10

Hearing this, Zhao’er immediately stopped in her tracks and said with a smile, “Grandpa, what’s so secret that we can’t hear it too? Since Gou’er is staying, I’ll stay and listen as well.”

Old Master Xue shot her a glance and, in an uncharacteristically harsh tone, snapped: “What’s a woman doing here? This is men’s business. There’s nothing here for you to hear!”

Zhao’er wasn’t angered. She only looked a little wronged as she replied, “Then why is Aunt staying? Isn’t she also a woman? Besides, Gou’er doesn’t talk much. If I’m not here to watch over him, I’m afraid he might say something to upset you, Grandpa.”

What she really meant was that she was afraid someone would bully Xue Tingrang. Everyone there understood perfectly well what she was hinting at.

Old Master Xue glared at her. He was starting to suspect that this whole mess was stirred up by this girl. He knew Gou’er was the quiet type—why did he pick now, of all times, to go crying at the grave?

Thinking of all the times this girl had been disobedient, Old Master Xue felt a wave of disgust. But he also knew this wasn’t the time to vent his anger; what mattered was sorting things out.

“If you insist on listening, then stay,” he said, his tone no different from usual, but the displeasure in his voice was unmistakable.

Zhao’er pretended not to notice and stood to the side.

Seeing this, Mrs. Sun quickly tugged at Xue Qinghuai and stayed put.

“Since Zhao’er’s staying, let’s all stay and listen,” she said with a forced smile.

Old Master Xue was furious. “If you want to listen, then stay and listen!”

In the end, everyone stayed—including little four-year-old Maodan. Even Mrs. Zhou, who was busy in the kitchen, found an excuse to stay by pretending to wipe down the table.

The large main hall was lit by a single oil lamp on the square table. The flickering flame cast shadows on everyone’s faces as they all fixed their eyes on Old Master Xue. But for a moment, he didn’t even know where to begin. He slowly scanned everyone’s faces before finally settling his gaze on Xue Tingrang.

“There’s really nothing much,” he began at last. “I just wanted to talk about what the eldest was saying the other day—about sending the child to the academy in town.”

Zhao’er suddenly felt a bit anxious. She sneaked a look at Xue Tingrang, then back at Old Master Xue.

The couple from the eldest branch could barely hide their delight. This was exactly what they’d been hoping for all these days of biting their tongues.

Xue Qingshan couldn’t conceal his smile. He cast Xue Tingrang a look that was part pity, part satisfaction, then glanced at everyone else before finally fixing his eyes back on the boy.

“Gou’er, don’t lose heart. You’re not as talented as your cousin Juncai yet. Just keep learning with your uncle for another couple of years, and then the family will send you to study in town.”

His tone, at that moment, was especially cutting. Zhao’er’s mouth twisted in a cold smile and she was about to retort, but Xue Tingrang quickly tugged at her sleeve to stop her.

Xue Qingshan saw all of this and sneered to himself. No matter how troublesome this girl was, she could only cause petty annoyances over trivial things—she was useless when it came to the big issues. He gave her a thin, mocking smile and added, “Zhao’er, don’t be upset. I know you’re proud and ambitious, but pride can’t feed you, right?”

No one in the room said a word.

Just then, Old Master Xue suddenly roared in anger: “Qingshan, what nonsense are you spouting!”

Xue Qingshan looked unconcerned. “Father, I’m just trying to encourage Gou’er not to lose heart…”

Old Master Xue was so furious his beard was trembling. He jabbed his pipe at him and snapped: “Does he need you to encourage him? The one going to study in town isn’t Juncai—it’s Gouzi!”

The words hit the room like a thunderclap.

For a heartbeat, there was total silence. Then Mrs. Zhao’s shrill voice cut through it:

“Old man, what are you saying? What do you mean the one going to study in town isn’t Juncai?”

Xue Qingshan also exclaimed, “Father, you must be confused and said the wrong name.”

“I’m not senile, and I didn’t say the wrong name. The one going to study in town is Gouzi—not Juncai!”

After saying that, Old Master Xue seemed to lose all his strength and went silent.

Everyone’s eyes kept darting between Xue Tingrang and Xue Juncai, full of disbelief.

Xue Qingshan’s smile cracked. Mrs. Yang’s face was twisted with suspicion and alarm.

Xue Juncai’s handsome face flushed red. “Grandpa…”

Old Master Xue wearily waved his hand. “Enough. Go back to your rooms.”

The matter was settled in such blunt terms that everyone had no choice but to leave—except for the eldest branch, who stayed behind.

As the others stepped out of the main room, they could hear shouting erupting inside.

“Old man, you’d better explain yourself! What do you mean Gouzi is the one going to study in town and not my Juncai?”

It was Mrs. Zhao’s voice.

You could also hear Xue Qingshan shouting, Mrs. Yang’s sharp, aggrieved crying, and Old Master Xue’s tired voice trying to explain.

Under the same roof, no secret could really be kept, so everyone knew what had happened.

The next morning, everyone got up at the usual time.

But no one looked well-rested—it was clear they hadn’t slept much. Mrs. Yang’s eyes were especially swollen and red from crying.

Xue Qingshan’s eyes were bloodshot too. Every so often, he cast a dark, menacing look at Zhao’er and Xue Tingrang, but for some reason he didn’t say anything.

The atmosphere was suffocating. No one spoke. Even though everyone was busy with their usual chores, the courtyard was eerily quiet.

After breakfast, Old Master Xue picked up his hoe and headed for the fields. Xue Qingbai and Xue Qinghuai didn’t dare waste time—one led the ox out, the other hoisted the iron plow onto his shoulder and followed him out the door.

Xue Qingshan didn’t stay home either. He left soon after, though no one knew where he went.

Unlike the rest of the Xue family, Zhao’er was in an exceptionally good mood.

Ever since she’d heard the whole story from Xue Tingrang the night before, she’d been practically giddy with excitement. Call it schadenfreude if you will—but in her eyes, it was only right that her little man should be the one to go. She’d been fretting over having no money, and this news was like a gift from heaven.

She knew students going to the academy were expected to be properly outfitted. She specially dug out a piece of blue cloth she’d been saving for ages. It had been part of Mrs. Qiu’s dowry, given to Zhao’er to make clothes. She’d always been too reluctant to use it, but now it was perfect for making a book bag for Xue Tingrang.

She cut the cloth, threaded her needle, and began sewing while chatting idly with Xue Tingrang.

Just then, the door curtain was suddenly thrown aside.

It was Xue Youcai, the second son of the eldest branch.

He was only ten, chubby and spoiled, which was obvious from the way he carried himself. The moment he came in, he sneered at Xue Tingrang:

“Someone like you wants to steal what my big brother should get? You even have the same name as a dog—you’re not any smarter than one either!”

This child really had a foul mouth, all thanks to being spoiled by his parents. He’d always been the family’s little tyrant—so brazen he drove everyone mad. The signs had been there for years, but Mrs. Yang always defended him, saying he was “just a child” and didn’t know better. Now he was older, but still hadn’t learned a shred of sense.

Zhao’er wasn’t having any of it. If there was one person in the family who had actually beaten Xue Youcai before, it was her. He was afraid of her, but he also hated her.

As she shot to her feet, ready to speak, Xue Youcai suddenly hurled a bundled-up package right at her.

It hit her squarely, hard enough to sting—and gave off a disgusting, foul smell.

She instinctively tried to dodge but remembered Xue Tingrang on the kang behind her. She turned her back to shield him.

Taken completely by surprise, Xue Tingrang found himself suddenly in her arms. It was wildly inappropriate for the moment, but it still made his face flush and his heart race.

Once the worst of it was over, Zhao’er let go of him. Xue Youcai had already bolted. She glanced at what he’d thrown—dried cow dung.

The stench made her gag. Furious, she stormed out after him.

She caught him right at the courtyard gate, grabbed him by the collar without a word, and snatched a tree branch from beside the wall to lash him with.

“Three days without a beating and you’re climbing the roof to rip off the tiles, huh?”

Xue Youcai struggled to get away but couldn’t. The blows stung fiercely. He howled and tried to wriggle free, then flopped onto the ground and lay there crying, hoping to make it harder for her to hit him.

It was a classic little kid’s trick to play helpless.

The racket outside brought everyone in the house running.

Mrs. Zhao took one look at the scene and exploded.

“Who told you to hit my grandson? Stop it right now!”

Zhao’er ignored her and shouted at the boy:

“Will you do it again? Who taught you to fling cow dung at people? You’ve got such a nasty mouth too—who taught you to talk like that? You’d better explain yourself! If you don’t, I’ll not only beat you now, I’ll drag you down to the river to wash your filthy mouth out!”

Mrs. Yang rushed out too, screeching:

“Wang Zhao’er, you’re insane! How dare you hit Youcai!”

Zhao’er snapped back, “Aunt, why don’t you see what he actually did? He’s a little kid, but look at how he acts—hurling cow dung and mouthing off like some foul-mouthed old hag! Listen up: your second cousin has a name—it’s Xue Tingrang! If you call him a dog again, I’ll beat you every single time I hear it!”

Xue Youcai was bawling now, tears and snot streaming down his face, but no one dared step in to save him.

Mrs. Zhao was so furious she was jumping up and down.

Mrs. Yang did try to rush in, but Heizi blocked her path.

Normally the dog looked half-dead and sluggish, but now he planted himself in front of her, hackles up and teeth bared in a low, menacing growl. Mrs. Yang didn’t doubt for a second that if she took another step, he’d bite her.

Just then, a surprised voice called from outside the courtyard gate:

“What on earth is going on here?”

It was Xue Qingshan, returning home. And he wasn’t alone: with him were the clan head, the village headman Zheng, and five or six other older villagers.

Seeing the chaos in the yard, Xue Qingshan was first surprised, then forced a bitter smile. He turned to the men beside him and said,

“Whatever outsiders say is one thing. But as for anyone being truly cruel to Gouzi? That’s impossible. This girl has always been hot-tempered—if anyone had tried to bully him, wouldn’t she have made a huge scene long ago?”

His words sounded reasonable on the surface but were actually underhanded. Zhao’er wasn’t about to let herself be slandered like that. She shot right back:

“Uncle, that’s really unfair. I’ve always been respectful to my elders at home. Don’t talk like I’m some troublemaker. I had a reason for hitting that boy today—he actually called…”

She didn’t even get to finish before Mrs. Yang cut her off.

Putting on a distressed, protective air, Mrs. Yang rushed over and snatched Xue Youcai from Zhao’er’s grip, hugging him as he bawled.

“He’s just a child! And you’re so much older. He’s at the age when he doesn’t know any better—how can you hold that against him?”

Mrs. Yang began sobbing, looking both aggrieved and helpless. Beside her, Xue Qingshan heaved dramatic sighs.

If Zhao’er hadn’t already figured out these two were playing for sympathy, she did now.

Her face flushed red with frustration as she opened her mouth to try again, but just then Xue Tingrang stepped out of the house and gently pulled her back.

He took two calm steps forward to stand in front of her, then respectfully greeted the clan head, the village headman Zheng, and the handful of older villagers who had come along.

They were all from the same village—people he saw all the time—and as the younger one, he owed them proper respect.

Once he’d finished the polite greetings, he turned to Mrs. Yang and spoke evenly:

“Please don’t be angry, Aunt. Zhao’er acted on impulse. She only hit Youcai because he insulted me—calling me a dog—and even threw dried cow dung at me. She was upset and lost her temper.”

This brief speech immediately gave everyone a good impression. He looked every bit the well-mannered scholar: respectful, calm, and restrained.

And while he used the chance to apologize, he also neatly laid out the facts in just a couple of sentences.

Zhao’er wasn’t stupid, but she’d made the mistake of trying too hard to explain every detail—sounding defensive and scattered. Xue Tingrang, by contrast, stuck to the essentials and left the rest unsaid.

He was also tactful. After all, it was normal for children to be naughty, but insulting someone by calling them a dog was another matter—and throwing cow dung at an older brother was even worse. He made it clear why Zhao’er had lost her temper without belaboring the point.

Sure enough, after hearing his explanation, the clan head and the others glanced at Xue Tingrang’s thin, pale face with its patient, quiet expression—and couldn’t help siding with him.

=^_^=