Chapter 6
Chapter 6
Madame Qin’s illness kept Xie Wujiu occupied.
He came to the private school during the day, and returned to the south of the city at night to brew medicine.
My father noticed something was wrong, but asked no questions. He just packed a bag of old charcoal and some rice and flour from the backyard and told me to deliver it.
“Don’t say it’s from me.”
I asked, “Why?”
He said sternly, “I’m poor, not worthy of being a kind man.”
I smiled.
My father glared at me. “What are you smiling about?”
“Nothing.”
I just recalled the words Xie Wujiu said before killing him in the previous life.
You teach benevolence and righteousness, but only to the children of the rich.
Actually, my father wasn’t unwilling to teach.
He was simply too pressed by poverty, reputation, the Zhou Family, and the county office to dare extend a hand.
In this life, he extended it.
Even if only a bag of rice.
The atmosphere in the private school also changed.
Xu Yuanbao began to bring an extra meat bun every day.
Chen Sangsang secretly cut the unwanted old paper from her home into neat sheets and placed them on Xie Wujiu’s desk.
Chen Sangsang was the daughter of the embroidery workshop owner, originally not allowed to attend the private school. Every day, she pretended to bring sewing supplies to her younger brother and sat outside the window to listen.
My father pretended not to see.
Xie Wujiu also pretended not to see.
Only Xu Yuanbao was quick to say, “Sangsang, eavesdropping again today?”
Chen Sangsang pricked him with her embroidery needle.
The private school burst into laughter.
Xie Wujiu sat in the last row, head bowed, writing.
I saw the corner of his mouth twitch slightly.
It was a very faint smile.
So faint that you wouldn’t notice it if you weren’t staring.
I suddenly felt a bit dazed.
If the world were always like this, perhaps he could truly just be Xie Wujiu.
Reading, writing, fighting with classmates for buns, complaining that The Analects was wordy, occasionally having his hand smacked by my father’s ruler.
Not a tyrant.
Not a demon.
Just a young man.
But good days are short.
The county office soon posted a notice, saying that Yan Rebel Remnants were hiding in a dilapidated house in the south of the city, and those who knew but didn’t report would share the same crime.
When the notice was posted, Xie Wujiu was standing at the entrance of the school.
Everyone looked at him.
His expression didn’t change.
The bun in Xu Yuanbao’s hand fell to the ground.
Zhou Cheng’an led two bailiffs into the private school.
The wound on his face had healed, but his eyes were full of hatred.
“Teacher, my father said the private school is harboring rebels and must be searched.”
My father stood up.
“Young Master Zhou, watch your words.”
Zhou Cheng’an laughed, “Watch what words? His mother is hiding a bronze token from Prince Yan’s Mansion, so he is a descendant of rebels. Mr. Lin, you still dare teach him to read?”
Xie Wujiu slowly put down his brush.
My heart sank, and I immediately pressed down on his hand.
He looked at me.
I whispered, “Don’t move.”
Zhou Cheng’an pointed at him, “Search.”
The bailiffs stepped forward.
My father blocked the lectern.
“This is a private school.”
Zhou Cheng’an sneered, “Is the private school above the law?”
My father was silent for a moment.
That moment made my heart turn cold.
Xie Wujiu saw it too.
I knew.
He saw everyone’s hesitation.
Saw the fear behind kindness.
Saw benevolence take a step back in the face of blades.
He pulled his hand out of my palm.
“I’ll go with you.”
I turned back, “Xie Wujiu!”
He didn’t look at me.
“Don’t implicate the teacher.”
Zhou Cheng’an smiled triumphantly.
Just as the bailiffs were about to grab Xie Wujiu, a voice came from outside:
“Who says he is a rebel?”
A young man in a gray robe stood in the rain.
He held an umbrella, with two saber-wielding guards behind him.
I recognized him.
Shen Guan, the Imperial Censor from the capital.
In my previous life, he died a year before Xie Wujiu entered the capital.
The cause of death was investigating the grain relief case, falling into water.