Chapter 18: The First Word in Life

“Why isn’t Yun still sleepy tonight?” Xin Niang, sewing a new garment, glanced over at Yun, who still looked lively and spirited, and couldn’t help but ask. Previously, Yun’s routine had been very regular; at this hour, he was usually already asleep and rarely still playing with Gouzi.

The room was warm with several charcoal fires burning, so Yun had taken off the heavy clothes he wore outside. Now, feeling more at ease, he was playing rock-paper-scissors with Gouzi on the floor. Nearby lay some soft little cakes and condensed milk, so if Yun got hungry, he could snack a bit.

Yun himself didn’t know why he felt so energetic—perhaps it was because he had napped a lot during the day.

After playing for a while, Gouzi stood up and went to adjust the oil lamp for Xin Niang.

The room brightened considerably, and Gouzi suddenly exclaimed, “Yun, look! It’s snowing outside.”

This was the first snowfall of the year—and the first snow Yun had ever seen since he was born.

Yun immediately dropped the little cake in his hand and stepped over the soft quilt laid on the floor, rushing to the window. But he was too short to see anything.

Quickly, Gouzi lifted Yun up. Yun puffed and struggled, grabbing the window sill with both hands, trying hard to peer outside. Xin Niang smiled softly, put down her sewing, and moved two chairs over.

“Step up on these, but be careful,” she said.

Yun grinned and stepped onto the chair. Gouzi opened the window wider than before.

That night, though windless, the snow fell gently. Even more enchanting was the cold, clear full moon hanging in the sky, casting a pale glow. Under the quiet moonlight, the snowflakes drifted down silently, creating a scene of rare and special beauty.

Yun rested his chin on his hands, eyes sparkling with interest as he watched the snow. “Such a unique night view… so beautiful.”

Gouzi’s eyes brightened too.

He had never seen snow from this angle before.

In the past, snowfall was the thing the family feared most—it meant hunger would be accompanied by cold.

But now, he was well-fed and warmly clothed, with the charcoal fire warming the room. He leaned quietly against the clean windowpane, watching the large snowflakes fall.

It made him feel how small and insignificant people really are.

And, unexpectedly, snowflakes were so light and pure, so beautiful—like fairies dancing in the moonlight.

Xin Niang saw the two children so absorbed in the snow that she didn’t stop them from staying by the window longer. Instead, she fetched two more sets of clothes for them to wear, so they wouldn’t catch a chill.

That night, Yun fell asleep watching the snowflakes.

Even his sleep-talking was about how beautiful the snow was.

Xin Niang kept watching Yun, smiling at his wide grin, thinking he must be having a wonderful dream of snowy scenery.

And Gouzi had the best sleep he had had on a snowy day.

The next morning, when Yun woke up, the air was noticeably colder than the day before. As soon as Yun stirred, Xin Niang gently pressed the covers over him, telling him to stay in bed a little longer.

Inside the room, Gouzi and the maid were using a small stove to warm Yun’s clothes, so that after being pressed over the heat, they would carry some warmth and not feel cold when worn.

When Yun was dressed and carried outside, he immediately saw the thick blanket of snow in the courtyard, reaching up to Xin Niang’s calves. It was clear the snow had fallen all night.

The snow was so deep that Aunt Guo and Aunt Pan were already out shoveling it.

Yun clapped his hands excitedly and shouted, “Auntie, let’s build a snowman! Build a snowman!”

The maid behind Xin Niang chuckled, covering her mouth in amusement.

Aunt Guo immediately replied in a rough voice, “Alright, I’ll make a big one for you, right by your window so you can see it when you push it open.”

“Yi-ge’er wants one too!” Yun pointed toward Yi-ge’er’s house.

Aunt Pan laughed heartily. “Our Yun even thinks about Yi-ge’er.”

Yun beamed proudly, enjoying the praise.

Xin Niang patted him on the shoulder with a helpless smile and hurried him off to breakfast. Today, Li Fu hadn’t slipped away but was back for breakfast—after all, it had snowed last night, and with another night on the way, there were worries about roof collapses and other disasters in Long County. He was busy handling affairs.

By the time Yun finished breakfast, Aunt Guo and the others had finished making the snowmen, but Li Fu still hadn’t returned.

Yun was not in a hurry. He wriggled free from Xin Niang’s arms and slowly shuffled, like a little rolling meatball, over to the snowbank.

He reached out to grab some snow but was immediately scooped back up by Xin Niang.

“What are you trying to do, Yun?”

“Make a little snowman. That big snowman is for Mother.”

Xin Niang’s heart softened at his words but still wouldn’t let him play in the snow. Yun was always carefully nurtured—although healthy, he was still young and must not be careless.

Yun could reason, but Yi-ge’er, finally allowed outside for fresh air, was seeing snow for the first time. Goodness, he was like a wild little creature, flailing about excitedly.

Since Mrs. Bu couldn’t manage him well, she and the others filled a wooden basin with some snow and took it inside for Yi-ge’er to play with. But the room was warm, so the snow melted quickly.

Mrs. Bu told Yi-ge’er that the snow was all gone. Yi-ge’er, stubborn and single-minded, believed it and soon forgot about the snow entirely.

Yun watched and shook his head.

Yi-ge’er was so easy to fool, but alas, he was also hard to reason with.

At least Yi-ge’er got to touch some snow; Yun hadn’t touched any at all. But that afternoon, Yun learned his first written character: “snow.”

Li Fu returned, looking tired but undeterred in his determination to educate the two children.

He first read to Yi-ge’er, then called Yun over to recognize characters.

Recognizing characters also meant practicing writing, but the brush was too soft, and Yun’s small hands barely managed to hold it properly. His fingers were unaccustomed to the fine control needed, so his writing was always crooked and uneven.

This wasted too much paper, which Li Fu found a pity. Eventually, he brought over a practice sand tray.

It was a flat wooden board surrounded by a wooden frame, with a layer of fine sand in the middle. Yun could write characters on it with a wooden stick.

It was a magic tool for practicing writing in this era.

Yun gripped the wooden stick, finding it easier to use than a brush—it was firmer and easier to apply pressure. But he was not happy.

“Father, you only said to learn one character a day, but you didn’t say we had to write it too.”

Yun frowned, feeling Li Fu was being sly—a big bad dad. And he was so young, only one year old! It was unfair to make him learn and write; that was two things in one day, not just one!

Li Fu leisurely glanced at his book and smiled. “I only said learn one character a day, not that you only had to recognize it and not write it. You agreed to learn one yesterday—you can’t back out today.”

Yun glared at Li Fu angrily.

Adults could play word games like that? Adults could cheat?

Li Fu felt a bit guilty under that gaze. But seeing how quickly Yun had recognized the characters, he didn’t want to waste his talent.

Yun was very clever. If he didn’t push a little while he was young, he might waste his potential as he grew.

His two sons were actually quite good, but Yi-ge’er was too stubborn, and Yun too lazy—they both needed some discipline.

Seeing Li Fu unmoved, Yun could only grumble and lower his head to practice writing.

Using the wooden stick was much better than the brush. Yun found he was surprisingly familiar with controlling the stick, as if he had practiced before. But as a child, his strength was uneven, so his strokes were sometimes too heavy, making deep marks in the sand and the characters lacked smoothness and roundness.

Seeing his first written character was a bit crooked, Yun sneaked a glance at Li Fu, then quickly erased it.

He didn’t want to practice, but if he did, the writing had to be good. He refused to let his characters be crooked or asymmetric—if Li Fu saw that, he’d definitely tell Old Master Zheng and Old Master Meng.

Old Master Meng’s tongue was sharp, and Old Master Zheng was the king of gossip—his past mistakes would be spread everywhere.

No, no, Yun shook his head hastily.

His dark history must be crushed in the cradle.

Li Fu looked up from his book and peeked at Yun, who sat in front of the sand tray, holding the wooden stick and writing seriously.

Li Fu nodded in approval.

Actually, Yun didn’t realize it himself, but although he was a bit lazy, whenever given a task, he was always earnest and tried to do his best. With such a personality, he needed a strict teacher to keep him in check—otherwise, Yun would certainly try to avoid work whenever he could.

Immersed in his own world, writing and writing, Yun felt the wooden stick becoming more familiar in his hand.

In a daze, he seemed to see a grown-up version of himself.

The grown-up Yun wore blue and white clothes, sitting in a room surrounded by white walls. Above him hung two lines: “Quiet upon entering class, learn upon taking your seat.”

The grown-up Yun rapidly worked through sheets of test papers, the neat and clean regular script flowing swiftly from his hand onto the pages.

“Your handwriting is beautiful—no points lost on the college entrance exam’s presentation,” a vague voice said beside him.

The voice startled Yun awake. He realized he wasn’t in that strange classroom but in his father’s study. His mind had just been flooded with strange memories again—something Yun was used to by now.

Smacking his lips, Yun looked down and saw he had written a very beautiful “snow” character in the sand tray.

He immediately pushed those memories aside and happily called out, “Father, Yi-ge’er, come quickly and look at the character I wrote!”

Unfortunately, it wasn’t on paper—otherwise, he could have shown it to Mother.

Yun thought to himself: if it were on paper, it would be the very first character of his life. He would want to keep it forever, just like the tassels he had stubbornly pulled off Li Fu’s clothes, the first sachet Mother had given him, the little wooden horse Yi-ge’er gave him, and Gouzi’s bamboo whistle—all carefully treasured.