Chapter Twenty-Nine: Disaster Strikes (Part Two) — First Update

“Grandfather, Xiao Ba came looking for you this afternoon.”

“Oh?”

“He seemed flustered, as if something was wrong. I asked him about it, but he wouldn’t tell me—just said he’d speak to you about it later.”

Zheng Shi’an, distracted, replied offhandedly, “I’ll ask him about it when I see him tomorrow.”

Once Yanqing had finished clearing the table and was about to return to his study, Zheng Shi’an grabbed his arm.

“Yanqing, the Dragon Shears are finished.”

“What?”

“Yes, today Xiong Dazui managed to forge ten pairs of the shears. You wouldn’t think it, but your design, though simple on paper, wasn’t easy to make. He’s been wrestling with it for days, and only now has he got it. I tried them myself—they work wonderfully.”

Given how Xiong Dazui refused to lower his standards even in such trying times, Yanqing could already guess the man’s character.

Simply put, Xiong Dazui was a stickler for perfection.

Set a task before such a man, and he would always try to do his utmost, no matter how small the job. That’s precisely why Yanqing had told Zheng Shi’an to hand the design to Xiong Dazui. The quality of the first batch was crucial; it had to be the very best.

Yanqing asked, “Did he bring one back?”

“He said he’d like to test them some more. As you know, the old man is meticulous—afraid his reputation might suffer, so he wants to try them out on a few things first. But I think they’re excellent. These Dragon Shears are so easy to use… just like this—”

As Zheng Shi’an spoke, he mimed cutting something with his hands.

“Grandfather, do you believe me now?” Yanqing asked.

“Heh, this really is a fine thing… But tell me, how is it that someone so young can come up with such a good idea?”

“Just don’t go back on your word, that’s all.”

Zheng Shi’an paused, a flicker of embarrassment crossing his face, but he nodded. “I won’t. I absolutely won’t.”

Truth be told, he had just been pondering whether to tell the rest of the Zheng family about this invention.

But Yanqing’s question made him recall his earlier words: if he went back on his promise, who would help the old craftsmen by Tianjin Bridge in the future? The Dragon Shears might make Xiong Dazui’s family prosperous, but to improve the lives of all the old craftsmen, more solutions were needed.

For that, Zheng Yanqing’s ideas were indispensable.

If Yanqing were truly displeased, who would think up ways to help?

“Grandfather, now that the shears are made, people must hear about them. Let Xiong Grandpa keep making them for now. I’ll come up with a plan in the next few days, and once I have it, we’ll talk about what comes next.”

“All right. I’ll talk to Dazui tomorrow.”

“There’s one more thing—tell Grandpa Xiong that the Dragon Shears, which we’ll now call ‘Xiong’s Scissors,’ must be named as such from here on out. And as for the accounts, you must insist on taking forty percent. Don’t look at me like that—there will be plenty of times in the future when we need money. Grandpa Xiong is no fool, and I expect he’ll talk to you about it tomorrow. Just remember: forty percent!”

In his heart, Zheng Shi’an had no wish to take such a large share.

But now he did as Yanqing said, trusting that the boy had his reasons.

With that settled, Yanqing returned to his room. After a long day’s toil, Zheng Shi’an too was weary, so he blew out the lamp and went to rest early.

Seated at his desk, Yanqing ground a full inkstone, spread out some paper, and took up his brush.

But tonight he was not writing from “The Romance of the Three Kingdoms,” but rather working on an assignment set by Li Ji. Nearly a month had passed since Li Ji had given him a copy of “Essay on the Brush,” instructing him to study it at home and submit his reflections in a month’s time.

Otherwise, his monthly evaluation would end with a grade of ‘D,’ and he’d be expelled from the academy.

Yanqing had no wish to leave the Dou Family Academy in such a fashion. He knew Li Ji’s temperament—he would never show favoritism, not even to his own disciple. And so, Yanqing had no choice but to write the essay.

Long ago, Wang Yishao had spent fifteen years mastering calligraphy, focusing especially on the Eight Principles contained in the character “eternity.” From these Eight Principles, all other strokes can be understood.

As I study the “Essay on the Brush,” I realize that these Eight Principles stem from clerical script, passed down by Cui Ziyu, Li Zhong, Wang Hou, and so on, summarizing the art of writing from ancient to modern times… The dot is made with the brush slanted; one must not keep the brush straight, but slant it to the right. The horizontal stroke is pressed, never flat, higher in the middle and lower at both ends, with the heart of the brush bearing down. The vertical is forced, but should not be entirely straight, for then it lacks strength; instead, the brush stands upright and leans left as it descends…

To be precise, this was a discursive essay.

Yanqing began with clerical script, but as he became absorbed in the task, his strokes grew ever more sharp and forceful. A month of diligent practice had tempered his brushwork, lending it a vigor and discipline reminiscent of Yan Zhenqing’s style. He was fully engrossed when suddenly a commotion erupted outside.

The gate was flung open, and dozens of people surged into the courtyard, led by Cui Daolin.

“Search the place!”

Yanqing had just reached the “sweeping stroke” when the sudden uproar made his hand tremble and scatter the ink.

He looked up, not yet on his feet, as a mob of servants rushed into the room and, without a word, pinned him to the floor.

“What are you doing?”

Cui Daolin strode into the study, sneering. “What am I doing? I’m here by the lady’s orders to recover stolen goods and seize the thief!”

“What stolen goods?” Yanqing demanded.

Cui Daolin ignored him, barking, “Search!”

The servants swarmed the study, leaving it in utter disarray. By this time, Zheng Shi’an, awakened by the noise, appeared in his underclothes, only to be bound and dragged out of his bedroom.

“Cui Daolin, what do you think you’re doing?” Zheng Shi’an demanded angrily.

Before he could finish, a servant called out, “Steward Cui, I’ve found it!”

He drew a small bundle from the bookshelf, opened it, and revealed a sash.

Yanqing recognized it at once—it was a gift from Li Ji, which he had treasured but never worn, keeping it on the bookshelf instead.

“That’s mine!” he cried.

Without a word, Cui Daolin strode over and slapped Yanqing hard across the face.

“You little thief! I’ve long suspected you were up to no good—never thought you’d be bold enough to steal the master’s Tang-nei sash. Still denying it at the very end? Heh, let’s see what you have to say for yourself before the master!”

He had never liked the Zhengs, grandfather or grandson.

During the last disturbance with the old soldiers, Cui Daolin was convinced that Zheng Shi’an had been behind it. He had found no proof and had been flogged dozens of times instead—though the lady had ordered some restraint, it had still been humiliating before the whole household.

So this slap was heavy; Yanqing’s cheek instantly swelled.

Zheng Shi’an’s heart ached at the sight, and he struggled, shouting, “Cui, you old dog! If you want to hit someone, hit me—leave my grandson alone!”

Among those accompanying Cui Daolin was Zheng Weishan.

He gripped Zheng Shi’an’s shoulder tightly and whispered, “Old steward, this time the eldest young master himself gave the order. Don’t make things harder for yourself. If you’re truly wronged, say so before the young master. The more you struggle now, the worse it’ll be for both of you.”

Then, turning to Cui Daolin with a stern face, he said, “Steward Cui, the eldest young master only told you to detain them, not to lay a hand on them.”

Though Zheng Weishan’s position was not high, his status was undeniable—Cui Daolin could not compare. Moreover, his martial skills were respected throughout the household, and even the lady herself treated him with deference.

Cui Daolin quickly put on a smile. “Brother Zheng, I was just overcome with anger and lost my head for a moment… Men, take this eunuch and the brat back for the master to deal with!”

He glanced at the brush scattered on the ground, his eyes lighting up.

“Brother Zheng, look at these brushes—fine Xuanzhou purple brushes. How could a lowly servant afford such things if not stolen? Gather up all the paper and brushes and bring them to the master as evidence.”

Yanqing realized at once this was a set-up.

As they were being led out, he struggled and shouted, “Uncle Zheng, please go to the Dou Family Academy and find Mr. Li Ji—he can vouch for me!”

Zheng Weishan paused, glancing at Yanqing.

Cui Daolin sneered, “You could call on the King of Heaven himself, and it would do you no good…”

Dozens of servants marched Yanqing and Zheng Shi’an out of the courtyard.

Zheng Weishan, at the rear, hesitated for a moment, then gritted his teeth, beckoned a servant over, and muttered, “Go at once to the Dou Family Academy and find a man named Li Ji. Tell him Zheng Yanqing is in trouble and begs his help.”

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A new week begins, and Old Xin humbly asks for your support. The first chapter of the week is now presented!