Chen Dasheng took twenty lashes of the whip, and truly, each lash tore his flesh until his whole back was a mass of blood. As bad luck would have it, a fine rain began to fall from the sky, so his back became a bloody, sticky mess, frightening his two sons into thinking he was going to die.

An’er had had diarrhea for three days straight, and one night he was so startled he wet the bed.

Gennu’er was no better off, waking up crying every night, needing Chen Dasheng to hold him before he could sleep.

The first night, the two children cried until they couldn’t hold out any longer and fell asleep. The next day they woke early again, and just watched their father with pitiful eyes, not daring to move at all, their little hands even learning to touch his nose to check for breath.

No one knew how they’d learned to do it, but it looked heartbreakingly pitiful.

Qiqian’er had cried twice while hiding from others, but she still had to teach them.

As their mother, she explained again and again that their father was alive, that he was breathing!

But the children clearly didn’t believe her. Their instinct told them that Father would surely die tomorrow… When Chen Dasheng woke the next day, opened his eyes and turned his head to look, only then did he see his two sons’ faces full of “shock.”

It was hard to describe the children’s expressions. In short, they burst into loud wails, and in that instant seemed to grow up and understand things. Toward this father who had “come back from the dead,” who they’d “lost and regained,” the children now cherished him deeply.

From that day on, even when playing, they didn’t dare go too far away. If they ran off for even a little while, they always had to come back to check whether the person lying there was still breathing.

And every time, they never came back empty-handed — little stones picked up along the road, wild grass and flowers they’d pulled, and their favorite snacks, of which they always saved half — bringing it all back to “make an offering” at their father’s bedside.

In front of Chen Dasheng’s large bed, all that was missing now was an incense altar.

The old lady was furious beyond words. Since she couldn’t afford to provoke these little ancestors, she left for Green Sparrow Nunnery the very next day, and by the looks of it, she had no intention of coming back until winter charity work began.

The only good thing about this whole affair was that the old lady only went to be angry at Chen Dasheng and Qiqian’er, sparing Chen Sinlu — Chen Siniu — and his children for the time being.

In the end, it came down to favoring one over the other.

The frightened children were now timid — children who had once been wild and mischievous had, in an instant, become restrained and cautious, “sensible” children who watched everyone’s expressions in every little thing.

It wasn’t until Prince Hui She Qingling returned from visiting friends near Little South Mountain that he gave the couple a proper scolding, then spent two days comforting the children. He was an extremely patient man, and going over things again and again, he finally explained the matter of life and death to them, and made clear some things they must not do and how they should behave. Only then did the children’s moods improve somewhat.

It wasn’t that they were no longer afraid — it was that with Grandfather there, their hearts had something to rely on. But having fallen ill at heart, they’d lost their liveliness, and in the end had become excessively compliant and “sensible.”

As the saying goes, parents in this world are hateful too — wanting their children to become talented while also wanting them to stay adorable.

In raising children, until the child actually becomes accomplished, no one can really say who’s right and who’s wrong.

In She Qingling’s words: a tree becomes useful timber with soil and light, through wind, cloud, thunder, and lightning, through the changing seasons — no two trees are alike, some tall, some short, some fit to be roof beams, some fit for firewood, some fit to be fine vessels, some fit for crude tools. Could it be that only the one that becomes a roof beam succeeds, while the one that becomes fertilizer is a failure?

But Qiqian didn’t think her father’s words were entirely correct. How to put it — if she had only this one lifetime, this would be the perfect maxim. But having lived two lives, she could sense that this was her father’s broad-minded view on raising children, formed after a lifetime of hardship and setbacks, after the great rises and falls of his life. He wasn’t anxious or urgent about it — as long as his descendants made no moral errors, he’d let them be as they wished.

And yet, in her previous life, An’er had had great ambitions even as a small child. He wanted to study, take the imperial exams, become a high official, and win an honorary title for his mother.

As for what Chen Dasheng hoped for his son, it was that Old Blade would have an heir — not that he wanted the child to go to battlefield, but that if Old Blade were lost, then those who had died would be forgotten. At the very least, this blade had to be passed down.

As for A’Nai, she probably just wanted him to be alive, that was enough.

Adults have so many thoughts, and in the end all these thoughts converge into a war among the adults, each one believing they’re right.

But who could really say what would come of it? Probably only An’er and Gennu’er themselves would know.

She Qingling had unresolved anger in his heart, so he came every day to keep watch, and while he was at it, gave Chen Dasheng extra lessons to make up for lost work.

Chen Dasheng couldn’t escape, so his days were far from pleasant.

This day was just the same. The father opened up a new course of study for his son, let’s call it She’s “Scripture of Knowing When to Stop.”

Roughly speaking, it was the top-tier art of knowing exactly when enough was enough — that pursuing schemes was the inferior strategy, while knowing when to stop was the superior one — the pinnacle of wisdom in conducting oneself and in governance.

There were various other schools of “The Study of Stopping” out there in the world, but She Qingling, though born into a noble family, had actually clawed his way up from among the most vicious lowlifes. So in the knowledge he passed down orally, there were everywhere shadows of a “Study of Scoundrels,” which in a sense filled in some of the gaps and blind spots in the old top-down “Study of Stopping.”

Of course, there was also an element of the grandfather venting his anger on behalf of his grandsons — after all, Chen Dasheng had fallen out of favor, and had even been struck on the hand with a ruler.

Chen Dasheng wasn’t old, and his official career had only just begun, right at the point where it was taking off. If not for She Qingling, once he rose swiftly through the ranks he would certainly have suffered a lesson sooner or later — that was a rule no one could escape.

But as luck would have it, at home he had a father obsessed with knowing when to stop, a stingy grandmother, and a wife who pushed him into officialdom while dressed in plain cloth, with only a few hundred coins in his pocket — so what was there for him to be arrogant about?

Because of this, the lessons life taught him were mild, and he grasped some subtle truths early on, and knew the benefits of restraint — but he didn’t realize this was actually a whole field of learning.

In any case, that bunch of censors at the Censorate all hated them plenty. What right did you have to have no weakness for me to grab onto? We’re all mixed up in the same court, isn’t that a bit unfair of you?

But if you asked Chen Dasheng, he’d say: we’re all in the business of filing complaints — you file the proper, aboveboard complaints, I file the underhanded ones. It’s only natural that I can’t be beaten.

Back and forth it went, and it was Zheng Aman and others like him who became the pitiable targets. Hey, in those days, if you changed brocade shoes twice in a month, it would be brought up and discussed openly. Because of things like this, he suffered no small number of lessons, and it even affected his reputation — a man of genuine ability was lumped in with the category of pampered young masters, and it was only in the past year or two that he’d shown some restraint.

Don’t underestimate a pair of brocade shoes. Two people working the upper and lower parts of a flower-tower loom, laboring without rest for a whole day, could only produce two inches of brocade in a year. What is a “tower loom”? That kind of weaving machine really is as tall as a house, and the thread used in it — gold and silver thread, peacock feathers — is truly made of real gold and silver. Such a rare and precious thing, yet young gentlemen like Zheng Aman and Li Jingui wore it on their feet.

Of course, over these past years the Great Liang dynasty had gradually grown more prosperous, and the scale of the censors’ memorials of impeachment had slowly grown larger too. Nowadays, if you didn’t wear silk tapestry on your feet to offend their eyes, you could still stand together in the same court as officials.

Silk tapestry is something woven inch by inch, thread by thread, over the course of a whole year. Today Chen Dasheng happened to be wearing a pair of silk tapestry shoes, yet he still didn’t realize it — his greatest shortcoming lay exactly here: his heart was too plain and simple, too petty in how he looked at things.

His father privately prepared these kinds of things for him often, slowly cultivating in him a sense of noble bearing.

This was different from An’er. Ever since birth, though living in Imperial Guard Lane, in his bones An’er was different — everything he used and ate was arranged according to the standard of an heir to a princedom. Among the meager list of imperial relatives in the Great Liang royal house, he wasn’t at the bottom; he was among the first three pages of the special-favor registry.

Small as he was, on every major national celebration — New Year’s Day and the like — he would receive land, silk and cloth, gold and silver, even everyday household items from the imperial family, such as a pair of little silk tapestry shoes, as tokens of imperial favor.

He was born a special person. For instance, on his birthday, the family would renovate the house a little to hold a banquet for him, and this renovation expense could be pleaded for as a subsidy from the court, even from His Majesty himself, citing poverty.

Of course, favored relatives by marriage didn’t need to plead poverty to receive gifts either — it wasn’t only His Majesty who bestowed rewards; the Empress Dowager and the ladies of the harem would also give gifts whenever there was a happy occasion.

Even when regional governors from all over presented their annual tribute, the list would include items for this family too. Small as the child was, a few catties of top-grade dried mushrooms still had to be prepared and sent to his home.

But An’er couldn’t be compared to Gennu’er. How to put it — Gennu’er had a wealthy father, and this father had privately already begun controlling the trade routes between Great Liang and the banks of the Tan River.

Xie Wu had opened wide the doors of convenience, and didn’t ask for much in return — could this income give his son one-tenth of the profit?

Of course it could. More than willing.

When two children like this got into trouble, there were dozens of ways to discipline them, yet such a harsh method had been used instead — that was the root of She Qingling’s anger.

Children of great families naturally have a different path to becoming accomplished.

She Qingling didn’t know that His Majesty also thought this was fine — and even if he had known, it wouldn’t have mattered. No one was allowed to frighten his grandson.

After a whole morning, father and son finally finished torturing each other. Chen Dasheng lay face-down on the bed, wishing he could just ascend to heaven right there and then.

Just as he was sunk in gloom, An’er quietly slipped in through the door, with Gennu’er following behind. They walked to their father’s bedside, first reaching out to test his breath, then touching their own noses to compare. Ah, Father’s alive!

Satisfied, one of them stuck a small white flower into their father’s temple hair, patted his head, and left contentedly.

She Qingling secretly resented this, but couldn’t help complaining once more: “Teaching them is something that has to be done sooner or later. If explaining the reasoning once isn’t clear, then explain it ten times, a hundred times, and set an example yourself — teach him to respect the elderly and pity the poor. Why did it have to come to this — flesh flying and blood spattering? Are you two, husband and wife, made of iron?”

Chen Dasheng lay face-down catching his breath, but still lifted his head to look at his father and said: “Back in the camp, I used to be well-liked. I was Seventh Blade back then, and I often just muddled through — avoided bloodshed whenever I could. Later… I watched with my own eyes as Brother Chief died, and I couldn’t help at all. I hated myself for it. It was only after that I understood — a harsh lesson learned is worth more than a hundred, a thousand pieces of advice… hey! Ouch, Father~!”

She Qingling withdrew the ruler and glared at him disdainfully.

Chen Dasheng, holding his aching head, muttered somewhat resentfully: “Last autumn during the execution season, His Majesty even brought the imperial prince to oversee the executions. Ah, ah, Father!”

She Qingling raised the ruler again, sneering even more scornfully: “How old is the imperial prince? How old is my grandson?”

Qiqian’er had just been carrying the meal she’d made with her own hands into the room, and hearing this argument for what must have been the thousandth time, she slowly backed out and slipped away.

She came outside her family’s gate and saw her two sons, who used to hold sticks and play at being great generals, now standing neatly dressed by the door, watching Heiniu dominating the scene.

Heiniu had brought a whole group to beat up Chou Gu, but Chou Gu single-handedly beat them all back just the same.

These past few days, An’er and Gennu hadn’t joined in to help, and there was no longer any question of being friends. When Chou Gu, having lost badly, was carried home by Nanny Cheng, she glared furiously at Gennu’er and An’er and shouted.

“I’ll never be friends with you again… waah…”

In the end, feeling wronged, she cried all the way home.

It had been like this for several days now — the children weren’t getting into mischief anymore, they were cautious, their courage thoroughly broken, watching people’s expressions even while eating.

Feeling stifled at heart, and since the Chen family was in mourning and it wasn’t proper to visit others’ homes, Qiqian’er had someone invite her sister Wu Rong over to talk.

Wu Rong was so busy, but she still came all the way from Yanjing that night, dressed as a man, smelling of wine, bringing Ru Yi along.

And she didn’t come empty-handed either — she drove a cart loaded full of raincoats? Oil-paper umbrellas?

Qiqian’er, caught between laughing and crying, pointed and asked: “What… what is this?”

Huo Wu Rong laughed: “Don’t ask. Some merchants came down the waterway earlier this year, and I guaranteed a big warehouse for them to store these things. Those clumsy-mouthed fools, first time exploring the market in Yanjing, ended up losing money on the deal. They couldn’t pay my fee, so on top of that I even covered their travel expenses home, and they gave me half a warehouse of this stuff instead. Hurry up and take it, it’s annoying just looking at it.”

Perhaps she’d had a bit too much to drink — seeing her sister’s forced smile, Wu Rong teased Qiqian’er: “Yo yo, our Seventh Miss, our great capable one, what’s wrong with you today? Such a sad face.”

She sat on the steps in the courtyard, sprawled out as casually as a man.

Bai Ruyi bowed and greeted Qiqian’er politely, then looked around and asked: “Auntie, where are the little brothers?”

He was especially fond of the little brothers.

Qiqian’er helplessly pointed toward the house: “Making offerings in front of your uncle’s ‘grave.'”

Hearing this, Wu Rong spat out a mouthful of wine laughing, and waved her hand at her son: “Hurry and go pay respects to your uncle, and light him a stick of incense while you’re at it. Your aunt and I are going to have a chat.”

Bai Ruyi turned back, took two pairs of old lacquered wooden clogs from the cart, and left cheerfully.

Watching him go into the house, Qiqian’er asked curiously: “How’s this child doing?”

Huo Wu Rong thought for a moment, then smiled helplessly: “Ugh, it’s hard to say in a few words. He’s a good child, but too cautious — always wanting everything to be perfect. So mature for his age, not at all like me, more like my father! Ugh~ I worry about him too. You don’t know, on our street, children his age are still mischievous, but not him — mature every day like an elder, watching other kids play with eyes full of approval…”

“Pfft~!”

Qiqian’er couldn’t help laughing, and after laughing, thinking of her own family’s troubles, she couldn’t hold back and poured her heart out to her sister.

By the time she finished, Huo Wu Rong was dumbfounded too.

…

After a good while, she clicked her tongue, gave a thumbs up, then held up two fingers: “You two, husband and wife, are exactly this — a pair of idiots! Have you been watching too many dramas or something? On our street, kids their age — there’s a family whose child, seeing a chicken get slaughtered, was so scared he lost his soul, scared the elders at home so badly they went out banging on gongs calling his soul back through the streets, and it took forever before it finally came back. Now they don’t even dare let the kid see blood. And look at you two?”

Qiqian’er glared at her: “Are you saying I was wrong too, Fifth Sister?”

Huo Wu Rong shook her head: “That’s hard to say. I’ve never given birth or raised a child myself. Ru Yi’s been more sensible than me since he came to my side…”

After saying this, she thought seriously for a while, then hesitantly said: “You want to talk about raising children… this reminds me of what my adoptive father taught us.”

Qiqian’er asked curiously: “Your adoptive father? That old Beggar Chief?”

“Ah!” Huo Wu Rong untied the gourd flask at her waist, opened the stopper, and took two swigs before saying: “Back when my father taught us our trade, he’d first teach us to read people, you know? Take Yanjing city for example — kids from the west side are kids from the west side, kids from the south side are kids from the south side, the stewards in the inner city have that inner-city air about them; people from families with backing, when they walk out and step over a threshold, the way their shoulders roll in waves — it’s all exactly the same.”

She spoke in an interesting way, and Qiqian’er found herself drawn in.

Huo Wu Rong summarized with a smile: “Your family’s situation is different, and different from the people I know too. Your grandmother’s experience I understand — after all, everyone was once poor and struggling.

But as for whether the old master’s kind of experience is suitable? Well~ I can’t say for sure. I don’t even recognize half the things on the table at that household!”

Qiqian’er nodded: “Mm, but I still don’t regret disciplining him once — it really had gotten out of hand.”

Huo Wu Rong nodded: “Hey, that’s simple enough. Around our doorstep, if some rotten kid bullied an elder? Turn on him! Pull down his pants and beat him hard, and he’ll remember it — you think he’d dare do it again?

But you can’t hit your kids like that, can you? And with such a huge display? The adults were scared half to death themselves! Besides, they’re really still so young — overcorrecting is exactly what this is, isn’t it?”

Qiqian’er took a breath: “But An’er, he was precociously smart from birth, so I…”

“Hey hey hey, have you no shame?” Huo Wu Rong teased her: “Every mother thinks her own child is some star spirit descended to earth? Tsk~!”

Qiqian’er felt a pang of embarrassment, her face flushing red instantly — she hadn’t quite thought of it that way, but honestly, it really was like a star spirit had been born…

Huo Wu Rong didn’t notice these little thoughts and just said with a laugh: “It’s fine, don’t worry about it. Children forget quickly — bring him to Yanjing in a few days to unwind and he’ll be fine! Anyway, I can’t speak to the reasoning of your family’s old sage, but let me tell you about things in the marketplace instead — that I’m plenty familiar with, and I have my own experience there too.

Don’t you find people interesting? Born to different parents, raised in different places, living on different streets, attending different schools, then tumbling through life and enduring hardship, until one day they grow into a flavor that’s uniquely their own — that’s what makes everyone different.

But beyond this kind of difference, there’s also an unchanging root, and that’s the interesting part. As long as you’re a native of Yanjing, when that person comes out, we chief beggars just need one glance — don’t even need to look at the whole body — and we know exactly what kind of person this is. Now guess — what do we look at?”

What a mysterious skill. Qiqian’er looked at her sister curiously and asked: “How would I know that?”

Huo Wu Rong laughed: “Heh, let me tell you — the temperament in the blood passed down from your ancestors, the generations-old rules of different streets, the character of the teacher at the local school, all mixed together with the true taste of the human world after passing through the same hot oil pan — and that’s roughly the flavor of the people from that street.

Those from the west side of Yanjing, their spines are bent, because generation after generation they’ve looked up at others. Even if one day such a child breaks his bones, suffers great hardship, and his spine straightens — becomes wealthy — he’ll still look up at people out of habit, and in his eyes there will still linger that calculating drive from the west side, where money matters more than anything. That’s how, with one look in the eyes, we understand.”

Qiqian’er didn’t understand, and asked in surprise: “But why is that?”

Huo Wu Rong tapped her head: “You’ve been a wealthy lady for so long, have you gone soft in the head? It’s simple! For ten generations up the line, their ancestors all struggled to earn money — the people from the west side have bent their backs to earn a living their whole lives, how could they possibly look at people with a level gaze?

This has nothing to do with whether a person is good or bad, it’s just how it is!

Not that there aren’t exceptions, mind you — this… oh, look at you, then look at me. The hardships we went through later in life split us into two completely different kinds of people, but can you say that what’s in our bones is really so different?”

Qiqian’er’s eyes went blank for a moment.

Huo Wu Rong sneered: “The two of us, this whole lifetime — it’s too late to change now! We’ll always see ourselves as lowly… we had nothing, no father, no mother, no family, no one to rely on, so we lived in constant fear.

Whatever someone says, we turn it over and over in our guts — what did they mean by that? What do they want from me? We take other people far too seriously, heh! Pathetic, isn’t it… but what can be done? We’re not afraid of dying, but we’re afraid of people being good to us. We’re afraid of the smallest thing upsetting someone. No one bullies us — we bully ourselves, we’re harsh on ourselves…

The skills my adoptive father taught us, for reading people, are still pretty much on the mark. So don’t go applying your kind of thinking to the children either. Just do your best to teach the little ones everything good — that’s a parent’s responsibility. But An’er is An’er, the old master is the old master, and the old lady is the old lady, aren’t they?”

Having said this, Huo Wu Rong raised her eyebrows at her sister: “Right?”

Having had her true feelings exposed, Qiqian’er finally managed a bitter smile after a long moment: “Sister, I just feel like… anyone is better off than me.”

You must have had a better life than me in your previous one.

Huo Wu Rong laughed lightly and tossed the wine gourd to her sister: “You’re younger than me, aren’t you? Take it slow. From now on, be good to yourself. A person only gets this one life.”

Qiqian’er took the wine gourd, then tossed it back and scolded: “You crazy fool, you never change your bad habits — I’m pregnant, and you’re offering me wine?”

Huo Wu Rong took back the gourd and, after a long pause, cursed: “I’m a grown unmarried woman, what do I know about that!”

…

Inside the house, An’er and Gennu, little wooden clogs on their little feet, were jumping about, seeming to have recovered some of their liveliness.

The two pairs of little wooden clogs were finely made, the old lacquer inlaid with shimmering mother-of-pearl, the leather straps tying the clogs decorated with carved leatherwork — very good-looking indeed.

Bai Ruyi came into the room and first affectionately greeted his two younger cousins, then personally helped them put on the little clogs, and afterward watched them with encouraging eyes, urging them to jump around.

The two children first looked to see the adults’ reaction, then tried jumping on the green bricks. The little wooden clogs striking the brick surface made crisp little clacking sounds. At first they were surprised, then jumped a couple more times, and their smiles grew wider and wider.

Seeing that they’d taken to it well, Bai Ruyi clapped his hands in encouragement.

Finally, they jumped more and more joyfully… and eventually broke into giggles. She Qingling and Chen Dasheng looked at each other, both letting out a long breath.

Heavens, at last they wouldn’t have to eat offerings anymore.

Bai Ruyi didn’t know what had happened, but seeing his younger cousins happy, he then solemnly paid his respects to his superior, not the least bit thinking of himself as a relative of his elders now.

Chen Dasheng waved it off without concern: “Hurry up and get up. Be a good son to your mother first — matters of official duty can wait until you’re grown.”

But Bai Ruyi took out a list from inside his robe and presented it with both hands to Chen Dasheng: “Sir, this is…”

Chen Dasheng, helpless, said in a heavier tone: “Call me Uncle!”

Bai Ruyi’s tone remained serious and proper: “Yes, Uncle. Nephew… a few days ago I saw a few drill instructors from the yamen and quietly followed them to listen in. Are you investigating the matter of the realgar?”

Chen Dasheng was at a loss for words. He picked up the list to look at it, and at the very first glance… his expression immediately changed.