Chapter Fourteen: The Black Sheep

After shooing away the bothersome flies, Bai Yu looked at Bai Father lying on the kang and said again, “Without me, the Bai family would have been finished this time! So from now on, I will be the head of this family! Once you have recovered, just mind your own duties quietly. As for everything else, including matters concerning me, you need not interfere anymore!”

If he could seize this opportunity to suppress the patriarchal authority and take charge from now on, turning a bad situation into a good one, it would perfectly align with dialectical principles. As the ancients wisely said, “To repel external threats, one must first secure internal peace.” If he was to strive and achieve great things outside, how could he be constantly held back by troubles at home?

Bai Father replied with difficulty, “You want to be in charge? Then first make tonight’s dinner.”

Bai Yu was speechless.

How exactly does one start a fire with firewood? How many pieces of wood are needed to cook porridge? How much rice goes into the iron pot? How to prepare the wild vegetables? Should salt be added? How to warm up the corn bread?

In practical matters like this, AI was no good.

“Where’s the three taels of corvée silver the whole courtyard gave you?” Bai Yu asked. “Use that money to buy some sesame cakes to get through tonight.”

Bai Father remained silent—this was their last reserve of silver, not to be touched lightly.

Bai Yu had no choice but to take a portion of the family’s treasured rice and went to Old Li, the bricklayer living in the rear wing, asking his family to help prepare dinner.

Beijing and its surroundings did not produce rice, but every year four million dan of grain were transported from the south to the capital as official stipends.

Thus, rice was a rather special staple in the city, sometimes even a mark of status.

Among the lower-ranking soldiers and civilians, only those on imperial rations received rice from the court.

Bai Father received five dou of rice monthly, no more than that—certainly not all for eating; most was exchanged for coarse grains and daily necessities.

Others among the populace were accustomed to northern foods, mainly wheat-based, so rice was a rare luxury.

So by giving some rice to Old Li, Bai Yu was able to secure the Li family’s help with dinner.

Mr. Yan, living opposite in the west wing, saw this and grew a bit envious. He called out in the courtyard, “My family can help you with meals too; we live closer, so why trouble Old Li?”

Bai Yu ignored Mr. Yan and pondered how to manage their daily lives.

He needed to prepare for the exams, and practicing calligraphy was the most urgent task. He certainly had no energy to serve Bai Father, nor was he the type to be servile.

Then Bai Yu thought of a suitable candidate—his good elder brother Liu Cunyi.

Liu had no steady business at the moment; he had both the time and energy to look after Bai Father and could also handle meal arrangements.

He would figure out some form of compensation, making it a mutually beneficial arrangement.

The next day, Bai Yu gave Old Li some more rice and asked his son Li Wenquan to look after Bai Father for a day.

This spendthrift behavior earned the whole courtyard’s disdain, and people speculated the Bai family would run out of food before the month’s end.

No one knew whether the Elephant Training Bureau would continue to issue Bai Father’s stipend during his home recuperation.

After Bai Yu left, the crowd gathered again under the elm tree to gossip.

Someone teased Old Li, “Old Li, your second daughter Cai Feng must be really marrying into the Bai family, huh? But seeing that Bai brat, he doesn’t seem fit for family life.”

Old Li boasted, “A fortune teller once said my daughter has the destiny of a noble matron, so her marriage must be prudent. There’s no way she’d marry into the Bai family.”

Nearby, Mr. Yan sneered, “You ignorant fools love listening to these fortune tellers. Did your so-called expert also say the Bai scoundrel has the destiny of a top scholar? Do you believe that? Throughout history, idle spendthrifts might become emperors, but none ever ranked in the top three in the imperial exams!”

The crowd laughed and then dispersed to their own livelihoods.

After leaving home, Bai Yu headed straight to the headquarters of the Embroidered Uniform Guard to meet with Inspector Shi.

“Yesterday, Inspector, you ordered me to compose Qing Ci poems; they are finished, and I’ve come to present them,” Bai Yu reported.

Shi Chao Bin was a bit skeptical, suspecting Bai Yu was trying to bluff, and reached out his hand, “Let me see!”

Bai Yu replied, “I wrote three Qing Ci poems, each a thousand characters, three thousand in total. But we’re poor and lack paper and ink, so I couldn’t draft them. Please summon a scribe; I’ll recite them for transcription.”

Shi thought, the Elephant Training Bureau’s Chief Zhang was right—this boy’s mind might be seriously ill. Who writes three thousand characters of Qing Ci? Was he trying to become the top scholar? And what was wrong with his handwriting that he always had others write for him?

To keep things confidential, Shi did not call a scribe but personally recorded Bai Yu’s recitation.

“Originally, the great unity gave birth to all; the mysterious gateway holds the pivot of immortality; the purple pole emits its light; the cinnabar terrace keeps the eternal spring. Revering the Three Realms’ transcendent truth, wielding the great image to govern creation; the ten continents’ immortals and sages move the celestial spheres to control yin and yang…”

After finishing, Shi counted the characters—no more, no less, exactly three thousand.

“Did you really compose all this overnight?” Shi asked incredulously.

Though he had witnessed the “ten-step composition” once, he was still amazed.

Bai Yu modestly said, “Not exactly.”

As a mere mortal, Shi felt somewhat relieved, sensing less pressure.

“This didn’t even take a whole night; less than an hour,” Bai Yu added rigorously.

Even a few seconds counted as less than an hour—this was accurate.

Shi felt dazed. He was considered a prodigy by most, but compared to “ten-step composition” and “writing three thousand characters in an hour,” were his second place in the provincial exam, seventh in the metropolitan exam, and seventh in the palace exam all fake?

Finally, Shi put away the poems and said to Bai Yu, “The Judging Office still has extra ink, paper, and brushes; take some sets back with you. Next time, please write yourself, and don’t always have this esteemed inspector do your writing!”

For the impoverished Bai Yu, this was an invaluable gift, and he thanked Shi profusely.

Leaving the Embroidered Uniform Guard headquarters, Bai Yu went to the Fourth Alley to find Liu Cunyi and discuss looking after Bai Father.

The journey was silent. Upon arriving, as Bai Yu pushed open the gate, several burly men suddenly leapt out.

Although Bai Yu was taller than most his age, he could not resist several grown men. In moments, he was firmly restrained and immobile.

A young military officer slowly emerged from a dilapidated house and barked, “Speak! Where is the Riverside Scene at Qingming Festival scroll?”

Bai Yu was speechless.

What was going on? How had the news leaked? This should not have happened.

In this era, there was no surveillance technology—no cameras on streets or alleys, nor any kind of tracking—how could they trace him so quickly?

Upon closer examination, Bai Yu recognized the young officer. When he had been to the Embroidered Uniform Guard headquarters, he had seen this young captain twice from afar.

Every time, the officer swaggered in the front courtyard, commanding the banner troops with an air of authority, clearly someone with strong connections.