The beginning of the story of the Tang Dynasty's Imperial Son-in-Law: A rhinoceros comes knocki

Chapter 110 Wang Zhihuan is summoned

For Wang Hu, who has held this position his entire life, today's actions are no different from those of the past.

These things are ingrained in my bones, so I can do them with ease.

He simply did whatever his superiors told him to do, never trying to stand out, but when it came to killing, he didn't hesitate for a second.

Wang Hu always had a smile on his face, which looked peaceful but was devoid of warmth.

This wasn't a fierce laugh, but rather a polite and impeccable one.

When we arrived, Lord Yuwen gave us very clear instructions: we must be courteous and not be violent.

What Wang Hu was best at was using the face of the government to put on a polite act.

This kind of behavior is actually more unsettling than a fierce and menacing demeanor.

At this moment, the farm is filled with the gentle smoke of cooking fires, a picture of tranquility and peace.

Under the jujube tree, Wang Zhihuan squatted on the ground, with a gray and white tabby cat lying on his knees.

His fingers were long and slender, with distinct knuckles, as he slowly combed the fur on the cat's back. His movements were unhurried, and the pressure from his fingertips was just right.

Grey lay sprawled on his lap, its eyes half-closed in contentment, making soft, gurgling sounds in its throat, its tail tip occasionally brushing against his wrist.

The yellow dog Ah Huang lay on the ground beside him, its head resting on its front paws, its two round eyes fixed on Wang Zhihuan's hand, its tail swishing back and forth on the ground, its face full of envy.

This is the expression the cat always makes when it's enjoying itself.

Wang Zhihuan kept his eyes downcast, a faint smile playing on his lips. He thought to himself, "This little beast certainly knows how to enjoy himself."

Beside the goose pen, Tie Dan held a cleaver, chopping hay bit by bit. The rhythmic, steady sound was calm and peaceful.

Despite his young age, he possessed considerable strength, striking the wooden block with steady precision.

This is a skill I learned by cutting herbs from my previous master.

Beside the stone table, the eldest son sat upright reading.

He held the worn-out Three Character Classic in his hands and read it aloud in a low voice, carefully reading each word.

His voice was clear and bright, carrying the unique vigor of a young person.

Beside the well, Xiaoman, wearing an apron, was washing rice.

Clear water flowed gently through her fingers, and white rice tumbled in the water, splashing up tiny droplets.

She had gentle features and quick movements, like an ordinary farmer's daughter, yet she possessed a greater sense of composure than most.

That kind of composure comes from people who live a stable life.

Wang Zhi occasionally glanced up, his gaze sweeping over the three children in the yard, before lowering his head again to continue stroking the cat's fur.

For nearly a year, this has been how he has lived his life: mundane, uneventful, and peaceful.

Like an old millstone that turns year after year, it cycles endlessly, grinding away grains and the mundane details of life.

He thought this kind of life would continue forever.

Until the knocking sounded.

Crisp, neat, three taps.

Xiaoman looked up at the sound, wiped the water off her hands on her apron, and quickly ran to open the door.

She thought it was her neighbor's aunt coming to borrow farm tools, or some farmer coming to see the doctor.

These days, many people come to the farm, and she has long been used to opening the door to welcome guests.

The moment the courtyard gate opened, she saw the person outside.

Three people. One in front, two behind. All were dressed in the uniforms of constables, with official badges hanging from their waists.

Xiaoman's heart tightened suddenly, and she subconsciously took half a step back.

Her already fair face instantly lost all color.

She recognized the clothes.

Wang Hu wore a polite, standard smile, cupped his hands in a salute, and performed the ritual flawlessly: "Young lady, there's no need to be alarmed. We are county officials."

His gaze swept over Xiaoman's shoulder and across the courtyard. Jujube trees, a stone table, a well, and wisps of smoke rising from the chimney. What a picturesque rural scene.

"May I ask if this is the residence of Master Wang Zhihuan, the owner of the Wang Manor?"

Xiaoman nodded mechanically, her throat feeling as if something was blocking it, and she couldn't make a sound.

Wang Hu's smile deepened, but he remained impeccably polite: "I am acting on the orders of Magistrate Yuwen of Lantian County, requesting that Master Wang come to the county office so that I may inquire about official business in person."

Xiaoman's expression changed completely.

She dared not say a word, turned and staggered into the courtyard. Her steps were unsteady, and she nearly tripped on the gravel.

The commotion inside the courtyard had already reached Wang Zhihuan's ears.

He did not get up immediately.

The hand that was stroking the cat's fur paused for only a moment before calmly continuing to stroke the fur on the cat's back.

One, two, until he gently lifted Grey off his lap and placed it on the ground, only then did he slowly stand up straight.

He raised his hand to brush off the cat hair clinging to the hem of his clothes and straightened his collar. His movements were unhurried and composed, as if he were going to a routine appointment.

Then he walked to the gate of the courtyard.

His steps were steady and unhurried.

"I am Wang Zhihuan."

His gaze was calm and open as he looked directly at Wang Hu and his group.

He spoke neither loudly nor humbly, neither arrogantly nor servilely: "May I ask what official business Lord Yuwen may be inquiring about?"

Wang Hu sized up the person in front of him.

He wore a simple, coarse cloth outfit, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing the well-proportioned arms that he had developed through years of hard work.

He was tall and upright, with a calm demeanor and unusually handsome features, yet not striking in appearance.

What's most striking is his eyes—calm and composed, like a deep pool in the mountains, bottomless and undisturbed.

Wang Hu had worked in the yamen for many years and had seen all sorts of people who were summoned.

Some people were so frightened that their legs went weak, some tried to remain calm but couldn't hide the panic in their eyes, and some shouted loudly despite their bluster.

But those who are truly calm and composed, like a deep pool, are few and far between.

He secretly noted this down in his mind, but his smile remained unchanged, and his words were perfectly worded: "The master will know when he gets there. It's nothing serious, just a routine inquiry."

There was no reason, no explanation. Just a vague summons.

This is a common tactic in officialdom. They don't spell things out, they don't explain things clearly, leaving you to guess. The more you guess, the more flustered you become. The more flustered you are, the easier it is for you to speak up in court.

Wang Zhihuan did not guess.

In a very short time, he quickly reviewed all his recent actions.

Farming, brewing wine, making medicine, and educating—each and every one of these is a duty.

It wouldn't even alarm the county magistrate or the county assistant.

Although he had doubts, he was not flustered at all.

An upright person has nothing to fear. With a clear conscience, what is there to fear from government inquiries?

"Very well." Wang Zhihuan nodded slightly, his tone as indifferent as if he were accepting a routine invitation. "Allow me to change into some clean clothes before I go with you all."

"Master!"

Inside the kitchen, Zhou Xia rushed out, holding a copper mortar and pestle for pounding medicine.

His forehead was still covered with fine beads of sweat, clearly indicating that he had been busy in the kitchen since early morning.

At this moment, his still somewhat boyish face was filled with anxiety, and the worry in his eyes was almost overflowing: "This disciple will accompany you!"

As he spoke, he gripped the bronze mortar tightly in his hand, his knuckles turning white.

Wang Zhi glanced at him.

This glance was calm, yet it made Zhou Xia stop in her tracks.

"No need," Wang Zhihuan said, raising his hand to press down on his apprentice's shoulder.

The hand was dry, warm, and strong. The thin calluses on the palm pressed against Zhou Xia's shoulder, like a reassuring pill. "Stay home and take good care of your younger siblings. Everyone should do their own thing. I'll be right back."

His tone was calm and composed, as if he were simply going out to visit a friend.

After saying that, he turned and went into the house.

The room was simply furnished. There was a bed, a table, and a chair, with an old medicine box on the table.

Those were items he brought down from Taiyuan, left behind by his original master, and were extremely useful.

The paint on the corners of the box is worn and mottled, revealing the wood grain underneath, which is perhaps a trace of history.

Wang Zhi stood in front of the medicine box and gently stroked it for a moment.

In the end, I didn't bring it.

He changed into a clean, plain-colored robe and tucked some copper coins into his pocket for emergencies.

He looked at himself in the bronze mirror again, straightened his collar, and brushed away the last cat hair from his shoulder.

Then he pushed open the door and went out.

The atmosphere in the courtyard had quietly frozen in the short time it took him to go inside and change his clothes.

Dalang stood frozen beside the stone table, the Three Character Classic in his hand having slipped to the ground at some point, its pages fluttering in the wind.

He was completely unaware, staring intently at the manor lord's back, his lips moving as if he wanted to say something, but he swallowed it back.

Tie Dan stood by the goose pen, gripping the kitchen knife tightly. Although young, he was the most fiery of the children.

His eyes were flushed red, his face filled with panic and anger, and his clenched fists were bulging with veins.

If Zhou Xia hadn't secretly held his shoulder, the child probably would have already rushed forward.

Xiaoman stood by the well, her hands tightly twisting the edge of her apron. The fabric was crumpled into a tangled mess between her fingers.

Her eyes were red-rimmed, and tears welled up in them, but she held them back tightly.

She bit her lower lip, her lips trembling slightly, her eyes filled with worry and reluctance, her fear almost overflowing from them.

Three children. One is fourteen, one is twelve, and one is ten.

They were all orphans who had lost their parents.

Finally, I found a master, a home, and a stable life.

But today, they watched helplessly as their master was about to be taken away by the government officials.

Fear is like an invisible rope, strangling everyone's throat.

Wang Zhihuan paused slightly as he walked to the courtyard gate.

He didn't turn around.

He simply said, "Banxia, ​​watch the house. There's no need to panic."

As soon as he finished speaking, he stepped onto the official road.

Before the morning mist had fully dissipated, his figure was quickly swallowed up by the white fog, leaving only a faint outline.

The footsteps faded into the distance, finally disappearing at the end of the official road.

Zhou Xia stood at the doorway, watching helplessly as her master's figure was gradually swallowed up by the morning mist.

My heart suddenly tightened, as if it had been gripped tightly by an invisible hand.

It's both stuffy and painful.

He was only a teenager, and had been at the mountain villa for less than a month with his master, but he already considered it his home.

Through the changing seasons in the Taihang Mountains, his former master repeatedly admonished him: A doctor must not panic in the face of danger. Panic will cause your hands to tremble, and trembling hands will cause the needle to miss its mark. In saving lives and helping the world, the worst thing is to be flustered.

He knew these principles by heart. For three years, he thought he had learned to be calm and composed.

But only now did he realize that principles are easy to remember, but difficult to uphold in practice.

When it comes to the safety of one's closest relatives or teachers, even the most composed mind can crumble in an instant.

He staggered back into the kitchen and slammed the bronze mortar heavily onto the stove. The loud clang startled the rats under the stove, who scattered in panic.

Zhou Xia squatted down, put her hands behind her head, and forced herself to calm down.

Don't panic in a crisis.

Then don't panic.

He took a deep breath and began to review the situation.

He knew best what kind of person his master was.

He was a kind person throughout his life, practicing medicine to help the world, cultivating wasteland and raising orphans. He never committed any crimes or overstepped any boundaries.

Why was he summoned by the county government?

Countless thoughts churned in my mind. Suddenly, a crucial detail flashed into my mind like lightning.

three children.

Dalang, Tiedan, Xiaoman.

Three orphans without legal status.

He suddenly remembered—the laws of the Tang Dynasty stipulated that anyone who took in orphans or widows had to register with the government in advance to prevent the abduction of children from good families and the harboring of people.

This is an ironclad rule that applies everywhere!

My master had only been living in Lantian for a year, having moved there from Taiyuan. He spent his days cultivating the land, practicing medicine, educating people, and busy making a living and doing good deeds.

He may not be aware of this local rule.

As for myself, as the disciple who was with my master day and night, I had read books and studied the law, yet I had never given him a single word of advice!

Zhou Xia was instantly overwhelmed by endless self-blame and regret.

He pounded his thigh hard, once, twice, until the pain overwhelmed his panic, and then he suddenly stood up.

He grabbed the medicine box, slung it over his shoulder, and turned to look at the three anxious children in the yard.

Dalang was squatting on the ground picking up the "Three Character Classic," his fingers still trembling.

Tie Dan's kitchen knife had fallen to the ground at some point, and a small chip had appeared on the blade.

Xiaoman remained standing by the well, twisting her apron tighter and tighter in her hands.

Zhou Xia forced down her panic and steadied her trembling voice: "Big Brother, take good care of your younger siblings and guard the farm."

Dalang raised his head, remaining silent. His still-childish eyes were filled with stubbornness and unease.

Zhou Xia said, enunciating each word clearly, "I will immediately head to Chang'an to seek Young Master Cheng's assistance. I will return before nightfall!"

After saying that, he strode towards the donkey shed, led out the gray donkey, and climbed on it.

He gave the reins a tug.

"Da da da yi"

The crisp sound of donkey hooves broke the morning's tranquility.

On the donkey's back, Zhou Xia crouched low, his legs gripping the donkey's belly tightly, urging the donkey to run faster.

His figure flashed past the mulberry grove and sped along the official road leading to Chang'an.

The dust kicked up by the donkey's hooves flew in the morning light, like a gray-yellow wisp of smoke.

Zhou Xia's heart pounded like a drum, far more rapidly than the sound of hooves.

Master had very few acquaintances in Chang'an.

The kind and righteous Mr. Li was a mysterious figure, whose whereabouts were unpredictable, and he was impossible to find.

The only person they could rely on, who was capable, had status, and was willing to help, was Cheng Chumo, the eldest son of the Duke of Lu's mansion!

Young Master Cheng and his master were very close, and he was in charge of selling his master's Songlao wine.

He was an upright and righteous man, and treated his master as an elder brother.

This person is someone of status and responsibility; he certainly won't stand idly by!

Zhou Xia gritted his teeth and whipped the donkey again.

On the donkey's back, the boy's eyes stung from the wind.

He blinked, and whether it was the sand or something else, his eyes were a little moist.

"Master, please be alright—"

"Your disciple will definitely bring you back!"

The wind carried his voice across the official road.

The rice paddies along the roadside rippled in the wind, their golden ears of rice drooping heavily.

In just over ten days, it will be a year of bountiful harvest.

This is the result of the master's countless efforts, and it is the family's food and hope for the whole year.

We must not let it be destroyed in an instant.