Dafeng’s Night Squad-Chapter 17

Calling Out The Aunt

Whoosh!

Xu Qian hurled a diamond-shaped stealth weapon from the roof with little care. He was in the inner courtyard of the house.

The weapon found its target—the wooden stake 20 steps away.

It was not skill Xu Qian had but luck.

“There’s definitely something wrong with my body,” he muttered under his breath.

He was too fortunate. For a whole month, he had been finding silver maces left and right, amounting to more than half of his monthly salary.

The money could feed an ordinary family of three for a month. If they were especially thrifty, it could last three months.

It was unusual to find maces of silver everywhere he went. It could not be pure luck.

Xu Qian knew something odd was at play.

“System? Come on out, stop playing hide and seek,” he called out into the empty air.

There was no response.

In the past month, he had tried countless times to wake the System.

The silence only confirmed the absence of a System.

What was the explanation for the extraordinary luck?

In his past life, he had spent a decent amount of money on lottery tickets but never won anything. Who knew his luck would change for the better? He wondered if the luck came at the expense of his life.

Xu Qian was sure the host did not have such luck. If he did, his aunt would not have picked on him. The exceptional luck would have granted him a blessed childhood.

The family would have relied on his silver-attracting ability and forgo work.

“An unexplained gift makes one suspicious. Guess I’ll just have to watch my steps.” Xu Qian sighed.

It was a rest day. Xu Qian leaped over a wall his height and entered his uncle’s house for breakfast.

The place Xu Qian was living in was originally occupied by the Xu family’s old housekeeper. One wall separated it from the manor proper.

After the housekeeper passed away, the place had been vacant until Xu Qian took up residency as a result of an argument with his aunt.

The host was a stubborn man. He made his own meals every day though sometimes his uncle would come over with some wine and food.

Xu Qian did not share the same principles as the host. Sleep was more important than preparing breakfast and eating out would cost a significant amount of money.

His money was reserved for the playhouse—the enchanting melodies coupled with thinly-veiled women swaying their hips.

…

Inside the hall, Li Ru was dressed in a deep red, wide-sleeved robe. When she saw Xu Qian enter, she pursed her lips and proceeded to eat her porridge.

She did not hail from a prestigious family—her father had passed the county-level imperial examination, earning the title of a scholar. Li Ru picked up behaviors from her father and learned to be diplomatic. Her family was recently saved by the unlucky nephew so she held back her caustic remarks. The nephew had grown into a man of some worth so she turned a blind eye to his presence.

Xu Lingyin was standing by a round stool. Her breakfast was placed atop the stool: three meat buns, two breadsticks, a side dish and a bowl of porridge.

“Brot—” she greeted incoherently with a stuffed mouth.

Xu Qian glanced around and asked, “Where is Cijiu?”

Cijiu was Xu Xinnian’s courtesy name.

Xu Pingzhi offered the answer. “He’s locked up in his room writing a poem.”

Xu Qian took a seat. Lu Er served him a bowl of porridge, six meat buns, a plate of pickled radish and a bowl of soft bean curd.

A martial artist at maximum refinement had a large appetite.

Once the martial artist reaches the Qi stage, his appetite would return to normal like Xu Pingzhi’s.

Xu Qian was only half full. He glanced at the little bean and said, “Lingyin, can you give me one of the meat buns?”

Everyone at the table observed their exchange. The youngest daughter of the family cared only about food—she would fight anyone who tried to steal from her plate.

“No!” Xu Lingyin stretched her arms wide and guarded her food like an eagle would her chicks.

“Come now, I will give you something in return.” Xu Qian took one of his meat buns and placed it on her plate.

He pointed at her plate of meat buns and said, “We both have a share of these meat buns, right?”

Xu Lingyin scratched her head.

“We’ll split them equally, yes?”

Xu Lingyin angled her head as she processed the logic, then she nodded.

“You get two buns and I get two buns. Then, I’ll give you half a breadstick. Isn’t that great for you?”

“Yes.” Xu Lingyin was completely swayed by his words. She smiled happily as if she had won the jackpot.

Xu Lingyue was speechless.

Xu Pingzhi gave his nephew a knowing look.

Li Ru watched in horror and said, “How did I birth a daughter this stupid? My goodness!”

Xu Lingyin was aggrieved. She had gotten half a breadstick more but her mother was mad.

At that moment, Xu Xinnian walked in with unfocused eyes. He was mumbling under his breath when he sat down at the table, deep in thought.

Li Ru sighed at her youngest and turned to her favorite son who had a bright future ahead.

“Little Nian, why are you busying yourself with poetry all of a sudden? One should always play to one’s strengths, take the rumors with a pinch of salt.”

Xu Xinnian’s strength was in essays on contemporary affairs while his weakness was in poetry.

“Cijiu, when will you break through and achieve the eighth-ranked Confucianism, cultivation?” Xu Qian asked.

Xu Xinnian was on the path of Confucianism. The White Deer Academy was founded 1,200 years ago by the very first disciples of Confucius.

Getting into the academy was every scholar’s dream.

Other than the credible foundation and longstanding history, the White Deer Academy was also a place where one could cultivate the ways of Confucianism.

The ninth-rank Confucianism was enlightenment.

It boosted a person’s memory skill and learning abilities but was useless in a fight.

Xu Xinnian shook his head. “No progress as of now. My mentor says it requires self-awakening.”

“Perhaps you can look into the enlightenment. How does one cultivate enlightenment?” Xu Qian asked.

Xu Xinnian recalled his past. “Familiarize yourself with the scripture until you know it by heart. Become one with the scripture, then you will have enlightenment.”

Know the scripture by heart and become one with the scripture… The former required an inordinate amount of time while the latter was subjective. Xu Qian nodded wisely.

It was similar to the martial artist’s refinement stage which involved many years of mental and physical training.

“Do you need to train your body to reach the next rank?” Xu Qian asked.

Xu Xinnian thought for a moment and said, “A cultivated Confucian would have no fear in his heart. Every word and action will motivate and encourage others. I’m trying to use the techniques to discourage people from going into the cultivator’s path.”

“Any success?”

Xu Xinnian pretended as if he did not hear Xu Qian and turned to his mother. “One of the elders in the academy has taken up an official post in Qingzhou. It is a long journey and the students want to send him off tomorrow with poetry.”

A frown appeared on Xu Xinnian’s face. “I haven’t composed my poem.”

Xu Lingyue said softly, “You have no talent for poetry.”

Li Ru glared at her daughter. “Your brother is a talented man who knows the way of poetry. He just prioritized other things.”

Xu Pingzhi scratched his head and said, “Just come up with a few sentences. The ones you recited that day when we found you were good.”

Xu Qian sniggered.

Xu Xinnian scowled and quickly changed the topic. “The elder is a well-known Confucian scholar who excels in poetry. The students sending him off are also disciples of poets. I want to pay my respects and try to make connections. Having a good relationship with this elder will be beneficial.”

Good. Xu Xinnian was finally getting off his high horse.

He was always an arrogant prude who looked down on friendships. He believed in the sayings like, ‘A scholar’s friendship is as insipid as water’ and ‘A scholar makes acquaintances but not companions’.

After the hardships the family went through, Xu Xinnian realized the importance of knowing people.

As his elder brother and cousin, Xu Qian was grateful for the change.

The person must be a big-shot if Xu Xinnian was trying so hard to make a good impression. Li Ru tried to help. “What is considered good poetry?”

Xu Xinnian replied in mild frustration, “A good essay comes naturally on the rare occasion to those who are highly skilled, the same applies to poetry.”

Then, he continued, “If I had known this elder from the literary circles, perhaps our family wouldn’t have been sent to jail.”

Li Ru’s face was scrunched up in sadness. She cared the most for her son’s future.

A true established Confucian scholar would have a strong, morally-upright character—silvers and gifts meant little. To get into their social circle, one had to prove their worth.

Xu Pingzhi’s eyebrows knitted together. “You’re like your maternal grandfather. He too knew how to write essays but not poetry.”

Li Ru shot her husband a challenging stare. “Are you saying it’s my father’s fault? My family is the reason Xinnian passed the provincial exam, he takes after me. Lingyin takes after you, she still shows no initiative for anything.”

Xu Xinnian and Xu Lingyue had their mother’s enviable looks while Xu Lingyin took after their father. The little bean was adorable in a naive way.

Xu Pingzhi was speechless.

Xu Qian could not stand by and allow his aunt bully his uncle. “I disagree. Based on your words, you’re saying the Xu family has the dumb gene?”

Li Ru did not understand what gene meant but she chuckled. “Well, if you had an aptitude for studying, you wouldn’t be a martial artist today.”

‘If this elder in the academy caught Xu Xinnian’s attention, he must be someone noteworthy. His connections are also my connections. I should lend a helping hand.’ An idea entered Xi Qian’s mind. He flipped through his memories for the poems he learned in school—there must be one dedicated to separation.

“Poetry-writing? Alright, I’ll have you know every single Xu family member is a talent.” Xu Qian bit down on a meat bun.

He wondered if the poem he had in mind would be too good. After all, a poem that would turn up in a textbook centuries later must be exceptional.