Volume One, Chapter 25: Worrisome—Old Master Chen Stirs Up Trouble Again

Chen Pingchuan listened quietly, his face devoid of any unnecessary expression, yet deep within those pitch-black eyes, an almost imperceptible glimmer flickered.

This little girl truly has a gift for words!

He had thought her ability to help would be limited, but now, it seemed the effect of her promotion was unexpectedly remarkable.

Excellent.

These inconspicuous stone paintings, thanks to the Zhang siblings acting as living advertisements, were now quietly seeping into the circles of children from affluent families in Luzhou Prefecture.

A spark can ignite a prairie fire!

"Indeed, the young lady possesses both intelligence and eloquence. I am most impressed," he remarked at just the right moment.

Zhang Jingzhu was evidently pleased with this compliment, arching her brows with pride, but soon shifted the conversation, urging naturally, "Do you have any more of those stone paintings?"

"Paint more for me! Dragons, phoenixes, and those beautiful little fairies from the books—draw them all! The more the better!"

She rattled off a string of requests, as though Chen Pingchuan was her personal court painter, meant to serve her alone.

Chen Pingchuan inwardly curled his lip.

This girl certainly didn’t hold back—she was quite adept at giving orders.

"Miss," he paused, then spoke slowly, "Painting stones is not impossible, but..."

"But what?" Zhang Jingzhu arched her slender willow brows impatiently.

"The paints you gave me last time are all used up," Chen Pingchuan replied unhurriedly. "Without paint, no matter how skilled I may be, I cannot create what you desire."

Zhang Jingzhu waved her hand dismissively, unconcerned. "I thought it was something serious! That’s simple—I'll have someone send you more immediately. As much as you need!"

"Thank you, Miss," Chen Pingchuan lowered his gaze, a smile tugging at his lips.

...

Chen Zhonghe dragged his leaden legs toward his small courtyard.

These days, in order to squeeze out a few extra coins, he rose before dawn and trudged several miles to the creek, picking up smooth, rounded river stones.

Then, hunched over and short of breath, he carried the heavy basket of stones to the back gate of the Zhang residence to sell.

Yet, despite exerting all his strength, the coins he earned grew fewer with each passing day.

Today, he had only managed to get thirty coins.

A wave of bitter sighs welled up in Chen Zhonghe’s heart.

Those in the village who caught wind of the opportunity all scrambled to send stones to the Zhang residence; with more people, the price was inevitably pressed down.

He remembered days not long ago, when luck was on his side—a basket of stones could fetch three hundred coins. Now... it dwindled day by day.

What worried him even more was the housekeeper’s word that the paving work in the residence was nearly finished.

That meant this source of livelihood would soon be cut off.

It felt as if a heavy stone lay upon his heart, weighing him down. The only comfort he had was that his son Pingchuan was still safe and sound in the Zhang residence, not suffering any hardship.

As soon as he stepped through the gate of the old Chen family house, his mother’s sharp voice rang from the main hall:

"Second son, you’re back? Good. Come in, your father has something to say."

Chen Zhonghe’s heart skipped a beat.

From past experience, gathering the whole family at this hour never boded well.

He steadied himself and forced his way over the threshold into the hall.

The dimly lit main room held everyone except his wife Luo, who was bedridden due to illness.

Chen Zhonghe felt like a child who had done something wrong, unsure where to place his hands and feet, timidly finding a low stool in the corner to sit upon.

He couldn’t help but steal a glance around, quickly scanning everyone's faces, his heart unsettled.

The old patriarch cleared his throat heavily.

His wrinkled face betrayed little expression; his clouded gaze swept across the assembled family, carrying the authority of the head of the household.

"In a few days, I plan to visit an old friend in the city whom I haven’t seen in years."

"Nowadays, he is well-off, with considerable assets. I can’t go looking too shabby—it would disgrace the Chen family, make us look inferior."

He spoke slowly, each word striking the hearts of his listeners.

The old patriarch paused briefly, his gaze sweeping the room before continuing, "So, I plan to buy some fine fabric to make a respectable new outfit, and prepare a suitable gift. However, times are tight—each household must contribute and pool some money."

No sooner had he finished than the eldest son, Chen Zhongwen, who had kept a calm demeanor, suddenly looked crestfallen.

He hurriedly waved his hands, speaking anxiously, "Father, you know the autumn exams are approaching!"

"These days, whether seeking advice from learned scholars or buying the four treasures of study—brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones—it's all costly. Every expense calls for silver. The household simply cannot spare any."

He furrowed his brows, sighing long and short, putting on the appearance of someone exhausted and impoverished for the sake of the imperial examination.

His wife, seated beside him, was quick to cooperate, reddening her eyes and raising her voice, "Isn’t it true, Father! For my husband’s studies and exams, we’ve been pinching every penny, tightening our belts every day. Now, we truly cannot spare a single coin more!"

Wang, who stood nearby, cast a sharp glance at her. Last night, she’d seen the three of them hiding in their room, eating meat buns—so much for tightening their belts.

The old patriarch nodded in approval, his tone softening, "Yes, Zhongwen’s studies are of utmost importance, they concern the family’s honor—must not be neglected. The eldest household need not contribute."

Chen Zhonghe felt as though an invisible hand had squeezed his heart, tightening with every beat, his mouth full of bitterness.

With one light word, the eldest household was exempt.

That meant, without question, the burden would fall upon the second and third households.

As expected, the old patriarch turned his face toward Chen Zhonghe and Chen Zhongwu, his tone growing stern:

"You two had better not tell me you’re penniless!"

The third brother, Chen Zhongwu, was the cleverest. Knowing there was no evading today, his eyes spun, and he immediately plastered a smile on his face, slapping his chest loudly, promising in a booming voice:

"Father, you can rest assured! Whatever Second Brother contributes, I will match it—won’t give a coin less!"

It sounded generous and bold!

But everyone in the room knew full well this was putting the honest Chen Zhonghe on the spot.

Everyone knew that Luo had recently suffered a serious illness, requiring medicine and doctors—costing a great deal.

Their savings had been exhausted, now even the money for rice had to be carefully counted.

Behind Chen Zhongwu, Wang’s lips curled in an almost imperceptible smile.

She lowered her eyelids, concealing the triumph in her eyes.

Her own husband was certainly quicker-witted than the dull Second Brother!

For a moment, the atmosphere in the hall grew subtle.

All eyes turned in unison to the anxious Chen Zhonghe in the corner.

The old patriarch’s sunken eyes now resembled those of a hawk, fixing intently on him, as he asked, word by word:

"Second son, how much will you contribute?"