Volume One, Chapter 13: The Young Lady Offers an Apology? Chen Pingchuan Turns the Tables!

Inside the study, Mr. Fang’s voice soon rose again, its rhythm measured yet unbearably dull as he led the recitation.

“At the beginning, man’s nature is good. Their natures are similar, but their habits make them different…”

Zhang Jinbao sat upright at the desk, his chubby little face strained into an expression of earnest attention. For a while, he forced himself to stay awake, eyes wide open. But before long, his head began to nod, bobbing up and down like a chick pecking at rice. His eyelids grew heavy, as if weighted with lead, and he could no longer keep them apart. The strings of archaic words pouring from Mr. Fang’s mouth were more soporific than the droning of mosquitoes.

A sudden, sharp crack rang out as the ruler slapped against the desk!

Zhang Jinbao started violently, his whole body shuddering as he gazed sleepily at the furious Mr. Fang.

“Asleep again! Useless beyond redemption!” Mr. Fang’s anger flared, his mustache quivering with indignation.

“You will copy today’s lesson ten times as punishment!”

Zhang Jinbao pouted in grievance but dared not talk back, his face crumpling in misery as he accepted his fate.

At last, the lesson ended and Mr. Fang left the study. Zhang Jinbao leapt from behind the desk as if granted amnesty, clutching at Chen Pingchuan’s sleeve, his chubby face wrinkled in despair, nearly on the verge of tears.

“Big brother, save me!” he pleaded, his voice tremulous with the threat of crying. “Those words Mr. Fang reads are like a swarm of tiny bugs crawling and buzzing in my head—I can barely stand it! It’s even worse than when my father scolds me with a stick!”

Chen Pingchuan looked at the pitiful sight before him—the very picture of despair—and could not help but smile inwardly. He already had a plan.

“Don’t worry, Young Master.” He patted Zhang Jinbao’s shoulder with a show of mature reassurance, lowering his voice and leaning in conspiratorially. “As the saying goes, nothing is difficult if you set your mind to it. This afternoon, I promise you’ll find studying to be a most interesting affair.”

At these words, light burst forth in Zhang Jinbao’s previously dull eyes.

“Really?” he exclaimed, his voice rising with hope. “Big brother, what’s your idea?”

Chen Pingchuan pressed a finger to his lips with a sly smile. “Shh, that’s a secret. You’ll know soon enough.”

Zhang Jinbao, teased and left in suspense, was only more eager and nodded emphatically. “Alright! Big brother, I’m counting on you!”

Lunchtime arrived.

The servants’ dining hall bustled with noise and the aroma of food. Chen Pingchuan had just picked up his rough porcelain bowl and bamboo chopsticks, ready to wolf down a few bites to fill his stomach, when a petite figure swept in, trailed by several maids and matrons like a small whirlwind.

It was Zhang Jingshu.

Today, the little miss wore a brand-new pink jacket and skirt, her attire more exquisite than ever. Her cheeks were rosy and adorable. She strode straight to the long bench facing Chen Pingchuan and sat down, raising her delicate chin.

“Open the food box,” she ordered crisply.

The maids responded at once, swiftly unveiling an ornate, gilded food box. As soon as it was opened, the fragrance grew even richer. The dishes inside were even more sumptuous than what Zhang Jingshu herself had received the previous day: glossy roast chicken, braised pork belly glistening with fat yet not greasy, steamed fresh fish, and an assortment of exquisite pastries—all piping hot and irresistible in color and aroma.

The servants nearby, heads down over their plain meals, could not help but stare. Many swallowed unconsciously, their gazes brimming with envy.

Zhang Jingshu, however, was uncharacteristically sweet as she looked at Chen Pingchuan, her large dark eyes fixed on him. “Chen Pingchuan,” she began, her voice softer than usual, “yesterday… yesterday I was wrong. I shouldn’t have thrown things around. My mother has already scolded me.”

She paused, searching for the right words. “Here, these treats—I asked the kitchen to make them especially for you. Consider it… consider it an apology!” But by the end, her usual spoiled tone crept in: “Don’t you dare refuse my goodwill, hmph!”

At this, the dining hall fell utterly silent. Every eye turned, astonished. This young lady, who usually looked down her nose at everyone, was actually apologizing to a little study attendant? And bringing such a lavish meal as a peace offering? Had the sun risen in the west?

Chen Pingchuan, however, was instantly on guard, though he betrayed nothing on his face. What sort of scheme was this headstrong girl plotting? With her vengeful, willful nature, why would she ever apologize so readily?

He studied Zhang Jingshu closely. Her large, luminous eyes darted away guiltily, with not a hint of genuine remorse—she looked every bit the guilty party.

Heh. Gifts without reason are either flattery or theft.

On the surface, Chen Pingchuan appeared flattered, his performance perfectly matching his eight-year-old self.

“Oh, how could I accept such generosity?” he exclaimed. “Thank you, miss, but I truly don’t deserve it!”

Zhang Jingshu relaxed as he seemed to accept her apology, her tense expression easing into a smug little smile. “As long as you know! Now eat up,” she urged, giggling.

But Chen Pingchuan did not immediately pick up his chopsticks. Smiling, he looked at Zhang Jingshu and asked, “Miss, won’t you join me? There’s so much delicious food here.”

Her expression shifted and she quickly shook her head. “I—I’ve already eaten! This is all for you, especially prepared.”

“How very kind of you, miss. I’m truly grateful,” Chen Pingchuan replied with increasing warmth. Then he changed tack: “But with all these delicacies, I’m just a child—my stomach is small. I could never finish it all by myself. Wouldn’t it be a shame to waste your kindness?”

Without giving her a chance to react, he raised his voice and addressed the crowd of curious servants.

“Everyone, there’s no way I can finish this alone,” he called. “If you don’t mind, please join me. Let’s all have a taste of our young lady’s generosity and the kitchen’s fine cooking!”

At first, the servants hesitated, exchanging hopeful yet uncertain glances.

“Come, come!” Chen Pingchuan encouraged them warmly. “Didn’t our young lady just say we mustn’t waste food?”

He emphasized “waste food” deliberately.

“Let’s not disappoint her goodwill—everyone, help yourselves!”

Zhang Jingshu’s face turned pale, then green, then red in quick succession—a spectacle of shifting colors. She wanted to object, but the words stuck in her throat. As the servants, emboldened by Chen Pingchuan’s invitation, began to edge nearer, she grew frantic, sweat beading on her brow.

“I—I have something to do, I’ll go now!” she blurted out, and with no further concern for her composure, fled the dining hall in embarrassment, her maids and matrons trailing behind.