Chapter 14: A Good Father

Before Zheng Fa could respond, a middle-aged man walked out of the estate.

“Huang Guanshi, what brings you here?”

The speaker was also a tall, thin man, his features seven-tenths like Wang Gui’s—this was Wang Gui’s father, the estate’s Wang Guanshi.

He was now staring intently at the fat middle-aged man beside Huang Yu.

The fat middle-aged man helped Huang Yu down from the carriage, gave him only a faint, cold nod, and offered no further pleasantries.

Huang Yu pulled him to Zheng Fa’s side and introduced: “This is my father. I told him about you, said I wanted to come see you.”

The fat middle-aged man—Huang Yu’s father—smiled more broadly at Zheng Fa, his gaze gentle: “Young Zheng, since Huang Yu and you are old friends, I’ll presume on our kinship and call you my nephew?”

Zheng Fa nodded, looking at the father and son, unsure of their purpose.

“This boy of mine is useless; I’ve always worried how he’d ever stand on his own. But with a friend like you, I’m at ease.” Huang Yu’s father gestured to the carriage behind him: “He wanted to visit a friend, and since this is our first visit, I brought some humble gifts.”

Watching Huang Guanshi treat him with cold indifference but excessive warmth toward Zheng Fa.

Wang Guanshi’s expression naturally darkened.

But he could only endure it.

Though both were estate managers under the Zhao family, he had only held his position five years, while Huang Guanshi—so it was said—had held the post for over three generations.

Moreover, even among estates, Huang Guanshi’s managed lands produced more and covered far greater area than his own.

Their status within the Zhao family was clearly unequal.

If they gave him the cold shoulder, he could only swallow it.

Wang Gui, standing nearby, sensed his father’s displeasure and resented all the more the man’s warmth toward Zheng Fa.

Watching Huang Guanshi lead Zheng Fa toward the carriage, he couldn’t help craning his neck, peering inside.

When the carriage curtain was pulled back, two large chests appeared before them.

Zheng Fa’s mother, hearing the commotion, stepped beside him, holding Zheng Shan’s hand as she watched.

Huang Yu’s father smiled broadly and opened one chest: inside were several bolts of cloth, mediocre in quality, but new nonetheless.

“These were woven by my late wife; I once dreamed that if this boy became Seventh Young Master’s servant, I’d make him a few decent new clothes.” He shot Huang Yu a look of frustrated disappointment.

Huang Yu shrank his neck.

“Now that my nephew serves Seventh Young Master, these bolts are my congratulations—don’t think them too humble.”

Zheng Fa glanced at his mother; she gave him a slight shake of her head.

“Uncle Huang, it’s not that I’m refusing out of disdain—it’s that I’ve done nothing to deserve this…”

“Bah, what are a few bolts of cloth?” Huang Guanshi laughed, cutting him off: “I’ve only one son; him making a friend like you is his fortune.”

Zheng Fa glanced at Huang Yu beside him; the boy’s face was flushed, eyes lowered, avoiding him.

“Huang brother and I hit it off at first sight—these gifts aren’t needed…”

“If you say that, then you’re my junior. Isn’t it only right I give my junior a token of welcome?”

Seeing Zheng Fa still about to speak, he waved his hand and opened the second chest.

Inside lay a full set of writing brush, ink, paper, and inkstone.

“Since you’ll be accompanying Seventh Young Master in his studies, you need a proper set of writing tools. My household has extras—worthless, really—I brought them for you… again, don’t refuse.”

“Uncle Huang, you…” Zheng Fa couldn’t help smiling wryly.

Huang Yu’s father kept saying “don’t refuse,”

yet every item—brush, ink, paper, stone, even the cloth—was precisely what Zheng Fa needed.

He’d anticipated Zheng Fa’s needs even before he’d thought of them himself.

His sincerity and thoughtfulness were undeniable; Zheng Fa wanted to refuse, but couldn’t find the words.

Sensing Zheng Fa’s hesitation, Huang Yu’s father laughed heartily, had Huang Yu carry the two chests down from the carriage, and said outright: “Nephew, I’ve matters to attend to on my estate—I’ll take my leave.”

Without waiting for either to respond, he whipped his horse and galloped off.

He made it clear: no chance for Zheng Fa to speak.

Huang Yu, carrying the chests, stared blankly at his father’s retreating back, mouth agape: “Father! What about me? I didn’t even get on the carriage!”

“You stay here—I’ll come back tomorrow to fetch you!”

Zheng Fa: “…”

Looking at Huang Yu, then at the two chests, he suddenly felt a headache coming on.

But he couldn’t very well leave him here; the two of them picked up one chest each and headed toward the Zheng household.

Little sister followed behind, clutching the food box.

As for Wang Gui and the others…

They said nothing. Didn’t want to say anything.

Fortunately, the driver had brought the food box—otherwise, they’d have had nothing to offer Huang Yu.

But for sleeping, Huang Yu and Zheng Fa would have to share a room.

After dinner, Huang Yu sat in Zheng Fa’s room, lips pressed tight, silent for a long while, then suddenly said: “Actually, my father sent me.”

“I know.”

“My father always says I’m immature.” Huang Yu didn’t look at Zheng Fa, just kept talking: “He fears that when he dies, no one will protect me.”

Zheng Fa nodded.

Huang Yu was clearly not a smooth-talking type.

You could see it in the pavilion—he wanted to flatter Gao Yuan, but one word from someone made him give up.

“He first told me to compete for Seventh Young Master’s servant position, then later said he only wanted me to befriend people like you. He said, if I became Seventh Young Master’s servant, I might drag the whole family down.”

Here, Huang Yu flopped backward, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling, sounding weary: “Adults are so annoying. They think too much.”

Zheng Fa sat beside him and suddenly said: “You have a good father.”

“Huh?”

“Your father must have some standing in the Zhao household.” Zheng Fa could tell from Wang Guanshi’s attitude toward Huang Yu’s father: “I’m just a servant. I don’t even know if I can ever help you. Why would he go out of his way to send me these gifts?”

“…For me.”

Zheng Fa shrugged.

“So, don’t you think he’s…” Huang Yu’s face flushed: “Opportunistic?”

“Who in this world isn’t opportunistic?” Zheng Fa smiled: “Aren’t we being opportunistic by competing for that servant position? Who’s born wanting to serve others? Are we born with lowly bones?”

“You say that…” Huang Yu stared at Zheng Fa in shock: “That’s disrespectful! We’ve served the Zhao family for generations—isn’t it our duty?”

Zheng Fa fell silent.

Huang Yu, after a pause, suddenly said: “I’m starting to think… befriending you might actually drag my whole family down.”

…

In the estate, the Wang household.

Wang Gui still seethed: “When I was the servant, why didn’t anyone come fawning over me?”

“Of course they did—plenty sent silver.” Wang Guanshi pulled a bundle from the bedroom: “But I borrowed money to bribe people so you could become Seventh Young Master’s servant.”

“So all the silver others sent went to pay off debts?” Wang Gui thought he understood.

“Not all—there’s still this.” Wang Guanshi patted the bundle in his hands.

“That’s still a lot.” Wang Gui glanced at the bundle’s size, feeling satisfied—then suddenly frowned: “Father, where are you taking that bundle?”

“To Zheng Fa’s house, of course.”

“Huh?”