Chapter 123: The Minister Must Retreat

Chapter 123: The Minister Must Retreat

In the Wen Sheng Pavilion, the little girl wailed heartbreakingly.

If the bald-headed peach tree in the courtyard had hands, it would surely cover its ears with them.

Abbot Xinhe gently consoled Fat Huahua for a moment, but seeing that she was not calming down and her crying was getting worse.

The little girl's voice was high-pitched and thin, more of a scream than a cry.

Fat Huahua, with her robust body and excellent lung capacity, screamed without taking a breath. Abbot Xinhe felt as if a hole had been hammered into his head, and then a pick was digging into it...

Buddhist teachings are boundless, and the Dharma is limitless.

Abbot Xinhe decided to let himself off the hook. He pulled out a jade pendant with red thread from his sleeve and tied it around Fat Huahua's waist, clearly expressing that both Buddha and he were firmly protecting her. After exchanging a determined look with Xianjin, he fled as fast as he could.

Xianjin watched the retreating back of the sage-like monk, speechless for a moment.

Hey, you wouldn't believe it, but this monk has quite good athletic skills.

It was like he was wearing a robe and doing hurdles.

After crying herself tired, Fat Huahua clutched the jade pendant tightly and followed Aunt Zhang around the kitchen. Aunt Zhang was so moved that tears streamed down her face. She grabbed a knife and fished a lively fish from the water trough, slicing its flesh into thin pieces. She quickly blanched them in the boiling chicken broth and then scooped them out, tossing them onto hand-rolled noodles with eggs, making them fragrant and chewy.

Fat Huahua wanted more, but Aunt Zhang kept calling her "ancestral treasure" and "heart's darling," refusing to give her another bowl of noodles.

Middle-aged women have their own set of health logic, "…after long poverty and sudden wealth, one must not lose control; after long hunger, one must not eat too much, or it will hurt the spleen and stomach."

Aunt Zhang affectionately patted little Fat Huahua, murmuring, "We'll take it slowly. Later, Aunt Zhang will make some white jade cakes for you, and we'll eat them with sweetened hawthorn honey water. In the evening, we'll have some coarse salt roasted lamb ribs, and I'll make you a red bean and barley soup… Look at how thin our little Baozhu has become, her face is all gaunt."

Xianjin's gaze shifted from Baozhu's round face to her plump hands.

How skinny.

...

Chen Jianfang had been away from home for several days, often leaving early and returning late. Sometimes, when he came back in the evening, he had a furrowed brow and barely spoke a word.

Xianjin knew what Chen Jianfang was busy with—according to Prefectural Magistrate Xiong, Master Qiao would not be back anytime soon, perhaps a year or two, or even longer. What about the teachers and students in the mountain school? Wealthy families could send carriages to fetch their children, and they could either hire private tutors or send them directly to official schools, using money to smooth the way.

There were also those who feared being implicated and packed up hastily, fleeing faster than rabbits.

These did not need anyone's help.

Those who truly needed help were the scholars who were about to take exams or were dedicated to learning but were poor and without support.

Chen Jianfang, along with a few teachers and three or four juren, formed a network to handle the aftermath for these candidates. For those preparing for the provincial exams next year, Chen Jianfang and two teachers rented a small courtyard on the outskirts of town, providing free meals and tutoring until the autumn exams.

For those preparing for the imperial exams, Chen Jianfang entrusted them to familiar seniors and used Cui Heng's connections to recommend them to the official school in Xuancheng.

For those like Du Junning, who were poor but eager to learn, he asked Boss Shang to arrange for them to be sent to nearby county schools and private academies.

To express gratitude, the old instructor from Jing County came to the old residence, raising a cup of wine to Chen Jianfang's tea, tears streaming down his face, "A gentleman's righteousness, who knows the hardships of the frontier, even in death, one's bones still carry the fragrance of chivalry. You have done this much, Master Qiao should be greatly comforted, truly comforted!"

He was about to pour the wine on the ground.

Chen Jianfang quickly stopped him.

Xianjin: ...

Master Qiao is submerged in water, not buried in the earth!

But seeing the old instructor's tears and the sense of continuity, Xianjin knew that Chen Jianfang's efforts had earned him widespread praise among the literati in Xuancheng and Southern Zhili.

Having a good reputation is always a great thing for a scholar.

Xianjin smiled and said, "…a gentleman's good name spreads far and wide. If our examinations were still based on recommendations, you wouldn't need to study for another three years."

At that moment, Chen Jianfang was drinking the pear soup made by Aunt Zhang. Hearing Xianjin's words, he swallowed the soup with difficulty—having been out for ten days, speaking more than he had in eight days, his throat was swollen and swallowing felt like swallowing razor blades.

"…not for the sake of reputation."

Chen Jianfang's voice was hoarse, like silk falling on a bare branch, tearing into frayed edges.

Xianjin laughed, "I know you're not doing it for reputation!" She handed him the loquat syrup beside the pear soup, "Even though it's not for reputation, doing so much, getting a bit of praise isn't bad, right? This is a family secret recipe sent by Dr. Wang, who heard you were running around for Master Qiao, unable to speak properly, and sent it specially."

Chen Jianfang's eyes warmed, and he reached out to take the loquat syrup, his voice hoarse, "Do you think I've done something good?"

Xianjin laughed again, "Running around for your teacher, that's great loyalty; running around for the younger generation, that's great righteousness; teaching them for free, that's great virtue… you deserve praise, of course I think you've done something good."

Chen Jianfang bowed his head, his chin resting on his collar, a faint smile uncontrollably forming on his lips, "If you think it's good, then it's very good."

The young man's voice scratched at Xianjin's heart.

Xianjin turned slightly, feeling uneasy, unsure of what to think.

She seemed to be wrong no matter how she thought about it.

From the dried flowers in the book to the other day when Chen Jianfang seemed to say "listen to you" but didn't, and now today's "if you think it's good, then it's very good"… she felt an itch she couldn't scratch, no matter how many times she tried.

Xianjin opened her mouth, paused, and then closed it again.

Who cares what it means!

When dealing with people, one should not look at what they say but what they do.

Why does she treat Chen Fu as her stepfather now? Isn't it because he treats her without any guard? Isn't it because he thinks of her whenever there's something good to eat or play with? Isn't it because he treats her like his own daughter first?

If Chen Fu called her "darling" every day but was always wary of her, suspicious of her, and didn't allow her to get involved in the shop's affairs, would that be love?

Not at all.

This is a verbal warning.

Beware of this man; he is all talk and no substance. When it comes to matters of real money and wealth, he'll say, "I shall retreat, and once I do, it's for a lifetime."