The Most Powerful Young Master of the Northern Song Dynasty

Chapter 48: Xiaobao the Donkey’s Way of Expressing Himself

Zhang Fangping moved in with Old Wang next door. He was the type to shun the poor and favor the rich, and at mealtime he slammed his chopsticks down again—because once more, the food was plain and simple. His mother, Wu Qiong; Erya’s mother; and the old grandmother all stood there, feeling awkward. Wang Bang, thinking himself clever, chuckled, “I’ve always known that you, Uncle, are as pure as water and love the people as your own children. For the sake of your reputation…” Before he could finish, he was smacked on the back of the head. Zhang Fangping said, “Never mind. Catch one of your chickens and bring it over for this old man to taste. A mere matter of reputation is no big deal—it won’t hurt me. I’m not one of those sages, after all.” Wang Bang cried himself blind, making the same mistake as Yang Wenguang, Di Qing, and the others. It wasn’t really that Wang Bang was stingy or couldn’t afford to serve a lavish feast. Rather, he was trying to act loyal when he really just wanted to show off—and ended up failing at that, too. Now, at last, she knew how to cater to this old man. Zheng Erniang was timid; she had no experience serving meals to a high-ranking minister and didn’t know how to handle the situation. So Wang Bang took to the kitchen himself. When a plate of stir-fried chicken cubes was brought to the table, the rich, savory aroma of the meat and its natural juices filled the air. Then Old Zhang, holding one of those big earthenware bowls like the ones Erya used for meals, began to eat voraciously, slurping and munching to his heart’s content, sniffing the steam and taking big mouthfuls. He ate with great relish; after finishing the earthen bowl of rice, he was full, but half the plate of stir-fried chicken cubes remained. He wanted to indulge a little more but was already feeling a bit too full, so as Zhang Fangping stood up, he pointed and said, “Pack this up and send it to my room.” Erya, with tears welling up in her eyes, swallowed hard as she watched her brother carry the chicken away… Wang Anshi really hated having Zhang Fangping living at home. Mainly because ever since Zhang Fangping had tried the stir-fried chicken cubes, he wouldn’t let up—at every meal, if that main dish wasn’t on the table, he’d slam his chopsticks down and start cursing. With the family still borrowing money to build their house, Old Wang was deeply pained by this. Almost every mealtime, Wang Anshi would watch with a heavy heart as Zhang Fangping stuffed food into his mouth; in Old Wang’s eyes, every meal cost him a window or a pillar. Xiao Suanbang, on the other hand, thought his dad was a total wimp. If entertaining the chancellor with a chicken meal was stressful, he might as well just quit his job. The only thing to worry about was if Zhang Fangping wouldn’t eat—as long as he did, there was absolutely no pressure. Of course, Wang Bang wouldn’t entertain Old Zhang with his family’s “law-abiding chickens”; he’d usually buy chickens from the market instead—it just cost a bit more. But even though Wang Bang wasn’t exactly a tycoon, he was a business owner now, so he could certainly afford a few chickens. Old Wang wasn’t home again today—he’s always so busy. At lunchtime, Zhang Fangping—the “King of Freeloaders”—said while picking his teeth, “Xiao Wang.” “Your student is here,” Wang Bang replied, clasping his fists in a traditional salute. Zhang Fangping couldn’t help but deeply regret eating this kid’s chicken—the little rascal had finally started calling himself “student” to curry favor. Originally, this kid was considered a prodigy with extraordinary potential, so having a “disciple” like him wasn’t a bad thing. However, Old Zhang had recently discovered that a quarter of the “typos” in this brat’s writing were actually mistakes. Moreover, his grammar bore a striking resemblance to that of Ma Jinsi and others; while it sounded direct and novel, it was clearly not fit for the halls of power. This meant, of course, that having such a student would bring shame upon Zhang Fangping. But since he owed the boy a favor—and had matters to discuss with him—he had no choice but to accept it. Twirling his mustache, Zhang Fangping asked, “How’s the compilation coming along on your secret recipe for hatching chicks?” Wang Bang waved his hand and said, “Uncle, you see it clearly. This young man’s grammar is a mess, and I can’t even write characters properly—I’m still in the process of organizing and revising it.” “Never mind. A few spelling mistakes won’t stump an old man like me. I’m a man of great erudition; I can make sense of your misspellings and writing style. Just bring it over. You’re still young—studying too hard will strain your eyes. I’ll take care of organizing the rest for you,” Zhang Fangping said, waving his hand. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Wang Bang said, biting his finger. Even though he was just trying to act cute, Old Zhang snapped, “Are you going to hand it over or not?” “A scholar may be killed but not disgraced! You might as well just chop me in half!” Wang Bang stomped his foot and shouted, feigning innocence. Zhang Fangping said in astonishment, “I’m just asking for a secret recipe—you promised to give it to me, didn’t you? You’ve got quite the temper; all you ever talk about is chopping and killing!” Zhang Fangping then pointed at his own nose and said, “Do I look like a bandit to you?” “Well…” Wang Bang continued to hesitate, his tone implying that, yes, he did. Zhang Fangping raised his teacup and took a sip. “Looks like you’re going to make demands? Fine, lay them out. Let’s see if this old man can meet them.” Wang Bang then said, “The kid needs a two-year patent protection period?” “What on earth is that?” Zhang Fangping asked. Wang Bang explained, “It means I can hand over the secret formula to the imperial court without watering it down. But I need to make money, too. If the court rolls this out on a massive scale, my chicks won’t be special anymore, and my profits will drop.” Zhang Fangping pointed at his nose and said, “All you ever do is make demands. You really should learn a thing or two from your father in that regard. If you can’t make a profit, so be it—I’ll make it up to you in other ways. Do I look like the kind of person who lacks loyalty?” “Uncle, you’re mistaken. We are the greatest of heroes, and while we do prioritize serving the country and the people, there’s one undeniable fact: if I don’t receive tangible benefits, it will dampen my enthusiasm for future research and development. Without enthusiasm, there’s no inspiration—and I wouldn’t be a child prodigy. Uncle, are you trying to sabotage the Emperor’s child prodigy?” Wang Bang chuckled. Zhang Fangping couldn’t help but chuckle. He didn’t take his rambling seriously, but one point did strike a chord: insufficient compensation would dampen his enthusiasm for future research and development. It was a bit mercenary, but not without merit. Given that this kid really is a child prodigy, who knows what astonishing feats he might accomplish in the future. If we scare him off now, he’ll never hand over his achievements, no matter what. Twisting his mustache and hesitating for a long time, Zhang Fangping said, “Two years is too long. Let me put it this way: our Great Song Dynasty is currently in shambles; we don’t have that many ‘two-year’ periods to spare. How about a nine-month protection period for you?” “And then my family will be left to starve in the Northwest winds?” Wang Bang looked horrified. Zhang Fangping replied, “There isn’t that much wind from the Northwest for you to drink. My Western Army soldiers have blocked out the sandstorms. You’re destined to be an official yourself; you won’t starve to death. But I can tell just by looking at you that you won’t pass the exams. So, are you really sure you don’t need my help with your official career? What about your father’s trip to the capital next year to report on his duties—haven’t you given that any thought?” “So, Uncle, you’re saying you’ll help me cheat on the exam in the future? If that’s the case, little Wang Bang will rest easy,” Wang Bang said with a laugh. He was slapped on the back of the head again. Zhang Fangping said, “That’s not cheating. It’s me trying to help the Great Song select a few capable, hands-on talents. The Great Song already has more than enough bookish scholars, do you understand?” “Got it, Uncle. You’re the man.” As Wang Bang spoke, he pulled a document detailing the specific incubation process from his robe and handed it over. Zhang Fangping took it and glanced through it. It was extremely detailed, logically sound, and rich in specifics—it perfectly matched what he had witnessed firsthand during this period. He was delighted and couldn’t stop praising the boy, saying, “This kid truly has extraordinary potential,” and so on… “The white dragon horse, its bell jingling, carries Erya off to eat rice noodles.” Walking down the snow-covered street, Wang Xiaoya sang a song Wang Bang had made up on the spot. Though her voice wasn’t much to speak of as she rode on the donkey’s back, it blended with Xiaobao’s neck bell to create a unique charm. Wang Bang, walking ahead, caught the rhythm of it and turned around, pointing at the donkey’s nose. “‘White Dragon Horse’ sounds better. Starting today, how about you change your name to ‘Little White Dragon Zhou Botong’?” “Oink,” the donkey brayed. “I know you’re Xiaobao, but isn’t it nice to have another name?” Wang Bang said. “Ooh-ah.” “Are you just trying to be contrary?” Wang Bang said, growing annoyed. “Ooh-woo.” “Fine, you win. If you don’t want to change it, then don’t. You can keep being called Xiaobao the Donkey,” Wang Bang conceded. “Ooh-woo.” The donkey brayed again. Wang Bang said, “I know you’re from the Wang family, but who uses both a given name and a courtesy name together? ‘Donkey Xiaobao Wang’—does that even sound right to you?” “Oink.” “Do you want to shorten it to ‘Donkey Bao Jia’?” Wang Bang slapped it on the head and said, “Although that’s fine, my great Wang family hates it when people make demands. I make the decisions, and you obey—simple enough?” The donkey felt a bit downcast and stopped making demands. Wang Xiaoya thought Da Bang was truly amazing. He was the only one in the world who could understand what the donkey meant. This was a magical donkey—no matter what it wanted to say, it simply responded with “Ooh-woo.” Saying “Om-woo, Om-woo” meant the content was the same, but with a solemn tone. Saying “Om-woo, Om-woo, Om-woo” conveyed the same content as “Om-woo,” but indicated that it was very angry and meant to start an argument.