◎What About Dog Father?◎
Zhao Shi made a gesture as if to hit him: “No respect for elders!”
Ping’an hid in his father’s arms, giggling uncontrollably.
This long-lost intimacy made Chen Yan understand his wife’s intention. Since that murder case two years ago, he had been racing against time, burying himself in studies—all to achieve better results in this year’s Xiang Examination, next year’s Huishi, and Dianshi, striving for a promising future.
He hadn’t realized he had been neglecting his wife and child for two full years.
Sun Zhixian was right—since then, Ping’an never hid anything again. To express gratitude, Chen Yan personally selected a calligraphy copybook by Mi Fu from Chen Laoye’s small treasury to gift to Sun Zhixian.
Chen Laoye exclaimed in surprise: “Eh? Wait… what does this have to do with me?”
Zhao Shi deducted some pocket money from him, and only then did he reluctantly drop the matter.
……
People of this era disliked the fifth month, avoiding weddings, house construction, moving, and stove building. Once May passed, wedding banquets and feasts came in clusters. Chen Laoye and his wife frequently went out for social engagements, and whenever Chen Yan needed to go out, he would bring Ping’an along.
One day at a bookstore, they encountered Professor Zhou from Pingzhou Academy. Chen Yan stepped forward to pay respects.
Professor Zhou bent down to scrutinize Ping’an seriously, asking bluntly: “So this is the one who stole your Examination Pass, making you miss the Ke Examination?”
Ping’an wished he could find a crack in the street to crawl into—good news never travels, but bad news spreads far and wide.
Chen Yan simply smiled gently: “My son is somewhat mischievous.”
Professor Zhou asked further: “With exams approaching, why do you still have time to wander outside with your child? Where are your family members?”
Chen Yan replied: “My parents are out, and Zhuojing has matters at her maternal home, so I brought him out to buy a couple Cheng Essays.”
Professor Zhou nodded, seeming not particularly interested in such “mischievous” children, but reminded Chen Yan that the Imperial Exam heavily emphasized maintaining momentum—it weakens on the second attempt and exhausts on the third. He must not let anything go wrong when going to the provincial capital for Luyi on the second day of next month.
The second day of the seventh month, hmm—Ping’an silently committed it to memory.
……
After bidding farewell to Professor Zhou and leaving the bookstore, Ping’an let out a long sigh: “Father, your teacher is so fierce.”
Chen Yan said: “If you think this is fierce, what will you do when you go to school next year?”
Ping’an grinned: “Then I just won’t study.”
Chen Yan smiled without responding, leading him forward.
“Father, why did you call mother Zhuojing? My mother isn’t stupid.”
Chen Yan patiently explained: “‘Jing’ implies hairpins and skirts. ‘Zhuojing’ is a humble term meaning ‘my crude person’s wife’—it’s not belittling your mother.”
“Oh,” Ping’an asked again, “What about ‘dog son’?”
“That’s also a humble term, meaning my…” Chen Yan nearly got tangled in his explanation.
Ping’an muttered to himself: “My dog son, this dog’s son, this dog is my son…”
“Want some ice bowl?” Chen Yan spotted a cold drink stall by the street and changed the subject.
“Yes,” Ping’an answered promptly.
Chen Yan handed over a few copper coins. The vendor took out a bowl, laid crushed ice at the bottom, and topped it with lotus root, lotus seeds, fox nuts, peeled walnuts, almonds, and honey peaches—reportedly a northern delicacy that had somehow become fashionable in Jiangnan.
“What about dog father?” Ping’an asked again.
The uncle vendor overheard, his ladle dropping back into the basin with a clatter.
“No such term,” Chen Yan said.
“My dog’s father.”
Chen Yan took a deep breath and explained: “That would be called ‘my father’.”
“My family’s dog’s father.”
Chen Yan felt that he deserved the title of Da Yong’s Most Merciful Father for still being able to restrain himself from breaking his son’s legs…
He calculated that upon returning home, he would immediately prepare gifts and take the child to visit his in-laws to bring the boy’s mother back.
The chilled fruit bowl was ready. Father and son found a place to sit. Ping’an took the small wooden spoon and first ate the icy cold sweet melon on top. With one bite, the summer heat instantly vanished. He squinted his eyes and smiled, finally no longer brooding over the meanings of “unworthy son” and “your father.”
Chen Yan only allowed him to eat the chilled fruits and nuts on top, forbidding him from having too much of the crushed ice below.
“Go home and take a nap. This afternoon we’ll visit your grandfather’s house,” Chen Yan said.
“Really?!” Ping’an’s eyes lit up. “Can we bring Mother back?”
“When you see Mother later, do you know what to say?” Chen Yan asked.
Ping’an put down his spoon and declared with dramatic flair: “Mother, Ping’an missed you so much!”
Chen Yan was clearly unsatisfied: “You need to be more specific. For example, say you’ve been too distressed to eat or sleep, and it’d be best to shed a few tears.”
“Wah wah wah…”
“Never mind the crying.”
…
Ping’an didn’t end up going to his grandparents’ house with his father. As soon as they returned home, they discovered Mother had already returned, bringing along gifts that Uncle had sent from his northern garrison.
Ping’an looked at the insect chirping crisply in the exquisite little bamboo cage and exclaimed with delight: “It’s a cricket!”
The cricket had a bluish-gold head, golden teeth, and an oil-glossed back. Despite the long journey, it remained energetic with a clear, loud chirp—clearly a rare, top-quality specimen.
“A Ningjin Cricket. Your uncle went through considerable trouble for this. He heard you were bullied by your two cousins next door during cricket fights, so he wants you to fight back and not disgrace him,” Lin Yuebai said, then added: “I mean fighting with crickets, not with fists.”
That incident happened a year ago. When Ping’an’s cousins were bullying a young maid, he stepped in to stop them. The cousins laughed uproariously and challenged him to a cricket fight—if he won, they’d swear never to bully anyone again. Ping’an bravely accepted, never expecting his cousins would each produce a cricket and use the wheel battle tactic to defeat his “Xiao Er Hei,” then continue their bullying and mischief.
Ping’an complained to his uncles and aunts, but they—including his granduncles—only protected their own. Since then, he refused to play with them anymore. He detested brats who relied on their unreasonable parents for backing.
Ping’an held the bamboo cage, examining it repeatedly, and smiled: “Uncle is so wonderful. I want to write him a letter.”
Lin Yuebai couldn’t help laughing: “You can write letters?”
“Don’t underestimate me!”
Ping’an asked Sister Mo Lu to fetch him brush and ink. First, he drew a black insect with antennae on the paper, then added a little stick figure bowing beside it. Below the figure, he scrawled the characters “Ping’an”—these two characters were the same in both simplified and traditional script, so he knew how to write them.
Lin Yuebai suppressed her laughter and commented: “Hmm, clear and concise. Better than a thousand words.”
Ping’an rushed over to hug his mother: “Mother, these past few days, Ping’an missed you so much he couldn’t eat or sleep.”
Lin Yuebai grabbed his ink-stained little dirty hands with a disgusted expression, barely saving her dress: “Who taught you these new phrases?”
“Father,” Ping’an replied with curved eyes, instantly betraying Chen Yan.
“How many of the grapes Father brought home did you eat?”
“This many!” Ping’an gestured.
Lin Yuebai tapped his nose: “Do you even know what ‘too distressed to eat’ means?”
Ping’an blurted out nonsense: “It means swallowing food without chewing.”
Lin Yuebai was amused by him.
Chen Yan stepped into the main hall right after these words, noticing Ping’an’s small hands and face covered in ink, along with a doodle on the table. Curious, he picked it up to examine, then furrowed his brows and leaned in for a closer look, voicing a question from the depths of his soul: “Why are you worshipping a cockroach?”
Ping’an: !!!
He really wanted to drag this mood-ruining dog of a father outside.
But Chen Yan ruffled his head: “Go out and play. Dad and Mom need to talk.”
Ping’an was furious, puffing up his cheeks as he followed Jiu Huan out.
…
Mother had returned, his parents had reconciled, yet Ping’an adamantly refused to move back to the inner residence: “I want to live in the front courtyard with Dad.”
Lin Yuebai chuckled inwardly—children were so easy to placate. In just a few days, father and son had grown this close.
She tried to persuade him: “But Dad is about to take his exams.”
Ping’an said magnanimously: “It’s fine. Dad won’t disturb me.”
Lin Yuebai: …
Chen Yan’s voice actually carried a hint of pride: “Let him stay if he wants. We’ll decide after the wet nurse returns.”
With one willing to beat and the other willing to be beaten, what more could Lin Yuebai say? And so Ping’an settled in the front courtyard, staying right up until the Ke Examination.
…
The first day of the seventh month was an auspicious day, suitable for cleaning, breaking ground, and moving house.
The night watchman carrying his watch drum passed through Chen Family Alley. Before his wooden clapper sounded, he heard explosive chaos erupting from the large mansion south of the bridge.
The night watchman pricked up his ears. The courtyard was deep—normally such commotion wouldn’t be possible…
The lady and young mistress, who usually never stepped beyond the second gate, simultaneously appeared in the front courtyard. Male servants held up lanterns, illuminating the Courtyard of Four Waters Returning to the Hall brightly.
“The study has been searched. Nothing.”
“The flower garden has been searched. Nothing.”
“The storeroom has been searched. Nothing.”
…
The urgent chirping of cicadas made the servants’ reports especially agonizing.
Zhao Shi stood stiffly under the corridor, while Lin Yuebai stood in the courtyard.
At dawn, Chen Yan was supposed to go to the Gongyuan for the Ke Examination Luyi. But just after nightfall, when A Xiang was making a final check of the examination box and supplies, he discovered that the Kaopai Fupiao, household and school registrations—all documents required for exam entry—were missing!
Coincidentally, at dusk, Ping’an had been taken out by Chen Laoye to play and still hadn’t returned.
This make-up exam was Chen Yan’s final chance. If he missed it again, he would truly have to wait another three years. How many three-year periods does one have in a lifetime to waste?
As night fell, the male servants carried lanterns, turning every corner of the courtyard upside down in their search.
Lin Yuebai asked the steward: “Where did the Old Master and the young master go?”
“Today is the annual Flower Queen competition. The Old Master took the young master and went boating on Fengming Lake with several officials,” Chen Shou replied.
She looked at her mother-in-law, Zhao Shi.
“Go find them immediately!” Zhao Shi was also furious. It was bad enough that he indulged in pleasure, but to drag the child along in his mischief.
She scanned the courtyard, then suddenly her gaze fell on the doghouse outside the study…
Aji was roused from his sleep, bewildered as he watched his still-warm den being completely emptied.
“Madam, Young Mistress, we found it!”
This report was like seeing daylight suddenly break through the dark night. Instantly, everyone cheered.
An elderly servant, hunched over, indeed pulled a cloth bundle from the doghouse. He brushed off the dust and dog hair, then carefully carried it to the eaves.
Lin Yuebai took the cloth bundle and gently opened it. Inside were indeed Chen Yan’s examination documents.
“Could it be that Aji dragged away the master’s belongings?” the old servant analyzed with great seriousness.
Aji sat slumped beside the doghouse, looking utterly exasperated.
Someone spoke up in his defense: “There were plenty of dried meat and pastries in the Examination Basket. If a dog were to steal anything, it would be the food. Why would it steal documents? It can’t read anyway.”
The old servant stroked his chin and analyzed again: “Hmm, it seems it wasn’t Aji—”
Aji yawned again, droopy-eyed and dejected, before returning to his kennel to sleep.
“Amitabha, may our ancestors protect us.” Zhao Shi let out a long sigh and said helplessly: “Truly, he’s just like his own father.”
She then recounted once more how Chen Yan had hidden the family’s property deed in a doghole during his childhood.