Volume One, Chapter Nine: Entering the Zhang Residence—The Young Master Is Simple-Minded, While the Young Lady Is Truly Clever!

The matter of dividing the family had, for the moment, subsided.

It was time for Chen Pingchuan to make his way to the Zhang residence.

Chen Zhonghe silently saw his son to the courtyard gate. This taciturn man could not utter a single word; he could only press his large, callused hand firmly on his son’s frail shoulder, passing on the weight of a father’s reluctance, guilt, and hope.

Chen Pingyu clung desperately to Pingchuan’s sleeve, her small face flushed red from crying, refusing to let go. “Brother, don’t go… please…” The little girl wrapped her arms around his.

Madam Luo fought back the fresh surge of tears, stepped forward, and gently pried her daughter’s fingers from her brother’s clothes, then drew the child tightly into her embrace.

Mother and daughter stood at the gate, their vision blurred by tears, watching as that small figure walked further and further away, step by step, until he disappeared from sight.

At the Zhang residence, Chen Pingchuan arrived at the appointed hour.

Steward Ren was already waiting at the entrance. Catching sight of Pingchuan, he nodded slightly. “Come with me.”

He said little else, leading Pingchuan directly into the house.

He was brought into a warm room, where hot water steamed invitingly. “Wash yourself. You’re part of the Zhang household now. Be clean. Don’t embarrass yourself.” With that, Steward Ren set down a set of clothes and left.

Chen Pingchuan enjoyed a thorough bath—the most comfortable he’d had since arriving in this world. The fatigue in his body seemed to be washed away.

Afterwards, he donned the new garments—a set of soft blue cotton attire, the uniform of a young page. The cloth was smooth and comfortable against his skin, vastly superior to the best outfit he owned, which he’d only dare wear during the New Year.

He examined himself in the bronze mirror in the corner. The youth reflected there still looked pale and thin from malnutrition, but in his brows there was a spirited defiance. Clad in this well-fitted, pristine attire, he looked far more energetic.

Steward Ren returned, studying him with a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes. He nodded approvingly. “Not a bad appearance.”

Clearing his throat, he instructed, “Pingchuan, from now on, you’ll be serving Young Master Jinbao. Be attentive. Whatever the young master asks, do it to the best of your ability.”

“I understand,” Pingchuan bowed in reply.

“Come with me. Time to meet the young master.”

Steward Ren turned and led him in another direction. He pushed open a carved wooden door, and a wave of ink and faint sandalwood greeted them.

Before them stretched a spacious, bright study, its shelves lined with books, the writing desk neatly arranged with brush, ink, paper, and inkstone. Young Master Zhang Jinbao was sprawled at the desk, seemingly writing.

As soon as Chen Pingchuan entered, Jinbao’s small eyes lit up. With a shout, he tossed his brush aside and dashed over, grabbing Pingchuan’s wrist. “Big Brother, you’re finally here!” Zhang Jinbao grinned, revealing a few missing teeth. “Come on, let’s play tic-tac-toe again!” He pulled Pingchuan eagerly toward the table.

Steward Ren coughed, a note of exasperation in his voice. “Young master, don’t just play. Mr. Fang left homework for you today.”

Zhang Jinbao waved him off impatiently. “I know, I know! You can go now. I’ll write after I play with big brother for a while.”

Steward Ren, knowing he could not persuade the young master, could only shake his head and leave.

The paper was swiftly spread out. The brush dipped in ink. The match began.

Jinbao made the first move, dotting a black mark in the center of the board. He lifted his chin proudly, muttering, “Watch my new move! I’ll beat you for sure!”

Pingchuan studied the board, raising his brows slightly. This opening was far more methodical than Jinbao’s previous random moves. After a moment’s thought, Pingchuan saw through the strategy and responded calmly.

This round, Jinbao played with unusual enthusiasm, humming triumphantly now and then. Pingchuan met every move quietly. Though this game took more effort than their earlier matches, he ultimately broke the opponent’s formation and forced a draw.

“Well? Well?” Jinbao leapt from his stool, face flushed with excitement. He pointed at the board, full of pride. “Admit it! I almost had you! Next round, I’ll win for sure!”

Pingchuan probed, “Young master, did you come up with these moves yourself?”

“No!” Jinbao shook his head, puffing out his chest in pride. “My little sister thought them up! Isn’t she amazing? Everyone says she’s a prodigy!”

So that’s why Jinbao’s playstyle had changed—he’d borrowed the tactics of his clever sister. Judging by his moves, Jinbao had only learned the opening, nothing more.

For the next matches, Pingchuan adjusted his approach. He simplified his own tactics, and sure enough, Jinbao stuck rigidly to the same opening. Once that was countered, he reverted to his previous, flustered, haphazard style.

Pingchuan won several games in a row with ease. Jinbao pouted, scratching his head in frustration, but powerless to change the outcome.

Suddenly, a voice as clear as silver bells rang from the doorway.

“Brother, you’re hopeless!”

Zhang Jingshu had slipped in unnoticed, arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe, her small face showing a hint of impatience. Pingchuan glanced over. The little girl wore her hair in twin buns, her round cheeks set off by a pair of large, bright, mischievous eyes.

She strode over to the desk, glanced at the unfinished game, and curled her lip at Jinbao. “Just a few moves, and you can’t master them! Stupid!”

Jinbao blushed furiously under his sister’s scolding, unable to utter a word in protest.

Jingshu ignored her brother, turning instead to fix Pingchuan with a challenging gaze. Her chin lifted slightly, and a spark of defiance shone in her eyes. “You’re Chen Pingchuan, right? Play against me—I’ll definitely beat you!”

Pingchuan couldn’t help but smile. These siblings were certainly brash.

“Very well,” he replied with a gentle smile. “But let’s agree—no crying if you lose.” He teased her on purpose.

“Hmph!” Jingshu immediately puffed out her chest. “You’re the one who’ll be crying!”

And so, the two began their contest on the chessboard.

Jinbao stood to the side, completely baffled by their moves.

After a few rounds, Pingchuan was quite taken aback. Though still young, Jingshu played with remarkable logic and foresight—her every move was deliberate, nothing like her simple-minded brother.

They played five games in a row, and neither gained the upper hand. It was a dead heat.

Pingchuan glanced at the utterly confused Jinbao, then at Jingshu, whose lively, cunning eyes spun with ideas. He mused inwardly: this girl has truly inherited the shrewdness of Master Zhang. As for her brother… perhaps the umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck before birth, cutting off his air? There was simply too great a difference in their looks and nature. Could they truly be siblings?

Jingshu, mistaking Pingchuan’s silence for defeat, lifted her chin triumphantly. “Well? Impressive, aren’t I?” She planted her fists on her hips, full of swagger.

Pingchuan wore a faint smile. “Yes, you’re a bit stronger than your brother.”

Then he changed the subject. “But tic-tac-toe is too simple. There’s another game, much more interesting.”