Chapter 91: He Is Sick
White snow.
A wooden cabin.
A cattail hassock.
A charcoal stove.
The sound of an infant crying.
The tower-like man at the doorway glanced back, then turned his gaze to the ants on the snow in front of him.
How strange. It’s snowing, so why are there ants?
And in groups, too.
Hearing the child cry, Qin Luoxia rushed out.
Seeing inside the room, her husband was already holding Mianmian and soothing her, but she still felt a bit uneasy.
Because her Mianmian rarely cried.
She was very sensible, and especially when outsiders were around, she wouldn’t just cry for no reason.
She took a look; her husband’s expression wasn’t very serious, nor did he have any strange smile on his face. It still looked like they were just talking, so she didn’t go in.
Watching the ants on the snow moving unhurriedly, Qin Luoxia turned back toward the kitchen.
The hulking man didn’t know why, but he had suddenly felt a shortness of breath just a moment ago.
It was as if he had encountered a natural predator.
Perhaps it was just his imagination; there was no one else here, only that village woman who had just been wearing an apron and giving him an embarrassed smile.
“Whenever the baby cries, it gives me a start,” Qin Luoxia said to the hulking man.
The hulking man was single, with no wife or children, so he didn’t understand.
But looking at the village woman before him, he suddenly felt that he, too, should take a wife.
Inside the room.
Gong Qichi apologized repeatedly: “My apologies, my apologies. My Young Master didn’t mean it; he just likes little girls.”
After saying this, Gong Qichi wanted to slap his own mouth.
He hadn’t encountered such a situation before. Last time he brought the Young Master to meet the County Magistrate of He County, the County Magistrate committed suicide right in front of them, yet the Young Master didn’t even frown—he had great composure.
Even before that, his lord had taken the Young Master to the battlefield, where he witnessed the city fall, the slaughter, and mountains of corpses and seas of blood, yet the Young Master, at such a tender age, hadn’t moved a brow. (Could it be that the Young Master’s brows were naturally incapable of moving?)
It was because of that time that he had felt a desire to cherish such talent and volunteered to become the Young Master’s teacher.
Yet he never expected to encounter something like this.
He was talking to someone, and the Young Master went to pull on the man’s daughter’s hair.
Gong Qichi had children of his own, but he was always strict in front of them and had never seen a child be this mischievous.
Jiang Mianmian had been an infant for so long that whenever things didn’t go her way, she would cleverly cry.
After all, as long as she cried, she could attract everyone’s attention.
And achieve her needs.
This was the most basic skill of an infant, one that every baby knew instinctively.
Someone pulled her hair and even called her bald; just thinking about it was sad.
She hid in her Father’s embrace, crying until she hiccuped.
Incidentally, she also glared at the little boy opposite her with teary, shimmering eyes.
These kinds of brats were the hardest to deal with; if the adults didn’t scold them, they would act without restraint.
She couldn’t fight back, so crying was the best solution.
Sure enough, the man with the little mustache in front of her apologized repeatedly.
Yet, he didn’t say a single harsh word to that boy.
Jiang Changtian hadn’t expected such a small mishap.
However, holding his wailing daughter, he inexplicably felt like laughing.
His daughter usually seemed a bit too mature; for such a young age, she often had an expression of harboring hidden worries, and Jiang Changtian had even worried if there was something wrong with her.
At this moment, holding his daughter who was crying so heartbrokenly, Jiang Changtian felt relaxed instead.
“It’s nothing, it’s nothing; children are just playing, it’s fine,” Jiang Changtian said, holding his daughter as he saw her stop crying.
They then continued their discussion.
Young Master Zi did not speak again, nor did he make any moves.
He sat there motionless like an exquisite, soulless doll in ancient costume, his brows not even twitching.
Jiang Mianmian sat in her Father’s embrace.
She twisted her little bottom; after sitting for a while, she got hot.
She was wearing too much.
There was charcoal in the room.
She was hot.
But she couldn’t disturb her Father; she knew her Father was discussing serious matters.
Jiang Changtian and Gong Qichi—one had lost his eligibility for the imperial examinations, the other had passed but lost his official position—were talking happily and cherished each other’s company.
Originally, he had come to persuade a surrender.
Now, not a single word of persuasion had been spoken.
They had talked all the way through local customs and had already reached the climate of Jingzhou.
“Jingzhou is cold; is Mr. Gang accustomed to it?”
“Just call me Qichi, or you may call me by my courtesy name, Yehang. Although Jingzhou is cold, it is not damp and chilly; there are many sunny days, which always makes one feel comfortable.”
Jiang Changtian had studied this man.
This person came from a humble background but had been very successful, passing all the way to become a Zhuangyuan, reaching the pinnacle of his life. Then, after becoming a Zhuangyuan, his life had gone downhill, falling to the bottom.
He had a strong desire to advance himself.
Yet, he was different from those of purely rough, bandit origins; he had studied, read many books, and had a somewhat heavy scholarly air.
“Yehang, the Night Boat—astronomy and geography, the stars of the four directions, the past and present, all transparently understood. This is an excellent name; Brother Yehang is a man of great learning and talent,” Jiang Changtian praised.
Gong Qichi smiled, his two little mustaches curling up.
Brother Jiang was truly a kindred spirit.
Others heard his courtesy name, Yehang, and assumed it meant sailing a boat at night, implying a bumpy and difficult journey, or having talent but failing to find recognition.
In reality, that was not the case. When people traveled by boat at night, they would chat about everything under the sun, and of all the world’s knowledge, the discussions on the “Night Boat” were the hardest to handle.
By choosing the name Yehang, he was actually expressing great arrogance and self-confidence.
Brother Jiang had understood it immediately.
The two continued to chat.
Jiang Changtian had only felt a bit sentimental about his life story at the beginning; once the conversation opened up, he quickly moved to all sorts of idle chatter and did not dwell on topics of status.
He was very free and easy.
They chatted about local customs.
They chatted about worldviews and life philosophies.
They chatted about the current situation.
They chatted about the people’s livelihood.
Of course, Jiang Changtian was also pleasantly surprised and deeply engaged.
Around him, only Jie Xi could talk to him on the same level.
In the eyes of the villagers, the two of them were like two jokes gathered together.
He hadn’t encountered someone who was his equal and could hold a conversation with him in a long time.
The more they talked, the more engrossed they became.
Until Young Master Zi suddenly said: “Take off your clothes.”
Jiang Changtian was stunned for a moment.
Gong Qichi was dumbfounded.
They saw the Young Master say to that little cub: “Do you need my help?”
Jiang Mianmian was completely bewildered.
Only then did Jiang Changtian notice that his daughter’s little face was flushed; it was hot in the room.
His daughter was wearing a bit too much.
He reached out to help his daughter unfasten her outermost robe.
Seeing that she still looked puffed up, he unfastened another robe.
It was like peeling a shell.
After peeling off three layers of shells, she could finally turn her neck freely.
Gong Qichi couldn’t help but take out a handkerchief to wipe his forehead.
He thought, thankfully the Young Master hadn’t personally helped the other party take them off.
To take off a little girl’s clothes upon first meeting would be truly terrifying.
Perhaps Brother Jiang’s young daughter was just too cute, and the Young Master had been captivated.
On a snowy day, one does not keep guests.
Although Qin Luoxia had already made noodles, Gong Qichi did not stay with the Young Master.
After all, it was their first visit.
Staying for a meal rashly would be too impolite, and they had no such plan.
When they left, Jiang Changtian saw them off the whole way, stepping on the snow, even slipping and nearly falling.
He personally saw them off to the village entrance and loudly promised: “Please rest assured, Commander Zi; we will definitely gather the grain and money as soon as possible. May Commander Zi achieve immediate success and unify the world soon. I also hope that next time, there will be an opportunity to have a candlelit conversation with Brother Yehang.”
Gong Qichi looked at the long-haired young man holding an infant, who had seen them off again and again until they reached the village entrance.
He couldn’t help but exclaim: “Brother Jiang is a man of utmost sincerity, a wise scholar indeed. We will definitely meet again.”
Jiang Mianmian waved her little short hand along with him.
Zi Congheng had a serious expression, but in the end, when his horse turned around, he also waved his hand.
Gong Qichi took the Young Master and the hulking guard, mounted their horses, and headed toward the county town.
Outside the village entrance, the troops were vast and mighty.
It was lunchtime, and they were a bit hungry, so they had to rush to the county town for lunch.
In fact, eating in the village would have been fine.
Gong Qichi didn’t know why, but he hadn’t let the main army eat in the village.
Instead, he had taken everyone to the county town.
On the road, the cold wind was biting, and the scenery on both sides was excellent.
The wind made one’s mind clear.
Gong Qichi realized a bit belatedly that he was a Rebel, and he should have let the army eat in the village.
The atmosphere of talking with Brother Jiang just now had been so good that he had forgotten about this.
Remembering his status as the Young Master’s teacher, he asked: “Congheng, what do you think of Mr. Jiang?”
He hadn’t expected an answer.
The Young Master often didn’t say much.
But he hadn’t expected the Young Master to speak.
“He is sick, very sick—worse than me.”
Gong Qichi:…
At home, eating hot noodles, Jiang Changtian asked Jiang Mianmian: “Mianmian, how did you feel about that little brother today?”
Jiang Mianmian slurped a mouthful of noodles she had struggled to scoop up, with noodle broth on the corners of her mouth, and said in a sweet, baby voice: “He is sick.”
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