My Fulang is a Delicate Flower Chapter 21 Part 4

Zhao Pan, expecting Huo Shu to ask questions, found the man silent as a statue after entering.  

Eager to talk, he said: "Uncle Huo, want to see my calligraphy?"  

He fetched a stack of practice sheets.  

"My teacher praised my improvement recently."  

Ji Taoyu nibbled pumpkin seeds, watching Huo Shu examine the papers - seemingly serious but saying nothing.  

Zhao Pan fidgeted under Huo Shu’s stern gaze: "Uncle Huo, is it bad?"  

Huo Shu, seeing pages of repeated characters, didn’t understand the waste of paper.  

As he struggled to respond, a herbal-scented head leaned in, inspecting the writing: "Hmm, balanced structure, smooth strokes, elegant flair. Not bad!"  

Zhao Pan brightened: "Uncle Tao reads? That’s just what my teacher said!"  

Ji Taoyu said: "Yes, I studied for years."  

The Ji family had pooled resources to hire a tutor for the children. Originally just for boys, but since Ji Taoyu was their only child, his father insisted he attend too.  

Some cousins lost interest and quit early, but Ji Taoyu enjoyed learning and continued for eight years, becoming well-read.  

"Uncle Tao is amazing."  

Zhao Pan said, though his enthusiasm dimmed slightly.  

Ji Taoyu understood, the boy wanted Huo Shu’s attention, but his uncle wasn’t one for small talk.  

Most people would find Huo Shu’s silence awkward, but he wore it naturally, making others uncomfortable instead.  

Of course, Ji Taoyu also knew Huo Shu, having spent a decade on the northern frontier, wasn’t well-versed in scholarly matters.  

He beckoned Zhao Pan, whispering something that made the boy brighten again before darting inside.  

Huo Shu eyed Ji Taoyu: "What did you tell him?"  

Ji Taoyu blinked: "I said your Uncle Huo is illiterate, so stop pestering him."  

Huo Shu narrowed his eyes: "I can read."  

Ji Taoyu raised a brow, not arguing, and went back to his roasted pumpkin seeds.  

Soon, Zhao Pan returned with a bow: "Uncle Huo, can you shoot?"  

Huo Shu took the wooden bow, plucking the string: "Yes."  

"Great! Can you teach me?"  

Zhao Pan tugged clumsily at the string: "My teacher says at my age, if I want to succeed in the exams, I need to master the six arts. Our school’s small, the teacher only teaches books. For archery and riding, we need separate tutors."  

[The Six Arts (六艺, Liù Yì) comprising rites (礼), music (乐), archery (射), charioteering (御), calligraphy (书), and mathematics (数), designed to cultivate moral virtue, physical skill, and intellectual refinement in harmony with Confucian ideals]

"My uncles (from the Wu family) can’t ride or shoot. Mom bought this bow months ago, but I still can’t figure it out."  

He added: "She’s looking for a teacher, but they’re rare and expensive."  

Ji Taoyu said: "Now you’ve found a free one. Your Uncle Huo’s skills are battlefield-tested, better than any tutor."  

Huo Shu’s lips quirked slightly. Without a word, he tilted his head.  

A sudden whoosh—a short arrow shot from the open hall, thunking squarely into the target in the yard, piercing halfway through.  

Zhao Pan ran outside, gaping at the arrow embedded dead-center in the makeshift target - a painted basket, still swaying from the force.  

His eyes widened in awe. He'd never seen such skill, and in that moment, he knew no tutor could match this level of expertise.  

Huo Shu called to the boy in the yard: "I taught your father as well. No harm teaching you."  

Northern frontiersmen might skip school but never archery. Huo Shu had been a prodigy, while Zhao Changsui, a soft-hearted southerner, had struggled until battles hardened him.  

Zhao Pan felt a pang of emotion, though he’d never met his father, he carried his blood and longed for connection.  

"Thank you, Uncle Huo."  

Huo Shu stood, glancing at Ji Taoyu: "Want to learn?"  

Ji Taoyu, impressed by Huo Shu’s skill but knowing his own limits, waved his hands: "No, I can’t even draw the bow, I'm too weak."  

"Fine, someone can protect you."  

Ji Taoyu paused, unsure what Huo Shu meant.  

The three practiced in the small yard until lunch. By then, Zhao Pan could at least shoot - not accurately, but enough to delight a child.  

He proudly demonstrated for his mother before they ate.  

Wu Lianhe had prepared a feast, even buying good wine for Huo Shu.  

Zhao Pan, now utterly at ease, busily pouring wine and shelling crabs with the enthusiasm of a dedicated apprentice.

Seeing his son happier than he'd been in a long time, Wu Lianhe felt a wave of relief. 

"Uncle Huo, will you teach me again?"  

"Will you visit me in the city?"  

That afternoon, as clouds gathered, Huo Shu prepared to leave.  

Zhao Pan clung, following them to the main street until Wu Lianhe stopped him, though he kept calling after them.  

It wasn’t surprising—raised in hiding, rarely seeing relatives, forbidden from playing with other children, he’d grown up isolated.  

Still a child at heart, he’d latched onto Huo Shu, his father’s comrade, who’d shared ten years with the man he’d never known.  

"I will."  

Huo Shu’s reply was brief.  

Then, to Wu Lianhe: "Do you plan to have him recognized by the Zhao family?"  

Wu Lianhe glanced at her son: "I’ll wait until he achieves something. Then the gossip won’t hurt as much."  

Huo Shu nodded, telling Zhao Pan: "If you need anything, come find me in the village."  

"Yes!"  

Zhao Pan shouted eagerly.  

Huo Shu and Ji Taoyu left.  

"Uncle Huo, I’ll practice hard!"  

Huo Shu turned to see the boy waving vigorously.  

"If Brother Changsui’s spirit watches, he can rest easy with such a good son."  

Ji Taoyu remarked.  

Huo Shu gazed ahead, agreeing silently.  

"His mother raised him well."  

Ji Taoyu glanced at Huo Shu, surprised that he gave credit to Wu Lianhe instead of resorting to empty praise about family lineage.

In a world where men rarely acknowledged women’s contributions, this was rare.  

Ji Taoyu clapped his hands, smiling warmly with crinkled eyes, "I think so too."