After Transmigration, Her Whole Family Are Villains

Chapter 59

The night fell.

The kitchen was an important battlefield for the lady of the house.

Knocking sounds came from the kitchen from time to time.

Little Jiang Yu rushed out to borrow some seasonings, then hurried to the foot of the wall to pull some wild chives, bustling about.

Torches were lit in the courtyard, and a kind of grass powder was also lit.

A faint herbal fragrance surrounded them, which could drive away mosquitoes.

The mosquitoes at night were poisonous.

The two fair and tender young heroes would be bitten all over.

Jiang Mianmian accompanied the young heroes waiting for dinner.

Amazingly, she had now fallen into the embrace of Square Face Young Hero.

This Square Face Young Hero was quite experienced in holding babies, his support for her back curve was comfortable, unlike the other young hero who was stiff.

Meng Shaoxia had rich experience in holding babies at his maternal grandparents' home.

Because his uncles and aunts had many children, they would let him practice holding them, hoping that he would be blessed with good fortune in the future and break the family's fate of passing down to only one child per generation.

Feeling comfortable, Jiang Mianmian's movements became more lively, swinging her fists, kicking her legs, twisting her head to look for her little ant, and then watching her elder brother sweep the floor.

Because Young Master He insisted on guiding him in writing.

After seeing the extremely rudimentary bedroom, He Chen truly felt pity for Jiang Feng.

He felt sorry that a child from a poor family could actually read and write.

Brother Jiang said his father worked at the Medicine Preparation Department and knew something about medicine, so he thought his father was a doctor.

Jiang Feng was strong in martial arts, able to knock Meng's sword away with just a firewood stick, so he couldn't instruct him.

But he could teach him how to read and write.

However, the Jiang family didn't have extra paper and pens.

Jiang Feng had to take a firewood stick from the firewood pile to use as a pen and paper.

Jiang Feng swept the ground clean and leveled it.

He cleared a rectangular area, holding the firewood stick in his hand.

Meng Shaoxia held the baby and watched from the side. This young master instantly blended in with this family after holding their child, looking very appropriate.

He felt that Brother Jiang looked a bit familiar at this moment.

When they were sparring with swords earlier, Brother Jiang had the same look.

No longer casual, his gaze had changed, becoming very serious and focused.

Jiang Feng said with some embarrassment, "It's been a long time since I last put brush to paper, so my writing won't be good."

He Chen encouraged loudly, "No matter, I started learning to write at the age of three, practicing for an hour every day without break, rain or shine. You don't need to compare yourself to me, just write what you want to write."

He spoke proudly because the He family of Qingzhou was originally the foremost literary family in the world.

He had already passed the provincial examination twice, and on this journey, he was preparing for the next examination to win the top position of number one scholar, striving to add another top graduate to the He Family.

Others might think the number one position was unattainable, but in the He Family, it was just an encouraging remark between uncle and nephew.

His uncle had been the number one scholar in the past.

Jiang Feng looked around his home.

Finally, his gaze fell on the two horses.

The horses were beautiful, not fat, but they felt powerful.

The horses were out of place in his home.

So he used the stick to write on the muddy ground:

"This horse is no ordinary horse, the constellations are its origin."

He Chen smiled in appreciation and nodded slightly. Not bad, although simple and straightforward, it was already a decent verse.

Watching Brother Jiang continue writing:

"Striking forward its lean bones, it still carries a bronze sound." (Note 1)

He Chen's nodding motion stopped.

He opened his mouth several times, then closed it again.

And what He Chen wanted to point out to Jiang Feng, upon seeing these words, this poem, he was stunned for a long time.

The handwriting was a bit clumsy, indeed showing lack of practice.

But the force behind each character pierced through the mud, striking fiercely.

Brother Jiang was writing about horses.

Or so it should be.

But this poem, it was as if the elders in his family were speaking.

Line after line about horses, yet line after line not about horses.

He Chen closed his mouth, his handsome face becoming somewhat heavy.

He looked around at the dilapidated thatched hut, mud walls, barking dogs, and buzzing insects.

"Striking forward its lean bones, it still carries a bronze sound!"

He Chen seemed to see through the short, worn robes of the young man, revealing bronze bones.

Seeing countless people swinging sticks at those bronze bones, echoing bronze sounds that shook the heart and soul.

He looked up at the sky.

Stars filled the heavens.

He had once prided himself, thinking that there were only eight measures of talent in the world, and he occupied one measure.

But this impoverished dwelling, this young man who didn't even have a brush or paper, produced a poem that slapped him in the face.

At this moment, he thought that in his journey across the land, he had seen the person he wanted to see, and this was the greatest gain of his trip.

He did not comment further, but instead said, "Brother Jiang, I will be leaving tomorrow. Would you be willing to come with me to Qingzhou?"

Meng Shaoxia was alarmed, How dare Brother He try to take someone away, after all the poor girls he had forced on him along the way, it still wasn't enough?!

"Brother Jiang, come with me to the capital city. Your martial arts are exceptional, you would be suitable for my family."

"Go to Qingzhou, you have a talent for literature that should not be wasted."

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(Note 1: This poem is written by Li He of the Tang Dynasty:

"Twenty-Three Horse Poems, No. 4"

This horse is no ordinary horse, the constellations are its origin.

Striking forward its lean bones, it still carries a bronze sound.)

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