Chapter Forty-Four: The Last Lesson (Part Two) - Second Update

After their meal, Du Ruhui and Zheng Yanqing sat on the veranda, sipping tea. As usual, Yanqing took on the task of brewing the tea, while Du Ruhui commented on its flavor from the side.

The aroma of tea wafted through the woods. Moonlight filtered through the gaps in the bamboo leaves, casting a misty, frosty glow upon the clearing before the bamboo lodge. A breeze from Longmen Mountain stirred the bamboo grove, making the leaves rustle softly. The heat of summer was dispelled in an instant, leaving a refreshing coolness.

Such pure nature would be hard to find in later generations.

Yanqing cradled his tea bowl, gazing at the scene before him, utterly enchanted...

"Little demon, you and Mr. Du haven't rested yet?"

Zheng Shian returned to the bamboo garden, riding a skinny horse. He had bought this beast at the horse market in Luoyang for his own convenience. Now that he had some status, walking everywhere every day was hardly fitting.

Yanqing hurried to ladle a bowl of tea from the kettle and handed it to Zheng Shian. Zheng Shian took it without ceremony, sat on the veranda, and drank a large mouthful.

"Grandfather, why are you back so late?"

"Ah, today someone from the Shenwu Duke's residence came to order twenty sets of premium goods. I supervised the work at Big Hammer's place, finished the delivery, and brought them to the Shenwu Duke's residence, which is why I'm late."

"Old Zheng, seems business is good."

Zheng Shian nodded, "It's alright. We can't keep making premium gift boxes though—I worry about future repercussions. Little demon, today at the market, I saw quite a few people selling scissors like ours, and their prices are ten coins lower."

"Oh?" Yanqing was startled—so price competition had already begun.

"Grandfather, did you see clearly who was selling them?"

"I did a rough check—about six shops, two of them quite large, apparently belonging to the old Cui family's business."

"Cui family's business?"

"Yes, though I can't say if they're behind it, but this is affecting us. Today, we sold only twenty premium, fifty mid-grade, and less than ten low-grade scissors. Before, we could sell hundreds of low-grade ones daily, but today... Little demon, you must think of something, or it will only get harder. Should we lower our prices too?"

"We mustn't!" Yanqing refused immediately. "If we do, our profits will shrink, and it could end in mutual ruin. Besides, if those two shops are backed by the Cui clan from Qinghe, they can afford losses but we can't."

Du Ruhui, listening, scratched his ear. Scholars, after all, cared little for such matters. If not for Yanqing, Du Ruhui might have left in a huff.

Noticing Du Ruhui's impatience, Yanqing smiled, "Grandfather, let's not rush. We'll wait and see."

"Alright, we'll wait and see."

Yanqing wasn't worried about such competition, which involved no technical skill—just chaos in the market. In his previous life, price wars looked fierce but almost always ended in mutual defeat. In the city he once governed, the business wars in Central Plains were a national model, but after a decade, all those once-thriving markets folded, changed owners, or went bankrupt—none had a good ending.

Thus, price wars were a bad idea, and Zheng Shian couldn't afford them.

"After a busy day, I'll sleep now," Zheng Shian said, rising to leave.

"Grandfather, may I discuss something with you?"

"What is it?"

"Don't you find this place a bit lonely? Such a large estate with just the three of us. By day, you and I are gone, leaving only Brother Du here—no one to look after him. Could we hire some help?"

"Well..."

Zheng Shian sat down again, scratched his head, and spoke softly, "Little demon, actually, I've been meaning to discuss this with you."

"Please go on."

Zheng Shian coughed lightly, "Do you remember Mao Wang's family?"

Yanqing frowned, "You mean Mao Xiaoba's parents?"

"Exactly!"

"Of course I remember."

Zheng Shian spoke with some difficulty, "I saw them today, and it's pitiful... After being driven out of the estate, the whole family set up a shack by the riverbank. Mao Wang's leg was broken and still hasn't healed. The eldest daughter ran off recently with a merchant from the Western Regions. The old and the young, with a cripple among them, survive by begging—barely scraping by. When I passed, Mao Wang's wife knelt and apologized, saying her son had wronged us..."

Yanqing understood Zheng Shian's intent.

"Grandfather, do you want them to come here?"

Embarrassed, Zheng Shian nodded. "Mao Wang is a good, honest man. Though Xiaoba's misdeeds have harmed them, I'd like them to come. Mao Wang's wife can work—she's steady, just like him. She could help with sewing, cooking. You're grown now, and Little Ya is two years older than you—she could help grind ink and such... I believe, what's done is done; Xiaoba's actions shouldn't implicate his family. If we can help, we should."

Yanqing fell into deep thought. Though Zheng Shian was the master of the bamboo garden, important matters were always discussed with Yanqing.

Du Ruhui watched Yanqing curiously, eager to see his decision.

After pondering for a long while, Yanqing spoke, "Uncle Wang was always good to me, and Xiaoba's crimes are unforgivable, but his family shouldn't suffer for them. Grandfather, you have a compassionate heart, and I am glad. Since you wish it, how could I refuse?"

He stood and looked toward the bamboo grove.

"Let’s have someone build a bamboo cottage on the path tomorrow, and let them move in. As for Uncle Wang's injury, we can get it treated—it won't cost much. Having someone at home to help is indeed convenient. But Grandfather, you should settle the formalities—good deeds are good, but things should be handled cleanly."

"Hah, don't worry, I won't be careless."

Such matters were familiar to Zheng Shian. After years as a steward, he knew exactly what to do.

With Yanqing’s consent, Zheng Shian felt he had resolved a lingering concern, and went off to sleep.

Du Ruhui patted Yanqing’s shoulder. "Little demon, you are clever and talented, but also merciful. You will surely achieve great things."

Great things?

Perhaps, but to Yanqing, that was a distant prospect.

He smiled. "Brother Du, it’s late—you should rest. I have to study and rise early tomorrow."

Du Ruhui nodded, turned, and left. Yanqing lingered on the veranda for a while, then smiled quietly.

A hunch told him Mao Xiaoba would return. Youthful hearts are restless... Yanqing himself had once stolen money and run away from home in his previous life, longing for adventure but ending in bruises and disappointment.

If—just if—Mao Xiaoba had indeed become entangled with the white-robed Maitreya, when he returned, he would be changed. Today I plant a seed; tomorrow it may grow into a towering tree, depending on Mao Xiaoba’s fate!

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The next morning, Yanqing rose early.

When he got up, Zheng Shian had already gone to the city. Du Ruhui was in the woods, reading the Analects, nodding and reciting aloud.

"Brother Du, where’s my grandfather?"

Du Ruhui turned, smiling. "Old Zheng said he was going to the city to hire craftsmen—they'll build the bamboo cottage by noon."

"Ah, then I’ll head to the academy!"

"Off you go..."

Du Ruhui turned back, cradling his Analects and continuing to recite. He was becoming less of a guest, as if he were the master of the bamboo garden and Yanqing merely a passing visitor. Yanqing smiled wryly as he mounted his donkey—but wasn't this exactly what he wanted? He had invited Du Ruhui so he would feel at home.

The midsummer morning was exquisite.

The Yi River, after yesterday’s midday rain, was swollen, the current rushing and roaring. In the distance, Longmen Mountain wore a veil of mist, appearing like a graceful maiden at dawn. From the eastern shore, the temple bell of Fragrant Mountain rang out, echoing across the sky. From the riverbank, one could glimpse the temple nestled among tall pines and cypresses.

That was Fragrant Mountain Temple, founded in the first year of Emperor Xiping of Northern Wei; Yanqing had even burned incense and made vows there in his previous life.

The donkey’s hooves thudded, its neck bell jingling brightly.

A boy in white, riding a sturdy blue donkey, walked through the morning, bathed in the first rays of the sun.

A carriage approached from the opposite direction. As Yanqing passed it, the curtain lifted, revealing a delicate, youthful face.

"Mother, that little brother is so impressive!"

"Is he? My Guanyin maid says he’s impressive, so I must take a good look."

A beautiful woman peeked out, glancing in Yanqing’s direction as he rode away.

She smiled, "What an interesting little fellow... Xingbu, do you know who that boy in white was? Such bearing—I wonder whose child he is."

The coachman, a sturdy young man, halted the carriage and glanced back. "I’m not sure, but I’ve heard this road leads to the Zheng family’s bamboo garden, now owned by their remarkable boy. Out so early—could it be the Zheng family’s child?"

The woman was surprised. "That Zheng family boy?"

"Heh, mother, you forgot—that’s the Half-Fated Lord."

"Oh, the one who invented the Goose Poem style, wrote 'Shi Gan Burns to Death for Unjust Marquis', and 'February’s Spring Wind Is Like Scissors'—the Half-Fated Lord?"

"Who else could it be?"

The young man got back on the carriage and urged it forward.

The little girl asked, "Mother, who is the Half-Fated Lord?"

"The boy who just passed."

She wanted to ask more, but the young man replied first, "Mother, you just returned from Chang’an, so perhaps you don’t know. The Half-Fated Lord and his grandfather rely on each other. His grandfather once refused the mansion assigned by the Zheng clan because of noise, choosing the bamboo garden instead. The child is extraordinary—rain or shine, he goes to the Dou family academy every morning. So people in Luoyang call this road to Jingu Garden the Bamboo Garden Scholar’s Road."

"Oh?"

The woman nodded, "From his demeanor, he will surely be remarkable."

"Not necessarily," the young man said, arriving at the Yi River bridge. He spoke softly, "The Half-Fated Lord’s grandfather is a merchant, so his background is only middling. If he merely seeks fame, it’s not hard; but if he wants greater achievement, it won’t be easy—he’ll always be an official of lesser rank."

She laughed, "That’s true, but it depends on whether he finds support. If someone helps him, even a fourth-rank background is no obstacle, as long as he’s capable. Xingbu, when you return, have your brother keep an eye out—perhaps he’ll become truly distinguished one day."

"Of course, mother. If you say he’ll be successful, it must be true."

The young man joked as he drove the carriage across the Yi River bridge.

The woman, saying no more, embraced the little girl with her high coiled hair, closed her eyes, and seemed to sleep...

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