Chapter 389: My Obedient Disciple
In the blink of an eye, Shen Lian’s fate had shifted—from the looming threat of execution as a condemned official to a mere demotion to an agricultural post. As onlookers racked their brains trying to understand why the Jiajing Emperor had reversed his decision so swiftly, the true instigator, Zhu Ping’an, had already sauntered leisurely back to the Linhuai Marquis’s residence.
With Zhu Ping’an crowned as the top scholar of the imperial examinations, his status in the Linhuai Marquis’s mansion shot up like a soaring arrow. The maids inside the residence could hardly contain themselves when they saw him; they practically turned into star-struck fans. Had it not been for the recent memory of Li Shu wielding her riding whip, etched deeply in their minds, their bashful greetings of “Good day, Master!” might have come with far more flustered stammering. Even so, their little hearts still pounded wildly, faces blooming with a rosy flush that made them look like startled fawns.
No sooner had Zhu Ping’an returned to his guest room than Li Shu arrived, bringing along the maid Hua’er, carrying a food box filled with a meticulously prepared meal.
Zhu Ping’an had gone to court early to offer his thanks to the emperor and had barely managed to grab a light breakfast. Now, seeing Hua’er set out steaming bowls of plain congee, pickled vegetables, and glistening slices of marinated beef, his appetite immediately surged beyond restraint.
Winter made marinated beef taste like a gift from the heavens, and this particular dish was no exception. The slices, thin and delicate, gleamed with a rich, inviting glaze, piled like flower petals, and were complemented perfectly by fresh coriander and crisp radish sticks. Paired with the steaming, aromatic congee, the meal was sheer perfection.
“Thank you,” Zhu Ping’an said with a bow, a grin of pure gourmand delight spreading across his face.
“I wouldn’t want anyone to starve and bring bad luck to my reputation,” Li Shu retorted, rolling her eyes with a coquettish pout, her lips like soft cherry blossoms.
Truly, the brat was just as exasperating as ever—but, fortunately, he had never had high expectations of her anyway.
Zhu Ping’an shook his head, smiling faintly, then sat down to tackle the feast before him. The familiar flavors of the Li family’s masterful cooking flooded his senses: rich soy-marinated aroma, tender yet slightly chewy meat, flavors so exquisite they seemed almost magical.
For a time, he was completely lost in this ocean of food, utterly absorbed, unable to pull himself away.
Across the room, Li Shu sat at the desk, delicate hands holding a scroll. Yet her eyes were fixed on Zhu Ping’an, watching him eat with such gusto. The sight made her own eyes, wide and glistening, squint into crescent moons, and a small, satisfied smile tugged at her lips.
When Zhu Ping’an rolled the last slice of beef with coriander into his mouth, he happened to catch sight of Li Shu’s moon-shaped eyes from across the table.
“Uh… what’s with that look?” he asked, hiccupping slightly, curiosity flickering across his face.
For a fleeting moment, Li Shu’s eyes betrayed a hint of panic at his question, but she quickly returned to her usual proud and defiant expression.
“Ha… ha… you look like a toad who’s just tasted swan meat,” she teased, pointing at him while covering her mouth with her other hand. Her laugh was light and tinkling, and the small swan pendant dangling from her pink earlobe danced with the motion, catching the sunlight and sparkling vividly.
Girl, did you forget your medicine again?
Zhu Ping’an rolled his eyes at her remark, then bent down to continue sipping his congee and sampling the side dishes.
Seeing this, Li Shu exhaled in relief, then shot him a disdainful glare, though her lips betrayed a smile.
Not long after breakfast, the mischievous little bear of a child—sent by a junior attendant, under the direction of the Linhuai Marquis—arrived, wearing a grim, pitiful expression. The Marquis, seizing the opportunity before Zhu Ping’an formally assumed his post, hoped to let the boy be influenced by Zhu Ping’an’s presence: near Zhu, one might turn bright; near ink, one might grow dark.
Seeing the child’s small eyes, clouded with faux grievance, Zhu Ping’an knew that over the next few days, he would undoubtedly be compared to a neighbor’s child tasked with “educating” the little one.
The attendant bowed politely to Zhu Ping’an and Li Shu, then withdrew, leaving the boy standing awkwardly.
“You two handle yourselves. Don’t bother me. The Sixth Miss keeps making my life difficult, so I’ll just hide here and enjoy some peace,” Li Shu announced, boldly taking over Zhu Ping’an’s desk. She waved her hand as if claiming a throne, settling in with complete confidence.
In modern classrooms, seats were plentiful, and girls often wandered freely. Zhu Ping’an paid no mind to Li Shu occupying his desk; he simply continued guiding the little bear through his studies while occasionally glancing at his own books.
Soon enough, the young, rosy-cheeked Niuniu arrived, her small neck adorned with a tiny cloth pouch filled with her favorite treats.
“Greetings, Fifth Sister! Niuniu brought you some candy!” The little girl scanned the room, then darted excitedly toward Li Shu, producing a piece of candy from her pouch like a precious treasure.
“Thank you, little sister Niuniu,” Li Shu said, smiling as she patted the child’s head. In return, she handed Niuniu a small golden bean as a gift.
“Candy for brother-in-law…”
After gifting Li Shu, Niuniu skipped toward Zhu Ping’an, offering him a piece of candy with her chubby little face tilted upward, beaming with innocence.
Unprepared for such cuteness, Zhu Ping’an couldn’t help but be charmed. He gave her a silver bean in return, then regaled her with a short fairy tale.
The little bear had never been interested in learning, and Niuniu’s arrival only made him more distracted. He scratched, looked around, wiggled left and right, anything but studying. Zhu Ping’an intervened promptly, determined to curb the misbehavior.
But the boy was stubborn, clearly used to getting his way.
“Why should I listen to you?” the little bear demanded, lifting his chubby face defiantly.
“Because I’m your teacher. You must listen to me,” Zhu Ping’an said, smiling gently.
“You’re my teacher?” the boy snorted. “You say so, but I don’t accept it.”
“Oh? Then what do you propose?” Zhu Ping’an’s smile deepened, clearly enjoying the game of teasing him.
“What do I propose?” the boy muttered to himself, thinking hard. After a moment, his eyes lit up, sparkling with newfound resolve.
“We’ll play a game. Whoever wins becomes the teacher.” Confidence radiated from his plump little face.
“Fine,” Zhu Ping’an agreed, nodding.
This ancient game had even warranted a doctoral thesis in the modern era, which Zhu Ping’an had read and studied with great interest. Now, faced with the boy’s self-assured smile, he couldn’t help but chuckle.
“I’ll play paper first,” Zhu Ping’an said, deadpan, before the game began.
“Are you kidding me?” the boy rolled his eyes. “You say you’ll play paper, so I’ll try scissors to beat you, but you’ll probably pick rock! Hah, I won’t fall for it. I’ll choose rock!”
The boy chose rock. Zhu Ping’an chose… paper.
“I said I’d play paper. You didn’t believe me. Now, call me Teacher!” Zhu Ping’an said, smiling at him.
“Good… teacher!” the boy growled through gritted teeth.
“See? You admit I’m a good teacher now. Alright, my good apprentice, go focus on your studies,” Zhu Ping’an said, pinching the boy’s chubby cheeks playfully.
“I refuse! Let’s play again!” the boy shouted.
“Fine, but this time I’ll play rock,” Zhu Ping’an replied, serious as ever.
After much deliberation, the boy chose paper, expecting to beat Zhu Ping’an’s rock, only to find Zhu Ping’an had picked scissors.
“Cheater…” the boy accused, eyes narrowing.
“Oops, I miscalculated… but I still won. Call me Teacher again,” Zhu Ping’an shrugged.
The boy, frustrated yet obedient, called him once more. From then on, Zhu Ping’an had the upper hand in every round, each time prompting the boy to shout “Good Teacher,” and each time responding with a playful “Good apprentice,” which drove the little bear nearly mad with both irritation and amusement.
Eventually, in a dizzying flurry, the boy accidentally won a round without even knowing what he’d chosen. Overjoyed, he raised his chubby face, triumphant, and shouted, “Quick! Call me Good Apprentice!”
Pfft… cough…
Niuniu, mid-snack, sprayed food across the room—and all over the boy’s face.
Li Shu shot Zhu Ping’an a fierce glare, but even she couldn’t suppress her laughter.
Hua’er paused for a moment before clutching her stomach, bursting into giggles as well.