Hearing this, Xie Zhang quickly called for a constable to bring his horse. Dingxi Marquis preferred riding to sitting in a sedan, and even as a civil official, Xie Zhang had been forced to learn horseback riding.
Just as they were about to leave, a plain-looking, short man came running up, calling out “ah ah” sounds. He respectfully presented a thick envelope. Upon closer inspection, the man had only eight fingers. His name was Derong, once Xing Muzheng’s intelligence scout. He had been discovered while spying in an enemy camp. During interrogation, two fingers were cut off and his tongue was removed, but he was rescued by comrades and survived. Now, he worked as Xing Muzheng’s message courier. Most of Xing Muzheng’s intel passed through him. Xing Muzheng hadn’t summoned him for months, and Derong had accumulated quite a few reports. He carried them on him every day, letting no one see—not even while sleeping, when he hid them under his pillow.
“Any updates in the past two days?”
Derong nodded and pointed to the envelope, indicating it was all in there. Xing Muzheng nodded and waved him off. Derong bowed and left.
Xing Muzheng wasn’t in a rush to read it. He returned to the marquis’s residence with Xie Zhang. As soon as he arrived, Ding Zhang sent a servant to notify Xing Pingchun.
Hearing that Xing Muzheng was back, Xing Pingchun grabbed his homework and headed to the outer study. He wandered around the study’s entrance several times before taking a deep breath and jumping into the courtyard. But just as he reached the study door, a servant blocked him, saying the marquis was currently discussing important matters inside with the magistrate.
Xing Pingchun waited outside, sometimes standing, sometimes squatting, pacing and running back and forth—basically never still for a moment. The servant finally said, “Young master, if it’s something urgent, why don’t I go in and report for you?”
Xing Pingchun’s head immediately shook like a rattle-drum. “No, no need. It’s nothing urgent!”
“Who’s outside?” Xing Muzheng’s voice rang out from the hall.
The servant quickly replied, “Reporting to Master, it’s the Young Master.”
There was a pause inside, then the voice spoke again, “Let him in.”
The servant immediately obeyed and opened the door. Xing Pingchun, clutching his writing scroll, stepped over the threshold with his left hand and left foot in unison. Inside, Xing Muzheng and Xie Zhang were drinking tea and discussing official matters. As soon as Xie Zhang heard that Xing Muzheng had returned, he couldn’t wait to pay a visit. There were indeed many pressing issues in Yuzhou that needed Xing Muzheng’s decision.
Xing Pingchun properly greeted Xing Muzheng. Xing Muzheng said, “Greet Magistrate Xie.”
When Xing Pingchun heard it was the magistrate, he quickly tried to kneel, but Xie Zhang was startled and hurriedly stood up.
Xing Muzheng frowned and scolded, “Don’t you even know how to give a proper greeting?” His son had no need to kneel to a magistrate.
Startled, Xing Pingchun froze in place, completely at a loss.
Xing Muzheng shook his head and said to Xie Zhang, “My son was rude.” Xie Zhang waved his hands repeatedly, saying it was nothing.
Xing Pingchun, thoroughly embarrassed, flushed beet red. Seeing this, Xing Muzheng told Xie Zhang to wait in the inner study. Once he was inside, Xing Muzheng turned to his son, who still didn’t know what to do with his hands or feet. Xing Muzheng cleared his throat and said, “Tomorrow I’ll invite someone to teach you proper etiquette.”
Xing Pingchun stammered and agreed.
If he hadn’t seen it himself, Xing Muzheng would never have known that this timid child before him was actually quite clever and lively. Xing Muzheng tried to soften his tone a little without losing the dignity of a strict father. “What did you come here for?”
Xing Pingchun regretted coming at the wrong time, interrupting his father’s business, and grew even more nervous. “I… I came…”
“Speak plainly, don’t stammer.”
Xing Pingchun quickly offered the scroll in both hands. “I’ve finished copying the article and came to let Father take a look.”
Xing Muzheng took it and examined it carefully. The characters were neatly written, but they lacked strength and spirit. It seemed he’d need to hire a true calligraphy master. And martial arts—his son should start training as well.
Xing Pingchun held his breath, quietly harboring some hope. He had put a lot of effort into copying this essay—his best handwriting yet—and he hadn’t made a single mistake. He was proud of himself.
“Read it to me,” Xing Muzheng suddenly handed the scroll back.
Not hearing a single word of praise, Xing Pingchun was a little disappointed. Still, he respectfully took the scroll and began reading aloud. As he went on, his voice grew clearer, and he even imitated his teacher, swaying his head as he read. In Xing Muzheng’s eyes, it looked rather endearing. Once he finished, Xing Muzheng gave a slight nod. Seeing his father nod, Xing Pingchun beamed with joy.
But then his father suddenly asked, “‘Jing xing wei xian, ke nian zuo sheng’—what does that mean?”
“Huh?” Xing Pingchun froze. His father was quizzing him? But the teacher hadn’t explained that part yet—they were just told to read it several times at home.
“‘Jing xing wei xian, ke nian zuo sheng’—what’s the meaning?” Thinking his son hadn’t heard clearly, Xing Muzheng patiently asked again.
Xing Pingchun braced himself and stammered out a clumsy explanation, breaking down the words one by one and guessing at their meaning. Xing Muzheng asked a few more questions, and the boy became increasingly unable to answer. Xing Muzheng’s brow furrowed deeper and deeper. He was this old and still couldn’t even read Thousand Character Classic smoothly. What on earth were the teachers at the school doing? Were there too many students for them to manage? Perhaps it was better to hire a renowned private tutor—someone who could also teach proper calligraphy.
Xing Pingchun noticed his father’s dark expression but didn’t dare speak, anxious and uneasy.
***
Meanwhile, back in Qian Jiaoniang’s quarters, Qingya noticed that Xing Pingchun hadn’t returned for a long time. She stretched her neck to peer outside. “What’s taking him so long?”
“It’s fine,” said Qian Jiaoniang quietly. Her mood was calmer now. She pulled out some embroidery and began stitching swiftly.
After about the time it takes an incense stick to burn, Xing Pingchun returned, eyes red. The moment he saw Qian Jiaoniang, he began to cry.
Qingya rushed over with a handkerchief to wipe the boy’s face. “What happened? Why are you crying all of a sudden?”
“What is it?” Qian Jiaoniang asked as well.
“I—I brought my writing to show Father. He looked at it, then asked me to read it aloud, and then asked me what it meant… I didn’t know the answer,” said Xing Pingchun. And with that, as if he’d suffered a terrible injustice, he burst into loud sobs.
Qian Jiaoniang and Qingya exchanged a glance. She let him cry for a moment, then asked gently, “Did your father hit you?”
Xing Pingchun shook his head.
“Did he scold you?”
He shook his head again, even hiccuping through his crying.
Qian Jiaoniang couldn’t help but laugh. “If your father didn’t hit you or scold you, what are you crying for?”
“He—he furrowed his brow… he wasn’t happy.” Xing Pingchun wiped his face several times, but the tears kept coming.
Qian Jiaoniang took his booklet and looked at the essay he’d copied. Every stroke was more neat and careful than usual. Clearly, the child had put all his effort into it, hoping for some praise—but Xing Muzheng wasn’t satisfied.
“Alright now, what’s there to cry about? Your writing’s really improved—much better than before. It’s just that your father’s stricter about your studies. Next time, we’ll prepare properly and give your father a good answer. That’s all.”
Xing Pingchun sniffled and muttered a soft “okay,” still a little disheartened.
At sunset, Xing Muzheng came to the courtyard again. He stood at the gate for a while and asked whether Qian Jiaoniang was planning to leave. The guards immediately nodded. Xing Muzheng asked, “What did she say?”
Wu Jiang and Xu Guoyi hesitated and glanced at each other. Xing Muzheng frowned and told them to speak.
Only then did Wu Jiang cautiously recount the story of the farmer and the snake to Xing Muzheng.
Xing Muzheng curled his lips slightly. “No need to guard tomorrow. Just instruct the gatekeepers not to let Madam leave the residence.”
“Yes, sir.”
