Chapter Seventy-Nine: The Truth Su Mei Witnessed

Chapter Seventy-Nine: The Truth Seen by Su Mei

After the carriage passed through the main gate, before the coachman could set up the footstool, a boy with a ponytail came over smiling, carrying a footstool with a ladder. Once he placed it properly, he left at once, still smiling with such genuine innocence that anyone who saw him would feel at ease.

Su Mei, veiled, stepped down from the carriage. She had expected to arrive in a noisy place, since she’d heard that Yang Huaiyu was now living with more than a dozen little beggars.

Looking around, she saw wooden houses on all sides. Across from her stood a two-story wooden building—or perhaps more accurately, a large pavilion. There were no carved beams or painted rafters, nor any ornate furnishings, but its cleanliness and orderliness left a very good impression on Su Mei.

Several little girls, dressed in plain floral garments, had been peeking curiously from behind a door. Once they confirmed it was only Su Mei and her maid in the carriage, they emerged, smiling, pulling at their sleeves to invite her in.

Su Mei did not refuse and entered the house with her maid. Inside, there was a faint scent of soapberry, and many little beds neatly lined up. Though the beds were uncarved, their parallel arrangement made the room appear especially tidy.

“Do you girls rest here during the day?” Su Mei gently pulled aside a slightly older girl to ask.

The girl answered cheerfully, “Yes, all the sisters live here. Usually, we’d serve tea to guests, but Sister Ah Rou and Sister Huan Di went to the embroidery workshop to choose silks, and Brother Yuan says we’re too young to handle the hot kettle…”

“Please wait a moment, sister. Ah Rou and the others will be back soon. Then there’ll be tea. The tea at our house is the best.”

Su Mei nodded, lifted her veil, and was immediately drawn to an oddly shaped stove in the center of the room.

The room was spacious; it was bitterly cold outside, but inside, it felt like spring. The iron stove made a faint rumbling sound, no doubt the fire within. Atop the stove sat a polished copper kettle, steam puffing from its spout, making the air in the room moist and fresh rather than dry.

Led by the little girl, Su Mei sat by the window. On a small table before her, there was a chipped floral plate, with a neat row of garlic bulbs, each sprouting two-inch green shoots—bright green, strikingly pleasing amidst the winter chill.

Feeling the bedding on the girls’ beds, Su Mei noted that though the covers were made of coarse linen, they were thickly stuffed with cotton, soft and dry. These children, she thought, must be warm enough this winter.

“Does Yang Huaiyu live here with you?” Su Mei asked gently, holding one of the girls’ hands.

“You mean Brother Yang? Yes, he lives in the courtyard next door, with Qiao, Ling, and Fu.”

She lowered her voice conspiratorially, “You know, Brother Yang has no home either. He brought us lots of food and lives here practicing martial arts. He’s preparing for the military exam.”

Su Mei frowned. “Where is he now?”

The girl pointed toward the courtyard. “He’s in the yard. Every day at this time, two fierce men come home, and Brother Yang has to defeat them to leave.”

Su Mei was about to go find Yang Huaiyu for an explanation when a clear child’s voice called from outside the window: “Is it the young lady from the Su family? Forgive us for not serving tea; it’s an oversight as hosts. Please, young lady, come to the pavilion for tea.”

“Who is that?” Su Mei quietly asked the girl.

“That’s Brother Yuan. You know, Brother Yuan is amazing—he’s a prodigy praised by the emperor himself.”

“Oh?” A faint smile appeared on Su Mei’s face. After all, Tie Xinyuan’s poem “Ode to the Frog” was famous.

She opened the door. In the courtyard stood a little boy in green; unlike the others, his hair was simply tied in a ponytail, a foot in length, bouncing as he walked with an air of adult dignity that made one want to laugh.

Seeing Su Mei come out, Tie Xinyuan smiled and cupped his hands in greeting. “Big Brother is sparring with two generals from the Tiger Wing Battalion. If you’d come upstairs, young lady, you might see for yourself.”

Su Mei disliked speaking much in front of men, even boys, so she just nodded and followed Tie Xinyuan up the stairs.

Tie Xinyuan gestured at his green five-poison vest with a wry smile. “I must look ridiculous, I know. But it’s my mother’s idea—she worries I won’t grow up strong, so she has me wear this for the talismanic effect. Whether it works or not, I don’t dare go against my mother’s wishes.”

Su Mei laughed softly. “Your mother’s love knows no bounds; who would mock you?”

As they spoke, they reached the pavilion. Su Mei was startled to see seven boys of various ages, all intent on their books, not glancing up as she arrived.

There was another large iron stove, though not as warm as the girls’ quarters. The younger children sat closer to the fire, the older ones further out, some writing, some reading softly—mostly elementary lessons.

At the far end, Su Mei recognized the little chubby boy as the one who’d opened the door for her. She crept behind him and couldn’t help but laugh. The boy, gripping a brush awkwardly, was scowling as he wrote, his chubby, rosy face covered in ink, looking like a stage goblin.

For some reason, Su Mei took out a handkerchief to wipe his face clean, corrected his way of holding the brush, and watched as he shakily drew a crooked “one” on the paper before standing up.

Shuizhu’er, missing a front tooth, grinned. “Thank you, sister.”

The maid who had accompanied Su Mei was already laughing herself silly. Su Mei glared at her softly. “Practicing calligraphy takes perseverance. There’s no rushing progress.”

Shuizhu’er pouted. “Brother Yuan says the same, but when I write badly, he always hits me…”

Tie Xinyuan, standing aside, said sternly, “That’s how my teacher taught me, so it’s how I teach you. I’ve taught you for three days, and you still can’t write a simple ‘one.’ I’ve corrected your grip a thousand times, and you still don’t get it. Who else am I supposed to hit?”

Shuizhu’er burst into tears, hiding behind Su Mei, afraid to face the fierce Tie Xinyuan.

Su Mei was incensed, lifting her veil and glaring at Tie Xinyuan. “You may be a renowned prodigy, adept at drawing inferences, but not everyone has your extraordinary intellect. For them, learning is a process of practice. If they persevere, who’s to say their achievements won’t rival yours, imperial commendation or not?”

Tie Xinyuan’s face hardened. “They’re just a bunch of beggars. If not for Yang’s sake, do you think I’d be teaching them? I haven’t taken a single copper. If you think my teaching is wrong, why don’t you teach them? I’d like to see you make something of them.”

Before Su Mei could respond, her maid—never one to let anyone look down on her mistress—immediately said, “My young lady was famed for her precocity in the capital. She’s read far more than you. Our master has often said, had she not been born a woman, she’d surely have passed the exams.”

Tie Xinyuan glanced at the maid, laughed twice to the ceiling, then left the pavilion, saluting Su Mei politely. “I leave it to you!”

Su Mei glared at her maid, about to explain to the chubby boy that, being a woman, she was not suited to teach them, when he tugged her hand and whispered, “Sister, Brother Yang is sparring with Tiger Wing Battalion today and can’t leave. He asked me to deliver a letter to you. But Brother Yuan also wrote a letter and insisted I deliver his instead. If I gave you Brother Yang’s letter, he threatened to beat me.”

“What?” Su Mei was shocked. “Where is Yang’s letter?”

The chubby boy quickly fished a crumpled letter from his clothes and handed it to her.

Su Mei took out the letter she’d previously received and compared the handwriting. Forgetting there were others present, she smacked herself on the head.

Damn it! She’d let that letter full of nonsense muddle her mind and had forgotten the most basic principle of comparing handwriting when reading a letter.

Thinking of the cunning green-clad toad, Su Mei clutched both letters and anxiously asked the chubby boy, “Where is Yang? Why didn’t you tell him?”

The boy shook his head, crying, “Big Brother Yang wouldn’t believe it. He and Brother Yuan are close—he never doubts him. Sister, you must hurry! Brother Yang’s about to be beaten to death by those Tiger Wing men!”

Mind in turmoil, Su Mei let the chubby boy drag her to the east side of the pavilion. As soon as they arrived, she saw Yang Huaiyu, stripped to the waist, sent flying by a burly, bearded man’s kick, landing heavily on the ground.

It was a devastating roundhouse kick. Yang Huaiyu struggled on the ground, trying to get up but failing. The bearded man strode over. “With that sorry state, you still dream of winning the military examination? Dream on! In my prime, my iron legs made me invincible across the land, and even so, I only placed seventh. How does it feel to take a real blow?”

Lying on the ground, Yang Huaiyu raised his head with effort. “I promised someone that I would take first place. Please, sir, continue teaching me.”

With that, he sprang up in a whirlwind move, and before he could straighten up, launched both fists at the man like a storm. The bearded man laughed, “Good!” and blocked with his right arm, then locked Yang’s arms with his left, dragging him close. His left leg, snake-like, swept from behind, the heavy boot crashing into Yang’s forehead.

Yang Huaiyu crashed down like a felled tree.

Watching Yang Huaiyu struggle to rise, Su Mei covered her mouth, tears streaming down her face.