After Liulang left, no one was left to discipline Shilang, and Lin Shilang became even more unrestrained in causing trouble. Lin Boshi only scolded Shilang when others demanded compensation, but otherwise paid him no attention. Less than half a month after Liulang’s departure, Shilang provoked someone and ended up with a broken leg.
The one who beat him was the same child who had dislocated Lin Meng’s arm—a boy named Qi Biao, two years younger than Shilang. Thin and small, he looked as if he barely had any flesh on his bones, a stark contrast to his robust name. Usually quiet and aloof, he rarely interacted with others. But if provoked, he fought with ruthless efficiency, striking swiftly and viciously. Had Lin Meng not trained in martial arts under Tong Shi since childhood, he might have suffered far worse than just a dislocated arm that day.
Truth be told, Lin Shilang had it coming. As an elder, he not only failed to care for his nephew but also constantly harassed Lin Wen. Lin Wen, adhering to the principle of not airing family disputes, always yielded to him in public. Yet Shilang mistook this for fear and grew even more brazen, especially after Lin Wen moved to his second grandmother’s house with his mother. Shilang was then forced to do chores that had previously been Lin Wen’s responsibility.
That day, Shilang was already fuming after being woken early by his father to sweep the courtyard. Entering the classroom and seeing Lin Wen practicing calligraphy, he snatched the paper from Lin Wen’s desk, tore it up, and scattered the pieces behind him—unaware that the fluttering scraps would land on Qi Biao, who had just walked in. The still-wet ink immediately stained Qi Biao’s clothes black.
Lin Wen, exasperated by his uncle’s childish behavior, ignored him. Closing his copybook, he stood up, picked up his brush and inkstone, and prepared to leave to clean them. Normally, Shilang’s antics would end there, but that day, he seemed possessed. Not only did he tear Lin Wen’s copybook, but he also snatched the brush and inkstone and hurled them to the ground, splattering ink everywhere.
Even the most patient person would lose their temper. Lin Wen asked coldly, “Uncle, what do you mean by this?”
“What do I mean? You little brat, you slacked off and hid at that tigress’s house, dumping all the work on me! I’ve been toiling every day, wasting my study time!”
Shilang ranted on, oblivious to Qi Biao standing behind him, his face darker than the ink stains on his clothes.
Lin Wen was truly furious now. “Uncle, mind your words. The so-called ‘tigress’ you speak of is your elder. Slandering elders behind their backs is grossly unfilial. Grandfather hoped you would pass the imperial exams and bring glory to our family, but with such behavior, your future is ruined.”
“Hah! As if a brat like you can decide my future! I’ll beat you to death!”
Before Shilang could act, Qi Biao grabbed him like a chicken and dragged him out of the classroom. Startled, Shilang flailed instinctively. Unlike his tall, handsome brothers, Shilang was short, scrawny, and unpleasantly ugly. When he realized his attacker was the infamous “Black-Faced Demon,” his usual cowardice took over. Trembling, he begged for mercy, though he had no idea what he’d done to provoke Qi Biao.
Qi Biao, disgusted by the sight of him, tossed Shilang to the ground. As Shilang thrashed, his kicks left muddy footprints on Qi Biao’s already ink-stained clothes, making the mess even worse. Enraged, Qi Biao picked up a stick and, without a word, swung it at Shilang’s leg. Had Lin Wen not intervened, pleading for mercy while holding Qi Biao back, the beating would have continued. Even so, Shilang’s leg was broken.
Qi Biao and his parents had moved to the village earlier that year. The family was eccentric: while Qi Biao attended school daily, his parents rarely left home. They didn’t farm, interact with villagers, or receive visitors, leaving their livelihood a mystery. Whenever Qi Biao injured someone at school, his parents never apologized. Instead, they simply handed over silver—often two to three times the medical costs, sometimes even tenfold—and sent the complainers away.
Most villagers, swayed by the money, dropped the matter. After all, lawsuits were costly and uncertain. Push too hard, and Qi Biao’s parents would personally “settle” the issue—violently—before tossing more silver at the victim.
When Lin Boshi went to confront them, the parents didn’t even open the door. They threw thirty taels of silver over the gate. When Lin Boshi knocked again, a stick came flying out—a clear warning. Wisely, he left.
The thirty taels were more than enough for Shilang’s treatment. Physician Wang noted the injury wasn’t severe—just a dislocated joint easily reset—and the total cost wouldn’t exceed ten taels.
Lin Boshi was a staunch believer in patriarchal authority. As the family head, he demanded absolute obedience, equating defiance with unfilialness. Yet he neglected his duty to educate his children. As a scholar, he knew the adage “A child’s faults stem from the father,” but conveniently ignored it to avoid effort.
Dalong, raised by his grandparents, received guidance from them and his uncles. Liulang, who remembered his grandparents, was occasionally summoned for instruction to prevent fraternal discord. Lin Cuiping, a pretty but aloof girl, was indulged by Dong Shi, rendering grandparents’ reprimands ineffective. Since she’d eventually marry out, they didn’t press further.
Shilang and Lin Cuie were born after the grandparents’ deaths. By then, Dalong was working outside, and Lin Boshi left parenting to Liulang. But as a child himself, Liulang’s authority crumbled whenever their father intervened to assert his dominance. Shilang behaved meekly at home but ran wild outside, knowing Liulang’s scoldings would be overruled. Cuie, confined indoors and taught by Li Cui Mei, remained docile.
“Mother, I’ll take Sister for a walk. She hasn’t been out today and must be bored,” Lin Wen said after school, picking up Lin Fang and heading for the gate.
At eight, Lin Wen was still slight of frame, and carrying his sister seemed a strain. Li Cui Mei fretted, “Don’t overexert yourself. Rest if she feels heavy—don’t drop her!”
Lin Wen reassured her, “Don’t worry, Mother. I won’t push myself.”
*You might not, but I’m terrified!* Lin Fang thought, clinging tightly to her brother’s neck.
Lin Wen chuckled, prying her arms loose. “Easy there, little one. Any tighter, and you’ll choke me—then we’ll both fall.”
*Oops. Sorry, I’ll loosen up.*
Breathing in the fresh air, Lin Wen smiled. “You understand me, don’t you? Just as Second Grandmother says—you’re a clever one. That’s good. You’ll marry someday, and without us around, you’ll need wit to avoid trouble.”
His strength waning, Lin Wen paused often to adjust his grip. At Physician Wang’s door, thirsty, he called out politely, “Grandfather Wang, may I trouble you for water?”
“Come in. The kettle’s full—help yourself.”
“Thank you.”
Wang, a widower in his fifties with a son in the army, lived alone. Seeing Lin Wen juggling his sister, he set aside his herbs, poured water, and handed it over.
Lin Wen fed Lin Fang first, then drained the cup unceremoniously. Wang refilled it and resumed chopping herbs.
Lin Wen lingered, watching. His second grandmother’s medical knowledge far surpassed Wang’s, so curiosity seemed unlikely.
“Something else?” Wang asked.
“Yes. I’ve a favor to ask.”
“Speak. If I can help, I will.”
Expecting a trivial request, Wang was stunned by Lin Wen’s next words.
“Next time you treat Uncle Shilang, could you… *re-dislocate* his leg? Just slightly—back to how it was before healing.”
Lin Fang gaped. *Is this bookworm scheming?*
“Why?” Wang wasn’t offended—he’d fielded similar “adjustments” before—but this was bold.
Lin Wen answered solemnly, “My uncle is unruly and troublemaking. Should he become an official, he’d harm the people. Best to prevent that now.”
*So poetic—just say you want him crippled!* Lin Fang marveled at her brother’s cunning.
Wang frowned. “But his leg’s already set. How to explain?”
Lin Wen smiled. “He’s restless—who’s to say he didn’t reinjure it himself?” Producing a tael of silver, he added, “For your trouble. And since Sister’s here, let’s call it her consultation fee.”
Lin Fang’s admiration vanished. *You used me as cover?!* She retaliated by scratching his neck.
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