Chapter 7: Cheng Dashan’s Awakening

It was obvious. Cheng Dahai had stepped forward at this moment simply to take the opportunity to humiliate them. With a smug, self-satisfied look on his face, he lowered his eyes and scanned the family. "There’s only so much money in the house, and there’s nothing I can do about it. What do you say, Third Brother?"

"Big Brother..." Cheng Dashan’s expression was grim. He desperately wanted to say firmly, "Most of this money was earned by me!" But it was too late for that now.

"Anyway, that’s how things stand. You all better think it over carefully—do you want to be taken away for confiscation, or are you going to find a way to scrape the money together?" With that, the eldest uncle helped the old Madame Han back into the house.

Aunt Qin, the eldest sister-in-law, wore a mocking sneer. She held her chin high, and as she passed by Lady Liu, she deliberately stopped and let out a contemptuous snort. "Third Brother’s wife, whether one can succeed in their studies depends on fate!" She shifted her gaze to Cheng An and chuckled derisively, "I don’t think little Sixteen has that kind of fate! He’s destined to toil in the fields for his whole life... wouldn't you agree?"

Lady Liu gripped her sleeves so tightly her knuckles turned white.

"Heh, why aren't you saying anything?" Aunt Qin continued her taunts. "Weren't you quite articulate at noon today? Don't you have family in town? Why not go and borrow some money? How old is little Sixteen? Do you really want him to end up as a laborer?"

Endure! Lady Liu bit her lip hard, tears welling up in her eyes. Cheng An felt a pang of heartache, his fists clenching. Suddenly, he jumped up and shrieked, "Ah! A mouse!"

"Ah!" Aunt Qin, who was deathly afraid of snakes, insects, and rodents, screamed in terror, grabbed onto the old elm tree in the yard, and started hopping up and down.

"Little Sixteen!" Seeing his mother being toyed with, Cheng Xiaoyuan shouted angrily and prepared to strike.

"He's hitting someone!" "Second Brother is hitting someone!" Cheng An yelled as he ran out.

...

By the small river. The early spring water was still biting cold. Cheng An stared at the river surface, his focus drifting. He had many ways to make money, but the difficulty lay in his young age; he lacked both a voice and the authority to get things done. Yet, the situation was urgent! After much deliberation, Cheng An finally decided on one item.

Returning home, he checked the courtyard. Seeing that neither old Madame Han nor the eldest uncle's family were around, he quickly slipped into the house, grabbed his father, and pulled him outside.

"Little Sixteen? What's the matter? What happened?" Cheng Dashan looked at his son, bewildered.

Cheng An hurriedly grabbed his father’s hand and whispered, "Father, keep your voice down, don't let anyone hear! I’ve thought of a way to make money... come with me!"

"A way to make money?" Cheng Dashan followed, half-doubting. Seeing no one around, Cheng An pulled something out from his tunic.

"What is this?"

"A pulley!"

Cheng Dashan had seen it before. It was a toy his son had pestered him to make when he was younger. "Nonsense!" His face darkened immediately. "Isn't this just your old toy? Can this make money?" He felt like he’d lost his mind—to be led around by an eight-year-old and actually believe he’d thought of a way to make money!

"This really can make money!" Cheng An held his father’s hand tightly, his expression serious. "A pulley has many uses; for example, if you install it on a frame, you can lift heavy objects that you normally couldn't move." Cheng An broke it down, explaining the mechanics of the pulley to his father bit by bit. "If you make it out of iron, it can bear more weight and save a lot of manual labor!"

"All this..." Cheng Dashan’s pupils contracted, his gaze becoming fixed. "Did you figure all this out?"

"Yes!" Cheng An whispered, "Mother has had a hard time over the years and is always being bullied by Grandmother! I just want to grow up fast and earn money so I can protect Mother!"

Cheng Dashan was instantly moved to tears. Was this something an eight-year-old could say? Even in the countryside, children grew up fast, but what could an eight-year-old really do? Even if they were sensible, it was usually just helping with chores. But his son...

*Slap! Slap!* He suddenly struck his own face twice, his eyes red. "Useless, I’m just a useless man! Damn it, I’m not even as good as my own son!" An eight-year-old child knew how to protect his mother. But what about him? How much hardship had he let his wife suffer all these years? He had been blindly subservient to old Madame Han, letting her suck his family dry, all while blaming his wife for complaining and accusing her of disrespecting his mother. But had he ever thought of his own wife and child?

*Slap! Slap! Slap!* He crouched on the ground, slapping himself as if possessed. Cheng An watched, his own mouth twitching, feeling a bit of heartache. "Father, the books say, 'To recognize one's mistakes and correct them is the greatest virtue!' Besides, Grandmother is biased; this isn't your fault."

"You're right..." Cheng Dashan looked at his son with reddened eyes. This was the first time he had admitted to old Madame Han's favoritism.

In the past, he had always felt that no matter how unreasonable she was, she was still the mother who gave birth to him and raised him—how could a son go against his mother? But this time... Cheng Dashan recalled his mother’s words: "Third Son, the house will certainly not pay the tax for your wife. Either you divorce her, or you go do the corvée labor in her place!" And the eldest brother’s words: "The family’s money didn't fall from the sky! Your woman bullies our mother so much, and you still protect her? That is unfilial!"

Cheng Dashan couldn't help but ask himself: Am I unfilial?

...

The father and son walked along the country path. The two shadows, one large and one small, were gradually elongated by the setting sun. Neither spoke, yet the bond between them was warming. For the first time, Cheng Dashan began to look at his son squarely and treat him as an adult. There was even a hint of... inferiority in his eyes?

Cheng An sighed inwardly. He pulled his father’s hand and said, "Father, when we get to Master Gu’s house, don't mention money right away. If you do, he’ll just drive the price down."

"Alright." Cheng Dashan squeezed his son's hand and nodded calmly.

"Also," Cheng An continued, "don't explain too much about how the device works, or he’ll learn how to make it himself, and then it won't be worth anything."

"Understood." Cheng Dashan nodded again. After a while, he looked back at his son. "Sixteen, have you been thinking about these things for a long time?"

Cheng An hesitated, then nodded. "I’ve thought about it a few times before, but I was too young. No one would believe me, and it would only bring trouble."

The elders often said that smart people have short lives. Cheng Dashan was honest and simple, but he understood this truth. "You did the right thing." He touched his son’s face with relief. "The more capable a person is, the more they must learn to be humble. Once you go to school later... you must study hard, understand?"

"School?" Cheng An stopped in his tracks.

Cheng Dashan’s gaze was firm. "You must study, and you must study with heart! Even if I have to give my life for it, I will support you! Don't be afraid of anything; I am here!"

What is a father’s love? Some say it is like a mountain. But Cheng An felt that a father’s love was like the wind—it carries your dreams wherever you wish to go, and even if the road ahead is filled with thorns, it can help you smooth them away.