Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Ten years later, the New Emperor entered the capital.

The Old Emperor abdicated, the Crown Prince took his own life, and the city was under martial law for three days.

Everyone was spreading the word that the Orphan of the Yan Prince, Xie Wujiu, had returned to exact vengeance.

When my father heard the news, the disciplinary ruler in his hand fell to the floor.

Xu Yuanbao, who had already taken over the butcher shop, came running to the private school carrying two sides of pork.

“Wanzhao-jie, what do we do? Will he come back and chop us up?”

Chen Sangsang, now managing the embroidery workshop, smacked him on the head with her account book upon hearing this.

“You stuffed him with steamed buns every day back then, why would he chop you up?”

Xu Yuanbao, with a mournful face, said, “What if he thinks my buns didn’t have enough filling?”

I had been very nervous, but that one sentence made me laugh despite myself.

On the seventh day after the New Emperor ascended the throne, his first decrees reached the prefectures and counties.

Investigate the old case of relief grain.

Abolish collective punishment.

Establish official schools and charity academies, exempting children from poor families from tuition fees.

After these three decrees, another piece of news spread even faster in the capital.

The Old Emperor’s youngest son was found in the cold palace.

The child was only seven, so terrified he could barely speak clearly.

Some in court submitted memorials arguing that one must eliminate the roots to prevent future troubles. Others dug up old files from the Prince Yan case, saying that since the Old Emperor had not spared Prince Yan’s life back then, there was no need to spare his son now.

When these words reached Qingshi Town, the teahouse was in an uproar all day long.

Xu Yuanbao said, “That child never harmed his mother.”

Someone nearby retorted, “But he is the Old Emperor’s son. What if he causes trouble in the future?”

Chen Sangsang sneered, “By your logic, when Magistrate Zhou committed evil deeds, why didn’t they arrest eighteen generations of his ancestors?”

The crowd argued until the end, but no one could convince anyone else.

Three days later, news from the capital arrived.

The New Emperor did not kill that child.

He handed the Old Emperor’s youngest son over to the Imperial Clan Court for custody, stripped his title but spared his life. As for all the Old Emperor’s kinsmen, those found guilty were punished according to the law, and the innocent were not to be implicated.

At the same time, Xie Wujiu ordered the Prince Yan case to be retried.

Those involved in framing, slaughtering, or seizing grain were listed one by one. Where evidence was insufficient, no charges were to be added; where evidence was conclusive, family members were not to be killed in their stead.

After Shen Guan was reinstated as a censor, he sent me a letter.

He said that in court that day, an old minister tearfully rebuked Xie Wujiu for being soft-hearted like a woman.

Xie Wujiu merely had someone open The Analects to the page that reads, “Do not impose on others what you yourself do not desire,” and placed it on the imperial desk.

He offered no explanation.

But all the civil and military officials understood.

It wasn’t that he didn’t hate.

It was just that he finally chose not to inflict the sufferings he had endured on another child.

My father held the proclamation and read it for a long time.

“Good.”

He said.

Just that one word.

That night, I received a letter.

There were no pleasantries in the letter.

Only an appointment document.

The New Emperor summoned me to the capital to serve as a Female Academy Erudite.

I sat under the lamp, reading it all night.

When dawn broke, I put the document into a box and went to teach at the private school as usual.

That day, I was teaching about contract verification.

A child asked, if a contract is genuine but the signer was forced at knifepoint at the time, does it still count?

I held my brush, unable to write for a long time.

Because I was also looking at a very respectable contract.

It did not force me.

It was even well-intentioned.

The position of Female Academy Erudite in the capital came with a clear salary and decent status. If I went, I could see Xie Wujiu and teach more girls to read.

But the children of Qingshi Town were still sitting there before me.

Among them, some had just learned to write their own names, some still couldn’t tell the difference between a loan note and a servitude contract, and some had gone hungry, so when they heard the word “righteousness” they’d always look down at their bowls first.

If I left, it wouldn’t be wrong.

Staying wasn’t particularly noble either.

It’s just that in life, once you push open certain doors, you can never return to the same courtyard.

Standing before the lectern, I suddenly understood why Xie Wujiu hadn’t asked me to go with him back then.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to.

It was that he knew that once certain choices were spoken aloud, they would put another person in a difficult position.

My father asked, “You’re not going?”

I shook my head.

“Why?”

I thought about it.
“The capital doesn’t lack a teacher like me. Qingshi Town does.”
Father didn’t argue.
He just said, “Write a letter.”
I did.
Without much explanation.
I wrote:
Qingshi Town enrolled thirty-seven new students this year. Chen Sangsang started a girls’ school. Xu Yuanbao donated two pigs. Father says the charity school’s accounts are not in the red for now. If Your Majesty truly wishes to thank me, then send a few more cases of books.
Half a month later, thirty cases of books arrived in Qingshi Town.
Along with them came a plaque.
Four words on it:
Wujiu Charity School.
Seeing those words, I suddenly remembered many years ago when he asked me, “Which one is me?”
I told him the last character was him.
Wujiu.
Without guilt.
In the end, he did not become the tyrant of that past life.
Nor did he become the good man I had initially imagined.
He killed those who deserved to die, and spared those who did not.
He sat on the dragon throne, a blade still in his hand.
Only this time, he knew why he raised the blade, and when to set it down.
Many more years passed.
I never saw Xie Wujiu again.
Now and then he would send books, brushes, frozen pears from the Northern Frontier. Every letter was brief.
One year, he wrote:
The cured meat Xu Yuanbao sent is too salty.
I replied:
Your Majesty’s picky eating has grown worse since before.
He replied:
You used to complain that his buns had too little filling too.
Holding the letter, I sat by the window and laughed for a long time.
Later, my father grew old, and the school passed to me.
Chen Sangsang became the best accountant in Qingshi Town, and the girls’ school produced its first female doctor.
Xu Yuanbao’s son came to school. On the very first day he stole cakes from the offering table, and I punished him by making him copy “Do not do to others what you would not have them do to you” ten times.
As he copied, he asked, “Teacher, what does this mean?”
I glanced at the back row.
It was empty.
Many years ago, a boy sat there, covered in mud, a brush in his hand, asking me which character was his.
I looked away.
“It means, if you don’t want others to take your cake, don’t take theirs.”
The child thought for a moment, then asked, “But what if someone takes mine first?”
I was silent for a while.
Then I turned to the next page of the book.
“Then we’ll add an extra lesson today.”
“What lesson?”
Outside the window, the locust tree had grown very tall. The wound on its bark, once gnawed on, had long healed, leaving only a shallow scar.
I said, “How to take the cake back without becoming a bad person.”
The child nodded, half-understanding.
The wind swept through the courtyard, and the pages of the book rustled.
All of a sudden, I felt this was already a fine enough ending.
Not everyone can end up together.
Not every regret must be mended by a reunion.
Some people come, teach you to see the coldness of the world, and leave behind a little warmth.
He walked out of the mud and became the one who wields the blade.
I stayed where I was, teaching those who came after to read, keep accounts, reason, and also to protect themselves.
Many years later, the history books would write of the New Emperor Xie Wujiu: in his youth he wandered lost to Qingshi Town, his nature was stern, his rule strict and clear, yet he did not torture indiscriminately, did not punish whole families, valued charity schools, opened girls’ schools, and aided the poor and weak.
No one knows that he was once forced into the back row of a private school by a fourteen-year-old girl, and made to recite The Analects over and over.
No one knows that the first characters he learned to write were his own name.
Wujiu.
Without guilt.
I closed the book and said to the students filling the courtyard,
“Today, recite The Analects.”
They groaned in drawn-out voices.
I picked up the discipline ruler and rapped it on the lectern.
“First recite, then eat.”
Smoke rose from kitchens outside the courtyard.
Locust blossoms littered the ground.
At that moment, I remembered the heavy snow on the night the boy left.
He asked me, what if he couldn’t manage it.
I said, I would remember.
I have indeed always remembered.
Remembered that he was not born a villain.
And remembered that in this world, no child should only be taught righteousness when they are on the verge of starvation.
(The End)