The thin, dark-skinned child appeared to be no more than three or four years old, dressed in ill-fitting clothes. Though he was at an age when one would expect him to understand nothing of the world, his eyes carried a certain fierceness.
The courtyard was small, its gate opening directly toward the inner door. Looking past the child’s head, Hua Zhi spotted a gaunt man sitting in a chair beneath the eaves.
Hua Zhi gave a slight curtsy and introduced herself. “This humble one comes from the Hua Family. I was entrusted by someone to deliver a few things to Master Zeng.”
The man studied Gu Yanxi for a moment longer, then gave a faint nod. “This humble dwelling is modest — come in if you don’t mind.”
Hua Zhi had walked a few steps inside when she heard movement behind her. She turned to find the little boy had latched the gate, then scurried past her to push the man’s chair forward.
Only then did she notice it was a simple wheelchair, its wheels made of wood — hardly easy to maneuver on one’s own, requiring someone to push from behind. The little boy managed it with practiced ease, though it was plain to see it demanded considerable effort from him.
Hua Zhi made no move to offer her help uninvited. She waited politely until the two of them — one large, one small — had entered the room and settled inside the main hall before stepping in herself. As she crossed the threshold, she finally identified the source of her earlier unease. She glanced back, and sure enough — every single threshold in this house had been leveled flat.
Gu Yanxi set the two parcels on the table. The two of them sat in the lower seats, and Hua Zhi spoke first. “These were entrusted to me by Master Zheng Zhi to deliver. I do not know what is inside, as I did not open them to look. The smaller one, however, was prepared by me — it would not do to arrive empty-handed. I hope Master Zeng will not find it lacking.”
Zheng Zhi? Upon hearing it was an old acquaintance, Zeng Xian had run through many names in his mind, yet no matter how he thought about it, Zheng Zhi had never crossed his thoughts. He and that man had only met a handful of times, and the friendship between their fathers was even less worth mentioning — yet the one who had remembered him turned out to be precisely that person.
The corner of Zeng Xian’s mouth pulled slightly. “Thoughtful.”
Hua Zhi discreetly surveyed the room. Bare to the bone — there was no other way to describe it. As for the child’s wariness, she could not tell at whom it was directed.
But none of this was her concern. Each person had their own fate — it was not hers to manage. “There is a letter from Master Zheng inside the parcel. He did not ask me to convey any other message, so I consider my errand complete. I will not trouble you further.”
Hua Zhi rose to leave, then turned back and beckoned to the child. The child only stepped forward after the man gave a nod of approval.
She drew a small pouch from her sleeve and placed it in the child’s hands. In a warm and gentle tone, Hua Zhi said, “Use this to buy sweets. Grow up well.”
The child pressed his lips together, gripping the pouch — still warm from her body heat — uncertain whether he was permitted to keep it. The man said nothing, offered no farewell, remaining gloomy and cold.
Thinking of the children at home whom she had sheltered so carefully, the contrast only made this child seem all the more pitiable. Hua Zhi felt a softness stir in her heart — yet in the end, she could do nothing more. This was someone else’s child; she could not do with him as she wished.
The courtyard gate opened and closed. The child pattered off to latch it again, then pattered back, hesitating as he stretched out his hand. “Father, for you.”
“Keep it yourself.” Without even looking, he knew what was inside. It was the common habit of households in the capital to carry small pouches containing gold or silver nuggets for gratuities — what the Hua Family had given was most likely gold.
He turned his attention to the two parcels. He did not reach for the one reportedly sent by Zheng Zhi first. Instead, he opened the smaller one: neatly arranged inside were food items and daily necessities, plain but practical. Were someone to send him a stack of fine writing paper, good ink, or an inkstone today, he would only have to sell them in exchange for these very things.
Though he was now disabled, he still had to work. He was well aware of the reputation of the eldest young lady of the Hua Family — yet he had not expected…
Zeng Xian lowered his gaze, his hands trembling faintly before he steadied them and opened the other parcel. This one was considerably less orderly — food, daily goods, even two sets of clothing, and among them a book. Glancing at the title, Zeng Xian let out a scornful chuckle and tossed it aside, then rummaged further within. From the very bottom he drew out a banknote — two hundred taels. Not a great sum, but knowing what he did of the Zheng Family’s circumstances, this was likely everything Zheng Zhi had to his name.
“Zheng Zhi.” Zeng Xian murmured the name softly, a fleeting tenderness passing through his eyes.
Stepping out of the dark alleyway and back into the sunlight, Hua Zhi raised a hand to shade her forehead and squinted up at the blazing white sun. It looked fierce — yet in truth it was still not as hot as the capital.
“Such a young child — why would he also be exiled?”
“If it was an exile of the entire household, that would not be strange, but…”
“What is it?”
The two of them entered the main street. Gu Yanxi moved to A’Zhi’s left side so she could walk closer to the inner edge of the road. “Zeng Xian was exiled four years ago. This child looks to be only around three years old — could it be that he was born here?”
Hua Zhi’s steps slowed, her brow creasing. “His wife was with child at the time of exile?”
“It is also possible she only discovered she was expecting somewhere along the journey.” Gu Yanxi regretted having brought this up. It was likely a matter of temperament — A’Zhi would never go out of her way to learn about such things, and so she would not know that when a full household was condemned to exile, unless the family was large in number and tightly united, it was almost impossible to protect the female members. For a family as declined as Zeng Xian’s, the outcome would only be grimmer.
And yet, although the laws of the Great Qing had never explicitly stated it, an unspoken convention had taken shape over the years: even if a pregnant woman was among those sentenced to exile, allowances would be made and she would generally be permitted to remain behind. Could it be that Madam Zeng’s pregnancy had gone undetected at the time?
“Even so, that child can only be born, grow old, and die right here.”
“Most likely.”
Hua Zhi let out a long, slow breath. This was the product of the era — she could not change an entire age. She could only do her utmost to prevent the Hua Family from falling into that same wretched fate.
“I’ll say a word to Fourth Uncle. If there’s any capacity to help, then let’s help.” A disabled man raising such a young child alone — just imagining it was no easy matter.
Hua Zhi was not speaking idly. Fourth Uncle had not yet returned from the yamen, so she gathered rice, flour, oil, salt, and other daily necessities from home. Remembering the child did not even have a properly fitting set of clothes, she personally went out to purchase several outfits — some thin, some thick — and had all of it, bundled together, sent over by the servants.
It was a small thing done in passing, and once it was done she gave it no further thought. She went to her grandfather’s study to fetch paper and brush to write down the preparation methods for various preserved foods, while Gu Yanxi stood beside her grinding ink — just as before, whenever A’Zhi was doing something he would be nearby, watching, neither calling her soft-hearted nor trying to dissuade her.
Time with family was limited, and Hua Zhi treasured every moment. Each evening after dinner she would linger as long as she possibly could before finally returning to the inn.
Yet no matter how much one lingers, parting must eventually come.
Upon learning she would be returning to the capital the following day, everyone in the Hua Family felt heavy-hearted — yet no matter how pained, no matter how reluctant, they could only swallow it down. Even though they would surely see her off tomorrow morning, the elders still offered a stream of reminders and instructions, while those of the same generation all competed to promise they would care well for the elders, urging the most capable young lady in the family to set her mind at ease.