Chapter 120: Xie Tangzhou’s Self-Destructive Antics

A joke from a certain skit in a past life, which, after provoking laughter, actually holds a lesson worth pondering.

When Wang Ge first raised one finger, asking Xie Tangzhou to look and say what it represented—“one”—Xie Tangzhou fell into the trap.

Because seeing is believing, and it seemed too simple.

Raising two fingers was a reinforcement of the trap.

When she held up three fingers, Xie Tangzhou no longer needed prompting and immediately answered, “three.”

But in truth, his answer was a product of habitual thinking continuing the question, “How many do three fingers represent?” rather than the trick question Wang Ge was posing: “What is one plus one?”

Even a clever man like Xie Ju avoided the snare only because, at the moment Wang Ge raised three fingers, he happened to be glaring at Xie Tangzhou.

“Alright. Haha, I admit defeat.” This man was not a fool and quickly caught on. “I drank too much and bumped into the lady. But the tile from the cloth pouch was broken precisely because it collided with her.”

“What tile?” everyone wondered.

Xie Tangzhou stepped to the barricade, emptied the tile shattered into three pieces from the cloth bag, and sighed with regret: “Such a pity! This tile was entrusted to me by the county commander to hand over to Master Zuo. Our clan uncle hasn’t read much, less knowledgeable than you all. He only knew it was an ancient artifact, now broken. Well, since you outnumber me and hold the advantage, I leave it to you to decide how to handle this matter. I may have drunk too much, but I refuse to bear the blame alone.”

An ancient artifact? Was it just excavated? A tile from the Qin era? The schoolchildren, Bian Zi and others, all bent down to examine it, fascinated beyond measure.

Xie Ju was quick-witted, but in studies and literacy, not in scheming. What to do? He furrowed his brow and looked at Wang Ge.

Wang Ge finally understood why this man seemed to deliberately collide with her and then angrily struck her. It was all an act, aimed at shifting the blame! Dream on! “How do I know you didn’t break the tile first and then purposely bump into me to find a scapegoat?”

“You, you…” Xie Tangzhou was shocked and fearful, pointing at Wang Ge, trembling all over. Such a crafty woman—how did she guess?

All the schoolchildren immediately stopped looking at the tile. How could they forget they were still arguing?

Wang Ge shouted, “The tile is broken and here—there’s no hiding it. Fellow disciples, tell me, whose testimony is credible? The drunkard’s or the sober witness’s?”

“Of course the sober witness’s!” Bian Zi called out loudly.

“Right!” Xie Ju and Sima Nandi chimed in.

“Right!” the other junior disciples agreed.

Xie Tangzhou sneered coldly: “The lady has a silver tongue, but when I came down the hill, my drunkenness wore off!”

“Nonsense. You don’t even know that one plus one equals three… hmm, what kind of sobriety is that?” Sima Nandi almost fell into the trap again.

Wang Ge said, “Fellow disciples, today I will not yield unjustly! He dared to rely on drunkenness to bump into me and accuse me today; tomorrow others will do the same to every disciple! Today he claims his surname is Xie and tries to intimidate me under the Xie name to make me his scapegoat. What about tomorrow? Will other drunkards, inspired by him, bully the weak in the name of noble families?”

“Well said!” Master Zuo grasped his bamboo ruler and stormed forward, kicking the tile pieces away, then fiercely striking Xie Tangzhou. “A few broken tiles and a pot of cheap wine have made you bold enough to stain my disciple’s reputation! Who gave you such insolence?”

“Stop, stop, stop… I won’t do it again. I accept the blame myself…”

“Accept whose blame? Stop him!” the other disciples blocked him.

Smack, smack!

The farce ended, whether by Xie Tangzhou being coerced into confession or Master Zuo smashing the tile completely, Wang Ge bore no responsibility.

Xie Tangzhou, nearly blinded in one eye, fled in panic. Master Zuo just about to praise the disciples noticed someone missing. “Where’s Sima Nandi?”

The little fellow stood panting, hands on hips in front of Liu Bo’s tent, loudly asking, “I have a question. Do you dare answer?”

Liu Bo pointed to his throat.

Meng Tong stepped out, smiling: “Brother Liu’s throat ailment hasn’t healed. Young lady, please ask; I will answer for him.”

Just the one we were waiting for! “Good. Brother, look—how many is this?” Sima Nandi raised his right hand and straightened his chubby little pinky.

“That is one.”

“And this?”

“Two.”

Ah! Sima Nandi squeezed out a little frown, immediately straightened three fingers and shouted hoarsely, “What is one plus one?”

Liu Bo… oh no!

“Three.” Unfortunately, Meng Tong politely gave the answer.

Not blaming Meng Tong; even Master Cai, watching the young lady’s fingers with wide eyes, covered his mouth with his bamboo ruler in fright. A lifetime of fame nearly ruined!

Early the next morning, Xie Tangzhou was watched by two attendants and sent away from the mountain.

He sighed and looked back at the ancient tomb mountain. It had been such a good opportunity—the county commander trusted him to deliver the tile to Master Zuo down the mountain. He met acquaintances on the way, drank their winter wine, then slipped descending the mountain. He did not fall himself, but broke the tile. This was an ancient artifact! In a moment of desperation, he devised a plan to deliberately bump into a servant to make the servant the scapegoat. How unlucky to choose Wang Ge! She was a formal junior disciple, poorly dressed, carrying a basket and saw. How could he not be misunderstood?

A piercing, shattering cry split the sky.

It was a hunting falcon, flying before the three and perching on a low branch. An attendant approached, removed the bamboo tube from its leg, and emptied the bamboo slips inside. After reading the few numbers, the attendant turned back with a grim expression that made Xie Tangzhou’s heart tremble.

“The county commander orders that Xie Tangzhou shall not return to the Southern Mountain residence; after leaving the mountain, he must return to the clan land to reflect for thirty years!”

“Ah…” It was over! Xie Tangzhou rolled his eyes and collapsed.

On the back slope of the cliff, in front of the ancient tomb barricade, Xie Youru was still reading the “New Laughter Forest: The Arithmetic of Master Xie” penned by Liu Bo, a university student from Qinghe Village.

“Sigh…” Xie Youru had lost count of how many times he had sighed.

The writing was good, the calligraphy fine; based on literary merit alone, Liu Bo was indeed comparable to Yuan Yanshu from Chen County’s Yuan family. If this text spread, the Xie clan’s reputation would suffer.

Resistance was futile; better to openly admit fault to encourage later generations of the Xie clan. The troublemaker Xie Tangzhou must perish on clan land.

But the more he thought about it, the more frustrated he became! Such anger!

Bian Wangzhi and Master Guo arrived together, each carrying a dozen bamboo slips, excitedly calling out, “Youru, come see, another ‘Chronicle of Origins.’”

“No rush. Haha, just in time—I have a question for you two. Look, how many is this…”

Reed Pavilion.

The twenty refugee households of Xunqi Township had all gathered, their registrations now falling under Buzhi Township, Reed Pavilion.

From today, the elderly Wang couple were assigned pig-raising duties—a much easier task than reclaiming wasteland. Wang Shu and the other girls of similar age wove straw sandals, while Wang He helped Iron Thunder build the stable and would thereafter be responsible for feeding and cleaning the horses and cattle.

Wang Erlang had gone early to the township to buy grain, so he could find time to visit the family at Reed Pavilion and help with chores for an hour. Today, learning that the elders only needed to raise pigs and clean the pens, he was so happy he cried, finally at ease.

The old couple urged Erlang to return quickly. After watching him drive away, Old Wang said, “True filial piety and false filial piety—you understand now, right?”

Madam Jia sighed. Indeed, it was always Erlang who came; Sanlang had been almost a waste raising him.

The Laughter Forest: The earliest known joke collection in our country, authored by Handan Chun, a Wei dynasty literary scholar and calligrapher of the Three Kingdoms period.

(End of chapter)