Chapter 11

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Song Sanlang could never have imagined that his son would be bold enough to run into Master Li’s study, much less that an elderly gentleman could strike up a conversation with such a little brat. After questioning several servants of the Li household, all claimed they hadn’t seen the child; the gatekeeper confirmed the boy had not gone outside. Song Sanlang breathed a slight sigh of relief, but before he could fully relax, his eyes landed on the lotus pond in the Li residence.

Fixing his gaze on the lotus pods growing by the pond’s edge, Song Sanlang’s expression suddenly changed. Without even a moment to think, he plunged headfirst into the water. The Li family’s lotus pond was not large enough to be like searching for a needle in a haystack, but it was not small either. Song Sanlang first searched the shallow perimeter near the pond’s edge—if the child had tried to pick lotus pods to eat, he was most likely to have fallen in there.

After searching around the edge with no sign, Song Sanlang began moving swiftly toward the pond’s center. By now, he dared not imagine whether the child was alive or dead—he simply did not dare to think. His mind was consumed by one desperate thought: please, do not find him.

After about a quarter of an incense stick’s time, Song Sanlang was certain there was no one at the bottom, and nothing floating on the surface that should not be there. He felt utterly drained, almost unable to pull himself out of the water.

—It was not fatigue, but the sudden collapse of tension after extreme stress.

Summer clothes were thin to begin with, and when working outside, one wore even less. As soon as he climbed out, Song Sanlang sensed something was wrong. Looking down, his face darkened.

The man’s manhood was far too conspicuous.

Without hesitation, he plunged back into the water.

His clothes were soaked through, the thin, semi-transparent shirt clinging tightly to his body, hardly better than wearing nothing.

He was grateful it was the height of noon, the scorching heat keeping the courtyard deserted.

Hiding among the lotus plants, shielded by the thick leaves, Song Sanlang submerged himself until only his chest remained above water. He took off his drenched clothes, wringing them with all his might until not a drop remained, then spread them on the lotus leaves to dry in the midday sun.

Fortunately, the sun was fierce enough that his clothes were half dry in no time. After carefully scanning to make sure no one was near, he swam to the shallows, plucked a few large lotus leaves, and tied them around his waist with water plants. He put on his upper garment first, then climbed ashore and, hidden by the lotus leaves, quickly put on his trousers.

In his entire life—no, in two lives—Song Sanlang had never been so nervous dressing. When he finished, a fine sweat appeared at the tip of his nose.

Gritting his teeth, he silently cursed the true culprit: the stir-fried bamboo shoots and pork.

At this moment, the real culprit, Song Jingchen, was comfortably enjoying large grapes in Master Li’s cool study, which had been cooled by an ice mirror. He sat cross-legged, tapping his tiny toes rhythmically, radiating the carefree air of a young lord.

Li Yishan was amused by the child's lively simplicity. Inspired, he wielded his brush with flourish, the strokes rounded and full of youthful innocence, capturing the child’s pure, radiant, and unpretentious spirit.

Many years later, the old man would regret deeply having painted only one portrait at that time—and given it away to Jingchen.

Was Master Song’s son someone to casually paint for?

That childhood portrait was priceless, a family treasure!

The grapes were delicious, but after tasting six or seven, Song Jingchen stopped eating.

His father had told him: no matter how much you like something, if it’s not yours, you must not be reckless; even if it is yours, you must learn restraint. Loving something too much makes it easy to lose.

He thought his father was right. He used to like snail candy, but once sneaked a lot behind his parents’ backs and ended up with blisters all over his mouth and a sore throat. Since then, he never liked snail candy again.

“Uncle Li, thank you for the grapes. I must go home now. My father will be worried if he can’t find me.”

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Li Yishan said, “Brother Chen, why not stay and have a meal with Uncle Li? I will ask someone to invite your father over.”

Song Jingchen quickly waved his small hand, imitating his brother Song Jingrui’s tone: “Uncle Li’s kindness is deeply appreciated. You’ve already painted my portrait, and I am immensely grateful. How could I continue to accept Uncle Li’s hospitality?”

“My father said, ‘No reward without merit.’ Brother Chen should not be so shameless.”

The child instinctively knew what a scholar like Li Yishan wanted to hear. In truth, he was not embarrassed to eat the meal; he was just afraid of getting beaten by his father.

Li Yishan saw that despite his young age, the child spoke with decorum and knew how to behave properly. Stroking his three wisps of fine beard, he smiled, “It seems your parents have raised a good son.”

Song Jingchen said, “Because my parents are the best parents, they gave birth to the best son.”

“Well said!” Li Yishan clapped and praised, then asked, “Brother Chen, have you started learning to read?”

At the mention of reading, Song Jingchen’s little face became cautious. He blinked and said, “I’m still little, only three years old. Father says I am still growing, and I will start reading in a few years.”

“Oh, I see,” Li Yishan said. “I thought you had already started your studies by your stature. I was just about to introduce you to a very learned old gentleman, but it seems you must grow a bit more first.”

Li Yishan truly had a passion for talent. He had met Song Jingchen’s grandfather, Song Yulang, a few times and admired his character and virtue. This was why he entrusted such valuable furniture to the relatively unknown Song Sanlang for restoration.

Unexpectedly, Song Sanlang’s skill far exceeded his expectations—a pleasant surprise.

Moreover, he genuinely admired this smart little boy. The child had quietly obtained the grapes he wanted and, once acquired, showed remarkable self-restraint by sampling only a few.

Such self-control was rare in children, especially at three years old.

This rough gem, entrusted to an old man who treasured talent, would surely be polished into something fine.

However, hearing the boy was only three, Li Yishan had to give up for now—it was indeed too young.

Song Jingchen’s eyes brightened at Li’s words. Whether his brother could become the disciple of Master Chen was still uncertain. Why not give his brother more options?

With a backup plan, his brother would not be so anxious and fearful. His brother dreamed of reading every night, worried about failing and disappointing the family, or that Grandmother’s bracelet would be given to Lady Bo in vain.

Thinking this through, Song Jingchen bowed deeply to Li Yishan and said in a soft voice, “Brother Chen thanks Uncle Li for your kindness in helping us.”

He had learned the word “help” from stories and thought it was fitting here.

As expected, Li Yishan’s face showed approval. The child then shifted tone, “Uncle Li, ‘selecting the worthy without avoiding kin’ — may Brother Chen recommend my brother to you?”

“Selecting the worthy without avoiding kin” was also a phrase he had heard in stories.

Li Yishan, intrigued, asked, “Brother Chen, you say you have not studied yet, but you use many fine words. How is that possible?”

Song Jingchen looked earnest. “Uncle Li, you don’t know—though I have not studied, my brother often explains many things from books, and I remember what I hear.”

“How old is your brother? Who teaches him?” Li Yishan, noticing the admiration in the boy’s eyes, became interested.

“My brother is six years old. His name is Song Jingrui. He has no teacher yet, but he is very smart. At three, he could recite ‘Three Character Classic’ and ‘Hundred Family Surnames.’ Now, at six, he is reading the ‘Analects,’ and even knows ‘Laozi’ and ‘Zhuangzi.’”

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Fearing disbelief, he added, “Not only can my brother recite, but he also teaches me. I can recite for you, Uncle Li.”

“Very well, I’m all ears.”

Song Jingchen began reciting immediately:

“From the northern darkness, there is a fish named Kun. The Kun is so large, no one knows how many thousands of li it measures. It transforms into a bird named Peng. The Peng’s back is also unimaginably vast. When it rises in anger, its wings are like clouds hanging from the sky. This bird, when the sea moves, flies to the southern darkness. The southern darkness is the heavenly pool. The ‘Qi Xie’ is a record of strange phenomena. It says: ‘When the Peng flies to the southern darkness, its water strokes three thousand li, it twists and soars ninety thousand li, drifting with the six months’ wind...’”

Suddenly, Song Jingchen realized an important problem—he could not finish reciting!

If this old man got wind of this, and then told his parents, with his mother’s temper, he would surely become the second Mrs. Er’s torment. How could he ever have a good life again?

Li Yishan was captivated by the bright, clear voice, though some words carried the slight unclear sounds of a young child. Yet, not a single character was wrong, nor was there a pause. The boy clearly knew the text well. Li was curious to see what other surprises this child could bring.

Just as he was getting engrossed, the boy stumbled and could not continue. Embarrassed, he scratched his head and said, “Uncle Li, I can’t remember the rest, but my brother can.”

Song Jingchen never forgot to promote his brother.

Despite this, Li Yishan found the child exceptionally clever. Clearly, the “good brother” he spoke of was even more intelligent. He ordered someone to call Song Sanlang over.

Meanwhile, Song Sanlang was anxiously searching for his son. Hearing the boy was at Master Li’s, he feared the little rascal had gotten into trouble and hurried with a servant to the study.

Once the full story was clear, Song Sanlang did not know whether to scold or praise.

Though his son meant well, Song Sanlang had to explain the situation to Li Yishan. One cannot have it both ways.

Since Brother Rui had already decided to take Master Chen as his teacher, if he failed to be accepted, then choosing the teacher introduced by Master Li would undermine Li’s kindness.

Moreover, with Master Li’s status, the teacher he intended to introduce would be no ordinary person. How could such a person be willing to take on students rejected by Master Chen? This would put Master Li in an awkward position.

Unexpectedly, after hearing Song Sanlang’s explanation, Li Yishan laughed heartily and said, “What a coincidence! South Chen, North Xiao. The person I was about to introduce is precisely Chen’s old rival, Xiao Yanzong.”

“North Xiao?” Song Sanlang said solemnly, bowing deeply to Li Yishan. “Thank you for your kindness; Sanlang expresses the Song family’s gratitude.”

Li Yishan smiled, “No matter. Let your brother go to that stubborn old man. As for your little one, I have already reserved a place with Old Man Xiao. You are not allowed to have him apprentice elsewhere!”

Song Sanlang: “...”

Song Jingchen: “...”

Song Sanlang: “Another one bewitched by his son’s sweet talk. Who knows why my clever eldest son refuses to flourish in his studies? Should I tell the truth or not tell the truth...”

Song Jingchen: “Ahhhh—I just greedily ate a grape, and now disaster falls from the sky!”

I will never like grapes again!!!!!!