Son Little Bull

The setting sun sank completely into the rolling mountain ridges, leaving only a few wisps of dark gold embers on the horizon, faintly illuminating the Shen family courtyard.

With a creak, the courtyard gate was pushed open.

The cool, lingering air, carrying with it dust and a faint, almost imperceptible smell of blood, seeped in.

Inside the main room, the oil lamp was already lit, its dim yellow light struggling to tear a small patch of light through the darkness in the corner.

Shen Yan brought over a basin of warm water, wrung out a cloth, and carefully wiped away the congealed blood and dust from the little bull's face.

The cloth touched the wound on the child's forehead, and the child gasped in pain, hissing as his little face scrunched up.

"Bear with it, kid."

He spoke in a very soft voice, and his movements were even slower, as if he were polishing a fragile treasure.

"If we don't clean it properly, it will fester and cause even more suffering."

He picked up a clean strip of cloth, dipped it in the brown ointment he had bought from the pharmacy, and carefully, bit by bit, applied it to the abrasions and bruises on his son's forehead and arms. The flickering lamplight fell on his lowered eyelashes, and the handsome face that had once made young women and wives blush and their hearts race was now shrouded in focus and a deep weariness, the faint dark circles under his eyes particularly glaring in the light and shadow.

The little bull gritted its teeth and endured the pain, but its gaze kept involuntarily drifting towards the corner.

Ling Zhan sat quietly on the stool, her unadorned, gleaming short dagger in front of her. In her hand, she held a clean, coarse cloth, slowly and attentively wiping the blade again and again, each movement carrying an almost ritualistic precision.

After wiping herself clean, she closed her eyes and lowered her gaze, her breathing calm.

It was as if all the noise and light around her had nothing to do with her, creating her own desolate world.

The ointment was applied evenly, and the cloth strips were properly wrapped.

Shen Yan gently patted her son's thin back: "Alright, go wash your hands and get ready for dinner."

The little bull grunted in agreement and dawdled as it went out the door.

Not long after, the little figure turned back and peeked out from the doorway.

He hesitated for a moment, then finally took small steps to the old desk where Chen Yan was sitting.

A thick book, the "Great Zhou Code," lay open on the desk, like a heavy boulder pressing down on the table.

Scattered nearby were several sheets of paper covered with neat small characters, the ink still wet; a polished inkstick with rounded edges; and a brush with a slightly worn nib, clearly having endured much "torture".

Shen Yan was staring at one of the pages, his brows furrowed, his fingers tapping the table unconsciously and anxiously, muttering to himself as if reciting some obscure incantation.

"...'Anyone who steals trees from within the imperial gardens and mausoleums...' Alas... what exactly does 'a fortune in stolen goods' mean? Couldn't our ancestors have spoken more sensibly when setting these rules..."

He scratched his already disheveled hair in frustration, his face filled with the anguish of being slowly tortured by the law and a sense of utter despair.

“Father…”

The little bull moved closer, her voice soft and hesitant, her small hand unconsciously clutching the oil-stained corner of Shen Yan's blue scholar's shirt, as if it were her only support.

Shen Yan was already feeling dizzy from those difficult words and phrases. Hearing the sound, she looked up, rubbed her throbbing temples hard, trying to dispel the heavy drowsiness. When she looked at her son, she still tried her best to keep her tone gentle.

"Hmm? What's wrong? Is it hurting a lot? If it's not too bad... have you finished your homework?"

He caught a glimpse of the cloth strip wrapped around his son's forehead, and his heart felt as if it had been gently pricked by a needle, softening even more.

The little bull took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling slightly, as if he had made some kind of life-altering decision.

He suddenly looked up, his bright black eyes gleaming with an almost desperate plea in the dim light, and his voice rose sharply with a reckless courage: "Father! I...I don't want to go to school anymore!"

Shen Yan's fingers, which were tapping the table, suddenly stopped and hovered in mid-air.

His brows furrowed even more deeply, forming a deep frown.

"What nonsense are you talking about? What's wrong with the school? Did the teacher hit you?" He instinctively thought of the worst-case scenario.

"No, sir!"

The little bull's voice trembled with tears, his grievances and urgency surging like a tide: "It's those words! Those words are so hard! They twist and turn, like worms crawling! Just looking at them makes me dizzy! The teacher reads those classical Chinese phrases, but I can't understand a single word! It's like listening to gibberish! My butt is numb from sitting so long, and my bones are aching!"

He became more and more agitated as he spoke, his small hands tightly gripping Chen Yan's sleeve as if it were his only lifeline, afraid that if he let go, he would be dragged back to that suffocating school.

"I want to stay at home! I want to stay by Father's side! To be Father's page! To grind ink for you! To lay out paper! To serve you tea and water! And... and to learn to cook for Father from Aunt Wang!"

His eyes suddenly lit up with an astonishing brightness, like a shooting star streaking across the dark night sky, as if he had instantly found the perfect destination in life.

"From now on, I'll cook delicious food for Dad every day! Even better than Aunt Wang! Dad, I'm not going anywhere else, I just want to stay with you! I'll stay with you for the rest of my life!"

As if afraid that Shen Yan would immediately refuse and extinguish his newly sprouted, fervent hope, he quickly added, his voice trembling slightly with extreme eagerness and pleading.

"Dad, I promise! I grind the ink perfectly evenly, without a single drop! I won't wrinkle the paper either, it'll be perfectly smooth! I learn to cook very quickly! Really! I learn everything quickly, as long as... as long as I'm by Dad's side!"

He tilted his little face up, his eyes filled with complete dependence and longing, as if Chenyan was the center and boundary of his entire world.

Shen Yan looked at her son's flushed face and listened to his childish yet earnest "life plan," which was full of deep affection.

For a moment, I didn't know whether to be angry or laugh.

The child's facial injuries haven't fully healed yet, and he's already thinking about "a lifetime."

He sighed, his heart filled with mixed emotions. He reached out and gently pinched the uninjured side of the little bull's cheek, the touch as light as a feather.

“Silly boy! Pages are for those serious scholars! Your father is already struggling with his studies, and I still haven’t finished copying my lessons ten times over! What do I need a page for? Hmm?”

He tried to keep his tone light, with a strong sense of self-deprecation, "Cooking is a good thing, and Dad wants to eat your cooking, but as for school... we still have to go, to learn to read and understand principles, so that we can..."

"Can."

A flat, emotionless voice, like an icicle suddenly falling into calm water, clear and cold, instantly severed all the comfort and reasoning that followed.

The main room fell into a deathly silence.

The air seemed to freeze.

The faint crackling sound of the burning oil lamp wick was amplified to an infinite degree, becoming the only sound.

Shen Yan's fingers, which were pinching the little bull's cheek, froze completely in mid-air. Her whole body seemed to be frozen by an invisible stream of ice, and even her blood seemed to stop flowing.

He turned his head sharply, his eyes wide open, staring incredulously at the source of the sound—the figure in the corner.

The little bull was completely stunned. Its mouth opened into a round "O" shape, its eyes wide open, blinking blankly, wondering if it was hallucinating because its wound was hurting too much.

Mother…agreed? That mother who always keeps the rules and never says what she means?

Ling Zhan remained seated on the square stool.

Her hand, still holding the coarse cloth, remained pressed against the gleaming blade of the dagger, which was so bright it could almost reflect a person's image; her movements were frozen.

She raised her eyes, her gaze like the most precise ruler, first sweeping over the strips of cloth wrapped around the little bull's face; then landing on the bruises on his arm covered with brown ointment; finally, settling heavily on Chen Yan's face.

The dim light outlined Chen Yan's profile and shone into the depths of his eyes.

That once dashing face now bears a deep frown, forming an unresolved knot.

The pale blue under her eyes was a mark of staying up late and anxiety, and her lips were dry and chapped from repeatedly reciting those difficult legal texts. The gentle patience she forced when facing her child was like a thin sheet of paper, unable to conceal the exhaustion buried deep in her eyes, almost overflowing, and a sense of being a trapped beast, suffocated and helpless by the heavy burden of schoolwork.

The blue student shirt he wore still bore indelible oil stains on the cuffs and back, from his daytime struggle against the heavy foundation in the workshop—stains that could never be washed off. Like an ugly medal, they silently told a different story of struggle.

Ling Zhan's gaze lingered on the dark oil stain for an extremely brief, almost imperceptible moment.

It was as fast as a bird skimming across the water.

Then, her gaze returned to the little bull's face, which was filled with immense astonishment and disbelief.

“Try it for three months,” she said.

Shen Yan and Xiao Man Niu remained frozen in place, like two statues that had been petrified.

Ling Zhan continued, "Your father's grades in school must not fall out of the top ten. At the same time," she turned her gaze to Chen Yan, with a clear task assignment, "you will teach him to read. Just teach him to read and understand principles; there's no need to force him to keep up with the school's pace."

She paused, as if she felt this point needed to be emphasized, and her gaze returned to Little Bull. "Since Little Bull is working as a page, he will naturally be paid." Her gaze then shifted back to Shen Yan. "To cook, you'll start by learning to chop vegetables and start a fire from your father. Begin with the basics."

Finally, her gaze, heavy with undeniable weight, pressed down on the little bull, as if measuring the weight of his promise: "Since you're not going to school, you'll still do the daily chores of collecting cotton, moving things, and cleaning in the workshop. Not a single task can be missed. Your wages will remain the same."

Dead silence. Utter dead silence.

Even the crackling sound of the wick seemed to have disappeared.

Immediately afterwards—

"Really?! Mother! Mother!!"

The little bull's astonishment was like ice shattered by a boulder, instantly overwhelmed by a tidal wave of ecstatic joy!

He suddenly sprang to his feet, his small face bursting with an incredulous, almost burning light, completely forgetting the pain from the wound on his forehead.

"Really? You're not lying to me? I promise! I swear! I'll make sure my dad studies every day! I'll make sure he gets first place! No, in the top ten! I promise! I'll study hard! I'll learn as many characters as my mother says I can recognize! I'll learn to chop vegetables! I'll learn to tend the fire! I'll learn everything! I'll do every job in the workshop! I'll do all the work! I...I..."

He was so excited that he was incoherent, gesturing wildly, wishing he could do a few somersaults on the spot to express his inner ecstasy. He accidentally aggravated the injury on his forehead, hissing as he gasped for breath. But he couldn't stop grinning, and his eyes were filled with stars, dazzlingly bright.

He can finally stay by his father's side! Not for a day or two, but for a full three months!

Maybe...maybe in the future!

This thought made him so happy he almost exploded.

Shen Yan is still deeply immersed in a huge, subversive vortex of shock.

He watched his son's ecstatic, almost uncontrollable joy, a pure, almost scorching happiness that pierced his chaotic mind like a beam of light.

He suddenly looked at Ling Zhan again.

She remained expressionless, as if the earth-shattering decision she had just made had not come from her own mouth. She simply withdrew her gaze from the little bull, lowered her eyes again, and concealed all possible emotions.

She picked up the coarse cloth and slowly, almost mechanically, continued to wipe her dagger, which was already polished to a gleaming shine and radiated a chilling light.

The dim lamplight danced and flickered on her lowered brows and the cold, sharp blade, creating a strange and silent scene.

That almost cold calm formed the strongest and most ironic contrast to the turbulent waves surging in Shen Yan's heart.

Why? How could she agree?

Isn't she the one who despises the ignorant and incompetent the most?

She forced herself, this former playboy, to study these incomprehensible laws with utmost diligence, simply because she looked down on his past absurdity!

Did you soften your heart when you saw the little bull was injured?

Or... or did she see herself wearing this ridiculous school uniform?

He was overwhelmed by the law and had no time to even take care of his son.

These thoughts, like bolts of lightning with intense light, suddenly struck into my mind, which was filled with a deep sense of disgust and chaos!

Almost instinctively, with an urgent need for confirmation, he stared intently at Ling Zhan once more.

Her lowered profile appeared somewhat hazy under the flickering lamplight, but the focused motion of wiping the dagger seemed to carry a silent, heavy meaning in Shen Yan's eyes.

The brief moment his gaze lingered on the oil stain was like a key, suddenly unlocking a lock in his heart that had long been ignored—

She saw it.

She saw his exhaustion, his struggle, and his predicament as he tried to grasp at the straw called "the right path" but was powerless to do so.

She forced him to study law, not because she looked down on him or disliked him, but because she knew better than anyone that in this world, without power, influence, or support, only these cold legal provisions were the only weapons that people like them could grasp to protect themselves and even their families!

She pressured him, not because she disliked him, but because she believed he absolutely had to know how!

it works!

An extremely complex emotion, like a flood bursting its banks, suddenly seized Shen Yan's heart!

There was a tidal wave of astonishment, a sense of bewilderment as if the clouds had parted to reveal the sun, and an immense disbelief that overturned his understanding. But more than anything, there was something intensely burning and aching, carrying a belated realization and an indescribable tremor that instantly broke down all his defenses and surged into his eyes, hot and burning.

It felt like my throat was being blocked by a red-hot iron, causing excruciating pain and making it difficult to breathe.

Almost entirely fueled by this surging torrent of emotions, an unprecedented and overwhelming desire—

He suddenly stretched out his hand.

It was a gentle tremor, almost imperceptible.

It covered the back of Ling Zhan's right hand, which was resting on his lap and gripping the hilt of the dagger tightly.

Her hands were slightly cool.

The knuckles are exceptionally hard and strong from long-term labor and handling of weapons and tools, like rocks encased in steel.

Ling Zhan's action of wiping the dagger suddenly and completely stopped!

In that instant, her body tensed up like a bowstring stretched to its limit!

Muscles bulged beneath his clothes, brimming with explosive power!

It was as if he was about to violently slap away the hand that was covering him.

Or turn that cold dagger over and use its sharp edge to issue the most direct warning.

Shen You's heart suddenly stopped beating!

He then began to pound wildly, almost smashing his chest and leaping into his throat!

A layer of cold, sticky sweat instantly seeped from the palm covering the back of her hand.

He could even feel with perfect clarity the instantaneous stiffness and tension of the muscles on the back of her hand, and the deadly force that was poised to be unleashed!

A chill ran up my spine and up to the top of my head.

However, the expected violent struggle, the cold rebuke, and even the threatening glint in the eye did not come.

The bowstring, stretched to its limit, at the critical point of its impending burst of power, subtly, almost imperceptibly,...

It relaxed a little bit.

It was as if the accumulated power was partially dissolved by something more complex at some point, and was not fully released.

Ling Zhan kept his eyes lowered, his long eyelashes casting a small, thick shadow beneath them, like the most secure veil, firmly concealing any emotions that might be revealed.

She made no move.

He didn't pull his hand away, didn't shake it back, and didn't respond at all.

They didn't even continue that pointless wiping.

She simply let his warm palm, with its undeniable presence and slightly damp sweat, cover her cool, hard hand. Like a stone thrown into a deep pool, it sank into a silent stillness.

Time seemed to stretch out infinitely, thicken, and solidify like amber, all thanks to the dim yellow light.

The only sounds in the main room were the slightly heavy breathing of the little bull, which he couldn't suppress due to extreme excitement, and the continuous, monotonous, and eternal crackling of the burning wick.

"good."

"Daddy... will teach you how to chop vegetables." This was no longer a joke to appease his son, but a solemn promise.

"Take your hand away." Ling Zhan's voice rang out abruptly, piercing the brief, sticky warmth.

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