Chapter 883: A Tiger Father Has No Weak Sons

On the night before the New Year’s Eve curfew, firecrackers and fireworks filled both the Eastern and Western cities. It was the last day of the third year of the Xuande era, but not the end of an era of peace and prosperity. The current emperor had once been the crown prince, and once he ascended the throne, he swiftly quelled the rebellion in the Han regions, bringing peace and prosperity to the land. Thus, most commoners firmly believed that the emperor’s return would bring stability to the capital, which had been in turmoil for some time.

The capital itself proved this—everywhere there were sounds of joy as old traditions gave way to new ones, and every household exuded festivity. Soldiers who had gone on northern campaigns received grain in addition to the cash grants they had previously received; officials got extra time off beyond their usual holidays. Although not all craftsmen benefited, a few outstanding ones received praise and tangible rewards in the form of grain. Farmers had harvests better than last year, and even merchants profited greatly from the smooth flow of goods between the north and south. Moreover, many astute individuals made huge profits from overseas trade.

So, while there might be a few unhappy people in the capital, they were extremely rare—and certainly not including Zhang Yue. On New Year’s Eve, the members of Zhang’s three main families gathered in the house at the easternmost end of Wuanhou Hutong, creating a lively atmosphere. Zhang Yue was drunk beyond measure after being poured drinks by Zhang Jiu and Zhang Qi; it was said he even sang an unknown song on a whim. Fortunately, the hangover remedy prepared at home worked, and early on the first day of the new year, he was still energetic enough to wear formal clothes and attend the New Year’s court ceremony, returning only in the evening.

“Lunch is a banquet provided by the Imperial Kitchen, and tomorrow I still have to visit various households. This isn’t celebrating the New Year at all—it’s even more exhausting than working in the government office. At least there will be a few days of rest during the Lantern Festival. Otherwise, it would be better to stay in Guangdong and not come back. It’s not as cold there, nor are there so many chores!”

Leaning back on the kang, Zhang Yue saw that Du Wan was just teasing San San, Qiu Hen was talking with Jing Guan, and Amber smiled but didn’t offer any comfort. He sighed boredly, “I know what you’re going to say. It’s that I’m destined to work hard, right? I also want to give up and live a wealthy, leisurely life, but there’s no such thing as having it all in this world…”

As he spoke, he felt someone tug at his sleeve. Looking down, he saw Jing Guan, who must have come over unnoticed, blinking at him. Then she asked, “Dad, Mom has told us that you work hard outside because you care about our family. Why don’t you teach me some of your skills as an official? That way, I can help you in the future.”

Although it were words still tinged with childlike innocence, Zhang Yue wouldn’t take them as a joke. He sat up straight immediately, studying Jingguan for a while before smiling and saying, “Good boy. Remember what you said. If Dad needs you to do something, you must not shirk or be lazy. By the way, the other day I saw your writing practice book. Your handwriting is quite good—almost similar to mine, obviously because you’ve put in effort. It’s great that you’re so dedicated at such a young age!”
“Young master, of course! Jingguan’s handwriting was originally modeled after yours!”
Reminded by Qiuhen and seeing Du Wan looking at her with a half-smile, Zhang Yue immediately understood they were implying he was too busy with outside matters and had left his son entirely to the family members. Unfazed by the teasing, he cleared his throat, picked up Jingguan, and carried him onto the kang, saying seriously, “Since your handwriting is good, let me ask—do you have time tonight? Dad needs your help.”
“I have time, of course!” Jingguan’s eyes lit up as he nodded eagerly. “What does Dad want me to do?”
“Don’t worry. It’s something you can not only do but also do well.”
His words made no sense. Not only were Qiuhen and Amber confused, but even Du Wan was utterly puzzled. Seeing Zhang Yue jump down from the kang and lead his son outside, he turned back with a smile and waved before disappearing behind the door curtain. When the curtain fell, Du Wan looked at the other two women below in confusion, only to find them staring at her oddly as well.
Amber softly asked, “Although Jingguan is smart, he’s only seven years old. Does the young mistress really not know what the young master plans to have him do?”
“Judging by his reaction, it’s probably something spontaneous. But what did we just talk about…” Du Wan racked her brains for a while before suddenly feeling someone hug her from behind. Turning around, she saw her daughter and quickly picked her up and placed her on her knees. After thinking for a while, she finally decided that Qiuhen was right—Jingguan had been practicing writing after the models of the Shen brothers. Though young, his handwriting was already quite decent. She nodded thoughtfully and then changed the subject, saying, “It doesn’t matter. Let him act up. The son is his anyway. Even if he causes trouble, we can’t force him to commit murder or arson. It’s the first day of the month. Although we have guests tomorrow, there’s no need to get up so early. We’ll go to the kitchen ourselves to prepare some snacks for them to stay up all night.”

Zhang Yue naturally had no idea that Du Wan had already guessed part of his thoughts. He led Jing Guan to his study, Zixingzhai. Two young pages, newly selected by Lian Hu before the New Year to take care of writing supplies, came out to greet them. But Zhang Yue waved his hand, indicating they were not needed. After entering, he pulled back the curtain and saw that the charcoal fire was burning brightly, making the room extremely warm. He nodded in satisfaction. Approaching the desk, he gestured for Jing Guan to sit down.

Though he had seemed enthusiastic just moments ago, Jing Guan now felt a bit nervous. He looked up at his father for a long time, making sure he wasn’t joking, before obediently walking over and sitting down. But when he saw his father take a stack of small sheets of paper, hand him a wolf-hair brush, and then personally pour water to grind ink, his eyes widened in surprise—he didn’t know whether to go help or ask what was going on. It wasn’t until his father signaled for him to dip the brush in ink that he anxiously asked, “Father, what exactly do you want me to do?”

“Didn’t you say you wanted to help me? Since you practice imitating my handwriting every day, it would be good if you wrote a few letters for me today.”

Write… letters? Jing Guan almost popped his eyes out. He stammered and confirmed again, getting an affirmative answer before believing that the task for the night was indeed writing letters. But practicing from models was one thing, and actually writing was another. Although he had learned to read and write early, his handwriting was still immature, and his wrist strength wasn’t sufficient. Yet, seeing his father smiling at him, the little boy gritted his teeth, rolled up his sleeves high, and nodded, showing he was ready.

“To Secretary Yun Han, it has been several years since we last parted in Nanjing. I’ve heard that the esteemed secretary has been unwell. I once recommended renowned doctors and medicines from Guangdong. I wonder if there has been any improvement recently…”

Zhang Yue read the short 200-word letter slowly, one character at a time, while Jing Guan wrote carefully, one character at a time, progressing slowly and occasionally looking up to confirm. Finally, when he finished, he quickly blew on the ink-stained sheets and handed them to his father, looking quite anxious. To his great surprise, after reading it from start to finish, Zhang Yue nodded in approval. “Not bad. It’s at least 50% similar.”

Seeing the surprised and delighted expression on the little boy’s face after his praise, Zhang Yue smiled even wider. He gently placed the written letter on a shelf to dry, then signaled Jingguan to sit back down, and immediately dictated another letter. Similar to the previous one sent to Zhao Jin, the Minister of Punishments in Nanjing, this letter was addressed to Li Qing, the Minister of War in Nanjing. Soon after, he dictated another letter for Mu Xin, the military governor of Nanjing. By then, six small pieces of paper were already on the shelf, and he stopped. He stepped forward to gently rub his son’s wrist and then patted his head.

“Well done.”

Jingguan was overjoyed, but having been constantly encouraged by his mother Du Wan, he didn’t become arrogant. Instead, he became curious: “Father, usually isn’t it Mother and Second Concubine who write the replies for you? Also, the beginning of this letter is so straightforward, but the end is very vague. What does it mean?”

“Nothing special. You’re still too young to understand. I’ll explain it to you in detail in a couple of years. Remember, don’t tell anyone about tonight’s events, except your mother and the others.”

Seeing Jingguan frown, Zhang Yue finally nodded but still didn’t explain. Instead, he went straight ahead to put the first letter to Zhao Jin into an envelope and seal it. Soon, the second and third letters were done as well. After sealing them all and stamping them with his private seal, he put the letters in a box and locked it, then turned to lead his son out. Just as they left the study, he was about to send a servant to take Jingguan back to the inner courtyard when he saw two lanterns lit up at the courtyard gate. Moments later, he saw Du Wan and Hu Bo Qiuhen surrounded by people. He quickly took Jingguan to greet them.

Du Wan smiled with a pout: “Oh, have you two finished your task?”

“Mother, I’m exhausted!”

Jingguan broke free from Zhang Yue’s hand and naturally rushed into Du Wan’s arms. When he saw the tray and copper pot in the people’s hands, his face lit up with longing. He eagerly looked at Hu Bo and Qiuhen. Sure enough, before Du Wan could say anything, Qiuhen winked and said, “Don’t worry. It’s a festival today, and you’ll get some of this late-night snack too. It’s freshly made jiuhuang wontons with fresh vegetables grown in our greenhouse. Once the hot pot is heated and the wontons are dropped into the bone broth, they’ll be so fresh you won’t want to stop eating them.”

At this time of year, people go to bed early. Zhang Yue was busy during the day, but he always tried not to stay up late at night, and he ate very little late-night food—after all, he still remembered some modern health habits, such as eating less at night. Since he himself followed these habits, his son did even more so. But today was the first day of the new year, and even the usually early-to-bed Jing Guan was persuaded by him to make an exception. He naturally wouldn’t turn down such a simple request to have some late-night food.

So, the group went into the study. A small square table was set up in the central hall, and after arranging the charcoal fire and copper hot pot, he said there was no need for service and asked the maids to leave, so that only they could eat slowly by themselves. Jing Guan had a small appetite. Not only did Zhang Yue keep a close eye on him, but Du Wan also watched closely. After eating a few bites of vegetables and wontons, he was ordered not to eat any lamb before it even went into the pot. So, Qiu Hen simply suggested sending Jing Guan back first, and she got up to take him away.

As soon as Qiu Hen took Jing Guan away, Du Wan looked at Zhang Yue with a half-smile and said, “Now you can tell us, right? You brought Jing Guan here tonight to help you because you’re interested in his handwriting, which resembles yours so much?”

Seeing Hu Bo’s unshocked expression, Zhang Yue knew she must have guessed most of it, so he shrugged and smiled casually, “That’s right. Besides my own handwriting, everyone now knows that I have a capable wife who writes letters for me. Those who are familiar with our handwriting will surely notice if it’s Jing Guan instead. If they do… the unrest that followed the recent upheavals was overt, but the next phase will be hidden. Yu Qian is still in the south, and I recommended him. Maybe some people will blame me for this. So, I have to be more careful with the letters sent to Nanjing.”

Nanjing had all six ministries and five government offices, but in reality, it was nothing more than a nursing home. Yet, everyone there still had a chance of being reinstated, like Huang Fu, who was now being recalled to head the Ministry of Revenue. Plus, several of them were Zhang Yue’s former superiors, so there had been quite a few letters exchanged over the years. With such turbulent times, some wanted to take advantage of the situation to return to court, while others wanted to use others as leverage for their own gain. Therefore, Du Wan frowned and, after hesitating for a moment, asked, “Did you hear some rumors?”

“It will be too late by the time we hear anything.” Zhang Yue shook his head. Seeing that Amber remained silent, he sighed and said, “Send back the letters from other places as they are. The message should be simple—there’s no need to mention matters in the capital; just comfort them. Be brief when addressing relatives and old friends. As for former colleagues, there’s no need to talk about them at all; they’re officials in other regions, and it’s enough for them to handle their own affairs well. By the way, I heard the princess is ill. Wan Mei, find time to visit her. Amber, go back and tell Qiu Hen to help Jing Mei take more charge of household affairs. That girl will be one year older after the New Year, and we can’t keep her here for another two years—after all, Xiao Fang is also getting older.”

Amber simply nodded silently. Du Wan thought carefully but still didn’t ask her father, Du Zhen, how he had discussed things with Zhang Yue. The three of them chatted idly at the table until half of the hot pot was gone. Then Qiu Hen rushed back, rubbed her hands together, and sat down before saying cheerfully, “She must be exhausted. As soon as Xiao Jing got into bed, she fell asleep and soon started snoring. Young master, you’re really heartless to let such a young child work herself this hard.”

“Who made her swear on my behalf?”

Zhang Yue remembered Jing Guan’s proud posture and couldn’t help but show a hint of satisfaction. Although teaching this son was mostly not his achievement, what could be more proud for a father than his son taking responsibility on his own? That night, he wrote six letters on small slips of paper, with two more rewritten due to incorrect strokes. The girl didn’t complain at all and just kept rewriting at the table. It must be said—great fathers produce great sons. His son was excellent, truly excellent!