Chapter 7

Watching Zhao Jin hop out the door, the smile on Zhao Zhenxing's face disappeared. He turned, closed the door, and returned to his room. Standing there, he looked at the wall, slowly reached out his hand, and touched the two swords hanging on the wall. After a moment of melancholy, he sighed deeply, then stood on the kang and reached up to take down the long spear, carrying it to the yard.

Now, Zhao Zhenxing was the only one guarding this shop, and it was cold and quiet. Leaning on the long spear, he stood there for a while, lost in thought, before shaking his head and holding the spear horizontally.

When Zhao Jin returned home, he saw He Cuihua washing and pickling vegetables in the yard. Various jars were laid out, and the wooden basin was filled with vegetables. He Cuihua was busy moving back and forth. Seeing Zhao Jin return, she asked casually, "Do you feel unwell?" Zhao Jin shook his head, and He Cuihua continued, "It's warm inside; go in and stay there. I still have work to do."

"Mom, Uncle Zhao said he's coming over for dinner tonight," Zhao Jin said. He Cuihua nodded. The Zhao family was well-off, and having one more person for dinner was just an extra pair of chopsticks, and it was easy to manage.

After saying this, Zhao Jin walked into the house. He Cuihua picked up a cabbage and was about to peel off the outer leaves when she suddenly looked up at Zhao Jin's back and muttered to herself, "This child isn't clinging to me anymore."

In the past, Zhao Jin was timid and timid, always following his mother, He Cuihua. Although he was now trying to maintain the same demeanor as before, many subtle changes had already occurred. Zhao Jin himself didn't notice these changes, but parents know their children best, and He Cuihua had a clear sense of them.

As He Cuihua was thinking, she heard a commotion beside her. Turning her head, she saw the monkey pulling a carrot out of the wooden basin. She immediately shouted, "You damned monkey, don't come and cause trouble, get out of here!"

The monkey, holding the carrot, immediately ran to the other side of the yard, squealing loudly and looking very pleased with itself.

Sitting in the house, Zhao Jin heard all of this and couldn't help but laugh. This family life made him feel warm, but Zhao Jin quickly put away his smile. Time was precious, and he couldn't afford to waste a moment. In his previous life, he had regretted wasting time when he was on his deathbed, and he couldn't afford to do that again in this life.

So far, everything was going according to his plan. Uncle Zhao Zhenxing had agreed to teach him martial arts and would persuade his parents. However, Zhao Jin also realized other issues. He knew too little about his surroundings, the era, his home, his family, and the people around him.

Zhao Jin thought about something. In his previous life, from the orphanage to society, he hadn't done well in school and hadn't read many books. Instead, when he was hospitalized and on his deathbed, a friend came to keep him company and read books to him every day to alleviate his pain and boredom. Although he was annoyed at the time, he passively read quite a few books.

Now, thinking back, some of those books were useless, but others were very useful. However, Zhao Jin was pained by how little he could remember. He didn't dare to let his memories fade, so he strained to recall as much as he could and write it down.

Fortunately, the old Zhao Jin had paper and pens from private school, but Zhao Jin couldn't write with a brush. He relied on his memory to grind ink and used a small stick to dip in the ink and write, resulting in crooked and messy characters.

After a long time, he had used up several sheets of paper, but the amount of information he had recorded was limited. Holding the blackened paper, Zhao Jin smiled bitterly. He hadn't expected to remember fragments of Western military history, which he had found boring at the time but had left a deep impression. However, what use were these things like phalanxes, long spears, and cannons? And they were just fragments, not a complete system.

By this time, it was already getting dark. He Cuihua had finished pickling the vegetables and put them in jars. She then went out to buy some fish and meat and started cooking in the kitchen.

Suddenly, the yard gate was pushed open with a "bang." The monkey, which was gnawing on a carrot, let out a scream and darted up to the roof. He Cuihua wiped her hands on her apron and went out to see what was happening. Before she reached the yard, she heard her husband, Zhao Zhentang, shouting, "Zhao Jin, get out here! You little brat, you fainted once, and now you've even learned to fight outside! You little rascal, you..."

As he shouted, he walked over. He Cuihua, who had intended to shout back, was stunned when she heard that Zhao Jin had fought outside. She turned to look at the side room, thinking that her child had indeed been acting differently since he recovered from his illness, but the transformation from a timid child who couldn't even speak loudly to one who could fight was too drastic.

As He Cuihua was thinking, the door was pushed open, and the large and fat Zhao Zhentang walked in, carrying two packages wrapped in oil paper. He sniffed the air as soon as he entered and said, puzzled, "Are you making meat dishes? It's not a holiday today!"

"Uncle Zhao is coming over for dinner tonight!" He Cuihua replied, then asked anxiously, "Did Little Jin hit someone? What happened? Don't shout, you'll scare the child!"

Zhao Zhentang waved his hand and said, "I'll tell you later!"

After saying this, he shouted again, "You little rascal, get out here."

On the other side, Zhao Jin walked out with a bitter expression, thinking that children's fights were troublesome and that he might be scolded by his parents.

"Did you hit the eldest son of the Chen family?" Hearing his father's question, Zhao Jin lowered his head and nodded. He could only use the same tactics he had used with his teachers to deal with his father.

"Did you really hit him?" Unexpectedly, Zhao Zhentang asked again. Zhao Jin quickly explained, "Chen Sheng said he wanted to find someone to fight, so I said I would, and then I knocked him down!"

He Cuihua, with her hands on her apron, opened her mouth in disbelief. Seeing her husband walk over to their son, she finally reacted and said, "What's the big deal about children fighting..."

At this moment, Zhao Jin instinctively shrank back, thinking he was about to be hit.

A heavy slap landed on Zhao Jin's shoulder, making him stagger, but the expected beating did not come. Looking up, Zhao Jin saw Zhao Zhentang smiling and patting his shoulder, laughing, "Chen Wu's son always brags to me about how his son practices martial arts and will surely have a bright future, but he still got beaten by my son. When I go to the government office tomorrow, I'll make fun of him. You little rascal, getting sick has made you more like a boy!"

Seeing this, He Cuihua also breathed a sigh of relief. After a moment, she smiled and said, "Little Jin, try not to fight. It's not good to hurt yourself or others."

Zhao Jin quickly nodded in agreement. Zhao Zhentang raised the two oil paper packages and said with a smile, "I bought some red bean buns and half a pound of pork knuckle for this little rascal on the way back. Wife, take them and prepare them."

He Cuihua happily took the packages, and Zhao Jin realized that his parents were actually pleased that he had fought. In the past, Zhao Jin had been timid, and while Zhao Zhentang and He Cuihua found his honesty reassuring, they also thought it was not good for a boy to be so timid. Now, knowing that Zhao Jin had fought and won, they were both happy, as their child hadn't suffered any loss.