Chapter 24
He was eight years old again.
The clan school’s courtyard was too loud, the air thick with the scent of ink and sweat. Ting-zhi leaned against the bamboo fence, watching as Shen Li and his pack of hyenas cornered a seven-year-old Yun-si near the well.
She was small, her pale pink robes always slightly askew, as if she’d been tangled in a dream and forgotten to smooth herself out. Today, her sleeves were ink-stained, her hair half-undone, and a huaben clutched to her chest like a shield.
“Ghost Girl Shen,” Shen Li sneered, snatching the book from her hands. “Only courtesans read these. Are you a courtesan?”
The other boys laughed, their voices sharp as broken pottery. Yun-si didn’t answer. She never did. She just stared at the ground, her fingers trembling, her shoulders curling inward like a leaf in the wind.
Ting-zhi’s hands flexed at his sides. This was so childish, why couldn’t his father just put him in the more senior class where Yun-shan was? They should be grouped by ability and not by age.
He’d seen this before—the way the other children mocked her for being quiet, for walking into doors, for forgetting her brushes mid-lesson. But this was the first time he’d seen her lips wobble.
Absurd. To be bullied by a distant cousin when she was a daughter of the main house.
Tears slipped down her cheek, silent and quick, before she ducked her head and tried to take her book back. He felt a strange ache in his heart, as though her tears were falling upon it, drop by drop.
Shen Li held it out of reach. “Say it,” he taunted. “Say you’re a courtesan.”
Yun-si didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just stood there, her breath coming too fast, her knuckles white around the torn edge of her sleeve.
That was enough.
Ting-zhi pushed off the fence and strolled toward the well, whistling as if he hadn’t a care in the world.
He filled the water into a small bottle, then sneaked into the classroom to pour the water over the bullies’ chairs, making sure no one saw.
The water soaked into the wood, darkening the grain.
He grinned, then walked out through the other door. He took a slight detour before walking to Yun-si, plucking her huaben from Shen Li’s hands on the way. “You dropped this,” he said, loud enough for the others to hear.
She flinched, her wide eyes flicking to his face. “Gu Zhi-zhi?”
“Mmm.” He tucked the book into her sleeve, then turned to the boys, his expression all innocence. “You lot. Class is starting.”
Shen Li scoffed. “Or what, beanpole?”
Ting-zhi shrugged. “Or you’ll miss the lesson.” He strolled into the classroom leisurely, taking Yun-si with him. The other children followed suit and sat down on their designated chairs.
“What the—?” Shen Li leapt up, his face twisting in horror. “I’m wet!”
The other boys followed suit, their shrieks echoing in the classroom. “My robes! They’re wet!”
Ting-zhi leaned against the well, arms crossed, watching as the boys danced around, their faces red with humiliation. “Huh,” he said, voice dripping with false concern, “maybe someone peed themselves.”
The classroom went silent.
Then laughter erupted. A girl giggled. A boy snorted. Then another. Until the whole class was laughing.
Shen Li’s face burned. “I didn’t—”
“Didn’t what?” Ting-zhi tilted his head, all wide-eyed curiosity. “Didn’t wet yourself? Then why are your pants damp?”
The boys froze, their faces pale. Shen Li opened his mouth, then closed it, his eyes darting to the giggling crowd.
Ting-zhi smiled, sweet as poisoned honey. “Better change your robes before Master Liu sees. Wouldn’t want him thinking you’re still babies.”
The boys bolted, their humiliation complete.
Yun-si stared at him, her mouth slightly open. Then, slowly, a smile tugged at her lips.
Ting-zhi winked, then leaned down, his voice low. “Don’t let them see you cry,” he said. “They’ll only do it again.”
Yun-si nodded, her fingers tightening around her book. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Ting-zhi shrugged, but his chest felt warm. “Mmm. Worth it.” He turned to leave, then paused, glancing back at her. “And Shen Yun-si?”
She looked up.
“Next time, call me.”