Chapter 390: The Clever Young Lad
“Smile? What smile? I won?!”
The mischievous little rascal froze for two whole seconds. Only then did it dawn on him what he had just said. Instantly, his chubby little face seemed as if someone had splashed a bucket of red ink all over it—flushing, burning, impossible to ignore.
“Since you insist, then I’ll indulge you.” Zhu Ping’an reached out, gently ruffling the tuft of hair atop the rascal’s head, and gave a firm, deliberate nod.
“Good~ boy~ my~ disciple~.”
Zhu Ping’an elongated each syllable, calling it out with exaggerated flourish.
From those three words, the little rascal could hear every ounce of mischief, every tiny thread of malicious glee. And seeing Zhu Ping’an’s face, trying to restrain laughter yet radiating seriousness, he truly wished at that moment he could burrow into the ground and vanish.
“Y-yes…”
He replied with a heavy heart, turning his plump face away as though it could hide him from the world.
Zhu Ping’an watched, amused yet satisfied. This little troublemaker, for all his mischief, had one remarkable quality: he took responsibility. He didn’t dodge or run away. That alone made him far superior to most adults.
After such an experience, the little rascal wanted nothing more than to curl up into a ball and bury himself, too embarrassed to ever play rock-paper-scissors again. He sat obediently at the table, flushed, and quietly opened his book to read.
“Brother Gong, so silly…” The little girl pouted her tiny lips, giggling softly.
At her words, the little rascal’s cheeks burned even redder. Narrow, grumbling eyes shifted toward Zhu Ping’an.
“Why do you act like that chubby brat? Whoever hits you, you hit back!” Zhu Ping’an glanced at him in mild exasperation.
Li Shu sat at the desk, tracing Zhu Ping’an’s old ink marks, while the plump little maid rested her head on her hands, dozing and swaying gently. Even the little rascal was reading seriously, though the grim, almost tragic expression on his plump face didn’t waver.
The little girl, meanwhile, sat on Zhu Ping’an’s lap, chewing on a candy piece as he told her a story.
“Once upon a time, a group of children were playing in the garden. One of them climbed the rockery and accidentally fell into a water jar hidden below. The jar was deep and filled with water; the child was at risk of drowning. Everyone panicked, unsure what to do. But then, one child stepped forward, brimming with confidence, and shouted, ‘Don’t worry, I am Sima Guang!’ Calmly, in the chaos, he lifted a large stone and smashed the jar. Water gushed out, and the child trapped inside was saved.”
Zhu Ping’an held the little girl on his lap and narrated the story of Sima Guang breaking the jar in a gentle voice. Meanwhile, the little rascal, who had been studying for nearly an hour, couldn’t help but lift his head, listening intently.
After hearing the story, he seemed inspired. His plump face shone with determination, eyes flickering with eagerness. Grabbing his brush, he wrote five large, uneven characters in his notebook.
Having seen the little rascal focus for nearly an hour, Zhu Ping’an, following the modern balance of study and rest, allowed him a half-hour of free play.
The moment Zhu Ping’an finished speaking, the little rascal let out a triumphant yell, dropped his brush and book, and sprinted off so fast it was as if his hair had disappeared in the wind. The little girl tried to follow, but by the time she slid off Zhu Ping’an’s lap, he was already gone.
“Sima Guang breaks the jar.”
Zhu Ping’an picked up the paper the little rascal had just scribbled. The uneven, comical strokes stared back at him. Jar? Ah, the kid couldn’t write the character for “jar.” Zhu Ping’an couldn’t help but laugh silently at his antics.
Meanwhile, the little rascal was racing full tilt across the yard.
I must show Niuer that I’m smart. I can’t let her think I’m foolish because of that bumbling brother-in-law!
He nodded vigorously, taking his self-appointed mission to heart. With little plump legs pumping, he hurtled toward his imagined goal.
From Sima Guang breaking the jar, he had learned a lesson: he wanted to do something even smarter. That trickster brother-in-law had left him looking like a fool in Niuer’s eyes. He had to erase that impression. He had to prove he was clever—smarter than the brother-in-law by far.
Thump, thump, thump!
He arrived at the front yard and spotted the family’s large water jar. His little eyes lit up.
Sima Guang only acted after his friend fell in. I, Li Yan’gong, will break it before anyone falls! I’ll prevent the accident before it happens! That makes me smarter than Sima Guang!
I’m brilliant!
Thinking of the brother-in-law’s shocked expression and Niuer’s impressed one, his heart surged like it had been injected with adrenaline.
With resolute eyes and little arms braced, he lifted a large stone—though it didn’t budge. No matter. Undeterred, he switched to a smaller rock and slammed it onto the fireproof jar in the yard with all his might.
Bang, bang, bang!
The rhythm built. On the third hit, the jar cracked and water gushed out. The little rascal didn’t dodge in time and got soaked—but he didn’t care. His face glowed with pure triumph.
Revolution isn’t finished; comrades must continue striving!
He wasn’t satisfied with just one jar. Energized by his success, he dashed toward the second jar with renewed vigor.
Bang, bang, bang!
Throughout the day, the rhythmic crashes echoed across the Linhuai Marquis’ estate, accompanied by the little rascal’s busy, determined figure.
In that limited time, he exercised boundless creativity, smashing eighteen jars across the front and back yards.
When he wiped the sweat from his face and admired the last broken jar, word reached the Linhuai Marquis. He arrived immediately, wearing a Spartan-like expression.
“Father, I broke them all… Just like Sima Guang, but I did it before anyone fell in…” The little rascal lifted his chubby face, clapping his muddy little hands together, chest puffed with pride.
Well, aren’t you one clever child!
The Linhuai Marquis nodded, pleased, then immediately scooped up the little rascal, giving him a thorough spanking. Clever, huh? Let’s see how clever you are now!
The yard echoed with the little rascal’s rhythmic, wailing cries.
Only when the matriarch arrived to intervene did the little rascal limp back to Zhu Ping’an’s yard, tear-streaked and aggrieved, recounting the whole episode to the little girl.
“Niuer… Daddy doesn’t understand me…”
He gazed skyward at a forty-five-degree angle, sighing, his chubby face filled with the lonely grandeur of someone who had braved great heights.
The jar-smashing boy—truly, you are brilliant!
Zhu Ping’an could only shake his head at the rascal’s audacity. That he had survived at all proved he was truly the Linhuai Marquis’ blood.
By the time things settled, the carriages at the Linhuai Marquis’ gates were arriving non-stop. More and more people learned that the newly crowned top scholar was the estate’s future son-in-law. Officials, nobles, and acquaintances all sent their representatives or formal letters to pay respects.
Zhu Ping’an disliked such social obligations and planned to sneak out for some quiet. Li Shu insisted on joining, claiming she hadn’t yet explored the capital. The little girl, hearing about going out to play, wanted to come along, and the little rascal, puffing his chubby cheeks, demanded to follow too.
It wasn’t a problem for Li Shu and the plump little maid, but taking two little children out wasn’t so simple. Zhu Ping’an requested permission from the Linhuai Marquis and, once granted, led the group—two adults, two children—out the back gate of the estate.