Qin Dynasty: Who offended my frail and sickly minister?

"Let's go, let's go! We wouldn't dare trouble Uncle Zhou to brew tea. It's getting late, let's go now!"

Meng Yi casually stuffed the remaining half of the hazelnut kernels in his palm into his mouth, crunching them loudly. He got up and was pushed a couple of steps away by the crowd.

He raised his hand to brush away the tiny pieces of fruit peel from his palm, turned his head, and muttered softly to Wang Ben in a low voice.

"Why is Uncle Zhou still the same? He kicks people out as soon as he's done using them."

"It's already pretty good. At least we were served tea and snacks today. We should be content."

As Zhang Han rose, he picked up the remaining tea from the table, drank it all in one gulp, wiped his mouth casually, and then started to leave, a look of blissful satisfaction on his face as he remarked:

"Back then, when Uncle Zhou captured me to work as a scribe, I was buried in bamboo slips all day long. I didn't even have a moment to drink water. Besides being exhausted, I was always worried about being captured by Li Tingwei. He had it even worse!"

Fusu clearly recalled that busiest time as well, and subconsciously nodded emphatically in agreement. Then, realizing what he'd done, he felt a pang of guilt, but didn't dare glance back. He simply pulled Zhang Han closer, urging him to hurry.

"Stop talking, let's go. You've had a long day, go home and rest early. You have to get up early tomorrow, don't oversleep."

"What are you afraid of?"

Wang Ben casually chimed in, raising his hand to look at the scattered hazelnut crumbs still clinging between his fingers. He frowned slightly, then his eyes darted around, and he gave a wicked smile.

He suddenly quickened his pace, taking two steps forward, casually placing his hands on Zhang Han's shoulders, subtly nudging him, and saying with a grin:

"Bang!"

A calligraphy brush, saturated with thick ink, flew through the air and struck Wang Ben squarely on the back of the neck, splattering ink everywhere, accompanied by Zhou Wenqing's gritted teeth:

"I can hear you—!"

"Aww~!"

A cold ink splatter suddenly landed on Wang Ben's neck, making him shudder. He clutched the back of his neck and grimaced, letting out a strange cry. As he turned his head angrily, he bumped into Zhou Wenqing's ambiguous, slightly displeased gaze.

Wang Ben: "!!!"

Help! What nonsense am I spouting?!

That's it, I'm doomed.

Wang Ben was so devastated that he wanted to cry but couldn't shed a tear.

He just wanted to play a little trick, only thinking about not letting Zhang Han find out. He spoke too quickly without thinking, and this time he really messed up and was completely "on the lookout" of Uncle Zhou.

So, people shouldn't do bad things, or they'll suffer the consequences, right?

Zhang Han shrugged his shoulders, exchanged a glance with Meng Yi, and grinned silently with schadenfreude. He stopped pretending and was laughing so hard that his teeth were showing.

Fusu and Yao Jia exchanged a glance, shook their heads speechlessly, and then—

The four of them, with perfect understanding, slipped away and made their escape...

Live it!

In an instant, only Wang Ben remained in the room.

With a mournful face, he bent down to pick up the brush that had rolled to the ground, and respectfully presented it back to the desk with both hands. His face was plastered with an extremely obsequious smile, and he dared not say another word. He turned around and quickly fled outside.

Just before leaving, I remembered to bend over, raise my hand, and gently close the door with a creak.

From afar, the sounds of boys laughing and joking, clamoring to settle scores, drifted from the doorway, gradually fading into the distance until silence returned.

"Those brats."

Zhou Wenqing shook his head helplessly, feeling both annoyed and amused, and gently placed the troublesome brush back on the brush holder.

Looking up at the desk, files were piled up haphazardly, and various registers and records were scattered about.

He sighed softly, and without inviting anyone else in, he bent down and began to gather and neatly roll up the files one by one.

The wooden shafts at the edges of the files clattered together, making a dull, rustling sound. The candlelight flickered on the candlestick, its orange glow swaying back and forth, reflecting off the documents that Wang Ben had not yet put away when he left.

—Chancellor Meng had many students, and his influence spread far and wide. He was skilled at teaching according to students' aptitudes and was tireless in his instruction. Scholars often came to him seeking knowledge and guidance, and he never gave perfunctory treatment to those who asked. He was deeply respected by the scholars.

Zhou Wenqing's gaze slid over the handwriting without lingering. He simply raised his hand, quickly retied the file, placed it back on the corner of the desk, and turned to walk into the inner room, preparing to rest.

He still harbored a grudge, secretly plotting as he walked:

Hmph! I'll go back to sleep now, and tomorrow I'll get up early and sit down in the main hall. Those brats who arrived after me, I'll kick them one by one, and kick them two by two, without any mercy!

Thinking this, Zhou Wenqing's lips involuntarily curled up, and even his steps became lighter. He hummed an unknown tune intermittently as he walked towards the bathing room with his hands behind his back.

------

The next morning, as soon as the sunlight streamed through the window, Zhou Wenqing was already sitting upright at the table in the main hall.

The teacup in front of him was still steaming, indicating that he had been sitting for a while. Fusu sat obediently next to him, Yao Jia opposite him, and Wang Ben, Meng Yi, and Zhang Han also sat neatly at the lower end, each one sitting upright, as if they had expected someone to check on them this morning.

Zhou Wenqing's gaze slowly swept over the group, a faint smile playing on his lips.

—What a pity, we didn't catch a single one.

Wang Ben, who had gritted his teeth and spent the night sleeping on a makeshift bed in the main hall, and Meng Yi and Zhang Han, who had rushed over before dawn out of fear of being implicated, straightened their backs even more instantly:

We dare not be late, not even a little bit late!

Zhou Wenqing chuckled softly as he looked at the men who seemed to be facing a formidable enemy.

They're clever, I suppose.

He picked up the teacup, took a slow sip, and gently placed it back on the table, about to say something.

The sound of servants hurrying across the floor tiles came from outside the corridor. The gatekeeper lifted the curtain, entered, bowed, and announced in a high voice:

"Sir, Madam Qing has arrived."

"Oh, so early?" Yao Jia's eyes lit up upon hearing this. He couldn't care less about secretly watching the show anymore and quickly stood up. "Quickly, please come in."

The curtains were lifted to both sides by the servants, and Ba Qing, with an elegant demeanor and a beaming smile, slowly walked into the hall.

However, everyone's gaze fell on the scholar who followed her in.

The man was dressed in a faded linen long gown, with a faint frayed edge at the hem. The fabric was thin, and upon closer inspection, one could even see several finely sewn stitches at the corners. Although not luxurious, it was clean, neatly ironed, and did not appear impolite.

Once you remove his clothes, you'll find him to be thin and frail, with calloused hands and rough skin, completely unlike a scholar who spends his days buried in books and living a life of luxury.

But none of that mattered. Zhou Wenqing, Yao Jia, and others had seen many poor scholars struggling to make ends meet, but...

Yao Jia frowned slightly, his fingertips unconsciously stroking the outside of the teacup.

This person, whom Madam Qing valued so highly and specially recommended, was actually much younger than she had expected.

He raised his eyes and secretly glanced at Zhou Wenqing beside him, silently assessing the situation.

Judging by his appearance, he's probably not much older than Zicheng, right?