Xue Gouzi had been ill for quite some time—his face was so thin it had lost its shape, making his already large eyes appear even bigger.

Zhao’er had always thought the little man’s eyes were the most beautiful in the world, even if most of the time, those eyes looked at her with dislike and resistance.

Truthfully, his eyes were the only good-looking thing about him. He had been frail since birth, and it had taken no small effort for his parents to raise him. Because of that, they tended to dote on him. While other boys his age in the village were tanned and as sturdy as little calves, he was pale, skinny, and quiet—always keeping to himself.

But Zhao’er had always been a forceful girl—she never allowed anyone to speak badly of her little man. If someone dared, she’d go after them without hesitation. She had gotten into quite a few scuffles with the village boys and girls over it. Though people still talked behind her back, no one dared point fingers to her face anymore.

Still, something about his gaze today felt different—off, even—and it made Zhao’er a little uneasy. She quickly looked away.

She knew he must be angry again. He always got upset whenever she said things like, “Gouzi is my man.” Every time he heard her say that, he would ignore her for days.

Zhao’er wasn’t shameless; she had her pride too. But she was the Xue family’s child bride—taken in as a future daughter-in-law—and if she didn’t speak like that, how else could she have the standing to go head-to-head with Fourth Aunt Sun?

“Are you hungry? Look what I brought back for you!”

Zhao’er quickly pushed aside her worries, pulling a paper bundle from her coat. She unwrapped it to reveal two still-steaming buns—plump, white, and inviting, enough to make anyone’s mouth water.

“Quick, eat them while they’re still warm.” She grinned as she stuffed the bundle into the young man’s hands, then set the basket from her shoulder down in the corner of the room.

Xue Gouzi glanced at her.

The girl before him was in the bloom of youth, her skin a healthy wheat tone common among village girls. But there was something different about Zhao’er—her complexion had a smooth, honeyed glow to it. She had a high nose bridge, and her eyes—neither too big nor too small—were bright and expressive, with a glint of mischief when she smiled. She looked every bit the lively spirit she was.

She was taller than most girls her age and already well-developed, with a vibrant energy that radiated from her whole body.

So alive—just like in his dream.

Before he realized it, he’d taken a bite of the bun. Seeing this, Zhao’er’s smile grew even brighter. She went to the kitchen, poured him a bowl of water, and placed it by his side. Then she bent down to tidy the messy bedding on the kang, already thinking about what to cook for him tonight to help him regain his strength.

Now that the little man was finally getting better, the medicine had to continue. A few more doses and he’d be back on his feet. Naturally, that meant doing the math in her head again—how much money she had left, and what else she could do to scrape together enough for the next round of herbs.

“Did… you eat?” Xue Gouzi suddenly asked.

It was rare for him to say something like that, and it caught Zhao’er off guard. She looked up at the young man propped up on the bed.

He actually had quite delicate features. His pale skin was unusual for someone from the countryside, and the slight upward tilt at the corners of his eyes gave him a hint of quiet charm. But he usually kept his head lowered, withdrawn and gloomy, and with his thin frame, he rarely stood out in a crowd.

A warm feeling welled up in Zhao’er’s chest. Her smile grew even wider as she chirped, “I ate already—had something outside. These are for you.”

The words had barely left her mouth when she realized she’d slipped up. She braced herself for the usual scolding—that a proper girl shouldn’t be running around outside. But instead, he said nothing, his head bowed slightly as he quietly ate his bun, seemingly lost in thought.

Zhao’er couldn’t help letting out a quiet sigh of relief—but at the same time, her heart ached a little. She gently said, “Gou’er, don’t take it too hard. After all, you only heard that talk secondhand. If they didn’t say it to your face, then it’s not worth taking to heart. And even if it’s true, so what? I’ll earn money to send you to school. That’s a promise.”

Xue Gouzi’s head was still throbbing slightly, his thoughts foggy. Zhao’er assumed he was troubled, but in truth, he was just thinking about that dream. Hearing her words suddenly jogged his memory—he remembered why he’d fallen so ill in the first place.

To be fair, this sickness had come from deep emotional stress, a sudden flare of pent-up frustration that overwhelmed him.

And to understand that, you’d need to know the general situation of the Xue family.

Yuqing Village was a small settlement under Huyang Town in Xià County, Pingyang Prefecture. The village had just over two hundred households—ordinary farming families who rose with the sun and worked the land, living at the mercy of the weather.

The Xue family was one of them.

But unlike most ordinary peasant households, the Xue family had a bit of heritage.

Xue Gouzi’s great-great-grandfather—Old Master Xue’s grandfather—had once been a xiucai (a scholar who passed the imperial county-level examination). In a remote, impoverished place like Yuqing Village, having a xiucai in the family was a source of great pride and honor.

Thanks to that scholar, the Xue family line rose in status. One of their ancestors even became the clan leader, and over the years, the family produced several respected village elders. As a result, the Xue’s gained some influence within the village. That prestige, combined with the hard work of Old Master Xue’s father—who had both support and ambition—allowed the family to gradually accumulate land and wealth.

By the time Old Master Xue came into his own, the family had acquired over thirty mu of fertile farmland. Each of his sons had a trade or skill, and the household thrived—prosperous enough to be admired and respected throughout the village.

Old Master Xue and his wife, Mrs. Zhao, had four sons and two daughters.

The eldest, Xue Qingshan, married Mrs. Yang and had three children: two sons and a daughter. The eldest son, Xue Juncai, was now fifteen. The younger, Xue Youcai, was ten. Their daughter, Xue Man’er, was already married.

The second son, Xue Qingsong, was a skilled carpenter. He married Mrs. Qiu and had one son—Xue Gouzi, now fourteen.

The third son, Xue Qingbai, was a farmer. He married Mrs. Zhou and had a daughter, Xue Tao’er, aged thirteen, and a son, Xue Shuanzi, who was eight.

The youngest son, Xue Qinghuai, was a peddler. He married Mrs. Sun and had a four-year-old son named Xue Maodan.

As for the two daughters, the elder, Xue Cuiping, was married off; the younger, Xue Cuie, was fourteen and still unmarried, waiting for a suitable match.

It’s worth noting that in traditional rural households, as long as the parents were still alive, families didn’t split up into separate households. Combined with the clan-based governance in the countryside, the Xue family had never divided its property.

Having once reaped the benefits of education, the Xue family had broader horizons than most peasant households. Because Xue Qingshan, the eldest son, was intelligent from a young age, Old Master Xue placed high hopes on him. When he reached schooling age, they spent money to send him to a private tutor.

Xue Qingshan lived up to expectations. At twenty, he passed the entrance-level imperial examination and earned the rank of tongsheng (also known as a “licentiate”). Though he had yet to pass the next level to become a xiucai, he was still considered one of the most educated men in the surrounding villages.

Don’t underestimate the status of a tongsheng. As the saying goes, scholars, farmers, artisans, and merchants—scholars were considered the highest class in society. For an ordinary commoner to rise to that class, there was only one path: the imperial examination. And the exam system was grueling, like a spiritual pilgrimage, full of obstacles and hardships.

To even begin walking that path, one had to qualify first. A tongsheng was someone who had passed both the county- and prefecture-level exams, making him eligible to pursue the official route of scholarship. The next rank was xiucai, and earning that title meant one had formally entered the scholarly class and begun the journey toward an official career.

Given all that, it’s no surprise that Xue Qingshan held a high status within the family.

However, as mentioned earlier, the Xue family’s wealth was only average by rural standards. To support even one scholar in the family required the combined efforts and resources of everyone. Since the eldest son was expected to establish his own household in the future—and because he was talented—naturally, the younger sons had to step back and make sacrifices.

As for why Xue Gouzi fell so gravely ill, that had to do with an old matter within the family.

Back when Xue Qingshan passed the tongsheng exam, he was seen as a rising star. He had been brimming with ambition, hoping to pass the provincial exam next and earn the xiucai title. But fate had other plans.

He fell just short of success. Anyone would find that difficult to accept. He quietly retreated, determined to study harder and try again.

Years went by, and the lofty hopes of his youth had been worn away by harsh reality. He attempted the exam multiple times, but never passed. Eventually, he could no longer justify staying idle at home, eating without contributing. With no other choice, he opened a private school in the village, teaching local children to read and write, including kids from nearby villages. It wasn’t glamorous, but at least it put food on the table.

Thanks to this, the Xue family’s younger generation benefitted. Although the youngest children were still too little, among the grandchildren, the eldest grandson from the main branch, Xue Juncai, and the second branch’s Xue Gouzi studied with him the longest.

Compared to his cousin Xue Juncai, Xue Gouzi clearly lagged behind in many ways—mostly because of his frail health. As a child, he was constantly sick, which caused him to miss a great deal of schooling.

Let’s go back five years. That year, the provincial education official was holding the yuan exam in the prefectural city. Naturally, Xue Qingshan wasn’t going to miss such an opportunity. He stopped his private tutoring sessions early and made his way to the city to sit for the exam.

Traveling back then wasn’t easy. And Old Master Xue didn’t feel comfortable letting his eldest son go alone, so he had his second son, Xue Qingsong, accompany him. He could help out with errands and be a support along the way.

But that trip ended in tragedy. While in the prefectural city, Xue Qingshan somehow offended the wrong people. Xue Qingsong, in trying to protect his elder brother, was beaten within an inch of his life. Though he was eventually brought back home, he died just a few days later.

Before he passed, Xue Qingsong made Xue Qingshan promise him one thing: that he would do everything in his power to support Xue Gouzi’s education.

In truth, Xue Qingsong had spent his whole life stepping aside for others. How could he not have had some resentment in his heart? But he had always been an honest and good-natured man, and he knew he wasn’t as gifted as his elder brother. That’s why he chose to remain quietly in the background, always giving, never asking for anything in return.

But when it came to his own son—especially one as frail as Xue Gouzi, who clearly wasn’t cut out for a life of farming—and knowing his own days were numbered, Xue Qingsong took the opportunity to pressure his elder brother into a promise.

He didn’t do it out of selfishness, but because he wanted to change the long-standing dynamic in the Xue family, where all resources had always been funneled toward the eldest branch. At that time, the first branch already had two children studying, while the third branch’s kids were still young, and the fourth son hadn’t even married yet. Now, with Gouzi added to the mix, it would balance things a bit. As long as Xue Qingshan agreed, no one would be able to object. In doing this, Xue Qingsong had done all he could for his son.

Xue Qingshan tearfully agreed on the spot, swearing to treat Xue Gouzi as his own son. Only then did Xue Qingsong close his eyes in peace.

Not long afterward, Gouzi’s mother, Mrs. Qiu—already in poor health—fell ill from grief and passed away as well. Just like that, Gouzi was left an orphan. Fortunately, he still had his grandparents, uncles, and his child-bride Zhao’er to rely on, so he was not left destitute.

In the years that followed, Xue Qingshan truly treated Gouzi like a son. Everyone in the village praised him for raising his nephew as if he were his own. But as the saying goes, human hearts were fickle, and self-interest was part of human nature. Over time, the attitude in the first branch began to shift. On the surface, they treated him the same—but behind closed doors? Only those involved knew the truth.

This year, when Xue Qingshan felt there was little more he could personally teach his sons, he began thinking of sending his own son, Xue Juncai, to the town’s private academy for further study.

But attending an academy was expensive. Aside from the annual tuition, which cost several taels of silver, there were also the traditional teacher’s gifts, holiday offerings, and everyday study expenses—ink, paper, brushes, and inkstones. The Xue family had already been financially strained from supporting Xue Qingshan’s own studies; there simply wasn’t enough money to send both boys.

They could only afford to send one.

So Xue Qingshan brought the matter up in front of the entire family. Xue Gouzi, rather than being tactful and stepping aside, chose to remain silent.

During that time, the atmosphere in the household grew tense. Old Master Xue wore a constant frown, and Grandmother Zhao became increasingly passive-aggressive. Only the first branch couple continued on as if nothing had happened.

But fate has its twists. One day, Xue Gouzi happened to overhear a private conversation between his aunt Mrs. Yang and his fourth aunt-in-law Mrs. Sun. They were plotting to have the grandparents step in and pressure Gouzi into giving up his spot for town schooling.

Overwhelmed with anger and frustration, Xue Gouzi fell severely ill.

Thinking about all this, Xue Gouzi felt a rush of emotions he couldn’t quite settle. At the same time, images from his recent dream began to resurface in his mind—vivid and fragmented.

In the dream, a boy named Xue Tingrang had faced the exact same situation at the age of fourteen. That very incident had been the turning point in his life, the catalyst that reshaped his entire character.

Could he be Xue Tingrang? Was that Xue Tingrang actually him? But why was he dreaming of such things?

A sudden, stabbing pain flared in Xue Gouzi’s head, as though his thoughts were physically tearing through his mind. The bun in his hand slipped and tumbled onto the heated brick bed, and the water bowl beside him was knocked over. The noise startled Zhao’er, who rushed over and immediately pulled him into her arms.

“Gou’er! Gou’er, don’t scare me like this!”

=^_^=

Author has something to say: Zhao’er, my bold little man—okay, fine, I admit I have a thing for putting my characters through it. →_→