Chapter Twenty-Eight: Old Memories Revisited

The Daoist narrowed his long, slender eyes, scrutinizing Zhou Zhi, who was shaping clay, from head to toe. Only after a long while did he speak. “Young Master Third, I have looked him over. This boy’s appearance and physique are not lacking, and he is not without cunning. However, he was born with a lowly fate. To work the fields as a farmer all his life would already be his greatest blessing. Should he take one misstep, he could easily end up as a servant or a slave.”

Chen Wenju, hearing this, was instantly delighted. He burst out laughing. “Ha! The Immortal’s calculation is brilliant, his insight into people unmatched.”

As he spoke, he cast a contemptuous look at Zhou Zhi with his hollow, skull-like eyes.

Zhou Zhi heard every word they said. He couldn’t help but look up and study the Daoist: a fair face, straight nose, square mouth, and a wisp of beard—he certainly looked the part of a dignified man of the Dao.

But words are the property of those who speak them; let him say what he pleases. Zhou Zhi thought to himself and gave a faint, indifferent smile, saying nothing.

Chen Wenju was in even better spirits now. “Boy from the Zhou family, you heard what the Immortal just said, didn’t you? You’re just a mud-legged peasant. Being a farmer all your life is your lot. Don’t harbor any undue ambitions.”

At this, he suddenly turned to glance at his servant, Gou Wang’er, and continued with a smile, “Zhou family boy, the Immortal has just examined your roots and bones. Ah! I am a kind-hearted master. Knowing you’ll sooner or later fall into servitude, I pity you! Why not this—since you know a few characters, and I happen to like you, kneel down now and kowtow to me, and I’ll accept you as my page boy.”

“You know the Chen family is wealthy and powerful. The life of a page boy is not so bad—after all, you’d have to dress decently to accompany me out; it would be shameful otherwise. Come, my pitiable Zhou family boy!”

He finished speaking and braced himself, ready to receive Zhou Zhi’s kneeling obeisance.

To poor farmers, serving as Chen Wenju’s page boy was indeed not a bad prospect. At least, one would be better dressed, given the need to accompany the young master. A shabbily dressed page would reflect poorly on Chen Wenju.

In Chen Wenju’s view, Zhou Zhi might well accept—after all, the Zhou family lived in wretched poverty, with no hope or future. Once he had Zhou Zhi under his thumb as a page, he could discipline and torment him as he pleased.

Before Zhou Zhi could answer, Gou Wang’er, the servant at Chen Wenju’s side, hastily knelt before him, his face twisted in misery, choking back tears. “Young Master Third, I always do my work diligently and never shirk my duties. How could you suddenly despise me and cast me aside?”

Gou Wang’er was a burly man, and kneeling like this did make him seem somewhat pitiable.

Chen Wenju chuckled and ignored him, continuing to address Zhou Zhi. “Do you see? Being a page boy is so comfortable even Gou Wang’er can’t bear to give it up!”

Zhou Zhi had never even considered becoming Chen Wenju’s page. In his eyes, Chen Wenju was the epitome of a pampered scoundrel—he could barely stand the sight of him, let alone serve him.

Moreover, Zhou Zhi had long set his sights on pursuing the imperial examinations and earning official distinction.

To Zhou Zhi, Chen Wenju’s words were nothing but an attempt to humiliate him, a ploy to regain the face he had lost that day.

Since Chen Wenju had come seeking his own embarrassment, Zhou Zhi saw no reason to be polite.

His gaze turned cold. “Young Master Chen, you’re right. I was born poor, but I have no interest in being your page. I just want to read my books. I believe my studies are none of your concern, are they? Or have you already forgotten the wager you and I made the other day?”

He was clearly reminding Chen Wenju that the embarrassment in the fields had started over a matter of study—Chen Wenju was meddling where he shouldn’t.

That humiliation had always been a sore spot for Chen Wenju. His face flushed red; he had intended to mock Zhou Zhi today, but Zhou Zhi’s reminder left him awkward and at a loss for words.

He fumed inwardly, vowing that he would someday make Zhou Zhi suffer and reduce the Zhou family to servitude, so that Zhou Zhi would truly become a slave.

His anger needed an outlet. Glancing down, he saw Gou Wang’er, who was secretly delighted to have kept his position because Zhou Zhi had refused to be the page. This only made Chen Wenju angrier, and he kicked Gou Wang’er. “Why are you still kneeling there, get up!”

Gou Wang’er sprawled backwards but quickly got up, glancing at Zhou Zhi with a hint of gratitude in his eyes. Then, putting on a servile face, he fawned at Chen Wenju, “I know you’re angry, Young Master. If you need to vent your anger, go ahead and kick me a few more times, I can take it!”

“Young Master, that Zhou family boy may know a few characters, but he has a terrible temper—he could never compare to my obedience!”

Seeing Gou Wang’er’s obsequiousness and hearing his fawning words, Zhou Zhi deliberately let out a few laughs, as if only worried that Chen Wenju wouldn’t be angered to death.

The Daoist watched as Chen Wenju was rendered speechless by a poor boy, and shot a sinister glance at Zhou Zhi before speaking in a low, grave voice. “Zhou family boy, is it? While your quarrel with Young Master Chen has nothing to do with me, your arrogance cannot go unaddressed. Let me teach you a little something.”

“All things in this world have their ordained place. People are divided into high and low, noble and base. It is said that if fate grants you only three pecks of rice, you could wander the world and never fill a bushel.”

“You were born poor, destined for a lowly life. You should work hard and accept your lot, and perhaps you’ll find a slightly better end. Yet you dream of reading books and pursuing wild ambitions—such delusions can only lead to your doom! Have you ever seen smoke rising from your ancestral tomb?”

“I have already examined you and will dispel your misfortune. Young Master Chen is destined for wealth, you for poverty. If you become his page, his good fortune will counteract your misfortune, ensuring your safety and even bringing you some small blessing.”

“Life is but a hundred years. To be content with your station is the proper path. I advise you to consider carefully and kneel to beg to become Young Master Chen’s page, lest you regret it in the future.”

As he spoke, the Daoist shrouded his words in mystery, exuding an air of otherworldliness, as if he might ascend to immortality at any moment. In truth, his intentions were much the same as Chen Wenju’s: as long as Zhou Zhi became the page, Chen Wenju’s lost dignity would be restored.

Zhou Zhi noticed that the Daoist didn’t call himself “this humble Daoist,” but rather “this Daoist”—a clear sign that he despised the poor and courted the rich. It was no wonder that anyone who could associate with Chen Wenju would be cut from the same cloth. Though the Daoist looked dignified, his words revealed him as a charlatan, currying favor with Chen Wenju in silence.

When had Chen Wenju found such a rogue Daoist as a companion?

Very well. Since you and Chen Wenju are birds of a feather, and so eager to speak on his behalf, I, Zhou Zhi, will be sure to find a way to deal with you in good time.