Chapter 3: Could It Be That He Is Also a Fake Eunuch?

Why did she seek revenge?

The so-called silence was actually because she thought she talked too much.

When she went to show off to her grandmother, her grandmother bluntly exposed her.

The little girl, embarrassed and angry, chased Liu Jing, wanting to hit him, but was scolded by her father and finally gave up.

Yet, she never forgot this grudge.

“You? Haha...” Liu Jing sneered with disdain.

The little girl was stunned, then turned to complain, “Mom, he looks down on me. I’m in kindergarten, but he never even went to school.”

“Drop the ‘looks like,’” Aunt Liu said with a smile. Having another child added some liveliness to the household.

“You blockhead, how dare you look down on me? I ranked fifth in the whole class on the last exam!” The little girl rummaged through her things to find her test paper.

“Anything other than first or second place isn’t worth my notice,” Liu Jing said with even more contempt. Getting fifth place was nothing to be proud of.

“Just wait...” The little girl pouted and ran to another room to find the test paper with the first-place ranking.

Teacher An found it amusing; the girl was livelier than before—a good sign.

However, the child was proud and acted like a little adult, which wasn’t ideal.

No matter what her past was, a child should have the innocence and liveliness of childhood.

On the table lay a hefty book, which Teacher An picked up and handed to Liu Jing. “When reading, start with history. You can’t avoid this book, ‘Records of the Grand Historian.’ Also known as ‘The Book of the Grand Historian,’ it was written by the Western Han historian Sima Qian. It is the first comprehensive biographical history in our Chinese history. King Wen was imprisoned and composed the ‘Book of Changes,’ Confucius was in adversity and wrote the ‘Spring and Autumn Annals.’ Qu Yuan was exiled and composed the ‘Li Sao.’ Zuo Qiuming lost his sight but produced the ‘Discourses of the States.’ Sun Tzu and Pang Juan, with their crippled legs, compiled the ‘Art of War.’ Lü Buwei moved to Shu, and the ‘Lüshi Chunqiu’ was passed down. Han Fei was imprisoned in Qin, and wrote ‘Difficulties in Persuasion’ and ‘Lonely Wrath.’ The ‘Book of Songs’ has three hundred poems, which are largely the efforts of sages and worthies.”

Liu Jing raised an eyebrow, noticing familiar names. The book written by the old man had survived through the ages—he might have a chance to read it someday.

Teacher An was unaware of Liu Jing’s thoughts and continued, “The ‘Records of the Grand Historian’ was written by Sima Qian after he suffered the punishment of castration. He...”

“Was he a fake eunuch too?” Liu Jing asked.

Teacher An was taken aback. A three-year-old child actually understood what castration and eunuchs were.

Why was she telling all this to a child?

“Ahem, let’s not discuss that. Chinese history spans over five thousand years...” Teacher An quickly changed the subject.

Liu Jing interrupted again, “What five thousand years? How long ago was the Qin dynasty?”

Teacher An, well-versed in knowledge, replied, “In 221 BCE, Emperor Qin Shi Huang conquered Qi and wiped out the six states, unifying the land. This year is 1991 CE, so that was over two thousand two hundred years ago.”

“Over two thousand years, huh,” Liu Jing murmured. That wasn’t very long—wheat had been harvested a little over two thousand times. Yet, when the second-generation heir was first educated, the teacher said history was five thousand years long. Why was it still five thousand years now?

Teacher An opened the book. “You said you could read it, right? This is the ‘Annals of the Five Emperors.’ Have a look.”

Though the second-generation heir’s father was cultured, his own level was not high. Protected by a strong father, he devoted himself to eating, drinking, and playing.

Still, he wasn’t illiterate and could recognize fragmented words with ease.

But this dense page—what was it? The characters looked like ants. He barely recognized a few, let alone matched them to the second-generation heir’s memory.

He braved through it, guessing and conjecturing, and still recognized some.

—

Minutes later, he suddenly felt sleepy. The words seemed to jump off the page, and his eyelids began to flutter.

He silently cursed. Had he inherited the second-generation heir’s bad habit of getting drowsy while reading?

The second-generation heir came from a scholarly family but read little because books made him sleepy.

Lü Buwei was helpless; if he couldn’t succeed in academics, he would practice martial arts instead.

The font shrank, bamboo slips were replaced by white paper, and more content appeared on each page—a faster onset of drowsiness.

“Um... Uncle An, can I learn to recognize characters first?” Liu Jing closed the heavy book, feeling somewhat embarrassed.

“I’ll do it, I’ll do it...” Xixi, her face smudged with dirt, just happened to come out.

She was always the one being taught—by teachers at school and by Uncle An at home.

Now, finally having the chance to teach someone else, she could overlook that small grudge and even forget the hard-earned perfect test paper.

Teacher An silently handed over the textbook, while Aunt Liu prepared a pot of tea, sitting down to watch the show.

“A, O, E...”

The tea’s steam curled gently with a fragrant aroma.

What a joke—teaching me pinyin? Didn’t they see me in the welfare institute? But these letters seemed to be fighting each other.

“Mom, the blockhead fell asleep. I never sleep during class,” the little girl said proudly.

“Let him sleep. He just arrived in a new environment and needs time to adjust,” Teacher An said, picking up the child and heading toward the bedroom.

“Dad, this is my room.” The little girl spread her arms, blocking the doorway.

“That room isn’t organized yet. He’ll sleep with you for now,” Aunt Liu said.

“But...”

“I’ll have him teach you martial arts.”

“Okay.”

The little girl agreed promptly. Aunt Liu felt a pang of frustration. When she tried to teach her dance, she never agreed so readily.

A girl always wanting to practice martial arts—would she still be able to marry in the future?

—

Liu Jing slept soundly that night, the best rest since merging memories.

Clang, clang...

The noise of pots and pans woke Liu Jing from a deep sleep.

He had no morning grumpiness and opened his eyes to find a girl sleeping beside him in an awkward position.

Though he had merged with the second-generation heir’s memories, the three-year-old child was still the dominant personality, so he didn’t think much of it.

Liu Jing quietly got out of bed and went to the kitchen.

“Ah! Blockhead, you’re up? Don’t you want to sleep a little more? Breakfast isn’t ready yet,” Aunt Liu, wearing an apron, was cooking.

—

“From now on, you’re my guardian. I want to ask you to do something,” Liu Jing said solemnly.

“What is it?” Aunt Liu put down the spatula. The child’s serious expression showed he was earnest.

Liu Jing glanced around, then grabbed a feather duster. “If I get sleepy while reading, use this to hit me.”

“Why?” Aunt Liu asked.

“I seem to get drowsy from books. I can’t sleep—I have to keep reading.” Liu Jing swung the duster at his own calf, instantly grimacing.

Aunt Liu was shocked. Was this something a three-year-old could say? But recalling the strange phenomenon from that day—the dragon pattern that appeared on the child’s forehead—she didn’t doubt it anymore.

If only she had seen it, it might have been a hallucination. But her daughter saw it too, so it was real.

Children don’t lie; they either tell the truth or nonsense.

“Why do you want to read?” Teacher An put down his newspaper and adjusted his glasses.

Liu Jing pursed his lips and suddenly recalled what the welfare institute teacher had said: “Reading changes fate.”

“Good! Sister Li agrees, but first you must wash up and then wake Xixi for breakfast,” Aunt Liu nodded. This was no ordinary child.

Liu Jing put away the feather duster. Teacher An shook his head. “I really can’t believe it. He was born in ’88, younger than Xixi by a year, but he’s much more mature than your daughter.”

“Kids raised in welfare institutes without parents naturally grow up faster,” Aunt Liu said casually.

“Alas!” Teacher An sighed deeply. If there were a way, who would abandon their own flesh and blood?

“Aunt Liu, let’s send Liu Jing to kindergarten first,” she instructed.

“Isn’t it almost New Year? How about waiting until next year?” Teacher An asked, sounding tentative.

“We get busier toward the end of the year. Who will watch him at home? Expect your parents to take care of him?” Aunt Liu retorted.

“Alright! I’ll handle it tomorrow,” Teacher An agreed.

“Enroll him in Xixi’s kindergarten, so we can pick them up together,” Aunt Liu added.

“That’s fine.” Teacher An flipped a newspaper page and casually asked, “How’s the dance rehearsal going?”

Aunt Liu looked wary. “Why are you suddenly interested in this?”

“Soon you’ll be the mother of two children. Maybe you should quit...”

“Never! Don’t even think about it!”

“Why are you so stubborn? I’m only trying to...”

“If you say that again, I’ll take both of them back to my parents’ house. Then you won’t have to pick them up anymore, and we’ll all have peace and quiet.”

“You...”