Chapter 7: The Teacher’s Punishment
Wave after wave of sharp pain still pulsed through her leg. A halo of light the size of a copper coin appeared in her dilated pupils.
Feng Yuzhen blinked, and the fog that had veiled her vision slowly dissipated. It turned out that Cui Jingkong had gathered a pile of dry branches and fallen leaves from some corner and had started a fire in the dim cave.
With some strength returning to her body, she propped herself up on her elbows and thanked him in a low voice.
“Thank you… Kong’ge’er.”
Her brother-in-law had truly helped her a great deal today—finding the hairpin, sheltering from the rain, setting her bone. If she were to thank him properly for each and every thing, her lips would probably wear thin.
The situation had been urgent before, but now, thinking back, she couldn’t help but feel shy. Feng Yuzhen was, after all, a new bride, and parts of her body like her legs and feet had only ever been touched by her husband, Cui Ze.
Now, the skin he had touched felt as if ants were crawling over it, a tingling, numb sensation, as if her brother-in-law’s warm, damp hand were still holding her.
Seeing that she was awake and her eyes were darting away, not daring to look at him, Cui Jingkong simply gave a noncommittal “mm.”
Perhaps because the other party was so completely unconcerned, Feng Yuzhen’s initial awkwardness quickly faded.
She opened her bundle, found the leftover half of a yellow corn bun from noon, and shared it with Cui Jingkong. They swallowed it cold, which was better than nothing.
The rain grew heavier, as if an angry deity in the heavens had punched a hole through to the mortal realm. A dense curtain of raindrops formed a transparent wall outside the cave, like a small waterfall cascading down.
The two sat by the bonfire for warmth, and Feng Yuzhen’s thoughts grew heavier.
She didn’t know if the rain would stop in the afternoon. If they were delayed any longer, it would be too late even if the clouds dispersed. Plus, the mountain path would be muddy and slippery. They probably wouldn’t be able to get down the mountain today.
But to spend a whole night in the mountains where there might be tigers and wolves…
“It’s very safe here.”
The cool voice came abruptly. Feng Yuzhen suddenly realized she had just mumbled her thoughts aloud.
“How do you…” know?
Her words trailed off. Cui Jingkong’s practiced manner of starting a fire and the faint characters carved on the rock wall gave her a clue.
She pulled a vague memory from the depths of her mind. She vaguely remembered that after Cui Jingkong was cast out of the temple, he had spent a long time living alone in the wild, exposed to the elements, sleeping in caves at night.
Thunder roared outside, but a strange silence filled the cave. Cui Jingkong didn’t press her on her unfinished sentence, and the two fell into silence again.
After an unknown amount of time, Feng Yuzhen was drowsy, struggling to stay awake, when she heard Cui Jingkong suddenly speak. “Sister-in-law’s leg, it doesn’t look like it was from birth.”
This leg—Feng Yuzhen was wide awake, subconsciously pulling it back.
She hugged her knees, her entire body like a fully drawn bow. She couldn’t help but straighten her back, every part of her body expressing strong resistance.
But Cui Jingkong didn’t flinch. He met her gaze head-on, his eyes following her like a shadow, as if determined to force her to reopen her healed wounds for his viewing pleasure, to let him spectate her bloody past.
Feng Yuzhen sneered inwardly. After spending these few days together, her opinion of Cui Jingkong had actually changed slightly. She had even started to doubt the contents of the storybook.
But reality had struck her like a heavy hammer.
Whether he was the poor scholar of today or the treacherous, powerful minister of the future, Cui Jingkong’s sinister and crazed nature was carved into his very bones, seeping out from his jade-like exterior at every opportunity.
As the stalemate continued, Cui Jingkong added more wood to the fire.
Feng Yuzhen was very reluctant to speak, but… but.
He tossed in some dry twigs and leaves, and the dim firelight suddenly leaped up. The young man’s face blurred and distorted in the dancing flames.
For a fleeting moment, from his brow bone to the tip of his nose, the sharp angles softened and became rougher. Incredibly, for a split second, he bore a five or six-tenths resemblance to Cui Ze. She was instantly captivated by this overlapping image.
So she convinced herself: Why make such a scene? Would it kill me to say it? I’ve walked on this ugly, lame leg for so many years. Digging out the festering wound for someone’s amusement doesn’t seem that hard now.
Perhaps it was because of that slight resemblance, or perhaps it was just the warmth of the fire. Feng Yuzhen forced herself to speak. “I… I fell when I was eleven.”
“How did you fall?”
“My fifth brother and I went up the mountain to pick fruit. He said I was nagging him.”
Her voice was very small, so soft it made no sound when it landed.
“He pushed you.”
Cui Jingkong’s tone was indifferent as he finished the short story for her.
Feng Yuzhen said no more. She couldn’t utter another sound. Her lips were pressed into a stiff line, her face suddenly filled with sorrow.
A numb expression quickly veiled her features. The widowed sister-in-law hugged her leg and sat motionless, like a compassionate clay statue of a Bodhisattva.
The rain had stopped at some point. Night fell, and the temperature dropped sharply. She didn’t know if it was from the cold or some other reason, but she couldn’t stop shivering, and cracks appeared on the Bodhisattva statue.
Cui Jingkong undid the frog buttons and took off his thin outer jacket. He walked over to her and draped it snugly over her legs.
Without the outer garment, the young man’s figure was clearly outlined by his thin clothes. His firm muscles, broad shoulders, and narrow waist were all revealed as he moved.
Startled by his sudden show of kindness, Feng Yuzhen froze for a moment, then timidly clutched his thin jacket. Only then did she belatedly realize that perhaps Cui Jingkong had really just been asking, with no intention of making fun of her.
She felt uneasy for having misjudged a “good person.” She tried to speak several times, but seeing Cui Jingkong’s not-so-gentle face, she closed her mouth again.
In the complete silence, Feng Yuzhen couldn’t hold on any longer and fell into a deep sleep. The bonfire burned out, and the light faded.
Cui Jingkong was hidden in the darkness of the mountain forest at night, clearly more at ease and relaxed than during the day.
He rubbed the ring of teeth marks his widowed sister-in-law had left on the back of his hand, lost in thought.
It wasn’t hard to guess that Feng Yuzhen’s fifth brother had certainly not received the punishment he deserved for what he did. Perhaps he had been blatantly favored and protected by their parents.
Pain, anger, and helplessness had eventually mixed into numbness. Subtly, she had swallowed the crime her own brother had committed against her. The victim was willing to conceal the truth for the perpetrator.
That expression, a self-destructive tendency hidden within selfless devotion, was akin to maternity—it reminded him of paintings of compassionate mothers.
Cui Jingkong had no mother. The vessel that had given birth to him had lost all signs of life the moment he was born.
The tender love of a compassionate mother, praised in poems, was thus an unsolved mystery to him. As a result, his interactions with women throughout his life had been as blank as a white sheet of paper.
To this day, the most significant impressions in his understanding of women had all been formed during the days and nights of the past half month.
The hand that dangled over the edge of the bed at night, the slender arm revealed when she rolled up her sleeve, the twisted, protruding left calf—the good and the bad, all came from this gentle, honest widowed sister-in-law.
Cui Jingkong was wearing only a single layer of clothing, but he didn’t feel cold at all. He walked over to the sleeping woman, squatted down silently, and gently untied her right trouser leg, then rolled it up.
Her right leg was perfectly intact, retaining its natural, beautiful length. The curve of her straight, slender leg was smooth, its texture almost like mutton-fat jade, glowing with a moist luster under the clear moonlight.
For once, he felt a twinge of regret.
Such a beautiful calf and ankle should have come in a pair.
*
The next day at dawn, the two of them walked down the mountain. Cui Jingkong supported Feng Yuzhen. In truth, her sprained ankle wasn’t a major issue, with only a slight pain remaining when she put weight on it.
Cui Jingkong had already broken his promise. Without resting, he rushed to the private academy as soon as he returned to the village.
The only private academy in the area was located near the border between Qianshan Village and the neighboring village, not too far from the west of the village. Cui Jingkong quickened his pace and arrived in half a shichen.
Standing before the grand, red-lacquered gate, he raised his hand and knocked on the snail-shaped ring. A moment later, a large, flat face peeked out from inside.
The man’s small, triangular eyes, squeezed in a fleshy face, shot out a glance. As soon as he saw him, he immediately shouted, “Everyone, come and see who’s back! It’s our top scholar, who skipped a whole day of class!”
Cui Jingkong’s expression remained unchanged. He cupped his hands in a salute. “Brother Zhong overpraises me. My knowledge is only slightly better than Brother Zhong’s. I am far from being a top scholar.”
Zhong Changxun flew into a rage, pointing at his nose and cursing, “You fatherless, motherless Cui Er! I was kind enough to take in a beggar like you. You should be kneeling and begging for food, yet you dare to talk back to me!”
The group of students behind him followed his lead, rolling up their sleeves and acting arrogantly.
“That’s right, Cui Er! You broke your word yesterday and skipped class without reason, without even informing the teacher. You deserve ten strikes on the palm.”
“And you talk back to your senior brother as soon as you return. That’s another ten!”
“What are you standing there for? Hurry up and apologize to your senior brother!”
Blocked at the gate, with fists and feet about to fly at his face, Cui Jingkong simply kept his hands tucked in his sleeves, his eyes lowered, not refuting a single word.
The entrance to the academy was as noisy as a bustling market, with an endless clamor, until a shout came from the courtyard. “What is this behavior! All of you, get back inside and copy the Book of Rites ten times!”
Seeing his father and teacher arrive, the leader, Zhong Changxun, slipped away. The rest of the crowd scattered like birds and beasts, leaving only Cui Jingkong standing respectfully with his head bowed.
Teacher Zhong—Zhong Jide—had an ashen face. “You, come with me.”
Cui Jingkong followed him into the study, briskly lifted his robes, and knelt on both knees, holding out his left hand. Zhong Jide took a ruler from the bookshelf, stood before him, and commanded coldly, “Right hand.”
He obediently switched hands and presented it to him. Zhong Jide held nothing back. The sound of the ruler whistling through the air and slapping against flesh echoed through the study. He only stopped when the palm was swollen as high as an egg.
But just swinging the ruler with all his might had tired Zhong Jide. He was, after all, in his sixties. He had to stop to catch his breath and ask, “Why did you skip class without reason?”
Cui Jingkong briefly explained the events of the past few days, naturally omitting the undercurrents between him and Feng Yuzhen, only saying that his widowed sister-in-law was now living with him in the west of the village.
Zhong Jide looked at the young man with a complicated expression as he calmly retracted his mangled left hand. There was not a trace of resentment in his expression, not even a flicker of emotion. His self-control was cultivated to the extreme.
Three years ago, Zhong Jide was not just a down-and-out teacher in this place. The Zhong family had fled from the capital to seek refuge here, traveling in a spacious and luxurious carriage, their wealth substantial. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have been able to build such a magnificent courtyard house.
Zhong Jide had once held the position of Minister of Works, but at the height of the court’s power struggles, he had carelessly left himself vulnerable. To save his life, he had fled here overnight with his wife and daughter with the help of an old friend, disguising himself as a teacher.
And this child, Cui Jingkong, was no ordinary person.
At that time, he had been full of frustration, unwilling to resign himself to a life in the countryside. He had only vaguely heard his wife mention that she had taken pity on a little beggar who often wandered around the village entrance and, out of kindness, had hired him to do odd jobs at their home.
Cui Er was thirteen or fourteen at the time. He would hide in a corner and eavesdrop when he was teaching. Seeing that he didn’t drive him away, he began to stand openly outside the window to listen.
One night, Zhong Jide, inspired by wine, was in a poetic mood and recited a poem to the moon. Unexpectedly, he turned to see Cui Er standing quietly not far away. On a whim, he promised to give him five liang of silver if he could recite the poem he had just composed.
To his surprise, the child looked at him with wide eyes and recited it without a single mistake. He was shocked and began to test him seriously, from the Great Learning and the Doctrine of the Mean to the Five Classics. Although Cui Er said he was illiterate, he could recite everything flawlessly from memory.
He had found a prodigy!
Zhong Jide was so excited he couldn’t sleep properly for a month, thinking it was a blessing from heaven. He was confident, placing Cui Jingkong in a key position in his plans—to polish him into the most useful chess piece. Cui Jingkong would one day pave a grand road for his return to the capital.
But at some point, Cui Er had indeed grown up as he had hoped. He was learned, composed, and never showed his emotions. His respect for him far exceeded that of an ordinary person. However, the feeling of losing control, like a kite with a broken string, grew stronger and stronger.
He was sixty-one, and his health was declining. This year, a bout of cold had left him bedridden for half a month, and he had barely pulled through.
On one side was himself, old and declining, unsure if he would ever have the chance to return to the court. On the other was Cui Jingkong, in the prime of his youth, like the rising sun, shining brightly from the tall building he had built for him, his hands able to pluck the stars. How could this not make him feel unbalanced, jealous of the talented and capable?
So, he punished him harshly every time.
Bringing Cui Jingkong into this game of chess, was it a misstep, or could it completely turn the tables…?
Tiredly, Zhong Jide waved his hand at the young man, telling him to return to the classroom and copy the Book of Rites with the others.
Cui Jingkong hid his swollen hand under his sleeve. He was crossing the garden and about to turn left when a young girl in a white fox-fur coat emerged from the side.
She looked to be fifteen or sixteen. A maiden’s shy blush flashed in her eyes. She held up a precious plate of exquisite pastries, her voice as beautiful as an oriole’s song. “Second Brother, I made these myself. Would you like to try one?”
A faint rosy glow colored her lovely face. The young girl walked with graceful lotus steps, each step as if measured, full of charm.
Faced with this dignified and beautiful noble lady, Cui Jingkong’s gaze did not fall on her lightly powdered face or the pastries sprinkled with gold dust, as she had expected.
Instead, it moved down imperceptibly, lightly sweeping over the legs hidden beneath the hem of her pale yellow skirt.
He had never noticed before, but looking today, she walked very steadily, her steps of equal size. This pair of legs looked very well-formed.
It would be even better if they could be attached to his widowed sister-in-law.