Chapter 358 Child-Rearing

Chapter 358: Raising Children

Coming out of the palace, Meng Wan pondered how to play the role of mediator. When he first entered the capital city, he had seen the eldest Miss Gu at Earl Huaien's residence—she was already an exceedingly proud young lady. He hadn't expected the second daughter to be even more unbending.

There was no need to go to the Gu residence right away; showing up at their door in this getup would draw too much attention. Meng Wan took Chi Yu and Huang Ye home first and sent Gui Qian, the sharpest of the household servants, out to scope out matters concerning the Gu family.

Meng Wan had just changed out of his court robes, and Zhi Fan was removing his hair crown piece by piece.

He rubbed his scalp. "It feels heavy even after wearing it this short a time—wouldn't it be a pain to wear it all day?"

Zhi Fan covered his mouth and giggled. "I've noticed other madams and lords wear at least three pearl pins in their hair, and their dangly hair ornaments are always as fancy and delicate as can be!"

"Let them be them; we're not competing with them." Meng Wan re-tied his hair into a loose bun with a white jade cloud hairpin, slipped off the heavy jade bangles from his wrists, and put on a knee-length button-up jacket and thick, soft quilted cotton pants. He stood up, stomped his feet twice, and felt totally relaxed.

Zhi Fan carefully put all these things away in the small storeroom off the main hall, which held valuables and was kept locked up.

Meng Wan called Zhi Mao, who was in the main room, over. "Go tell the kitchen to make me a bowl of wontons with two poached eggs on top and bring it over."

"Yes, I'll go inform the kitchen right away." Zhi Mao answered brightly and trotted off.

Meng Wan walked from the bedroom's outer room, through the main hall, and into the study. Two long desks sat side by side in the study, bookshelves stuffed full, and in the corner was a small door to a room Meng Wan kept just for his painting supplies.

He sat down at his own desk, picked out a fine piece of Huizhou ink, and ground it slowly on the inkstone. He'd read letters yesterday; today it was time to write back.

Over the years, through all the ups and downs, the road from Lingnan north had now reached all the way to Zhengzhou. Apart from the initial difficulties, the officials of the other prefectures had caught wind that something was up, and as long as they weren't stupid, they all pitched in and helped—things had gone increasingly smoothly in the later stages.

The late emperor hadn't paid much mind to these small relay stations, but the current emperor had seen them firsthand on his journey and should get their importance. Plus, with him and Song Tingzhou having helped the new emperor take the throne, once the Shijian relay station got the emperor's approval and came out into the open, many potential risks could be resolved.

For instance, small-time station masters skimming funds or brazenly stashing goods—these problems were unavoidable. But if the government stepped in to oversee things, those problems would drop a lot.

Meng Wan crossed out a line he'd just written about reforming the relay stations: local managers would draw lots every three years and get randomly reassigned to other stations in their prefecture, to keep them from getting any bright ideas from running one spot too long.

But then again, this wasn't the right time to bring it up. He'd wait until he'd toured the regions and seen how the stations were doing before deciding.

The replies from the sugar workshop and Zhen Guan Workshop were simpler. The kids at Songyun Academy would start making their mark in another two years, and the standing of southern women and xiaoge was slowly rising.

Some folks might have noticed, but once nearly every household in a prefecture had their xiaoge and women out earning, the money they brought home would be enough to shut everyone up.

It was a painfully slow process, but worth the wait—and something to look forward to.

That was all Meng Wan could do. A person only had so much energy; he wasn't some three-headed, six-armed god. Sure, A Yan had Chang Jinhua around when he was little, but neither he nor Song Tingzhou had really done their jobs as dads. Meng Wan had done a bit better, but Song Tingzhou always felt he owed A Yan, so he could never be strict with him—he could never pull off being the strict dad.

After a bowl of wontons in the afternoon, Meng Wan spent the better part of the day writing letters in the study. When it was almost time for Song Tingzhou to get off work, he headed to the kitchen to cook him a meal himself.

The three or four young maids in the kitchen had been trained by Jin Gu herself; their skills were still a bit rough, and only the woman currently running the kitchen could turn out anything decent.

The group fumbled around helping Meng Wan, and the young cook nervously asked if her master thought her cooking was bad.

Before Meng Wan could answer, she'd already started crying.

"I didn't say your cooking was bad—I just had some free time today and wanted to make a couple dishes for your master myself." Meng Wan, half laughing and half exasperated, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to the young cook to dry her eyes.

"Ah? Oh... this servant... this servant understands." The young cook took the handkerchief sheepishly, her face turning bright red, and got teased by the other maids in the kitchen.

Song Tingzhou loved flatbreads, dumplings, and stuff like that. He'd eaten so many flatbreads while studying for the imperial exams that he'd gotten sick of them for a while and avoided them for several years, but after their time in Lingnan, he'd started eating them again.

In short, he was easy to feed—whatever Meng Wan made, he ate, as long as there was plenty of it.

Thinking of the two little ones—A Yan loved fish and shrimp, Tong'er loved meat—Meng Wan decided dumplings were the way to go, with a few different fillings so everyone got what they liked.

The kitchen bustled with chopping various fillings. Meng Wan first braised a prepared ham hock, then simmered a silverfish and tofu soup. Once the dumplings were wrapped and steamed, he'd toss together a couple of cold dishes.

Three dining tables were set up in the open space of the kitchen, each with a large basin of filling: one with pork and cabbage, one with three delicacies, and one with lamb and radish.

Two maids rolled out the wrappers, while two young cooks and Meng Wan wrapped the dumplings together. Meng Wan usually didn't put on airs as the master, so everyone gathered around the tables, lively and warm.

Just as they were nearly done wrapping, A Yan, returning from school, was brought over by Huang Ye.

"Ah-die! Waaaah..." He cried with his mouth wide open, tears and snot smeared all over his face.

Huang Ye said with concern, "The young master started crying the moment he came through the door, insisting on seeing you, so I brought him here."

Meng Wan was a bit put off by the sight, but quickly washed his hands and stood up, telling him to leave the kitchen. Once outside in the courtyard, seeing his eyes swollen red and his cheeks flushed from the wind, he couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy.

"Alright, alright, why are you crying like this? Did Teacher Zheng scold you?" Meng Wan led him to the main hall. Zhi Fan was startled to see A Yan like this, and the whole room of young servants burst into a flurry—some fetching water, some wiping his face. A Yan's collar was soaked with tears, so Zhi Mao hurried off to the west courtyard to fetch him a change of clothes.

Meng Wan's words only made things worse—A Yan felt even more wronged and sobbed, "No... it wasn't the teacher scolding me... it's that they said I was..."

Hot water arrived, and Zhi Fan soaked a cloth to wipe A Yan's face. After wiping, A Yan cried even louder: "They said I was a country bumpkin! Waaaah..."

Meng Wan: "...?"

He asked, rather exasperated, "Who are 'they'?"

"The kids who study with us—I don't know whose family they're from."

A clear voice came from outside the main hall—it was Fang Jinrong, who had arrived with Zhi Mao, who had gone to fetch the clothes.

Meng Wan stood up from his chair. "You're well-informed, coming to pick up your son from school. I thought you wouldn't show up until tomorrow."

Fang Jinrong, holding Tong'er's hand, sighed and stood beside Meng Wan. "You have no idea how bored I am every day. I've been waiting for you to return with bated breath. If I hadn't heard you were summoned to the palace this morning, I'd have come looking for you long ago."

"How did you know I went to the palace? You're quite well-informed!" Song Tingzhou didn't even know about it, or he'd have come home to ask.

Fang Jinrong said, "Ge Quan was on duty at the palace. He saw you when you entered through the gate today."

Meng Wan wasn't particularly surprised. "What position does Brother Ge hold now?"

Tong'er tugged at Fang Jinrong's hand, looking up with wide, eager eyes. He didn't know what "position" meant—it seemed to be about his father also being an official in the palace, which would mean he wouldn't have to be separated from A Yan after all?

"Jinyiwei Commander—just wandering around the imperial city all day, dreadfully dull." Fang Jinrong wasn't boasting; he genuinely found it boring.

Meng Wan thought it over. The Jinyiwei Commander was a rank of the third grade, traditionally held by young lords from marquis families. For Ge Quan, a newcomer, it was indeed quite high.

He asked again, "Do you and Brother Ge have a place to stay now? Is it far from my house?"

"Wah! Ah-die... waaaah... why aren't you paying attention to me... waaaah..."

Before Fang Jinrong could answer, A Yan, who had been ignored, threw a fit.

"Shut up, stop crying, and tell me properly—what exactly happened at the Zheng residence?" Meng Wan's head was pounding from the noise. He had no idea where A Yan got so many tears from, crying for so long without stopping.

A Yan, still hiccupping, had his face wiped again by Zhi Fan. "The teacher's house has three new students now, about my age. The teacher said they're children sent by his friends, and he couldn't refuse, so we all study together. But when school let out, those three—they're together—made fun of Tong'er for being stupid, and said I have an accent and I'm a country bumpkin!"

Tong'er was young after all. He had extraordinary talent in martial arts, but his studies lagged behind, and he often dozed off in class. Teacher Zheng frequently scolded him, but Tong'er, unlike A Yan with his sensitive heart, took the scoldings in stride and didn't let them bother him. Eventually, Teacher Zheng gave up and let him sleep.

His poor performance in lessons didn't bother him even when the three new kids laughed at him, but A Yan was thin-skinned. What he loved most was being praised for being handsome, privately believing himself to be the smartest, cutest, most obedient, and most clever child in the whole country. When he suddenly heard those three kids say his accent was strange and unpleasant, it felt like the sky had fallen. The moment he entered the house, he couldn't hold back his tears.

Meng Wan: "..."

Right here?

"So someone says your accent sounds bad, and you run home crying? You didn't even fight back?" He couldn't believe he'd raised such a gutless son.

A Yan sat down on the couch and unbuttoned his robe to change clothes, stammering, "I... I called them jerks."

Jin Rong snorted and was the first to crack up, and soon the whole room was laughing.

A Yan's face turned red, "What's so funny!"

He was born in Hexian County, grew up in Lingnan, and didn't move to the capital until he was six. Technically, everyone at home spoke the standard language of the Yu Kingdom, so he could speak both northern and southern dialects.

But since he'd spent most of his time in Lingnan, surrounded by people speaking the local dialect, he'd unconsciously slip into his Lingnan dialect. The family was used to it, and no one bothered to correct him about such a small thing.

Meng Wan asked Jin Rong to take Tong'er to the inner room and have a seat on the couch, while A Yan sidled up to Meng Wan, acting all clingy. "Dad, they bullied me."

"Then what do you want to do?" Meng Wan asked, glancing down at him.

Tong'er, always the loyal one, clenched his little fist and said, "Tomorrow I'll go beat them up!"

A Yan's eyes lit up, and he nodded in agreement.

Meng Wan laughed coldly. "And then Teacher Zheng punishes you both. Their families come knocking on my door, demanding I discipline my kids, and you're forced to apologize to those three, totally humiliated, and they'd have a good laugh at your expense. Is that what you want to happen?"

A Yan and Tong'er both shook their heads.

Jin Rong suggested, "Then how about I have Ge Quan throw a sack over their heads and beat them up?"

Meng Wan pinched the bridge of his nose, "Brother Ge going to beat up a bunch of kids? And in the future, whenever they get into trouble or get picked on, they'll come running home to us?"

"That's true." Jin Rong agreed. Ge Quan had been through a lot in the martial world, and since Old Ge was unreliable, he'd had to make his own way.

A Yan whined again, "Then what are we supposed to do?"

"Only fools pick a direct fight. Your pride and self-respect aren't worth risking your life for. If you fight them and they kill you, they'll be cheering. If you kill them, it'll be a huge scandal, and you'll have to pay with your life. And if you just give them a little scratch and think you've won? That's even more ridiculous."

Though Tong'er knew martial arts and A Yan had picked up a bit, the world was unpredictable—many skilled fighters had been taken down by scheming. Meng Wan was deliberately making it sound worse than it was to get the two kids to see all the possible outcomes of something so small.

Meng Wan asked the two kids, "Which is more satisfying—beating them up for a quick thrill, or making those three so scared of you that they'd rather avoid you and call you 'big brother'?"

Tong'er: "Beating them up is more satisfying!"

As soon as he said it, Jin Rong gave him a flick on the forehead.

A Yan was stunned by Meng Wan's words. A memory suddenly surfaced of being with Meng Wan in the Yao village. They'd only stayed a few days, but suddenly tons of people were following his dad's orders, even surrounding the biggest village.

He'd been too young then to remember much, except the image of Meng Wan standing in the center of the crowd, with people all around him.

"Make them fear us, call me big brother?" A tingle ran from his feet all the way up to his head, and he felt like he'd just had a eureka moment.

A Yan's eyes lit up, "I get it, Dad!"

Meng Wan had no idea what he'd figured out, but if he could handle it himself, that was better than running home crying to his dad.

"I'll be going to the Gu family tomorrow morning. If all goes well, I'll swing by your place after."

Meng Wan walked Jin Rong, Tong'er, and Old Ge—who was staying in the front courtyard—to the door, since Jin Rong was taking the two kids home.

While they'd been talking in the main hall, snow had started falling outside, mixed with drizzle, getting everything wet. Meng Wan had someone bring umbrellas, watched the three ride off in the carriage, and didn't go back inside right away. Instead, he stood under the gate pavilion, waiting for Song Tingzhou.

The sound of hooves approached, and Song Tingzhou rode up on horseback, spotting Meng Wan standing under the gate pavilion like a statue at first glance.

Lanterns hung on both sides of the gate, but they paled in comparison to the bamboo-framed, gauze-shaded lantern in Meng Wan's hand.

"Why are you waiting for me here? Aren't you cold?" Song Tingzhou handed his reins to a servant, rushed over, and took Meng Wan's hand.

Meng Wan patted the snowflakes off his shoulder, "Not cold. Why didn't you put on a rain cloak on the way back?"

Song Tingzhou opened an umbrella and walked with him toward the main courtyard, "No big deal. Did you rest well today?"

"Ugh, don't even ask. I'll tell you once we're inside."