Great Tang Idyll - Volume 4 Chapter 205:

Old Man Bi ’s eyes lit up with excitement. He moved closer, watching Xiaozhu’s drawing with keen interest, and couldn’t help himself.

“Xiaozhu, here—you should brush lightly across this part, in one smooth stroke, not in short strokes like that.”

Startled, Xiaozhu turned to see the old man behind her. Recognizing him, she relaxed again, though her face was full of confusion. She didn’t understand a word of what he had just said.

“Like this, let me show you.”

Old Man Bi took the crayon from her hand and, following his own idea, drew a single sweeping stroke. A faint cracking sound followed—the crayon snapped clean in two, leaving a half-foot-long mark across the paper.

He stared dumbly at the broken crayon and the ruined drawing, while Xiaozhu froze for a moment and then burst into loud tears. Her crayon was broken, her picture ruined.

Only then did Old Man Bi realize—she was using a crayon, not an ink brush. He hurried to comfort her, fumbling for words. 

Old Man Zhang and Old Man Yao both knew he had caused trouble this time. If the stroke had worked, all might have been well—but as it was, the child’s drawing was ruined.

Xiaozhu was too young to understand tolerance or compromise. Her drawing was ruined, her crayon broken; she had always been so careful with it—after all, it was a gift from her brother and sister.

So she used the weapon of her age—tears.

The calm atmosphere shattered. Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked toward her.

Old Man Bi looked helplessly at Zhang Xiaobao and Wang Juan. “I was just trying to teach her how to draw,” he explained, “but the crayon broke, and now there’s a mark on her picture. What a mess—ah…”

Wang Juan smiled and came over to look. “Not bad,” she said, seeing the progress since last time. She gathered her sister into her arms to comfort her.

“Ruined! It’s ruined! The cra—wah! He broke it!” Xiaozhu cried, pointing at Old Man Bi to complain.

Zhang Xiaobao came over with a small knife.

“I saw she was talented,” Old Man Bi said quickly, “and thought of taking her as a personal student. I never expected this to happen. Why didn’t you pay more attention to her? With such talent, she should have a proper teacher!”

“Grandpa Bi,” Zhang Xiaobao said gently, “Juanjuan and I noticed her talent last month. But Xiaozhu is still too young. It’s best to let her draw freely for now. When she’s older, if she still loves it, then we’ll consider a teacher. Sometimes Juanjuan lets her watch while she draws, and she’s learned a lot that way. Grandpa Bi, don’t underestimate crayons. With enough practice, drawings made with them can be no worse than those done with charcoal or brush. When art has spirit, the tool doesn’t matter. Just watch a bit longer, Grandpa Bi—leave the rest to us.”

He followed his own principles for teaching children: before the age of three or four, lessons should not be forced. This was the age of curiosity and shifting interests—too much pressure could turn enthusiasm into aversion. Good intentions could easily backfire.

Taking the knife, Zhang Xiaobao carefully scraped away the long mark on the paper, then wiped it gently with a clean cloth. Unless one looked closely, the damage was invisible.

A maid brought over a new box of crayons and handed it to Xiaozhu. 

Moments ago she had been crying as if the sky had fallen; now she sniffled twice, smiled again, chose her colors, and proudly showed them to her brother and sister. The crisis was over.

But from then on, Xiaozhu eyed Old Man Bi warily, as if he were some terrible villain.

The tranquil mood was gone for good. The little ones grew lively again, chattering in words only they could understand, showing their drawings to their brother and sister. A single word of praise could keep them happy for ages.

Old Man Bi backed away awkwardly while Old Man Zhang and Old Man Yao tried not to laugh. 

“You see?” he muttered. “That’s the Zhang and Wang way of teaching. Not even two years old and already drawing like that. Give her a few more years and who knows how far she’ll go? And yet they’re still not satisfied—they just keep observing.”

Old Man Zhang nodded. “I see it. But this kind of education isn’t something ordinary families could imitate. Just now, the atmosphere—any random group of attendants here could recreate it for them. But even wealthy households couldn’t manage it, let alone the palace maids. And that’s just what we’ve seen. Who knows what other methods they haven’t shown? Even if we tried to copy it, how long would it take? What if their training runs until the children are fifteen? Are we supposed to imitate them for fifteen years?”

He might not have Old Man Bi and Old Man Yao’s rank, but even he could tell that from the way the Zhang and Wang families educated their young, their strength ran deep.

Just then Li Xun, having eaten his fill, joined them. “That’s why,” he said, “if we want to understand, we must ask them directly. Observation isn’t enough. Even if we imitate, we may never capture the essence. The Zhang and Wang families—always imitated, never surpassed. When I have children one day, I’ll ask Xiaobao and Juanjuan to teach them. Everything they know, my children will learn. Then aside from Xiaobei and the others, no one will match them.”

Once they left land behind, the people Old Man Yao had brought with him began feeling unwell again. They weren’t like Old Man Bi ’s attendants, who were more experienced. Back when they went to Shuzhou, they had already suffered seasickness; at least then they could stop at the capital’s port. Now there was no time—the fleet only stopped when supplies ran low, pressing on without pause.

The least affected were the little ones. Their daily world was already limited to courtyards; being on a ship made little difference. Their quarters had been specially built aboard — with a small pool, sandpit, and plenty of toys and games. With so much to do, and time each day to play with their brother and sister, they never grew bored.

When the fleet was less than a month from its destination, the fastest advance ship reached Chengdu Prefecture.

The moment it touched shore, its crew sprang into action. 

The man in charge was Xu Si — the same Ge family member who, years ago in Sanshui County, had partnered with others to buy fireworks.

Bearing heavy responsibility, Xu Si took two guards and rode hard toward Shuangliu County.

His expression was resolute. The young master and young mistress had given a strict order: this mission must succeed — failure was not an option. Ever since they had handed him silver personally at the Sanshui market, he had sworn to devote his life to them.

They say soldiers are raised for a thousand days to be used in one moment. After years under the Zhangs’ patronage, his moment had come. All his earlier assignments had been training. This time, according to the Zero Team, it was a matter of life and death — no room for error.

Within an hour, the three riders reached the Shuangliu county yamen. Guards stood at the gate. As the three dismounted, four constables eyed them warily.

“Who goes there?” one barked.

Xu Si pulled a cloth from his robe and handed it over. “Take this to Magistrate Tian and Registrar Wang. Tell them I must see them — immediately.”

“You fool, you think you can just demand to see them? State your name,” the constable scoffed, not even taking the cloth. It bore an awkwardly embroidered rice sprout — with arms — holding a tablet marked with one word: Ji (swift).

Xu Si had no time for nonsense. “My surname is Xu, given name Si. Inner Household of the Zhang family, Five-Star Steward.”

“Inner household steward, eh? The lord is busy. Wait at the gate,” the constable sneered. “What a shabby token—‘Ji’? You even wrote the word wrong if you’re in such a hurry.”

“That’s not the ‘ji’ for hurry,” Xu Si snapped. “It’s the ‘ji’ from swift wind knows strong grass. Deliver it at once — or you’ll bear the consequences!”

The constable started to retort, but another grabbed his arm. This one was cautious — their magistrate was not like others, quick and efficient. If there truly was urgent news and they delayed it, punishment would be severe. Better to report first and ask questions later.

Suppressing his annoyance, the first constable muttered “Wait here,” and hurried inside.

In the study, Magistrate Tian Tian and Registrar Wang Wang were deep in discussion when they heard the knock. Tian frowned impatiently. “Come in.”

“Your honors,” the constable said, bowing. “There’s a man outside asking to see you both. He’s got quite the attitude, as if you weren’t worth his notice. This is what he brought.” He handed over the cloth.

The two officials froze at the sight. The embroidered rice sprout was unmistakable — a symbol both knew far too well. But the word Ji above it made their faces flush red. 

The Zhang household was testing them — doubting their loyalty.

“Don’t be angry, my lord,” the constable said hastily. “I can deal with them—”

“Rubbish! Open the gates! Guards to the sides, prepare to receive them. I, Tian Tian, am no ingrate.” He stood abruptly. “Bring me the robes I wore as a student — I am that steadfast grass the wind once tested!”

He cursed the constable once more and began preparing. 

Registrar Wang blinked and said, “Brother Tian, lend me a spare robe—quickly.”

Half a quarter-hour later, the yamen gates creaked open. Xu Si and his men saw two figures step out, dressed not in official robes but in plain garments embroidered with the characters Jianjia — Reed Academy.

At the sight, Xu Si finally breathed out. “It’s done,” he murmured.