Chapter 3: Children Should Not Do Wrong

Yunge tried to seize those thoughts swirling in his mind, but they were like clouds in the sky—seemingly within reach, yet scattering the moment he grasped for them.

As his mind wandered, Yunge’s eyelids gradually drooped. Though he’d slept through the afternoon, drowsiness overtook him once more.

Xin Niang watched his sleepy little face, and her heart melted with tenderness. Gently patting his back, she soothed him into a deep sleep. Afterwards, she dimmed the oil lamp, ensuring Yunge could rest more comfortably.

Days like this were truly the best of times.

When Yunge awoke, daylight already streamed into the room. He babbled and waved his hands, immediately attracting the attention of the maidservant.

This maid had served in the Li household even before Xin Niang was brought over by Li Fu. Though she was quiet and rarely spoke, her efficiency in handling matters had earned Xin Niang’s trust. Otherwise, with no one else in the room, Xin Niang would not have felt at ease leaving Yunge in her care.

After cleaning Yunge and dressing him in fresh, brightly colored clothes, the maid wrapped him up and carried him outside.

Though Yunge was already several months old, it was Xin Niang’s first time as a mother, so she tended him with painstaking care. She would not even let him leave her own chambers without checking the weather. Should the wind blow a little stronger, she’d keep him indoors for fear he might catch a chill. Today, however, the weather was fine, so the maid took him out to let him feel the earth’s breath.

Outside, Li Fu was having breakfast with Xin Niang.

In truth, Li Fu’s work kept him very busy. Perhaps it was simply that the emperor—famed for his relentless drive—not only gave officials few holidays but also set long working hours. Unless there was a force majeure, such as heavy snow, torrential rain, or earthquakes, everyone was expected to report for duty at five in the morning. For those living further away, that meant rising at four; for the lucky ones closer by, perhaps half past four.

Thus, Li Fu seldom shared breakfast with his family. Either he’d eat early or sign in at his workplace and eat later. While he was a strict man, he wasn’t so unreasonable as to force his wife and child to rise at dawn just to eat with him.

Such a schedule made family breakfasts a rarity.

Yesterday, after chatting with Xin Niang about Yunge for a long time, Li Fu realized he missed his son. So, after signing in that morning, he slipped back home.

The moment he saw Yunge, he raised his hand to take the little fellow into his arms. Yunge rarely cried, which was one of the main reasons Li Fu liked holding him.

“My, our Yunge is sturdier than other children,” Li Fu remarked, weighing him with his hand. Indeed, he was heavier than when he’d been born.

Yunge turned his head this way and that. As soon as Li Fu sat down, Yunge’s eyes were fixed on the breakfast spread.

The morning meal looked quite decent: congee and steamed buns, though these buns resembled small, round cakes.

“Were these available in this era?” Yunge mused, puzzled. But he quickly lost interest in that thought, his gaze lingering instead on Xin Niang.

She sipped her bowl of congee, occasionally picking at the pickled vegetables before her, relishing each bite.

Li Fu, holding Yunge with one arm and a bowl of congee with the other, soon noticed the longing in Yunge’s eyes.

“Yunge, do you want to eat?” he teased.

Xin Niang, catching his meaning, couldn’t resist holding out her bowl to tease Yunge as well. Sure enough, his eyes followed every movement of her bowl and chopsticks, which delighted her immensely.

Yunge was not fond of milk, for reasons unknown. He was a well-behaved child but, like some adults, rather particular.

Li Fu joined in the teasing, dipping his chopsticks in the congee and bringing them to Yunge’s mouth. Just moments ago, the child had looked so eager, yet now, as the chopsticks neared, Yunge pressed his lips tightly together and turned his head away.

“You don’t want it?” Li Fu tried again.

Yunge babbled and squirmed, refusing stubbornly.

Xin Niang, understanding her son’s quirks, knew he could be quite the little clean freak. She quickly had the maid fetch a new set of bowl and chopsticks. With fresh congee, she offered it to Yunge—this time, he bit down on the chopstick at once.

Alas, he had no teeth yet, so his gums couldn’t hold on. Xin Niang easily pulled the chopstick away.

Li Fu found this fascinating. Though Xin Niang had told him about Yunge’s peculiar preferences, witnessing such distinct demands from a baby was amusing.

Li Fu didn’t think Yunge was being fussy—what did it matter to use an extra set of dishes? More curious, he wondered if Yunge was doing it on purpose. So he picked up two chopsticks, one old and one new, and offered both. Yunge, without hesitation, went for the new one.

Seeing this, Li Fu couldn’t help but feel a surge of delight.

Throughout history, extraordinary people always showed some oddities as children. Although the old Daoist had said both boys were rather ordinary, who could say for sure? Maybe he’d missed something.

Li Fu, feeling his own abilities to be average, could only hope for an exceptional child—his hopes pinned on the next generation.

He resolved then to invite the old Daoist to the “Zhuazhou” ceremony when the time came, to see if any changes had occurred in either Yige or Yunge. After all, one should never stop dreaming.

Buoyed by these thoughts, Li Fu lingered at home, sneaking extra time for breakfast, holding Yunge, and rekindling affection with Xin Niang.

Later that morning, as Yunge was being spoon-fed congee from his own little bowl and chopsticks, Mrs. Bu arrived carrying her child as well.

Her name was Bu Lingying, daughter of a small merchant. Yunge didn’t know her well, but his mother always insisted they kept to themselves, though she sometimes indulged in paranoia, wondering if Mrs. Bu meant them harm.

At times, Xin Niang would also complain that Mrs. Bu was difficult and petty; once, the two had even quarreled.

Yunge always responded with a few baby babbles to humor his mother. He thought she worried too much—Mrs. Bu had been ill just days ago and hardly had the energy to cause trouble. But since it was his mother, he sided with her out of loyalty.

It was Yunge’s first time seeing Mrs. Bu. She appeared quite young, but after bearing a child, she, like Xin Niang, had grown softer and more rounded.

Mrs. Bu greeted Li Fu and sat down to eat as well.

Yunge glanced at the child in Mrs. Bu’s arms—his elder brother, in fact. But this “big brother” showed no sense of responsibility at all, wriggling and fussing in Mrs. Bu’s embrace.

He kicked at her thigh, drooled on her shoulder, and whenever she moved, he squawked and flailed, clinging to whatever his little hands could grab. Having suffered from Yige’s grip before, Mrs. Bu wore neither earrings nor much in the way of hair ornaments.

Watching Yige’s antics, Xin Niang hugged her own son all the more tightly, beaming with pride.

“Oh dear!”

Yunge was still watching his brother when Mrs. Bu winced in pain—Yige had seized her hair and was pulling with all his might.

Xin Niang winced in sympathy, imagining the pain.

Li Fu set down his bowl and chopsticks, glanced at Yige, then at Yunge—who looked quite solemn for a baby—deciding he’d had enough of holding Yige.

Mrs. Bu could only coax her son patiently. At this age, he couldn’t understand words, and his hands were so tiny that she dared not pry his fingers open for fear of hurting him.

“Babble!”

Yunge, displeased, gripped Xin Niang’s shoulder and tried to stand. Xin Niang hurried to steady him.

“What’s wrong, Yunge?” she asked as he waved his arms, straining toward Mrs. Bu.

Fearing he might fall, Xin Niang moved closer.

Mrs. Bu, a little flustered, blushed fiercely.

With a smack, Yunge’s little hand landed squarely on Yige’s head.

“Waa!” Yunge scolded him in his own invented baby language—how could he behave like that? They were both just children; children shouldn’t do naughty things.

Yige, stunned, looked up at Yunge in confusion.

Smack, smack. This time Yunge patted Yige’s hand, the one clutching Mrs. Bu’s hair.

Whether in retaliation or because he understood Yunge’s baby babble, Yige slowly released his grip. Mrs. Bu quickly turned her head and hugged Yige tightly, restraining his hands.

Now, that was a well-behaved elder brother.

Satisfied, Yunge babbled a laugh and nestled quietly back into Xin Niang’s arms.

Mrs. Bu, like Li Fu earlier, had never seen such a well-mannered child. She watched Xin Niang return to her seat, stealing several glances in awe. Looking down at her own wriggling son, she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of envy.

Over breakfast, Mrs. Bu realized just how easy Yunge was to care for.

But at such a young age, he’d already stopped nursing?

If Xin Niang truly had no milk, they could always hire a wet nurse. Surely, with such a good-natured child, her husband would not let him go without.

Still, Yunge was not her own child, so Mrs. Bu kept her thoughts to herself.

Yet after breakfast, her son Yige seemed quite taken with Yunge, constantly squirming to reach him.

Yige was still small, and though Mrs. Bu could restrain him, his cries—“ah ah”—quickly frayed her nerves. Since Yige’s birth, he seemed to have poured all his energy into crying. Mrs. Bu loved her son, but over time, his crying wore on her.

“Perhaps they should play together?” Mrs. Bu tentatively suggested to Xin Niang.

Li Fu actually agreed. Letting the two brothers spend time together would help them bond. After a few words of advice—since he’d skipped out on work—he returned to his duties.

Xin Niang hesitated. Yunge was sturdy, but Yige was no less so. Yunge was gentle by nature, and she worried Yige might bully him.

But since they were brothers, and Li Fu had instructed her, she supposed it was worth a try.

At last, both children were placed on the same couch.

No sooner were they settled than Yige rolled over deftly. He couldn’t quite crawl yet, but with all his might, he reached for Yunge—seemingly intent on seeking vengeance for the smacks on his head.