Chapter 172: Extra (2)
He Dongting couldn’t bear to part with his son, so he purposely delayed his departure by a couple of days under the pretext of business matters.
Xie Siquan knew perfectly well what was going on, but he didn’t say a word. Ever since arriving in Bincheng, he had been leaving early and coming home late every day—sometimes not even making it back in time for dinner.
Xie Yuanyuan always saved food for her younger brother. Life here wasn’t as formal, and just like back when they were in Sichuan, she often had him eat with her. The elders of the Xie family had passed away early, and Xie Yuanyuan had raised her brother alone. As the saying went, “An elder sister is like a mother.” Every time she saw him lately, she couldn’t help but scold gently:
“These past few days, why are you always running out so early, and not even taking Hu Da with you? This place isn’t Sichuan—keep your temper in check, don’t go stirring up trouble.”
Xie Siquan swallowed his bite of food, washed it down with a few sips of warm tea, and instead of answering, asked, “Sister, where’s Jing’er?”
“Asleep,” Xie Yuanyuan said. “He kept talking about you all through dinner and refused to leave the table, saying he wanted to wait for you to come back and eat. In the end, he was so sleepy he fell asleep right at the table, so I carried him to bed.”
Xie Siquan chuckled, stood up, and said, “I’ll go take a look.”
“Be quiet,” she reminded.
“Got it.”
In the bedroom, little Xie Jing hadn’t even changed out of his clothes, only loosened his sash. The child was curled up amidst his folded garments, sleeping soundly.
Xie Siquan bent down and brushed under the child’s armpit—Jing’er was ticklish and squirmed away. Taking the chance, Siquan gently removed the boy’s outer robe, and as he was about to tuck him into the quilt, a small pastry rolled out from his arms—a rose and sesame cake, with a tiny bite mark still visible.
Xie Yuanyuan sighed helplessly. “That half a cake was for you. He was afraid you’d go hungry outside and nearly cried at dinner because you weren’t back yet.”
Xie Siquan laughed softly, kissed his little nephew on the cheek, and sat for a while watching him sleep. When he finally left, he took that half of the sweet pastry with him.
The next morning, as soon as Xie Jing woke up, he went looking for his uncle. This time, Xie Siquan hadn’t gone out yet, and the child happily took his hand, insisting on eating breakfast together.
The boy wasn’t even as tall as his uncle’s legs yet. Tilting his small face up, he said seriously, “Uncle should eat more. Mother says you don’t get enough food outside.”
That made Xie Siquan laugh—it was just something the adults told Jing’er to keep him from wandering off. The boy had taken it literally and now worried that anyone who missed a meal at home would go hungry. His little face was full of concern.
Xie Siquan scooped him up and kissed him. “All right, Uncle will eat more. And Jing’er too—eat lots so you’ll grow tall.”
Little Jing’er was everyone’s favorite and was never put down—he even ate in someone’s arms, either in He Dongting’s lap or in Xie Siquan’s. Fortunately, the boy wasn’t picky—he ate whatever he was given and smiled so easily that his eyes bent like crescent moons.
He Dongting, sitting nearby, tried coaxing him over. “Jing’er, come here, I’ve got sticky rice candy…”
Xie Yuanyuan chuckled and scolded lightly, “Candy in the morning? Jing’er, don’t listen to your father. Come, Mother will give you red bean porridge instead.”
He Dongting, obedient under his wife’s gaze, only rubbed his nose and grinned.
Mother and son sat together to eat, their movements uncannily alike. Jing’er resembled his mother greatly—his slightly long hair brushed his shoulders, one tuft sticking up from sleep. His rosy little face made him look like the child attendant at Guanyin’s side—utterly adorable.
Watching his nephew’s hair come loose, Xie Siquan fetched a comb and tied a small braid for him himself. Following the Sichuan style, he gathered a few locks on the right side into slender little braids, tied the rest loosely, and fastened a few amber beads at the ends.
Seeing this, Xie Yuanyuan said, “Don’t bother—he’ll mess it up again as soon as he starts playing.”
Xie Siquan smiled. “Then I’ll just braid it again when he does.”
Xie Yuanyuan plucked a tiny purple flower from a vase and tucked it behind her son’s ear, laughing softly.
He Dongting didn’t really understand the customs of Sichuan, but seeing his wife adorning their son, he smiled too. Their household was already separate from the He family, and all rules now followed Xie Yuanyuan’s lead.
Xie Siquan doted endlessly on his only nephew. Having been busy the past few days, he finally had time to spend the day with Jing’er—lifting him high and taking him out to ride a horse.
He Dongting looked worried, standing up to watch them. Only after Xie Yuanyuan called him back several times did he sit down again, muttering, “Jing’er’s too young. It’s his first time this far from home—maybe let him play just in the courtyard…”
Xie Yuanyuan saw right through him and laughed. “That pony was raised for Jing’er since it was small—gentlest creature you’ll ever see. And there are plenty of people watching. Let my brother teach him to ride a little. You keep the child cooped up every day; his legs will go weak!”
Exposed, He Dongting could only sit down again, though he kept glancing out anxiously.
In the courtyard, Xie Siquan held Jing’er in his arms as they rode. After a few slow laps, the child whispered something in his ear, making Xie Siquan laugh as he pulled the reins—and suddenly, they trotted right out of the gate.
That was too much for He Dongting—he jumped up and ran after them.
Xie Yuanyuan only shook her head, laughing to herself. The long journey north had tired her, and she took the rare chance to rest while the men looked after the child.
Xie Siquan didn’t ride far, just a short loop around the nearby streets, and bought a bag of candied crabapples. It was Jing’er’s first time seeing the city—everything fascinated him. From the horse’s back, he stared wide-eyed at another horse passing by, amazed at how tall the northern steeds were.
Seeing his envy, Xie Siquan teased, “Does Jing’er like it? Uncle will buy one for you.”
Jing’er’s eyes lit up, and he turned his attention happily to other wonders—every painted figurine or trinket made him giggle aloud.
By the time He Dongting caught up, he found Xie Siquan helping Jing’er pick sugar figurines at a street stall. Hovering protectively nearby, He Dongting looked a bit uneasy.
Xie Siquan glanced at him and said, “If we were still at the He family estate, I’d be getting a whole lecture right now, huh? You people love your rules. Your old madam especially—always acting like everyone fears her. Back home in Sichuan, anyone talking to the head of the family like that would’ve been thrown out long ago. Just because Jing’er took my sister’s surname, she’s been bitter about it for years! Last time she even said she wanted to raise the child herself—what a joke!”
He Dongting, mild as always, said kindly, “We’ve split from them now. Everything’s your sister’s decision.”
Xie Siquan clicked his tongue, about to say more—but then little Jing’er suddenly hugged his leg, waving a sugar figurine excitedly. “Uncle, look! It’s the Monkey King!”
Xie Siquan laughed and praised him, trying again to speak to He Dongting, but as soon as his tone rose, Jing’er interrupted once more. Xie Siquan bent down, pinched the boy’s cheek, and pretended to scold, “Jing’er, you’re doing this on purpose, huh? Only protecting your father?”
The child buried his face in his uncle’s chest, nuzzling him playfully to make up.
Xie Siquan couldn’t help but laugh. “Fine, fine. I’m not angry. Just talking to your father. You little rascal—you win, I’ll stop.”
He Dongting chuckled. “Jing’er’s growing up—he understands a lot now.”
Xie Siquan grinned. “Still young! He just hears my voice get loud and rushes to defend you. Try shouting at me twice and see whose side he takes.”
He Dongting didn’t dare. He changed the topic: “You’ve been out all day lately—what have you been up to? Your sister’s worried.”
Xie Siquan said, “Nothing much. Just asking around about the Bai family.”
“What did you find?”
Xie Siquan frowned slightly and lowered his voice. He’d spent two or three days gathering gossip—what he’d heard matched what He Dongting already knew. The Bai family was an old, powerful clan—entrenched not only among the northern gentry but even tied to Beiping’s elite. Inside the passes, several major families vied for influence; outside, the Bai family reigned supreme. Yet despite his inquiries, no one was willing to speak much—rumors were scarce, and people avoided the topic.
After buying sugar figurines and two sticks of fried sweets, Siquan felt the chill wind outside and told He Dongting to take Jing’er home first.
Jing’er clung to his hand. “Uncle, come with us?”
Xie Siquan crouched, ruffling his hair with a smile. “Uncle still has something to do. I’ll come home early tonight and have dinner with Jing’er, all right?”
The boy’s eyes brightened. “Uncle’s going to buy a big horse?”
Xie Siquan nodded. “That’s right.”
Jing’er took two steps with his father, then turned and ran back, hugging his uncle tightly before finally leaving.
That little bundle of sweetness melted Xie Siquan’s heart—he hadn’t stopped smiling since.
By noon, he was sitting in a noodle shop, tossing a silver coin up and down. The waiter glanced at him nervously and said, “Sir, it’s not that we’re unwilling to talk, it’s just—there’s not much to say. Old Lord Bai Jiu was a righteous gentleman, Governor Bai was upright and honest. As for the young master you asked about, though he’s young, he’s said to be quite talented—spent years abroad with the old master, even speaks foreign languages…”
Xie Siquan lost interest, pocketed the coin, and left.
He’d been wandering the streets for two days and kept hearing the same things. The Bai family seemed sealed like an iron fortress—not even a scrap of juicy gossip escaped. How dull.
That afternoon, too lazy to keep digging, he remembered his promise to Jing’er and went east to the horse market. After browsing for half a day, he picked out a tall, strong chestnut horse—magnificent—and bought it on the spot to ride home.
Unfamiliar with the city’s roads, he took a few wrong turns, and just as he neared his lodging, a group emerged from a side alley. The leading porter walked too fast and shouted “Ho!”—startling Xie Siquan’s new horse, which reared up with a loud neigh!
Fortunately, Xie Siquan had years of riding experience from Sichuan and managed to pull the reins tight before disaster struck. The porter almost collided with him and turned pale with fright, hastily steadying the sedan chair.
A person stepped down—about ten years old. As the porters rushed to assist him, they called him “Young Master.” The boy waved them off and walked toward Xie Siquan with a slight limp.
Xie Siquan, still calming his horse, looked up and saw a pale-faced young boy approaching. He blinked, then stepped forward to apologize. “Sorry, little brother—did I hurt you?”
The boy shook his head, his tone polite but distant. “I startled your horse. The fault was mine.”
Xie Siquan was sharp-tongued but soft-hearted—if someone gave him an inch, he’d give back three. Money was no issue. Seeing some boxes spilled from the sedan—one open, showing ginseng roots clearly worth a fortune—he crouched to help pick them up and handed over a handful of silver coins.
“My fault for not knowing the road. Take this—if anything’s broken, consider it covered.”
The boy hesitated, staring down at the money.
Xie Siquan raised an eyebrow. “Not enough?” He thought a moment and added a banknote.
That snapped the boy from his daze. He hurriedly pushed the money back. “No need. They’re just some mountain goods—none damaged.”
Xie Siquan said, “Take it anyway. You’re young—probably running errands for your family, right?”
“…I’m accompanying my grandfather to visit an old friend.”
“Ah, I see. Then take it—buy new boxes while it’s still daylight. Better to report home properly. By the way, what’s your family name? Do you sell mountain goods?”
“Bai,” the boy replied softly. “My family runs several boats—we trade in many things.”
Xie Siquan clicked his tongue. “Half this city’s people are surnamed Bai! You know the Bai family up north? The one with the tallest walls and biggest gate?”
The boy paused. “I’ve heard a little.”
Xie Siquan grinned. “Excellent! Come, I’ll walk with you to buy boxes—and you can tell me more about that Bai family. Truth is, they’re… distant relatives of ours.”
The boy looked up at him.
Once he’d started the lie, it flowed easily. “We came all the way from the south—been years since we saw them. I just want to know their tastes before visiting. You’ve heard of their foreign-educated young master, right? I think his name’s Bai Rongjiu? Ever met him?”
He chatted the whole way, asking all sorts of questions. The young boy, though quiet, answered most of them. When he learned Siquan had come from Sichuan, he grew even more reserved.
Xie Siquan found him likable but a bit too serious, and teased, “Do you always talk this little?”
The boy replied earnestly, “Grandfather says one must be cautious with words and actions.”
Author’s Note:
Xie Siquan (scratching ear): “Why does that sound so familiar?”
Second Master: “He’s right. A leader should not be too unruly in public.”
Xie Siquan: “Who are you calling unruly?”
Second Master: “You.”
