Chapter 111: Getting Angry

Strolling into the courtyard of the schoolhouse, Qi Biao paused. Directly ahead were five south-facing rooms, with a rectangular flower bed in front. The flowers and plants within were common wildflowers and weeds found in fields, their tiny petals densely packed. Though their names were unknown, their colors were varied—red, purple, white, pink, and blue. Qi Biao felt a sense of familiarity with these flowers but couldn’t recall where he had seen them before.

Against the western wall of the courtyard stood two slightly shorter buildings. In front of them was a long stone table surrounded by stone benches, also made of long slabs of stone. Qi Biao knew this was where students ate their meals temporarily. Beside the stone table grew a tall locust tree, its dense shade covering both the kitchen and the stone seating area, ensuring those eating beneath it wouldn’t feel the heat.

Of the five main rooms, the two on the western side were Lin Fang’s resting quarters, where Granny Lan stayed during school days. The three on the eastern side were classrooms, all three doors now locked.

With a gentle twist, the lock on the classroom door opened silently. Qi Biao pushed the door open, stepped inside, and closed it behind him.

He chuckled soundlessly. Such a small figure, yet she faced dozens of students, most of whom were decades older than her. As a teacher, she wasn’t tall enough, so she had devised a solution—a five-brick-high platform beneath the lectern, grandly named the “teacher’s podium.” Facing it were forty wooden desks, meaning the classroom could hold up to forty students at full capacity.

After walking around the classroom and inspecting the desks, Qi Biao stepped onto the podium. He raised his large, dark hand and gently touched the clean lectern. Both the surface and the body of the desk were smooth, with edges carefully rounded—Lin Wu’s handiwork, ensuring no harm would come to his sister.

The teacher’s chair was similarly smooth and free of sharp edges, even featuring a footrest. Otherwise, the petite teacher’s feet wouldn’t reach the ground when seated.

Qi Biao’s large hand rested on the chair’s backrest. Frowning, he applied slight pressure, and the chair collapsed with a clatter. Examining the broken legs, the inner side was cleanly severed, clearly deliberate, while the outer side showed only minimal signs of breakage.

Upon closer inspection, he found cracks where the backrest connected to the base. With a slight tug, the backrest snapped off, mirroring the legs—cleanly broken on the inside, barely fractured on the outside. The footrest’s wooden plank was loose, sinking under slight pressure. If Lin Fang’s small foot were caught there, it could easily get stuck in the gap.

Qi Biao’s eyes narrowed, his expression turning fierce.

“Someone!”

“Yes, Young Master.”

At his angry shout, a short but sturdy figure emerged from seemingly nowhere, his clothing blending into the surroundings.

“Find out who did this.”

“Yes, Young Master.” In a flash, the man vanished.

After meticulously inspecting the desk and chair to ensure no further issues, Qi Biao checked every piece of furniture in the classroom before leaving, locking the door behind him.

Standing in the courtyard, he ordered, “Search this entire courtyard thoroughly. If anything seems amiss, investigate immediately.”

When Steward Qi handed Tan Liu and Qi Shi over to Da Lang, he mentioned that Lin Village’s crops were sparse and trees few, making it difficult for hidden guards to conceal themselves. But that wasn’t entirely true. As hidden guards, their training specialized in concealment—even without cover, they could remain undetected. Thus, before Tan Liu and Qi Shi arrived, other hidden guards were already stationed in Lin Village. Steward Qi simply hadn’t disclosed this to reassure Da Lang’s family.

Strolling back along the brick path, Qi Biao glanced toward the riverbank, where only Qi Shi—still somewhat aloof—remained, washing butchering tools. Qi Biao ambled toward him.

Hearing footsteps, Qi Shi stood and bowed to his former master. Qi Biao communicated silently with his lips, and Qi Shi nodded, his expression turning solemn.

Entering the courtyard, Qi Biao saw Lin Fang reclining on a lounge chair in the shade, dictating recipes for pork offal dishes. Mother Liu and Qian’er stood beside her, nodding in acknowledgment, while Xian’er lay sprawled over the stone table, recording Lin Fang’s words with a charcoal pencil for Mother Liu’s reference.

Qi Biao waited quietly at the courtyard gate until the servants dispersed and Lin Fang closed her eyes to rest. Only then did he approach, sitting on a stone stool beside her. Gently taking her small hand, he checked her pulse.

Lin Fang didn’t open her eyes or resist, allowing him to examine one wrist before he moved to the other side. After checking both, she asked softly, “Have you studied medicine?” Her eyes remained closed, her voice weak.

After a brief hesitation, Qi Biao replied, “Long illness makes a physician. I also studied under a teacher.”

The day he gifted her books, he had asked if she truly intended to travel, subtly hinting that her small feet weren’t suited for long walks. Since then, Lin Fang had rarely acknowledged him, occasionally casting him a glance at most. This was the first time she had spoken to him since that day.

“Hmm?” Lin Fang suddenly opened her eyes, staring directly at Qi Biao with deep suspicion.

His expression unchanged, Qi Biao continued, “I was poisoned at birth by villains. Though I survived, traces of the toxin remain, but I can live normally. My twin sister, however, was left disabled and later met a tragic end.”

Lin Fang’s eyes widened in shock. Qi Biao said no more, rising and heading toward Lin Wu’s room.

Lin Wu stood before a cabinet, staring intently at a clay figurine atop it, lost in thought. He didn’t react even as Qi Biao approached.

Standing beside him, Qi Biao glanced at Lin Wu before fixing his gaze on the figurine.

“Little Sister says she likes wearing white, but Mother always prefers her in red. I remember her wearing red during the New Year. This figurine is for Second Brother—should I paint it according to her preference or her usual attire?”

Muttering to himself as if deliberating, Lin Wu continued, “Mother dresses plainly, but most of the clothes she makes for Little Sister are red. Even if the garments are other colors, the trims or embroidered flowers always include red. Mother says Little Sister is young and frail, with little resistance to evil, so bright red wards off malevolent forces.”

Qi Biao, still staring at the figurine, said, “Then paint it as she usually dresses. Since it’s for Lin Wen, it’s better to follow habit.”

Lin Wu nodded. “Makes sense. I’ll prepare the colors now.” He turned toward the table.

Reluctantly tearing his gaze from the figurine, Qi Biao looked at Lin Wu. “There’s still time before school starts. If you mix the colors now, won’t the paint dry before application?”

Lin Wu shook his head. “Second Brother will handle this figurine daily. I want to create a durable pigment so the paint won’t wear off quickly, even with frequent touching.”

Approaching Lin Wu, Qi Biao murmured, “Hold off on the pigments. There’s something more urgent.”

Lin Wu looked up questioningly. Qi Biao recounted his discoveries at the schoolhouse, gesturing subtly to keep quiet—Lin Fang was resting outside, her frail body unable to handle further distress.

Clenching his fists, Lin Wu whispered furiously, “If I find out who did this, they won’t escape unscathed.”

“Do you remember how the desk and chair were made? Can you craft a new chair by tomorrow before Granny Lan cleans the schoolhouse?” Since the lectern furniture was left unpainted, Qi Biao knew time was tight—painting would take too long.

“I remember. When I made them, I had Little Sister test them repeatedly, smoothing every corner. She joked that I wasn’t crafting furniture but carving art.”

The memory fueled Lin Wu’s anger. His sister was kind to everyone, even when playful or mischievous. Whoever did this would pay dearly.

Exiting the room, they found Lin Fang asleep under a thin blanket, with Qi Shi clumsily weaving a hairband beside her. After instructing Qi Shi to stay at Qi Manor overnight, Lin Wu followed Qi Biao out.

When Da Lang and Li Cuimei returned home, the kitchen was bustling with the aroma of pickled vegetables and chili peppers, mingled with an unfamiliar, mouthwatering scent. Seeing Lin Fang asleep in the courtyard, Da Lang gently carried her to her room, Li Cuimei following.

Tucking the thin quilt around her daughter, Li Cuimei whispered, “It seems Fang’er will sleep long again today.”

Da Lang asked, “How do you know?”

Gazing at her daughter’s pale face, Li Cuimei replied, “From what I’ve observed, Fang’er avoids the kitchen whenever chilies are cooked. If she can’t, she falls into a deep sleep. With the courtyard filled with chili fumes today, she’ll likely sleep until evening.”

Da Lang was startled. “Really? Are chilies like a sedative to her? Who else knows this?”

Li Cuimei shook her head. “No one’s mentioned it.”

Da Lang’s expression darkened. “Today is one thing, but from now on, even if the dishes taste worse, omit the chilies. Forget whether they harm Fang’er—if villains learn of this weakness, it could be dangerous.”

At dinner, faced with unfamiliar dishes, Da Lang and his wife asked what they were. The cook listed them: sour and spicy pork intestines, crispy stir-fried stomach slices, blood sausage with red peppers, sautéed kidney, pork liver with black fungus, and dried vegetable pork lung soup.

Exchanging surprised glances, Li Cuimei asked, “Why all pork offal? Whose idea was this? How can offal be edible?”

Learning it was their daughter’s suggestion and that she had provided the recipes, the couple hesitantly tasted the dishes. Starting cautiously, their faces soon lit up with delight. They sampled each dish, savoring the flavors, and before they knew it, they had emptied the plates, eating half a bowl more rice than usual.

Hearing there was more prepared offal, Li Cuimei instructed the servants to cook it for themselves. Delighted, they eagerly complied—the aromas had tempted them earlier, but only the cook had dared taste-test. Seeing their masters’ reactions, they now knew the dishes were delicious.

Lin Fang woke in the middle of the night, parched. She tried to get up for water. Since moving here, she had insisted that Mother Liu, Qian’er, and Xian’er no longer stay in her bedroom at night, handling her own needs.

Before she could move, a voice spoke: “Does Sixth Miss need water? Let this servant fetch it for you.”

“Qi Shi? Why are you in my room?”

“Forgive me, Sixth Miss. I wasn’t sleeping inside—I heard you wake and guessed you were thirsty, so I came to serve.”

“Why are you on night duty? Where’s Xian’er?”

“Master and Mistress ordered that from today onward, I am to attend to Sixth Miss personally.”

Oh. A former hidden guard personally serving a child—wasn’t that overkill? Unbeknownst to Lin Fang, Tan Liu had already reported Qi Biao’s discoveries at the schoolhouse to Da Lang. Tonight was destined to be sleepless.