Volume One, Chapter 12: He Did It on Purpose, Didn’t He?

“This is...”

Neither Cui Heng nor Zhang Jing took the initiative to introduce themselves; both looked simultaneously at Yin Tiantian.

Yin Tiantian scratched her head, surprised that Zhang Jing had followed her home.

“Young master, he’s Zhang Jing, a student at the county academy. I promised to help him copy some books, and he agreed to recommend me to the academy’s teachers.”

She then introduced Cui Heng to Zhang Jing.

“My... um, young master, this is Cui Heng.”

Zhang Jing spread the book she had been copying on the table, signaling for her to continue.

The small, elegant characters on the paper surprised Cui Heng.

“Tiantian, your handwriting is this good?”

Zhang Jing’s expression was amused; he hadn’t realized it before.

Yin Tiantian felt she was about to be exposed.

“You must have forgotten, young master, I’m good at embroidery and painting gourds—I’m best at those!”

She had tools from the embroidery workshop in her basket, probably having taken on some embroidery work.

Cui Heng dipped his brush in ink.

“I’ll copy it for you.”

Yin Tiantian stuck out her tongue and set up her embroidery frame.

“I have embroidery to do, with a deadline in three days—let’s do it together!”

Cui Heng adjusted the wick of the oil lamp, brightening the room a bit. Shen’s father brought in another lamp.

“Light another one, don’t strain your eyes.”

Though they had been bullied today, there was money to be made, and Shen’s father was pleased. His son showing promise made him happy. Even better, it wasn’t people from the Hou Mansion causing trouble.

Zhang Jing sized up Cui Heng with a gaze too direct for comfort. Cui Heng met his eyes briefly, then lowered his head to continue copying.

“Brother Zhang, speak your mind.”

“Well then, I won’t be polite. Your manner and knowledge don’t seem like those that could come from the countryside. Plus, your parents’ surname is Shen, yet you go by Cui? I suspect you are the very person everyone has been whispering about these days—the so-called fake heir sent to the Pingyang Marquis’s mansion in the capital.”

This was no secret; Yin Tiantian had mentioned he had been in the capital before.

“Do you want to mock me like the others?”

Ever since his true identity became known, people—friends and strangers alike—had cursed him, accusing him of usurping someone else’s life, being ungrateful despite the Marquis’s mansion raising him for eighteen years, and insisting on returning to his biological parents.

Zhang Jing’s pen didn’t stop moving.

“What would I mock you for? I’m just curious about the essay you wrote. Mr. Song was a free spirit but truly talented. Many people have brought him writings, yet I’ve never seen him value anyone as much as he values you—you’re the first.”

“With your talent, I’m sure you could achieve great things even if you stayed in the capital. Once you make a name for yourself, you can bring your parents over and fulfill your filial duties. Why return to this desolate backwater empty-handed and endure scorn?”

“If I don’t come back, who will lend Brother Zhang ink and brushes?”

Zhang Jing paused his copying, chuckling awkwardly.

His true motive was exposed: he came here just to save on ink, paper, and brushes.

But he felt no shame.

“Saving whatever I can. Tonight I even saved on lamp oil! There’s plenty of time ahead...”

A shadow appeared on the torn paper window; Ergou didn’t come through the front door but climbed up to peer inside.

“Tiantian, those people didn’t give you trouble, did they...?”

He had actually come to deliver news to the Shen family today!

But Yin Tiantian was not grateful in the slightest.

“Ergou, how many times have I told you? Don’t bother me anymore. I’m the child-bride of my young master. Don’t try to curry favor with me!”

The torn window gave Ergou a limited view—he only saw Yin Tiantian and not Cui Heng or Zhang Jing.

“Tiantian, I know you have no feelings for the fake heir the Marquis’s family sent back, and I know you don’t want to marry him. But I can’t beat him now. Wait two more years—I’ll eat more, grow stronger, and then I’ll definitely take you away from him!”

“Tiantian, I don’t mind if you follow another man, as long as you have me in your heart!”

Yin Tiantian stood up, grabbed a feather duster, furious enough to want to strike.

Ergou climbed the wall between the two houses with long arms, quickly flipping over.

“Tiantian, wait for me!”

Yin Tiantian picked up a few stones from the ground and threw them at him. Hearing the stones hit, she finally felt some relief.

“Tiantian, are you done yet? Time to eat!”

Mrs. Shen had made porridge and baked flatbreads, asking Yin Tiantian to bring them inside.

“You eat; your father and I will just have a little in the kitchen.”

She had bought ten pounds of bones to boil soup, which wouldn’t last long. The elderly couple in the kitchen would roast the flavorless, gnawed bones until crisp, then crush them into powder to mix with water—a meager meal to stave off hunger through the night.

Zhang Jing reached for a flatbread without restraint.

“How shameless!”

She had brought her own food at noon and hadn’t touched a drop of their water!

Zhang Jing pretended not to hear and resumed copying after eating.

Yin Tiantian worked on embroidery until well past midnight, too tired to continue, and stretched.

“Tiantian, come rest.”

Cui Heng beckoned her over. They were sitting on the kang, taking up most of the space. Cui Heng shifted and made room, placing a pillow for her, signaling her to lie behind him.

With outsiders present, Yin Tiantian felt a little embarrassed.

“Brother Zhang is a gentleman; there’s no need to be concerned.”

His words hinted at something more.

Yin Tiantian couldn’t fathom his meaning. Her mind was foggy with exhaustion. She climbed onto the kang and fell asleep almost instantly.

Cui Heng pulled the only quilt in the room over her, tucking her in tightly, then turned back to Zhang Jing.

“Thank you, Brother Zhang, for looking after my Tiantian. Shall we continue copying?”

Zhang Jing was equally exhausted but this wasn’t his home. Besides, with a lady sleeping on the kang, he felt awkward lying down himself, so he stayed up with Cui Heng.

At the third watch, the rooster crowed. Zhang Jing’s head dropped onto the table as he finally succumbed to sleep. Before slipping into unconsciousness, he regretted coming—he shouldn’t have taken advantage of generosity that wasn’t his to take.

He slept until dawn. Upon waking and sitting up, Zhang Jing found half his body numb—his legs and arms tingling.

“I’m going to be late!”

Running from Qinghe Village to the city, he wasn’t sure if he could make it to class on time.

He limped off the kang and began packing.

Cui Heng organized the copied books and handed them to him. Zhang Jing was stunned—had all the copying been finished in just one night?

He flipped through the pages; every character was identical, with no shortcuts taken.

Cui Heng seemed tireless, his spirit vibrant.

“The books are done. Brother Zhang, take the carriage back to the county seat; you can still make the morning lesson.”

Zhang Jing’s face fell. The money he saved on ink and paper last night was barely enough. Taking a carriage back to the city meant his all-night effort was wasted!

“Thanks for your concern, Brother Cui. I’ll make it in time!”

He packed quickly and ran, nearly out of breath, finally making it to class.

But having barely slept and run all morning, he nodded off during the lesson and woke with a start, finally realizing—

That Cui Heng had done it on purpose.