At the bridge leading into the hills, the two mischievous children flew their wooden sticks about, striking with the air of soldiers charging into battle, their mouths even making sounds like clashing swords, whack-whack-whack…

Children don’t know their own strength, and the one they were beating was an innocent man.

Emperor Wu, Yang Zao, watching the two mischievous children bully the beggar, felt angry inside, yet could not turn back to stop it—the situation was too awkward. If he stepped in to stop it, he worried Qingling might read too much into it.

He was just about to send Zhang Minwang over to see what was going on, when an old woodcutter came down from the hill and stopped to watch. The old man had meant to intervene, but after drawing near he too took a couple of blows from the sticks and dared not provoke them further. Seeing that the two children, though dressed in cloth, wore finely made clothes, he had no choice but to stamp his foot and say, “What sins are these—whose young masters are out here bullying this poor helpless man like this? Why doesn’t some adult come out to stop them, eh?!”

He looked around, but in the end his fear got the better of him, and he could only say to the old beggar, “Run, won’t you? Hey, old man, hurry up and run?”

The old beggar was simple-minded, and only wept, sobbing as though his heart would break.

Seeing the old beggar cry, An’er and Gennu’er felt they had won, and shouted loudly that they’d won, charging forward, boasting that their great general would chop off their heads, and all manner of nonsense, growing even more excited.

Unable to get the old beggar to leave, and having taken a few more knocks himself, the woodcutter had no choice but to shoulder his firewood and leave, helpless.

Emperor Wu, in the end, grew truly angry, and after a long while forced out, “A gentleman conducts himself with strict self-discipline; in raising children, a family must uphold both duty and principle. Among kin there is no fault greater than that between father and son, yet unfilial children always exist—this is truly disgraceful…”

Empress Dowager Jiang lowered her prayer beads and looked out for a while too, sighing, “They’re still so young. Your cousin’s family has only this one line of descent, so it’s hard to avoid some indulgence. How old could they even be? Teach them slowly, that’s all—my son, your words are rather too harsh.”

The beggar’s crying grew louder and louder from across the bridge, and Emperor Wu, unable to bear it, restrained his anger and said, “Turn the carriage back.”

And so the carriage retreated some three hundred paces, and mother and son got out to support each other as they walked slowly back toward Quanhou Street.

Along the way, Yang Zao had already thought through how he would explain this to She Qingling, and how he would scold Chen Dasheng and his wife.

A child’s moral character was the foundation of a family—fail to teach it well, and ruin was not far off. Given how close he was with She Qingling, he did not want outsiders to witness this embarrassment, which was why he’d even gone so far as to lower himself, along with Empress Dowager Jiang, to walk on foot—already a rare concession.

As mother and son walked, the Empress Dowager kept counseling him the whole way, clearly quite protective of the Chen family herself.

Yet as they drew near again, from a distance they suddenly heard a child’s crying.

Emperor Wu sensed something was wrong at once, and hurried his pace, but after only a few steps he stopped, pulling his mother to hide with him in a nearby grove.

At the bridge into the hills, Qiqian’er, holding her belly, glared furiously at An’er, the two sticks used for beating already snapped into pieces and thrown to the ground.

The child, frightened, began to wail.

Only at this moment did Qiqian’er realize that, influenced by memories of her past life, she had already spoiled An’er rotten.

Her gentle, kind-hearted An’er and this chubby little boy before her now, holding a stick and reducing the weak to tears—these were fundamentally different people, right down to the root.

Thinking of this, on this hot day, a cold sweat broke out across her forehead.

An’er and Gennu were an exceptionally clever pair of children—never underestimate three- or four-year-olds. They were most skilled at reading the room, and they knew perfectly well they’d done something wrong. Knowing they had someone to back them up, they grew fierce and stubborn, refusing to admit fault.

An’er even, full of self-righteousness, pointed back at the weeping old beggar and said, “Mother! Beat the child-snatcher!”

Gennu’er backed him up, nodding vigorously. “Mm-hm, he’d have kidnapped and sold us!” He even patted his own chest, as if to show he’d nearly been sold himself.

The old beggar cried even harder, calling out over and over, “Mother, come, mother, come…”

Qiqian’er, suppressing her fury, grabbed one child in each hand and brought them before the old beggar. The man, truly beaten into terror, covered his head and tried to crawl into a corner of the bridge on his knees.

At his age, peacefully sheltering from the wind here, why should he suffer such torment from these two little wretches? So young, and already they’d learned to condemn and abuse people at will.

Qiqian’er’s heart burned with anger, but since the children were so small, she could only reproach herself inwardly, forcing down her fury again and again. Finally, holding her belly, she crouched down and, meeting the two children’s eyes, asked patiently, “How… how did you know this old man was a child-snatcher?”

An’er’s face showed pride at this question from his mother, thinking it was the same routine as with Great-Grandmother, and with one chubby hand behind his back, pointed with the other at the old beggar. “He’s a child-snatcher! Beat him, beat him to death!”

Qiqian’er drew a sharp, cold breath, and the way she looked at the two children grew steadily more troubled.

Their mother had never looked at them like this before. Children’s minds are so quick—these two, utterly unchecked at home, given the moon if they asked for the stars, had learned in this way to displace their anger onto others.

It was all this child-snatcher’s fault—if not for him, Mother wouldn’t be angry.

Gennu’er, quick on his little legs, ran behind the old beggar and shouted loudly, “It’s all your fault! Mother’s angry!”

He was about to kick him when Qiqian’er yanked him back. She raised her hand as if to strike him, but from far off she heard the old madam’s voice cry out, “Qian’er, don’t you dare!”

In truth, the children’s thinking had a source. At home, the old madam always frightened them this way—you mustn’t go out, the old beggar at the street corner is waiting to snatch you, and once he sees how plump and pretty you are, he’ll grab you and take you home to boil and eat.

Chen Dasheng, leading a group of people, came running from afar. The old madam had been so anxious she’d insisted on coming along, and had Chunfen carry her over as well.

From a distance, she saw Qiqian’er about to strike her great-grandsons, and of course she would not allow it.

In the blink of an eye, a whole crowd had swarmed over.

Chen Dasheng arrived to find Qiqian’er’s forehead beaded with fine sweat, her face a picture of furious extremity.

The old madam scrambled down from Chunfen’s back, hurried over, pulled both children behind her with one hand each, and rounded on Qiqian’er in anger, “What’s this about? Everything was fine, and now you want to hit them? So small, what trouble could they possibly cause?”

She craned her neck to look at the broken sticks on the ground, then at the weeping old beggar, and let out a breath of relief, chiding, “Oh come now, what a fuss over nothing—what do they even understand? Later, have someone find some old clothes, and give this… this fellow a couple strings of cash…”

“Grandmother!”

Qiqian’er could not argue directly against the old woman, and so, suppressing her anger, turned and explained the matter to Chen Dasheng instead.

Children this age—clever, yes, in their way, but reason too deep went over their heads, and too shallow did no good. Such unruly conduct left the young couple at a genuine loss over how to handle it.

Having heard her explanation, the old madam, still unconcerned, instructed the servants even more dismissively, “Oh, what’s the big deal? It’s a good thing, really! This way no stranger will ever fool them and carry them off—these two children are so clever, so sharp-minded even this young, oh, my star-blessed treasured great-grandsons, were you just afraid of getting lost yourselves? My dear ones…”

What kind of nonsense was this!

Qiqian’er, at a loss, shot Chen Dasheng a look. He nodded quickly in assurance, and only then did Qiqian’er pull the old madam away.

An’er, clever as he was, already sensed that today would not end well for him, and so let out a heart-wrenching wail, pleading, “Great-Grandmother, don’t go, Great-Grandmother, don’t go…”

“I won’t go! I won’t go! I’d like to see who dares make me go!”

The old madam shook off Qiqian’er’s hand, glared at Chen Dasheng, and moved to take the children away, one in each protective arm.

Qiqian’er stepped forward to block her path. The old madam’s voice trembled as she asked, “What—what are you trying to do? What, are you going to deal with me too today, Huo Qiqian?”

Qiqian’er’s heart clenched, and after a long moment she said, “Grandmother, do you remember what our family was like before Ziye came along? What difference was there between us and this old beggar? It’s only been a few days, and now you’re thinking just like the Lan family did. If you indulge them today in tormenting others for sport, will you indulge them tomorrow in…”

“You shut your mouth!”

The old madam flared with fury, and after a long moment her lips trembled as she said, “I—I’m already old. How many more years could I even dote on them? How many do I have left? Ah? Even if they turn out unruly… I, I won’t hold it against them…”

Qiqian’er drew a breath, and holding her belly, slowly knelt down—regardless of anything else, she would not let the old madam take these two children away.

The old madam looked at Chen Dasheng imploringly, “Choutou, ah, these are just wretched children, what do you want done with them? Hm? Really going to cook and eat them?”

“Mother, come… mother, come…”

The old beggar wept again off to the side, clearly someone not quite right in the mind.

Chen Dasheng took a breath, stepped forward to help his wife up, and pulled the two troublemakers off the old madam by force.

This time, the old madam did not defend them. Qiqian’er slowly let out a breath—she had done this deliberately. If she didn’t push the old madam this once, there was no telling how much further she’d go on spoiling them.

Those she’d sent away earlier, she couldn’t protect. Those crying so bitterly right beside her now, she couldn’t protect either.

The old madam, heartbroken beyond words, turned and stumbled dazedly back toward the estate.

Chen Dasheng, dragging along the wailing, squirming troublemakers, walked over to Qiqian’er and asked quietly, “So—so how do we handle this?”

He doted on the children even more than Qiqian’er did.

Qiqian’er said, troubled, in a low voice, “How should I know. Either way, they need discipline. Just go ahead and give these two little wretches a proper beating—there’s no going easy on them today.”

Chen Dasheng drew a sharp breath, looking at her in disbelief. “Oh, and afterward you’ll be the one to comfort them, so you get to be the good one?”

Qiqian’er pressed her lips together. “You still have time to worry about that? Don’t you know the sages said long ago: from infancy, one must learn to read others’ expressions, to know their joy and anger, and be taught accordingly—let them act when they should act, and stop when they should stop. Now go, quickly, go!”

Chen Dasheng’s mouth twitched. “I understand the principle well enough, but how am I supposed to explain it to them? They won’t understand either.”

Qiqian’er said, “Then tell them the principle now, while it’s early—better than waiting until tomorrow, once they’ve learned their lesson, and still not knowing how to change… aiya, these two are little devils, you go and teach them!”

Watching Great-Grandmother walk further and further away, An’er fell into utter despair, truly frightened now, and cried out at the top of his lungs, shaking the very hills.

He cried for his grandfather, cried for his nursemaids, cried for his servant women, cried for his great-grandmother—come save me, everyone, or else I’ll die!

The old madam’s shoulders shook; she clutched her chest and leaned against a tree by the road, muttering, “So hard-won, our ancestor stole them with such difficulty, so hard-won… and they’re not even yours, how could you be so cruel.”

“Great-Grandmother~ save me, Great-Grandmother, don’t go…”

A mother’s heart aches for her child—Qiqian’er felt the pain too, so much she couldn’t bear to look, her heart breaking into pieces she couldn’t even gather back up.

Since this child had been born, she had never once let him cry without her heart aching; at night she would bolt upright and reach to check beneath his nose, terrified that if his breathing grew too soft, he might slip away from her. And now, hearing him so wronged, without even having punished him yet, she was already in agony.

And so, as though fleeing for her life, did she really walk away?

She walked all the way to the old madam’s side, then pulled her by the arm, hurrying along toward the road’s end, and only once they were out of sight did the despair behind them grow even sharper—the two children crying together as though she had gone to her grave.

The old madam struggled a few times along the way, and once they reached Quanhou Street she finally broke free of Qiqian’er, and was just about to start scolding her—when she was quietly pulled back the way they’d come.

So this one really had no shame at all.

The old madam stopped fussing, and followed her great-grandson’s wife on tiptoe to a spot behind a screening wall on the hillside, where the two of them hid, peeking out carefully.

At the bridge into the hills, An’er and Gennu’er were crying with righteous indignation, full of grievance.

Gennu’er, though in truth a child of the Xie family, had been raised in the Chen household as though he were its eldest young master, no different from any other—and when he acted up, he did so without the slightest restraint.

He genuinely felt this man before him was his real father, and that the one who’d abandoned him was the heartless “real mother.”

“Waaah… Brother!”

An’er cried even harder, wailing with all his might.

Gennu’er finally remembered he was the elder brother, and wrapped his arms around his little brother protectively, wiping his tears while crying himself, “Don’t cry, don’t cry, Brother’s here, little brother, don’t cry…”

Chen Dasheng found it both funny and heart-wrenching all at once—goodness, why put on such a show over this, was this an execution or a child sale?

He was a country boy, raised wild, with no real experience raising children, and after scratching his head and thinking it over for a long while, he instructed Chunfen behind him, “Go on, go to the school up front and ask Zhuangyuan for a couple of books on child-rearing from some family or another, and have the sewing room send over two sets of clothes—not new ones, half-worn will do, plenty of patches is fine too, all sizes, and shoes too, oh! Let me measure.”

He turned back and crouched beside the old beggar, and without minding the man’s filth, lifted off one of his shoes and used his hand to measure the man’s foot.

The old beggar struggled hard, but to no avail.

And so he cried too.

Having taken the measurement, Chen Dasheng stood and told Chunfen, “Half a finger smaller than my foot—find something sturdy, half-worn shoes, you go check who has some over by the stables, bring them here first.”

As Chunfen turned to go, Chen Dasheng added, “And from the kitchen, get a few filling flatbreads, the kind that don’t spoil easily.”

Chunfen nodded and trotted off.

His Majesty and his mother, hiding behind the trees, happened to have a clear view from where they stood, straight across to the grandmother and daughter-in-law on the opposite bank, both craning their necks eagerly to watch the children.

Qiqian’er, too consumed with worry, had no idea at all that there was anyone watching from the grove on the hillside.

Meanwhile the two little brothers tried to run, but were mercilessly hauled back by Chen Dasheng.

Unbearable to watch—it was like a knife carving into the heart.

At the bridge, the two little brothers put on quite the performance, crying for a while—their beloved great-grandmother wasn’t there, their life-saving grandfather wasn’t there, the ever-obedient maids and nursemaids weren’t there either, and the mother who’d abandoned them, even less so.

This made for rather unsatisfying crying.

Chen Dasheng stood to the side, not coaxing them at all, just watching them wail—only now did he truly understand his wife’s earlier dilemma.

These two little troublemakers were just crying for show—their tears had only started falling once Great-Grandmother left, and even then only a few drops; once hope ran out, they wailed again, but the tears were gone.

Well, well—quite the crafty minds on these two.

No wonder, being their father’s sons.

Chen Dasheng even crouched by the bridge, watching the two little rascals perform with real interest.

Chunfen, quick on her feet, soon returned as instructed with old clothes, old shoes, and food.

Chen Dasheng took the items and looked down at the two children—well, even now, their eyes were still darting about calculatingly.

He let out a long breath, and raised his voice, “My sons, your father here doesn’t know how to teach children—can’t lay out all those fine principles for you. So today, your father will act, and you’ll learn by watching.”

With that, he held the items in one hand, and with the other gripped both small arms, pulling them along to the old beggar’s side.

By now the old beggar had stopped crying too, curling up into a ball, looking around fearfully, having forgotten his pain.

Chen Dasheng came before him, and the old beggar rolled over and tried to crawl into a corner again.

Chen Dasheng smiled, and with great patience coaxed him gently. The old beggar’s mind truly wasn’t right—the moment he smelled the food, he abandoned his fear at once, rolled back over, and took the flatbread to eat.

Once Chen Dasheng saw his emotions had settled, he peeled off the man’s tattered, shredded shirt. Once the rags were gone, a body of gaunt, protruding bones was revealed, with several clear welts crisscrossing it—marks so cruel they struck Chen Dasheng’s own heart just as painfully.

Chen Dasheng, who had meant simply to change the old beggar’s clothes, felt his own heart twist too.

His wife hadn’t been wrong—this was no longer a matter of mere discipline. Their character had already been corrupted.

He drew a breath, clenched his jaw, his face growing steadily more severe, and looking at those welts, then back at the two children’s still-unrepentant faces, said without hiding his anger, “You two, your hearts have gone crooked. What did this old grandfather ever do to displease you, that you’d beat him like this?”

The two children had never heard their father speak to them in such a stern tone before. No—this wasn’t speaking anymore, this was a reckoning.

It was… simply terrifying.

They finally quieted down, both lowering their heads, not daring to look up, and this time they truly cried, tears falling in fat drops.

Chen Dasheng, forcing down his own anger, called for Chunfen to fetch medicine from home.

Once the medicine arrived, Chen Dasheng carefully tended to the old beggar’s wounds, apologizing to him as he worked, “Old sir, I’m sorry! My children weren’t raised properly, and they did this to you—it’s our fault. Don’t worry, from tomorrow on you can live here on Quanhou Street, and I’ll have someone come show you around. From now on, whenever you’re hungry, come to my door to eat—this is what we owe you.”

The old beggar, understanding only the word “eat,” grinned foolishly and said, “Eat, eat…”

Chen Dasheng nodded, smiling. “Yes, come to my house whenever you’re hungry. Don’t worry—as long as you live, every time you come to my door, I’ll have these two boys personally serve you your food with their own hands, so they’ll remember this…”

He turned to glare sternly at the two children again and said, “In this life, a person’s life and death, wealth and poverty, are all determined by heaven! But conscience must never be corrupted!”

An’er suddenly looked up and shouted at his father, “I want Great-Grandmother! I want Grandfather!”

Chen Dasheng gave a cold snort, and turned to tell Chunfen, “Go fetch my elder brother, and have him bring the horsewhip too.”

“But sir… the young masters are still so small…”

“Go, now!”

Gennu’er panicked terribly, crying out, “No, don’t! Father, don’t… we were wrong, we won’t do it again!”

An’er, however, remained defiant, shouting at Chen Dasheng, “I don’t want you anymore! I’m going with Grandfather… to the capital, I don’t want you!”

Chen Dasheng smiled, grabbed a child in each hand, and walked toward the foot of the hill, further away for fear the street would hear, and to spare the children’s dignity…

The two children struggled the whole way, refusing to admit their wrongdoing even as they said the words.

Chen Dasheng sneered, “No use pretending anymore. Your mother was right about you—clever as can be! Know perfectly well how to do wrong, and today, no grandfather, no great-grandmother to save you, only your unlucky father here!”

He walked to a flat stretch of ground, pulled the children before him, and said seriously, “I know you understand me. I won’t go too deep with you, you’re too young—I just need you to remember this: since you’re too small to be beaten, your father will bear the punishment in your place. Remember this!

“I’ve counted—that old man had eight welts on his body. Since I failed to teach you properly, my punishment is doubled. Your uncle will strike me twenty times.”

Having said this, Chen Dasheng knelt down on the spot, pulled off his upper garment to reveal a solid, muscular back, and waited.

The two children were truly frightened now, huddling together in a tiny ball, their lips trembling.

Chen Dazhong came running, with Chunfen following behind, gasping for breath.

Before he could even speak once he arrived, Chen Dasheng waved a hand and said, “Brother, saying it a thousand times does nothing. It’s like our days on the battlefield—one taste of blood, and they’ll understand. They’ll grow up sooner or later, sooner or later they’ll have to stand as men and hold up the household! Our family’s line is thin as it is—it’s not us in this generation who need to struggle, it’s them who will. What I fear most is a whole generation dying uselessly in the ground for nothing. You’re the elder brother, the clan head—it’s you who must set the standard for this lesson.”

Chen Dazhong, helpless, looked at the two little radish-heads and sighed, “How old are they even? You’ll have plenty of time to teach them properly later, let them grow a bit more—whatever they need to understand, they will in time. You’re being too harsh, Fourth Brother, get up!”

Chen Dasheng pointed toward the bridge. “Brother, go look at that old man first, then come back and tell me.”

Chen Dazhong, arms crossed, went helplessly to look once more, and came back with a face full of shock. “They did that? At their age?”

“Ah! What are you even saying!” Chen Dasheng, helpless, drew from behind his waist a family-instruction book that Chunfen had brought back—whose family’s it was, he had no idea—flipped through several pages, finally found a suitable passage, read it over carefully to himself, and then said to the two now thoroughly stunned children:

“My sons! Today you did wrong, and by rights should be punished for it, but since you’re too young, your father will take the punishment in your place. In a moment your father will recite something, and you’re to follow along and remember it—remember it for the rest of your lives, understand?”

The two children, eyes full of fear, both nodded and shook their heads at once.

Chen Dazhong, helpless, looked once more toward the bridge, and finally drew the whip from behind his back, asking once more to be sure, “Really going to do this?”

Chen Dasheng nodded, eyes resolute. “Do it! In being a person, the root must not rot. Once the root rots, no amount of teaching can bring it back.”

Chen Dazhong, helpless, finally raised the whip and said seriously to the two children, “Today you did wrong—you bullied someone weak. You may not understand the word ‘bullying’ yet, but you must remember this: you were wrong! Do you understand?”

An’er finally broke into loud sobbing, throwing himself in front of his uncle and pleading, “Don’t hit Father! Don’t hit Father…”

Chen Dasheng’s eyes at last showed a trace of a smile, and reaching out, he gathered the children into his arms and said, “Brother, hit me! It’ll work—he understands well enough.”

And so Chen Dazhong closed his eyes and, in the end, brought the whip down.

The whip cracked loudly, landing painfully on flesh. The fortunes the old Chen family’s previous generation had bought at the cost of their own lives—how could the descendants dare treat it lightly? Understanding his younger brother’s intent, Chen Dazhong truly struck.

Yet this single blow landed, in truth, right on the old madam’s heart. She hadn’t gone out, but stood covering her own mouth—she, who so rarely wept, now ached with a pain that tore at her very core.

Qiqian’er drew a breath, reproaching herself over and over in her heart, feeling as though that blow had struck her very soul as well—she too was in pain, and could never have imagined that Chen Dasheng would discipline the children this way.

Her own An’er—at last, he would grow up whole and proper. What a father owed him, today, at last, was given to him in full.

Thinking of yesterday, Qiqian’er too covered her chest, drawing deep breaths, tears falling in large drops, weeping silently yet with a strange sense of release.

Far off on Baiquan Mountain, as the whip fell blow after blow, Chen Dasheng’s voice rang out clearly, reciting:

“Descendants, heed this teaching: study diligently, know filial piety and brotherly duty… In being a person, the heart is what matters. A good heart makes a fine man… Like a fruit upon its tree, the heart is the stem; if the stem rots, the fruit must surely fall…” (excerpted from Wang Wencheng’s Collected Works, Volume Twenty)

Far off in the shadows, Empress Dowager Jiang reached out and patted her imperial son on the back.

Emperor Wu, Yang Zao, pinched his nose and silently followed his mother away.

After walking a while, his mother said, with some satisfaction in her tone, “Son.”

His Majesty, startled, looked toward her. “Mother?”

The old woman smiled at him. “She’s raised you well.”

Emperor Wu nodded. “Mm, compared to this, she was even stricter with me.”

The old woman said, with some feeling, “That old wretch never had this kind of patience.”

Emperor Wu’s tone couldn’t hide his envy. “Mm, where would I ever find such a good father.”