Wild Boar

In truth, Chang’an Fang had already spotted Mazude the moment the three entered, but he still put on an expression of innocent contemplation and stood up to greet, “Hello, Uncle.” He did not directly answer Chengyan Shen’s question, nor was this greeting intended for Mazude—he had no desire to even be polite to such a loathsome character.

He was young and acted appropriately courteous, so none of the adults present noticed anything amiss. The young man who had brought Mazude over responded, “Hello, hello, go ahead and eat, don’t mind us.”

Mazude gave Chang’an Fang a scrutinizing look and actually felt he recognized him. After a moment’s thought, he craned his neck and asked, “Your father is Luojun Fang, isn’t he?”

“Yes.”

Chang’an Fang replied, picked up a few thin noodles with his chopsticks, placed them atop his bun, and took a bite.

Mo Shen, obedient and quiet, ate her meal. Her eyes darted about, glancing over at the others, then back at Chang’an Fang, as if pondering something.

Mazude hadn’t expected to run into Chang’an Fang here, nor that Chengyan Shen would introduce him as “the secretary of Chang’an Fang’s village.” The words rankled, but more than that, he was left truly shocked, unable to make sense of the situation.

Mazude was not well-acquainted with Chengyan Shen and dared not ask rashly. Seeing that the man who brought him had no intention of inquiring either, he suppressed his questions, planning to mull it over later.

“Have you all eaten? Come, sit and join us,” Mengfei Cheng invited graciously.

It was obvious that Mazude’s midday visit was for a reason, but he hadn’t expected to find Chang’an Fang here, making it inconvenient to speak. He exchanged a glance with the young man who’d accompanied him, who then excused them: “We’ve just eaten, haven’t even shaken off the smell of liquor yet… Well, you go ahead, we’ll come back later. We won’t disturb you now.”

Chengyan Shen and Mengfei Cheng made the customary polite attempts to keep them, and tried not to accept the cigarettes, alcohol, and fruit Mazude brought. But after some mediation by the intermediary, they finally relented. This was typical for the times, at least as far as Chang’an Fang had seen, and he paid little mind to such formalities.

Mengfei Cheng handed the gifts to the housekeeper and, with her husband, saw the guests to the door.

As soon as the others had left, Mo Shen leaned toward Chang’an Fang and asked in a whisper, “Chang’an Fang, do you not like that Ma-something?”

Chang’an Fang was genuinely surprised—he even lost the taste for the meat in his mouth. Looking up at her, he replied, “No, why do you ask?”

“Liar!”

The girl pouted. “I can tell.”

“How could you tell?”

“It’s just a feeling.” She spoke as though it was self-evident. “So you admit it?”

Hearing the sounds of Chengyan Shen and Mengfei Cheng returning, Chang’an Fang shushed her softly. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“Mm-hmm.”

The girl seemed quite pleased he’d admitted it, nodding happily.

Chengyan Shen and Mengfei Cheng came back in. The housekeeper brought out the freshly prepared fish head soup. Chang’an Fang had already eaten two buns, but Mengfei Cheng ladled him a bowl of soup, which he drank slowly, waiting for Chengyan Shen to speak.

Sure enough, Chengyan Shen soon asked, “Have you met him before?”

Chang’an Fang did not ask who he meant, simply shook his head. “I don’t really remember. His family lives in the east, ours is in the west.”

Chengyan Shen nodded, and Mengfei Cheng smiled. “He seemed to recognize you.”

Chang’an Fang smiled shyly. “Maybe we crossed paths, but I’m not good with faces.”

Mengfei Cheng nodded and didn’t press further.

Chang’an Fang finished his soup, and when Mengfei Cheng offered him more, he quickly said, “Ms. Cheng, I’m full.”

“Really?” she asked.

“Truly. The food’s so good—if I wasn’t full, I wouldn’t have stopped.”

Both Chengyan Shen and Mengfei Cheng laughed. Mo Shen muttered, “He didn’t stop the whole time; he must be full.”

Mengfei Cheng said, “Alright then, go wash your hands. Mo, take him to the study—see if there are any books you want to read.”

Mo Shen pouted her rosy lips. “But I’m not done eating.”

“Then eat quickly.”

Mo Shen ate even more slowly than Chang’an Fang; she never quite stopped eating, just took tiny bites of everything. While Chang’an Fang had finished two buns, she had just managed half of one and was sipping her soup in small mouthfuls.

Chang’an Fang was in no hurry and waited patiently for her to finish, then they went to wash their hands and headed upstairs together.

Upstairs, there was a small sitting room, rooms on either side. Mo Shen led Chang’an Fang with practiced familiarity to the study on the right. The room was about twenty square meters, furnished with a computer, desk, and two bookshelves.

“Wow, so many books!”

Chang’an Fang was a little surprised. Mo Shen, somewhat proud, replied, “Of course! Uncle and Aunt spent a lot of money on these… Some haven’t even been unwrapped.”

Chang’an Fang’s mouth twitched as he glanced around. The books weren’t arranged by category, and indeed some were still in their plastic wrapping.

A clock hung on the wall; it was just past one. Chang’an Fang was in no rush. He began leafing through the books. Mo Shen sat with him and asked, “What book do you want to read?”

“I want to read them all. Before, I just read whatever was available. Now there are so many to choose from, I don’t even know where to start.”

The girl eyed him. “Then just read all of them.”

Chang’an Fang nodded. “Makes sense. I’ll take them all.”

She pouted again, correcting him. “They’re not yours; you’re just borrowing them.”

Chang’an Fang laughed. “Once I’ve read them, they’re mine. The value of a book is in its content, not the book itself.”

Mo Shen thought for a moment and agreed, nodding. “So take them all.”

She browsed the shelves herself, spotted a copy of *Robinson Crusoe*—she’d probably heard of it before—and picked it up for a look.

Although it seemed most of the books hadn’t been read, it was clear Mengfei Cheng and Chengyan Shen didn’t just buy things at random; the selection was quite deliberate and proper.

Chang’an Fang noticed a copy of *Jin Ping Mei*, casually took it out, and found with surprise that it was a version proofread by the Dream of Plum Studio—uncensored!

It was a fine book, but printed in traditional characters and vertical script, a bit of a challenge to read. But learning requires effort; true study asks for hardship. Knowledge gained too easily is seldom treasured.

Chang’an Fang mused over his twisted logic as he flipped through the pages. Mo Shen, curious, saw him with a book and came over for a look. Catching her out of the corner of his eye, Chang’an Fang quickly turned the page.

“What’s this?” The girl was amazed to see the book printed vertically, with quite a few unfamiliar characters.

“I don’t know either.”

He heard voices outside—Chengyan Shen and Mengfei Cheng talking. Calmly, he closed the book and put it back, quickly pulling out a copy of *The Complete Works of Lu Xun*.

He clicked his tongue in appreciation—People’s Literature Publishing House!

“Lu Xun!” Mo Shen exclaimed, equally amazed.

“Have you read it?”

“No,” she shook her head. “But I’ve recited his passage about the weasel.”

Chang’an Fang couldn’t help but laugh. From behind came the sound of Mengfei Cheng’s barely restrained amusement as she chided gently, “It’s not about a weasel; it’s called ‘Young Runtu.’”

“Isn’t it about a weasel?” Mo Shen pouted, unconvinced.

The study was spacious, and when Chengyan Shen and Mengfei Cheng entered, the four of them didn’t feel crowded. Seeing Chang’an Fang reading *The Complete Works of Lu Xun*, the couple looked slightly surprised.

“You’re interested in Lu Xun’s complete works?” Chengyan Shen asked with a smile.

“I saw our language textbook has several of his essays, so I thought I’d take a look… Uncle Shen, is this not a good book?”

“No, no,” Chengyan Shen quickly waved his hand. “It’s a great book, of course. I just thought you might not like it. I haven’t even read much of it myself.”

Chang’an Fang blinked. “Why not read a good book?”

“Uh…” Chengyan Shen was momentarily at a loss for words.

Mengfei Cheng laughed. “Because he can’t get into it. A good book isn’t always interesting.”

“You didn’t finish it either,” Chengyan Shen muttered.

Mengfei Cheng ignored him and said to Chang’an Fang, “If you’d like to read, go ahead. It’s definitely a good book, but if you can’t get through it, that’s fine too. At your age, it’s normal not to understand everything.”

Chang’an Fang acknowledged her, flipping through the book as he stood. Chengyan Shen sat at the computer desk and turned on the computer. Chang’an Fang didn’t know what the specs were, but seeing the LCD monitor, he could tell it was expensive.

Mengfei Cheng went out and fetched another chair for Mo Shen, then pointed at the desk and said to Chang’an Fang, “Class doesn’t start for a while. Sit and read. If you want to take any books back to school, go ahead—just bring them back when you’re done.”

Chang’an Fang hesitated. “Uncle Shen, don’t you have things to do? Maybe I should—”

Before he finished, Chengyan Shen interrupted, “It’s fine, you read. As for that Ma from your village… Ah, never mind, let’s not talk about him. Don’t worry about it. It’s better if he doesn’t come.”

It was clear Chengyan Shen didn’t think much of Mazude either.

Chang’an Fang finally agreed and said to Mo Shen, “Mo Shen, you go read at the desk.”

She glanced at him, pouted, and sat down in the chair. Chang’an Fang took a seat at the desk, glancing at the computer desktop—Windows XP, with that familiar sunlit pasture background and its icons.

Chengyan Shen began to work on the computer. Not sure if he had business to attend to, Chang’an Fang turned his attention back to his book and read intently.