The Most Powerful Young Master of the Northern Song Dynasty

Chapter 12: He Finally Bit the Dust

Come to think of it, the little girl was right when she said, “Dad never gets his money back when he lends it out.” That’s exactly how Zheng Erniang came to live with them. Back when Old Wang had just taken office in Shuzhou, he encountered a mother in the marketplace with a sobbing young girl—she wanted to sell the girl to pay for her husband’s funeral. That girl was only fifteen years old; she was the mother of the current Erya. The kind-hearted father gave them money so they could bury him. The mother and daughter knelt and kowtowed, asking, “Who might you be, sir?” The impatient Xu Langshan blurted out, “I am Wang Anshi of the Canal Commission.” Afterward, as a widow and her orphaned daughter, they were naturally unable to repay the money, so they planned to send the girl to the Wang household as a servant to settle the debt. The “Sage Dad,” however, was no loan shark; he refused, saying, “That’s not necessary.” But Wang Bang’s sleazy mother was so stingy—they didn’t even have a servant at home—that since the money had already been given, she took it upon herself to accept the girl to work for them. Maid Zheng was fair of face and hardworking; after arriving, she excelled at everything from serving tea and water to grinding ink, doing laundry, and cooking. In particular, whenever Wang Anshi composed his exquisite poetry, Maid Zheng would sweetly sing it back to him. Over time, they grew fond of each other, and the fruit of their union is the little Wang Xiaoya we know today. Naturally, Wang Bang’s beautiful mother was heartbroken. Talk about shooting yourself in the foot. Seeing the young master staring off into space with a strange look on his face, Zheng Erniang grew very worried, unsure of what he was up to. “Young Master,” Zheng Erniang called out tentatively. Wang Bang snapped out of his trance and smiled. “I’m still young—children tend to zone out easily. Please don’t blame me, Erniang.” Zheng Erniang looked flattered and said, “How could I possibly blame you? Young Master, you’d better leave this place now. You got to eat eggs today—you’re really quite capable.” Wang Bang took a look; she had specifically set aside two eggs. According to tradition, one would be for the young master and one for the elderly grandmother. But that would be way too lame. So Wang Bang took matters into his own hands, cracked three eggs into a bowl, and—as if performing a circus act—began whisking them into a frothy mixture. Whisk, whisk, whisk He did a great job without even using a whisk. Then he added some water, oil, and salt, and began steaming them. Before long, a delicious aroma began to waft through the air… Today, he’d been sitting around waiting a bit longer than usual, and Old Wang—eager to eat and get back to work—was starting to get a little annoyed. A short while later, when the steamed eggs were brought to the table, Old Wang, out of curiosity, tasted a tiny bit himself. He found them incredibly tender, smooth, and refreshing. Aside from the salt being a bit too generous, everything else was spot on—they were absolutely delicious. And they were also very convenient for “redistribution.” That was Old Wang’s nature—he simply loved acting like the head of the household and doling out portions. So Wang Anshi began the distribution: first, he let Grandma have two spoonfuls, then gave the little brat Wang Bang two spoonfuls. Zheng Erniang and Erya each unexpectedly received one spoonful, and Old Wang himself and Wu Qiong’s mother also got one spoonful each. That was the strange thing about Wang Anshi: since he only took one spoonful himself, of course no one dared to openly criticize him. “Let’s eat.” As soon as Old Wang gave the order, everyone began slurping noisily, drooling as they ate, and in an instant, a pile of bowls and plates clattered back onto the table. Wu Qiong’s mother found the steamed eggs incredibly delicious, so she was in high spirits. She took out a handkerchief intending to wipe Old Wang’s mouth, but by then he had already gotten up after finishing his meal and was walking out while wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “What a charmless old man—such a slob,” Wu Qiong thought to herself. Grandma was absolutely blown away by the feast and kept praising Wang Bang for his skill, saying he was just like Wang Anshi when he was a child—he could actually cook. Wu Qiong’s mother felt disheartened again, thinking to herself that her son had the makings of a chancellor and didn’t need culinary skills to back him up—it made him seem beneath his station. With that in mind, Wu Qiong tugged hard on Wang Bang’s hand to get a closer look. Thankfully, his skin was smooth and delicate—perfectly presentable. He’d make a fine match for the daughter of a chancellor someday. Incidentally, during the meal, Wang Bang decided to give his father the nickname “Big Old Wang.” As for himself, he’d be “Little Old Wang.” If they didn’t make such a strict distinction, according to Song Dynasty conventions, they’d simply be “Old Wang” and “Little Wang.” But Wang Bang felt that “Little Wang” wasn’t sleazy enough—it didn’t carry the implication of “the neighbor next door”... A huge hole had appeared in the donkey stable. Wang Bang, clutching a letter, burst into tears in distress. The 150 wen he’d saved up yesterday were now all gone—dug up by a mysterious person. Today, Wang Bang came in intending to count the money for the sheer thrill of it, but after digging it up, the money was gone, leaving only a letter behind. The letter contained two simple words: “Idiot.” Stealing my money and insulting me—how despicable and hateful! You’d better not let me catch you! Wang Bang had weathered many storms in his life; in his previous life, he’d even been swindled out of over 6,000 by a scam artist without shedding a tear. Yet this time, seemingly influenced by this child’s body, Wang Bang truly began to cry. That money was the dream of two little kids—the hard-earned savings of two little kids. Wang Xiaoya didn’t cry. Acting as if she had no heart or soul, she pried open Xiaobao’s mouth and reached inside, muttering, “Xiaobao, where did you hide the money? Spit it out already.” Wah. The donkey really did end up vomiting. Erya, unafraid of getting dirty, searched through Xiaobao’s vomit with high hopes, but found no copper coins. It seemed they had truly been stolen. The most aggrieved was the donkey Xiaobao, who felt the siblings were nothing short of bandits. Not only had they snatched food right from his mouth, but they’d even forced him to regurgitate what he’d already swallowed. “I’m not afraid of thieves stealing—I’m afraid of thieves keeping an eye on us. We’ve offended too many people; we’ve already been targeted,” Wang Bang muttered. “Unless we catch this thief, hang him up, and beat him to death, it won’t matter if we sell our eggs in the future—they’ll still be stolen.” The little girl, her eyes brimming with tears, said, “What an ungrateful thief! Our family isn’t rich—why are they targeting us?” “A tall tree catches the wind,” Wang Bang continued to grumble. “The wandering knights of this era are all half-wits who like to think they’re ‘robbing the rich to help the poor.’ And they’re always daydreaming about ‘a clean prefect earning 100,000 snowflake silver in three years.’ Someday, I’ll definitely throw all these so-called ‘great heroes’ into a pig cage to teach them to bray like donkeys.” “Are we going to steal some eggs to sell again tomorrow?” Wang Xiaoya asked, biting her finger. Wang Bang leaned close to her little ear and whispered, “We’ll sell them. We Wang family folks don’t give up easily. Let’s try a different approach: we’ll give the eggs to Old Chen without taking any money—we’ll just have him put them on his tab.” “Da Bang is so smart.” Wang Xiaoya finally cheered up…