Chapter 75: Back Then
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When she was young, He Yan was not as clever as she is now. If she were to look back on her past self with her current perspective, she would find her former self quite dull and unremarkable.
Back then, her literary and martial skills were not impressive, similar to how Cheng Lisu is now. She could be considered a “useless young master,” though unlike Cheng Lisu, she didn’t have a powerful uncle to protect her. The He family’s background at Xianchang Academy was also not significant. As a result, she wasn’t as well-liked as Cheng Lisu.
Moreover, she used to wear a mask all the time, which made her stand out from the crowd in an odd way. Due to her secretive behavior, she avoided interacting with the other young boys to prevent exposing her true identity. As a result, she ended up being ostracized by the other students at Xianchang Academy.
Their rejection of her was straightforward. Initially, they simply avoided playing with her and didn’t call her during kickball games. But over time, it escalated. The reason? Surprisingly, it was because she was too diligent.
He Yan was quite persistent from a young age and took the motto “a slow sparrow should make an early start” to heart. She truly started from the bottom. Although the academy’s instructors recognized that she wasn’t cut out for scholarly pursuits or martial arts, they were often moved by her unwavering thirst for knowledge. Thus, they would frequently praise He Yan in class.
“Studying diligently is like the growth of a young sprout in spring. It may not appear to be growing, but each day it makes progress. Look at He Rufei here. Learn from his dedication!”
All of them were fourteen or fifteen-year-old boys who loved to compete and show off. While they were willing to learn from others, why would they want to learn from He Yan? Study diligently and practice rigorously just to consistently be ranked last? That seemed like utter foolishness.
Yet, a few of the instructors seemed to take a special liking to He Yan.
The other boys’ envy and disdain mixed together, making them dislike the masked boy even more. They found ways to trouble her.
One day, they intentionally tore He Yan’s clothes during a sword practice session. Another day, while practicing horse riding, they fed her horse hay that would induce sneezing. Sometimes, they would intentionally poke holes in her boots, causing her to trip and fall, with the sharp stones cutting her feet. As He Yan struggled to get up from the ground, the boys would gather together, pointing at her and laughing, finding amusement in her misfortune.
Young He Yan was slow-witted and not skilled in comebacks. She couldn’t complain to the instructors about these incidents, and the instructors were unaware of the students’ secret actions. As a result, He Yan endured difficult days.
One winter day, when it was particularly cold, the boys were practicing swordsmanship in the academy. Someone had poured a basin of water onto the ground, which froze quickly. They urged He Yan from outside, “He Rufei, hurry up, hurry up, the instructor is calling for you!”
He Yan hurriedly rushed out, slipped on the ice, and fell hard.
The fall was quite harsh, and she felt her head spin with stars. She remained on the ground for quite a while before she managed to stand up. A few of the boys were hiding in a corner, laughing heartily, saying, “He really fell for it!”
He Yan remained seated for quite a while before finally standing up. She pressed her lips together, refraining from speaking. The clothes she brought this month were already all dirty. With the constant teasing and pranks, even if one were a deity, they wouldn’t have enough clothes. The weather had been cloudy for a while, making it difficult to dry them in the sun.
She spent the entire day wearing damp clothes. At night, she got out of bed and didn’t bother with sword practice. Instead, she sneaked into the academy’s lecture hall.
Even clay statues have some resilience, not to mention she was the eldest young master of the He family. She had a bit of a temperament. Nevertheless, she knew how to assess the situation. The group of boys were tall and strong, far better at fighting than she was. What could she do? Endure it? Impossible.
How could she vent her frustration?
Fourteen-year-old He Yan pondered for a long while before coming up with a plan.
That night, it started snowing. She was still wearing her damp clothes when she braved the snow to the backyard’s well and filled a bucket with water. Carrying the bucket, she made her way to the lecture hall.
The boys’ seating arrangements during the day were something she remembered clearly. She found their copybooks underneath their desks, and this month’s assignment was to copy the “Principles of Nature” five times. Tomorrow was the deadline to turn in their assignments.
He Yan poured the entire bucket of water onto the copybooks.
The water immediately soaked the pages, blurring the writing. He Yan breathed a sigh of relief and felt a sense of satisfaction. Yet, after the satisfaction faded, nervousness crept in.
She hastily put the copybooks back in their original places, clutching the empty bucket as she quickly left. It was her first time doing something like this, and she felt a bit uneasy. Moving in the dark without a light, she reached the entrance and, not noticing the doorstep, tripped and fell with a solid thud.
She gasped in pain, taking a sharp intake of cold air. Two falls in a single day, and this time was even worse. She had hit her elbow on a splinter of the doorstep, leaving a gash that started bleeding. Struggling, He Yan sat up and held her arm, wondering, could this be the result of unjust actions leading to self-destruction?
She had only done it once, for heaven’s sake! Wasn’t the heavens being excessively harsh with her?
Regardless, she needed to return the bucket quickly. The bucket—wait, where was her bucket? It suddenly dawned on her that the fall she had just taken should have produced a loud noise when the bucket hit the ground. It should have awakened everyone. So why was everything still eerily quiet?
He Yan looked around in confusion and stood up, taking a couple of steps forward. That’s when she noticed someone standing outside the door. He was leaning lazily against the wooden door, facing away from He Yan. In his hand, he held an iron bucket.
It was actually Xiao Jue.
For a moment, He Yan was too nervous to speak.
Did he see her? He didn’t, did he? It couldn’t be. He must have seen, considering he was holding the bucket. But if he hadn’t seen, how should she explain? Was she watering the plants in the middle of the night?
He Yan’s mind raced. The young man saw her standing motionless in her tracks, looking bewildered. He arched an eyebrow and said, “Aren’t you in pain?”
He Yan: “Huh?”
His gaze landed on the cut on He Yan’s elbow. She had rolled up her sleeves to fetch water, exposing her fair skin. The bloodstain was like an ugly embroidery, standing out conspicuously under the faint lantern light.
He Yan instinctively tried to hide her hand behind her back.
The young man gave her an impatient glance and coldly said, “Follow me.”
He Yan didn’t even know why she listened to him. She was probably bewildered by the situation, so she followed him in a daze.
Xiao Jue placed the iron bucket by the well first, then turned to look at He Yan, who was still holding her arm absentmindedly. He chuckled condescendingly, “You’re so timid, yet you’re learning to do mischievous things.”
He Yan clenched her fist and remained silent, feeling quite anxious. Normally, Xiao Jue only hung out with his group of close friends and didn’t interact much with the other students at the academy. He Yan had no idea what he was thinking. If he were to report her…
Suddenly, a cold pot was thrown into her arms.
He Yan lowered her head to look at it. It seemed to be a pot adorned with intricate carvings, resembling a mandarin duck. She heard her own voice, barely audible, “What’s this?”
“Don’t you know how to use it?” The young man turned his head lazily, a hint of amusement in his expression. “It’s medicine.”
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