their appearance, and a person’s heart was not immutable.
He thought of Cai Jing, Qin Hui, Yan Song… he thought of the innocent people these men had directly or indirectly persecuted… he thought of their different experiences and similar endings…
“Sigh.” The little dumpling sighed again.
How could Chen Yan know that a small child would have so many winding thoughts? He just thought the boy was being mischievous and making funny faces again, and sent him back to the inner residence to wash his hands and prepare for dinner.
Ping’an acknowledged with a sound and walked toward the inner residence with his little head drooping, pondering countermeasures to defy fate and change his destiny as he went.
As the common saying goes: If the father is untaught, it is the son’s fault.
As a son, he had a responsibility to cultivate his father into a noble person, a pure person, a person beneficial to the people.
But he was only four, a cub who wasn’t even allowed to be a picky eater. He had no right to speak at all.
He squatted down and petted the dog’s head. “Aji, what should I do?”
Aji propped his paws on his knees and nuzzled him a few times, then spun in place, performing eagerly.
“You just had dried fish at noon, are you hungry again?”
Ping’an glanced at the sun slanting in the west. It was indeed getting late. He had to find something for Aji to eat first.
He tiptoed into the kitchen. Taking advantage of his small size, he hugged the wall with his back bent, so no one would notice him.
Granny Liu, the cook, was stewing fish soup. She watched as two chubby little hands reached out from under the stove, felt for the roasted chicken on the plate, skillfully tore off a drumstick, and vanished with a whoosh through the kitchen doorway.
She smiled helplessly. It was a daily drama she had long grown accustomed to. She even made it a habit to place a plate of lukewarm, low-salt, low-oil meat in that fixed spot before dinner, waiting for Ping’an to come and steal it.
In a corner of the covered walkway, Aji was tearing at the chicken leg, eating with great relish. Suddenly, a flash of inspiration struck Ping’an, and he slapped his thigh in excitement.
When he had snuck into the kitchen, the soup had been at a rolling boil. Granny Liu had picked up the fire poker and pulled the excess firewood out of the stove chamber. The boiling soup immediately quieted down, simmering gently over a small flame.
“To stop the water in the pot from boiling, you pull the firewood out from under the pot…”
Ping’an had an epiphany, his whole being buzzing with excitement. He led his little dog through layers of corridors, across the Courtyard of Four Waters Returning to the Hall, and in the afterglow of the setting sun, he ran swiftly, chasing his own shadow.
“Aji, I’ve thought of a divine and unpredictable plan!”
“Woof!”
Aji bounded up to him.
Ping’an squatted down and lifted Aji’s big ear. “I’ll make my father fail the jinshi exam so he can’t become an official!”
“Woof woof!”
He tried hard to suppress his excitement and asked Aji, “Am I very smart?”
Aji jumped up excitedly. “Woof woof woof!”
Chapter
Chapter 3
◎As the common saying goes: If the father is untaught, it is the son’s fault.◎
Sheng’an was located in the Jiangnan region, and by the beginning of the fifth month, the onslaught of summer heat could already be felt.
The adults had all changed into their summer clothes of spun silk, and four cold dishes had been added to the dining table. The maids pulled on hand-cranked fans, the creaking sound bringing a hint of coolness to the sweltering weather.
Today, the whole family was celebrating Ping’an’s birthday. Granny Liu had specially made his favorite Scallion Juice Tofu Skin Shrimp Buns. The outer skin was fried to a crispy perfection, the shrimp filling was tender and smooth, and they were wrapped into tiny portions, just right for a single bite.
While waiting for the elders to be seated, Ping’an sat in a corner, chipping away at a block of ice. He was making a Plum and Mulberry Drink with a base of crushed floral tea ice—his mother’s favorite.
The family was small. Ping’an had no uncles, his two aunts were married and lived elsewhere, and Chen Yan and Lin Yuebai had only him as their child, making the household feel a bit desolate.
Chen Yan had always been a man of few words, especially so during his exam preparations. Lin Yuebai also didn’t talk much in front of her in-laws. Her mother-in-law had a strong personality and managed everything both inside and outside the home, so she simply chose to say less and do less. Weren’t novels and storybooks more interesting than the clan’s property accounts?
The Chen family members appeared exceptionally harmonious because their personalities were so complementary. Yet, beneath this harmony lay a hint of dullness and boredom. At the dinner table, usually only Chen Laoye and Ping’an vied to speak. The old master had accomplished little in his life, but he was exceptionally talkative. He often told jokes, some good and some bad, at the table to liven up the atmosphere.
The Chen family, after all, was not a great aristocratic clan and had no rule of “no talking at meals, no speaking in bed.” Ping’an was also a particularly appreciative audience and could always get the mood going. But for some reason today, on such a fine day, he seemed distracted.
He had a terrible nightmare at noon today. In the dream, thunder rumbled under a clear sky, and a sudden storm brought a dramatic change.
A fifteen-year-old boy, travel-worn and weary, rushed home from the academy. Having just received the devastating news that his parents had been beheaded and their bodies displayed in the market, he was sealed within the square courtyard. His grandfather’s cold head rested on his lap, and his grandmother, dressed in her finest, hung silently from a beam in the room.
It was indeed recorded in the book that his grandparents seemed to have had a premonition. Within a month, they had hastily married off three of his female cousins from a collateral branch and repudiated the new brides of two of his male cousins. They had saved all whom they could, then followed their son and daughter-in-law in death.
…
Chen Laoye asked tentatively, “My dear grandson, if you don’t like the name ‘Ping’an,’ shall Grandfather help you change it back?”
The whole family turned their gazes toward him.
Ping’an shook his head like a rattle drum. No, that wouldn’t be necessary.
Lin Yuebai touched his forehead, a little worried. “Son, are you not feeling well somewhere?”
He squeezed out a handsome smile. “Mother, it’s nothing. I’m just teasing you!”
The atmosphere at the table livened up again. Granny Liu placed a small bowl of chicken noodle soup in front of him. The noodles were coated in egg white and rolled out thinly, topped with shredded chicken and green vegetables, and a poached egg nestled within.
Ping’an told himself to cheer up. After all, once he finished this bowl of birthday noodles, he would be a full four years old.
Four years old—an age for striving. He absolutely could not choose comfort, absolutely could not give up and let things rot. He had to change his own and his family’s fate through his own efforts.
…
The first step to changing fate was to fully understand the environment he was in.
Before, he had been too young. When he went out, he only looked for food, toys, brilliant lanterns, and lively acrobatic shows. He was a glutton for food and fun, carefree and without worries, and had never actively observed his surroundings.
Taking the opportunity of his grandfather wanting to take him to the street to buy a few birthday gifts, he planned to start with Chen Family Alley.
Before they left, his grandmother instructed them, “Don’t go too far, eat fewer snacks, and come back early.”
Her demeanor was as if she were instructing two grandsons.
“We know!” Ping’an answered, following his grandfather out the door.
They walked north along Chen Family Alley and crossed a small stone bridge. At the head of the bridge stood a tall, green-stone archway. This archway had been there for as long as Ping’an could remember; it was quite old.
He stopped at the head of the bridge, looking at the archway engraved with several strings of names, and asked, “Grandfather, what is this for?”
Chen Laoye picked him up and set him on his shoulders, teaching him to read the three large characters at the top of the archway: “Ju. Ren. Fang.”
Ping’an’s eyes lit up. “I know! The names carved on it are the people from our Chen clan who became Juren.”
“Er—” Chen Laoye gave an awkward, dry laugh. “It’s the people from their Northern Chen family who became Juren.”
Ping’an looked around and saw that a small river cut Chen Family Alley into northern and southern sections. The Northern Chen family lived clustered north of the small bridge, while the South Chen lived to the south.
The Chen family was an oddity in all of Sheng’an County. One ancestral hall housed two separate genealogical records. Houses, fields, burial grounds, shops… all property accounts were clearly divided. For the New Year’s ancestral worship, one family would perform the rites at the Yin hour, the other at the Mao hour—twice in total. Even when the children of the two families attended the same clan school for their primary education, their desks and chairs were separated by a wide aisle.
The Northern Chen family produced one talented person after another, and the “Juren Archway” standing at the head of the bridge was proof. Ping’an turned his head to look at their Southern Chen Family’s territory. There were no archways or stone tablets, just smooth green-stone slabs leading straight to the end.
Chen Laoye felt even more sheepish and said in a low voice, “Don’t look that way. No one’s passed the exam yet.”
Ping’an retorted, “Not a single one?”
Chen Laoye said, “Isn’t your father studying for it now?”
After generations of effort, the Southern Chen Family had produced a total of two Students. One was Chen Laoye’s youngest brother, Ping’an’s granduncle Chen Jingshi, and the other was Chen Yan.
Chen Laoye clearly didn’t want to continue this topic. Before Ping’an could ask another question, he pulled him along and they quickly passed through the archway.
Ping’an was still young and couldn’t fully grasp the intricate family relationships. “Grandfather, since we’re all one clan, why are we divided into southern and northern families?”
“Ah, that’s a long story,” Chen Laoye began to explain.
It turned out that two brothers in the Chen family’s ancestry had a falling out and moved to live on opposite banks of the river, each making their own living. The ancestor of the North Chen spent all his family’s fortune on studying for the imperial examinations, while the ancestor of the South Chen managed the family business until it flourished. From that time on, the gap between “scholars” and “merchants” between the two families widened.
Although the members of the South Chen clan were wealthy, they were a step below the North Chen in every aspect because they had no one in the imperial court.
It is often said, “A common man is innocent, but his treasure makes him guilty.” Having no one in the court was like being a lamb waiting for slaughter; a vast family fortune could be reduced to ashes in an instant. Therefore, in times of peace, any family with some means would spare no effort to cultivate their children to study and become officials. After entering officialdom, they would use their official status to give back to the family, making it even more prosperous and prominent.
The year before last, a murder case occurred in the Northern Chen family. A bride died unnaturally just three days after her wedding. The Northern Chen family used their connections through marriage to quickly smooth things over.
The deceased happened to be the maternal niece of Ping’an’s granduncle, Chen Jingshi—that is, the niece of his late wife, Meng. How could Chen Jingshi let the matter rest? He wrote a petition on behalf of the deceased to clarify the injustice, but was instead stripped of his Student status by the Education Circuit Intendant on the charge of “instigating litigation for personal gain.” Thus, one of the Southern Chen Family’s only two Students was lost.
The relationship between the two families plunged to a historic low.
Now, the two families appeared to be at peace on the surface, but in their hearts, they were competing. Therefore, Chen Yan’s participation in the imperial examinations was of great significance to the entire South Chen.
In the eyes of the clansmen, Chen Yan becoming a Juren was almost a certainty, and they had pinned the entire future of the family on him.
…
“The entire future of the family,” Ping’an murmured.
But if their trust was misplaced, it would be a family-wide game of elimination.
“Of course.” Chen Laoye’s voice was filled with pride as he rattled off his son’s glorious achievements as if they were family treasures. Things like fully reciting the 《Three Hundred Thousand Characters》 at age three, reading the Four Books at six, and being able to compose poetry at eight…
Ping’an could almost recite these words himself.
But so what? For a family that was about to be wiped out, what future was there to speak of?
“Perhaps if everyone hadn’t tried so hard from the beginning, they might have lived a little longer,” he commented.
“What did you say?” Chen Laoye didn’t hear clearly.
Ping’an came back to his senses and wrapped his arms around his grandfather’s neck. “I said I’m hungry.”
“Ah, I knew you hadn’t eaten your fill.” Chen Laoye quickened his pace.
Riding on his grandfather’s shoulders, Ping’an’s field of vision widened. They continued north, merging into the bustling and lively evening market.
…
The next day after school, in the front study, Ping’an stood motionless, tilting his head as he looked at Chen Yan.
It wasn’t that he was being protective, nor was he judging a book by its cover, but his father just didn’t look like some great, wicked villain.
It was clearly recorded in the 《Records of Traitors》 that Chen Yan had a face like jade, with open brows and bright eyes. His posture, whether walking, sitting, or standing, was like that of a gentleman who had stepped out of the Four Books. His calligraphy was as fluid as moving clouds and flowing water, and his handsome appearance had been a considerable help to his official career.
Of course, Ping’an had heard many historical anecdotes. Most treacherous ministers were skilled calligraphers, and perhaps they had once been upstanding and virtuous youths, or even devastatingly handsome and wild heartthrobs… One couldn’t judge a person by their appearance, and a person’s heart was not immutable.
He thought of Cai Jing, Qin Hui, Yan Song… he thought of the innocent people these men had directly or indirectly persecuted… he thought of their different experiences and similar endings…
“Sigh.” The little dumpling sighed again.
How could Chen Yan know that a small child would have so many winding thoughts? He just thought the boy was being mischievous and making funny faces again, and sent him back to the inner residence to wash his hands and prepare for dinner.
Ping’an acknowledged with a sound and walked toward the inner residence with his little head drooping, pondering countermeasures to defy fate and change his destiny as he went.
As the common saying goes: If the father is untaught, it is the son’s fault.
As a son, he had a responsibility to cultivate his father into a noble person, a pure person, a person beneficial to the people.
But he was only four, a cub who wasn’t even allowed to be a picky eater. He had no right to speak at all.
He squatted down and petted the dog’s head. “Aji, what should I do?”
Aji propped his paws on his knees and nuzzled him a few times, then spun in place, performing eagerly.
“You just had dried fish at noon, are you hungry again?”
Ping’an glanced at the sun slanting in the west. It was indeed getting late. He had to find something for Aji to eat first.
He tiptoed into the kitchen. Taking advantage of his small size, he hugged the wall with his back bent, so no one would notice him.
Granny Liu, the cook, was stewing fish soup. She watched as two chubby little hands reached out from under the stove, felt for the roasted chicken on the plate, skillfully tore off a drumstick, and vanished with a whoosh through the kitchen doorway.
She smiled helplessly. It was a daily drama she had long grown accustomed to. She even made it a habit to place a plate of lukewarm, low-salt, low-oil meat in that fixed spot before dinner, waiting for Ping’an to come and steal it.
In a corner of the covered walkway, Aji was tearing at the chicken leg, eating with great relish. Suddenly, a flash of inspiration struck Ping’an, and he slapped his thigh in excitement.
When he had snuck into the kitchen, the soup had been at a rolling boil. Granny Liu had picked up the fire poker and pulled the excess firewood out of the stove chamber. The boiling soup immediately quieted down, simmering gently over a small flame.
“To stop the water in the pot from boiling, you pull the firewood out from under the pot…”
Ping’an had an epiphany, his whole being buzzing with excitement. He led his little dog through layers of corridors, across the Courtyard of Four Waters Returning to the Hall, and in the afterglow of the setting sun, he ran swiftly, chasing his own shadow.
“Aji, I’ve thought of a divine and unpredictable plan!”
“Woof!”
Aji bounded up to him.
Ping’an squatted down and lifted Aji’s big ear. “I’ll make my father fail the jinshi exam so he can’t become an official!”
“Woof woof!”
He tried hard to suppress his excitement and asked Aji, “Am I very smart?”
Aji jumped up excitedly. “Woof woof woof!”