◎Please Spare Me!◎
The Courtyard of Four Waters Returning to the Hall instantly fell into tranquility.
Lin Yuebai hurried back to the eastern courtyard with these crucial documents, carefully stored them back in the Kao Xiang, placed the entire case in the wardrobe, and secured it with two bronze locks.
Her husband Chen Yan was reclining against a small table on the daybed reading, his silhouette appearing even more gentle and refined under the flickering lamplight.
“Why aren’t you asleep yet?” Lin Yuebai asked, then immediately realized it was a foolish question – who could sleep after losing such important items?
He looked up: “Where did you find it?”
“In Aji’s nest,” Lin Yuebai replied.
Chen Yan sighed – his precious calligraphy copybook…
“Once might be mischief, but twice is deliberate. The child clearly doesn’t want you to take the exam. Also, find time to speak with father – he shouldn’t always indulge the child like this.” After saying this, Lin Yuebai turned and entered the inner chamber, instructing Jiu Huan to prepare her bath.
As the saying goes, first time unfamiliar, second time accustomed – Lin Yuebai was growing increasingly composed.
Chen Yan returned his gaze to the book but found himself unable to concentrate. Eventually, he gave up and went to the inner room to sleep.
…
Meanwhile, the Chen family servants arrived at the dazzling Fengming Lake, where the shimmering waters glittered under brilliant lights, with hundreds of exquisite Hua Fang boats floating on the surface.
Servant A gazed into the distance: “Which boat do you think belongs to our master?”
Servant B: “We’d probably have to ask the heavens…”
At that very moment, on the deck of a boat at the lake’s center, a qin-holding songstress sang melodious tunes while a massive dining table overflowed with delicacies. Local gentry and wealthy merchants sat around, toasting and chatting merrily.
At the bow sat a rosy-cheeked little dumpling with legs crossed, eagerly watching the song and dance performance on the Huxin Loutai.
With a child present, the wealthy men dared not tell risqué jokes or comment on courtesan performances, nor could they discuss only business. Inspired by wine, they awkwardly attempted cultured conversation about poetry.
Chen Laoye brought a small bowl of fruit to Ping’an, wondering to himself why such a young child would suddenly become interested in Hua Kui performances – the boy had pestered him relentlessly to bring him along.
Ping’an was skewering cubed fruit with bamboo sticks, eating them like candied hawthorn. The last time he’d seen such a grand song and dance performance was during New Year’s Eve, when older children gathered around the common room television.
“Grandfather, look at those people dressed like little goldfish – aren’t they pretty?”
“Pretty they are,” Chen Laoye hissed, “but I keep feeling like I’ve forgotten something.”
…
Late at night, grandfather and grandson stealthily entered the house, quietly returned to the main courtyard, and silently changed clothes and washed up.
“Grandfather, grandfather…” Ping’an whispered.
“Get to bed, get to bed,” Chen Laoye urged in a low voice.
“Grandmother isn’t in bed.”
“What?”
No sooner had he spoken than the room’s lamps were lit one by one.
Ping’an yelped and quickly hid behind his grandfather.
Zhao Shi entered from outside, fully dressed – clearly not having just woken up, but having stayed awake. Chen Laoye immediately said: “An Ge’er insisted on dragging me there.”
Ping’an: ??
Zhao Shi’s expression darkened further as she stood and approached the pair.
Ping’an kept hiding behind his grandfather, but Chen Laoye quite treacherously stepped three paces aside.
Suddenly exposed, Ping’an shrunk his neck. Escape was impossible now – all he could do was blink his large eyes and play innocent.
Zhao Shi gazed quietly at her grandson, then suddenly grabbed his arm and exclaimed urgently, “What foul creature are you? Get off my grandson at once!”
Ping’an was so startled he developed a double chin…
The room fell into dead silence, the atmosphere turning somewhat awkward.
“This won’t do…” Zhao Shi said to Chen Laoye. “We must send someone to Qingyun Guan to invite Liu Daoshi to perform a ritual.”
Still unaware of what had transpired, Chen Laoye timidly asked the servants, “Has your mistress been having nightmares?”
…
Thus, when Chen Yan came to his parents’ courtyard to bid farewell before departing for the provincial capital, he found the yard shrouded in smoke and mist. A middle-aged Taoist priest in yellow robes stood in the courtyard, flanked by two acolytes holding Tao Mu Jian. The priest was conducting a ritual before an incense altar, burning several Fu Zhi while chanting incantations. Suddenly, his eyes widened like torches, scanning the surroundings.
Chen Yan felt his head swelling with frustration and quietly asked his wife, “What’s all this commotion about now?”
Lin Yuebai shook her head in stunned silence.
They then saw the priest striding around the courtyard with his sword, suddenly stopping before Ping’an and pointing the wooden sword at the tip of his nose while chanting continuously.
Ping’an responded with a yawn.
Adhering to the Confucian teaching of not discussing supernatural phenomena, Chen Yan found his parents’ behavior rather absurd. Just as he was about to step forward to intervene, he saw the priest calmly conclude the ritual. Holding Ping’an’s birth characters, Liu Daoshi told Chen Laoye, “There are no evil spirits in your esteemed residence, and the young master shows no signs of spirit possession.”
“Really?” Chen Laoye asked nervously, wringing his hands.
Liu Daoshi nodded. “This is a child destined to bring prosperity to your family. There’s no need for concern.”
Chen Laoye’s gaze fell upon his grandson – the carefree rascal was squatting beside a camellia bush, helping ants relocate.
He asked in disbelief, “A child destined to bring prosperity… you mean him?”
Not Chen Yan, but ordinary, playful little Ping’an?
“Yes,” Liu Daoshi affirmed with certainty.
Chen Laoye looked puzzled. “If he’s destined to bring prosperity, why does he always engage in behavior that squanders the family fortune?”
“The Duke of Zhou feared slander during his reign, while Wang Mang maintained humility before his usurpation,” the priest recited. “I’ve said all I should – any more would reveal celestial secrets.”
“Oh—” Chen Laoye pondered the priest’s words, then suddenly widened his eyes with realization. “Are you saying my grandson will rebel!” he whispered tensely.
“Uh…” Liu Daoshi seemed to choke on something. “That’s not it.”
Chen Laoye sighed in relief. “Good, that’s good.”
Rebellion would be quite expensive, after all.
He then ordered a generous donation to be presented to Liu Daoshi and politely saw him out. When he returned, his grandson had disappeared, with a child’s cries for help echoing from the distance.
By the time Chen Laoye reached the moon gate, Ping’an had already been hauled back to the eastern courtyard by his daughter-in-law.
Only Chen Yan remained standing there, needing a moment to compose himself before leaving for the provincial Gongyuan examinations.
“Son, what should the Tai Shang Huang’s father be called?” Chen Laoye asked curiously, as if struck by a sudden thought.
“Wu Shang Huang,” Chen Yan replied.
…
Ping’an trailed dejectedly behind his mother like a mouse that had stolen lamp oil. Aji suddenly darted out from somewhere, hopping around before him, then raised his front paws and gave him a forceful kick that sent him stumbling.
Ping’an whispered, “Aji, I didn’t mean to frame you…”
Aji sniffed his little hand and circled around him.
“Your nose is really sharp,” Ping’an murmured, secretly producing a chicken leg from his sleeve.
Aji ran off with a chicken leg in his mouth.
When his mother suddenly turned around, he hurriedly crumpled the greased paper wrapping the chicken leg into a ball and hid it in his sleeve.
Lin Yuebai widened her almond-shaped eyes: “Where did that chicken leg come from?”
“I stole it from… the incense altar just now,” Ping’an whispered. He had also taken some pastry crumbs for the little ants as a housewarming gift.
“…”
Just as Lin Yuebai was about to lose her temper, Ping’an quickly admitted his mistake: “I was wrong, I’ll never steal chicken legs again.”
Lin Yuebai glared at him.
“And I won’t steal Father’s things either,” he said, always quick to apologize.
Chen Yan strode in from outside the courtyard gate, wanting to say something but unable to spare the time.
“Go quickly, I’ll handle things here,” Lin Yuebai said.
Chen Yan instructed Ping’an: “Answer whatever she asks you, and don’t make your mother angry.”
Ping’an nodded like a chick pecking at rice.
Chen Yan quickly returned to the inner room to change clothes and, urged by his wife, hurried out the door. He gave up taking the carriage and mounted a fast horse to travel light.
As soon as her husband left, Lin Yuebai ordered the east courtyard gate locked.
This atmosphere felt familiar… Ping’an watched as his mother’s face gradually turned cold and cautiously advised: “Mother, being an official really isn’t good. You don’t understand my good intentions.”
“Well, your mother happens to know a thing or two about martial arts,” Lin Yuebai said.
Ping’an swallowed hard.
“Since you don’t want him to become an official, why hide them? Might as well burn them all, and we’ll all have peace,” Lin Yuebai said coldly.
“That wouldn’t be good,” Ping’an thought for a moment and said seriously: “At least leave him something to remember by.”
“…”
“Hah.” People really do laugh when they’re utterly speechless.
Lin Yuebai took a deep breath and looked around the courtyard. Ping’an thought his mother was looking for something handy to use and was about to run, but instead she said: “Well then, since your father happens to be away, let’s help him sun his books.”
“Sun the books?”
Ping’an blinked. Had Mother gotten so angry she’d lost her mind? Since when did she have such refined interests?
He watched as his mother ordered someone to brew a pot of cold tea and place it on the stone table under the wisteria trellis.
While enjoying the cool air and sipping tea, she directed the book boy to search the study for books, making him carry them out stack by stack with his own hands and arrange them in order on the large tarpaulin spread across the courtyard.
“《Three Hundred Thousand Characters》, 《You Xue Qiong Lin》, 《Xun Meng Pian Ju》, 《Long Wen Bian Ying》, ‘Four Books’ Zhu Zi Ji Zhu, 《Shi》 Ji Zhuan, 《Yi》 Ben Yi, 《Shang Shu》 Cai Shi Zhuan, 《Chun Qiu》 Zuo Shi Gong Yang Gu Liang, 《Li Ji Ji Shuo》, 《Tai*Zu Shi Lu》, 《Da Gao》, 《Da Yong Lu》, 《Tong Dian》, 《Tong Zhi》, 《Wen Xian Tong Kao》, 《Tai Shi Gong》, 《Han Shu》, 《Hou Han Shu》…”
Ping’an, not even half as tall as a bookshelf, ran until his short legs nearly sparked, unable to keep up with his mother’s rapid recitation of book titles: “Mother, slower, slower!”
In what felt like no time, books covered more than half the courtyard. In the dog days of summer, Ping’an was drenched in sweat, dizzy from the heat, leaning on his knees and panting heavily. Lin Yuebai lifted her son with one hand while holding a palm-leaf fan with the other, pointing at the books covering the ground and making him take a good look:
Look how many books your father had to read to become the Top Scholar in the Imperial Examination! Look how your father shouldered the fate of the entire family, overcoming all three levels of the Xian Fu Yuan San Guan to reach the Xiang Examination! Getting up in the coldest winter days and the hottest summer days, burning the midnight oil through ten years of arduous study – it really wasn’t easy for him!
Please, give him a break!