Chapter 10: Brother Yun Becomes a Little Referee

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Interrupted by Yige’er and smoothed over by Li Fu, Zheng Zuosheng decided not to argue further with Meng Fen. Compared to Meng Fen, who was a chronic complainer, Zheng Zuosheng had a much gentler temperament.

Cradling Yunge’er, Zheng Zuosheng was straightforward and immediately let Li Fu lead the way.

The Li residence was not large. They were going to admire the flowers in a small garden near the little pavilion that Xin Niang and Madam Bu often took Yunge’er and Yige’er to visit. When Li Fu arrived with the group, the pavilion was already set with simple pastries and fresh fruit. Nearby, just beyond the railing, a dozen or so pots of chrysanthemums were blooming gorgeously.

These flowers had been specially sourced by Madam Bu’s younger brother, who went through great trouble to transport them to the Li estate. Later, when they were under Li Fu’s care, he even hired a gardener to tend them diligently, so now the blossoms were truly splendid.

Autumn was usually a somewhat lonely season.

Yet here, with good friends for company and a lively little boy to entertain them, plus the radiant chrysanthemums ahead, the season felt warm and lively instead.

“These chrysanthemums are really beautiful,” Meng Fen, who loved flowers, couldn’t help but praise them.

Seeing Meng Fen’s earlier scowl fade, Li Fu smiled and poured a cup of wine for Zheng Zuosheng, signaling him not to bother with Meng Fen’s sharp tongue. Meng Fen was quick to criticize anyone and anything; they had all experienced it before. It was pointless to get upset—if provoked, even they couldn’t out-argue Meng Fen.

Zheng Zuosheng let it go, and holding Yunge’er, he simply handed the child over to Meng Fen.

Yunge’er was indeed sturdy; after holding him for so long, Zheng Zuosheng’s arm was growing tired. Fine, let Meng Fen carry him for a while.

Though thin and somewhat stern-looking, Meng Fen was decisive and even showed a bit of boldness in action.

Now seeing Yunge’er handed over, Meng Fen smiled, reached out, and effortlessly took the boy in his arms, even weighing him with a quick lift.

“Hmm, Xiao Xian wasn’t wrong—you really are a solid little one.”

Yunge’er frowned and immediately babbled in baby talk, protesting. Why did everyone say he was fat every day? His mother clearly said he wasn’t.

“You’re so young and still daring to argue? You can’t compare to Ziming; you don’t even speak yet. If I say you’re fat, you just have to accept it.”

Goodness, Yunge’er didn’t even need baby talk to object now. Meng Fen was slyly taking a jab at both Zheng Zuosheng and his father.

Fortunately, Zheng Zuosheng didn’t want to quarrel. He took a sip of wine and laughed, “This little one is truly clever. He responds to us word by word and even listens to what we say. Chengji County isn’t far from here. If Xiao Xian is willing, he could come study with me someday.”

Among the three men, if anyone had the best scholarly aptitude, even Meng Fen wouldn’t dare dispute Zheng Zuosheng. When Zheng Zuosheng was young, he had been hailed as a prodigy, excelling in study—something they all couldn’t match.

Besides, Zheng Zuosheng’s official post at the central government was modest. Back when Emperor Zhu Zu was alive, he served as the Deputy Director of the Doctorate Office. This meant he was in charge of a school called the “Imperial Academy” under the central government. Every year, talented individuals recommended from across Liang Kingdom would gather there to study and deepen their knowledge, while also learning the culture of the officialdom.

Of course, where there are students, there must be teachers—called doctors. All these teachers reported to one principal, and that was Zheng Zuosheng.

This position was considered somewhat aloof and not heavily burdened, with a political significance that was neither too great nor too trivial.

So, Zheng Zuosheng was not only well-read himself, but also accustomed to teaching, which was why he spoke with such authority when addressing Yunge’er.

Li Fu was very ambitious. Since Zheng Zuosheng spoke so highly of Yunge’er, there was no reason to object, and he promptly agreed to have Yunge’er come study with Zheng Zuosheng.

But Yunge’er did not agree.

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Zheng Zuosheng looked like a strict teacher. Besides, Yunge’er was so young, and his father had already found a teacher for him—how could he allow that?

Yunge’er suddenly became anxious and started to speak, “No... no...”

“Eh?” Meng Fen immediately looked down to see.

Yunge’er’s small, white, round face was scrunched up, his tiny chubby hands flailing amusingly, as he said “no no” in a somewhat unclear pronunciation that sounded like “bao bao,” but he was indeed trying to speak.

Meng Fen burst out laughing. “Well, look at Yunge’er! He’s so little but already upset about not wanting to study, even managing to say it!”

Normally, children begin to say simple words like “mama” and “papa” around one year old. Yunge’er was born in early spring, so he was about nine months now. Though he was a bit earlier than most, it wasn’t by much. For instance, Zheng Zuosheng’s own grandson called “father” and “mother” at ten months, so while they were surprised Yunge’er spoke for the first time, they weren’t shocked he could talk.

Realizing he blurted out his words in a moment of panic, Yunge’er instinctively covered his mouth with his little hand.

In truth, he had been able to make similar sounds for half a month, but his pronunciation was still imperfect, so he had held back from speaking aloud, practicing quietly to surprise Xin Niang with a proper first word.

Hearing Yunge’er suddenly speak, Li Fu, a first-time father, couldn’t help but take the child back from Meng Fen and eagerly coax him, “Yunge’er, say ‘dad,’ ah... dad...”

Yunge’er stared seriously at Li Fu, thinking that if he snapped at his father like last time, Li Fu might get angry.

After a moment’s thought, Yunge’er reluctantly lowered his hand from his mouth and said, “Ah... dad.”

Though the sound was more like “Ah die,” it was clearly a calling!

Li Fu had originally thought that after checking Yunge’er and Yige’er, there was little hope for either child, so he didn’t care much for them.

But now, hearing Yunge’er’s crooked yet earnest call, a sudden warmth softened Li Fu’s heart.

Until then, he had never truly felt the emotions of fatherhood. Yunge’er was easy to care for, and his unusual behavior gave Li Fu some hope for his future.

But at this moment, Li Fu truly felt what it meant to be a father.

This was his bloodline, his offspring, the one who called him “dad”—whether or not Yunge’er would amount to much, he was his child. Li Fu thought of Yige’er and found himself becoming more patient with him as well.

“Yunge’er, say it again,” Li Fu seemed especially fond of hearing his child call him father.

Yunge’er let out a childish sigh.

He understood Li Fu; it wasn’t easy for a man his age to become a father, and he probably longed for a child deeply.

What else could Yunge’er do but fulfill his old father’s wish?

He could only raise his hand to pat Li Fu’s shoulder and then called “dad” twice more, making Li Fu so moved he drank several cups of wine in a row.

Meng Fen and the others didn’t tease Li Fu—they themselves had also become fathers late in life.

After discovering Yunge’er could talk, the three middle-aged men were delighted and continued drinking and chatting. But this time, they avoided state affairs and instead indulged in gossip.

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Especially Zheng Zuosheng, whose role as principal was no mere formality—he was practically like an intelligence chief. He shared all sorts of insider news about officials at the central government and amusing or scandalous stories about students entering the Imperial Academy. Yunge’er perked up his ears and listened with great interest.

As they drank and talked, night fell. A magnificent full moon hung beautifully in the sky.

The three men, slightly tipsy, felt the cool autumn breeze dissipate their earlier warmth. They grew comfortable and relaxed, gazing at the brilliant chrysanthemums bathed in moonlight, each suddenly becoming more refined.

They called for maidservants to bring ink, brushes, paper, and inkstones.

As for Yunge’er, Meng Fen settled him into a baby chair designed just for infants.

Li Fu, happiest of all, immediately began to write calligraphy and paint with great enthusiasm. After finishing, he read his work aloud and, quite drunk, asked Yunge’er how he thought it was.

Li Fu had composed an ode to the moon. His language was ornate, but since it was written quickly and he wasn’t particularly skilled at poetry, the piece was somewhat overelaborate and sounded mediocre.

Zheng Zuosheng looked at Yunge’er, who seemed genuinely pondering the quality of Li Fu’s poem.

Yunge’er glanced at his father, thought for a moment, then kindly applauded and grinned, saying, “Dad, good.”

Zheng Zuosheng laughed heartily—this really seemed like he understood.

Being more refined himself, he said, “Come now, today we’ll write odes, songs, and poems, and let Yunge’er be our little supervisor, judging whose work is best.”

Meng Fen, also drunk, rolled up his sleeves and agreed—he wouldn’t lose.

Yunge’er was amazed. These grown men were actually competing. But he loved the lively atmosphere and listened seriously as each read his own poem.

Yunge’er also observed discreetly. They wrote fewer odes, probably because they were longer and harder to compose.

Most wrote classic five-character poems, and a few wrote seven-character ones. Whoever finished would read theirs to Yunge’er.

In truth, Yunge’er didn’t understand much, especially since the poems were full of allusions they casually inserted, which he didn’t grasp.

Since he couldn’t understand, Yunge’er judged purely by how pleasant the lines sounded.

He applauded the good ones and shook his head at the bad. Whenever he shook his head, the poet would toss down his paper and mutter, “Doesn’t count, doesn’t count—let me write again.”

When applauded, the poet laughed heartily and placed the poem on the table, weighing it down with a large pomegranate.

Yunge’er was still young and prone to sleepiness; he usually went to bed early. But tonight, the Mid-Autumn Festival, he couldn’t fall asleep until well past midnight.

He didn’t even know when he finally dozed off, only vaguely hearing Xin Niang’s displeased voice saying, “Yige’er was sent home early, and now Yunge’er is left to catch the cold in the courtyard. What if he falls ill?”

Yunge’er didn’t catch the rest. Exhausted, his eyes uncontrollably closed, and he slipped fully into sleep.