Chapter 59: Snatching People
Night had fallen.
The kitchen is an important battlefield for a woman managing the household.
Sounds of chopping and banging came from the kitchen from time to time.
Jiang Xiaoyu rushed down the mountain to borrow some seasonings, then dashed to the base of the wall to pull up a few wild onions; she was busy as a bee.
Torches were lit in the courtyard, and a type of herbal powder was burned.
A faint scent of herbs lingered, which could repel mosquitoes.
The mosquitoes at night were vicious.
The two fair and tender young heroes would be bitten all over with welts.
Jiang Mianmian waited for the meal with the young heroes.
Miraculously, she was now in the arms of the square-faced young hero.
This square-faced young hero was surprisingly experienced at holding a baby; the way he supported her back was comfortable, unlike the other young hero who was so stiff.
Meng Shaoxia had plenty of experience holding babies at his maternal grandparents’ home.
Because his uncles and aunts had many children, they would all let him hold them, hoping he would gain some good fortune and change the family’s fate of having only one heir per generation.
Feeling comfortable, Jiang Mianmian became much more active, waving her fists, kicking her legs, and turning her head to look for her little ant.
Then she watched her big brother sweep the floor.
Because Young Master He insisted on teaching him how to write.
After seeing that extremely rudimentary bedroom, Young Master He Chen truly felt a sense of mutual appreciation for Jiang Feng.
He pitied that such a child from a poor family actually knew how to read and write.
Brother Jiang said his father worked at the Herb Preparation Bureau and understood some pharmacology, so he assumed his father was a physician.
Jiang Feng was powerful in martial arts; a single firewood stick was enough to knock away Brother Meng’s sword, so he could not offer pointers there.
But he could offer pointers on reading.
However, the Jiang Family had no extra paper or brushes.
Jiang Feng had no choice but to pull a wooden stick from the firewood pile and use it instead of paper and brush to write.
Jiang Feng swept the ground clean and leveled it.
He cleared a square space and held the firewood stick in his hand.
Meng Shaoxia watched from the side while holding the baby. This young master, having picked up the family’s child, had suddenly and naturally blended in with the family, fitting in perfectly.
He felt that Brother Jiang at this moment looked somewhat familiar.
When he was sparring with him just now, Brother Jiang had the same look.
No longer slacking off, his expression had changed, becoming extremely serious and focused.
Jiang Feng said somewhat embarrassedly, “I haven’t picked up a brush in a long time; I don’t write very well.”
Young Master He Chen encouraged him loudly, “It’s no matter. I began practicing calligraphy at three, never stopping through winter or summer, practicing for an hour every day. You don’t need to compare yourself to me; just write what you want to write.”
He said this with great pride, for the He Family of Qingzhou was naturally the leader of all scholars in the world.
He had already passed two levels of the imperial examinations; this journey was intended to prepare him to take the top spot as Zhuangyuan next time, striving to win another triple-crown scholar for the He family.
The top spot that others felt was unreachable was, in the He family, merely words of encouragement between uncle and nephew.
His uncle had been a Zhuangyuan back in the day.
Jiang Feng looked around his home.
Finally, his gaze fell on the two horses.
The horses were beautiful, not fat, but felt very powerful.
The horses were out of place in his home.
He then used the stick to write on the muddy ground: “This horse is no ordinary steed; the Fang star is, after all, a star.”
Young Master He Chen admired it with a smile and nodded slightly. Not bad; although simple and direct, it could already be considered a decent line of poetry.
Watching Brother Jiang continue to write: “Knocking forward on its thin bones, it still carries the sound of bronze.”
Young Master He Chen’s nodding motion froze.
He opened his mouth several times, then closed it.
And Young Master He Chen, who had wanted to offer pointers to Jiang Feng, stared at the calligraphy and the poem, stunned for a long time.
The handwriting was somewhat rusty, indeed looking like he did not practice often.
But the force of every character penetrated the muddy ground, fierce and striking.
Brother Jiang was writing about a horse.
Or so it seemed.
But this poem felt as if it were spoken by the elders in his family.
Every line spoke of a horse, yet every line was not about a horse.
Young Master He Chen closed his mouth, his handsome face looking somewhat heavy.
He looked around at the surroundings, this dilapidated cottage, the mud floors and earthen walls, the barking dogs and chirping insects.
“Knocking forward on its thin bones, it still carries the sound of bronze!”
Young Master He Chen seemed to see a clanking bronze skeleton beneath the youth’s short, worn hemp robe.
He saw countless people swinging sticks at that bronze skeleton, the echoes of bronze resonating, shaking one’s soul.
He looked up at the sky.
The sky was filled with stars.
He had once been arrogant, feeling that the world possessed eight pecks of talent, and he alone occupied one.
Yet this poor little cottage, this youth, with no brush and no paper, had composed a poem that slapped his face until it stung.
At this moment, he thought that he had traveled the world and seen the person he wanted to see; this was the greatest harvest of his trip.
He did not offer any critique, but instead said: “Brother Jiang, I will be returning tomorrow. Would you be willing to come with me to Qingzhou?”
Meng Shaoxia grew anxious; Brother He was actually snatching people away! Wasn’t it enough that he had stuffed so many pitiful women into his care along the way!!
“Brother Jiang, come with me to the capital. Your martial arts are outstanding; it would be suitable for you to come to my home.”
“Go to Qingzhou; you have a talent for literature, it must not be wasted.”
