Chapter 104: Putting Knowledge into Practice

Grandmother gently tapped little Fatty and said, "Don't pat your belly; you'll make yourself need the privy."

"Oh, Grandma," the little boy said, swinging her hand back and forth and sighing like a tiny adult. "I wish I did have the runs. Just look at me—I’m getting as round as a ball. The other boys at school tease me every day. It’s so frustrating."

His adorable expression made Grandmother Di burst into laughter. "Being chubby is a blessing. What would a child like you know? Don't listen to their nonsense."

Just then, Mother Di walked in from the kitchen, carrying a steaming basin of stew. She scolded the boy with a playful smile as she entered. The basin was even larger than their usual washbasin. As she walked, a rich, savory aroma filled the small courtyard of the Di household.

When it was time to eat, little Fatty worked his tiny arms hard. First, he placed pieces of eel in his grandparents' bowls, then his parents', and finally his eight-year-old older brother, Di Lei, and three-year-old younger brother, Di Hui. Only then did he take a piece of plain tofu for himself.

The whole family watched him with affectionate smiles. Ever since Di Ying turned one, he had followed this ritual at every meal, using his small spoon or chopsticks to serve everyone in order. He always gave the best pieces to his grandparents, then his parents, then his older brother. He always kept the least desirable piece for himself. Once his younger brother was born, he added him to the sequence after his older brother, always ensuring he was the last to serve himself. The family knew he was sensible and filial, so they indulged him; no matter how busy they were, they would always wait for him to finish serving everyone before they began to eat.

"Fatty, how many characters did you write today?" Mother Di asked as she carefully placed a piece of eel in his bowl, keeping a watchful eye to ensure he didn't stumble after he had finished his round of serving everyone.

Di Ying choked slightly. Suddenly, the rare and delicious eel didn't taste quite as good.

"Mother, let my younger brother eat in peace. The quota you set is too high. He's still so little. You're making him write fifty characters a day, while the teacher at school only assigns ten," interjected his older brother, Di Lei. He had a square face, a broad forehead, and skin that was dark and toughened. Seeing his brother put down his chopsticks and pout, he spoke up in his clumsy, protective way. He didn't care for reading or writing himself, but he loved watching his clever brother nod his head while reading and focus with total intensity while practicing calligraphy. To help his brother study well, he spent his time outside of farm chores roaming the mountains and fields, hunting for treats to bring back.

As soon as his brother backed him up, Di Ying nodded his head like a chick pecking at grain. He was devoted to his studies, but these tiny paws of his were just not up to the task—fifty characters a day, especially the ones with many strokes... he grumbled inwardly.

"Fifty characters is not too many. Don't just shield your brother. If he spent less time watching ants and fiddling with pebbles, he could easily finish them. Our whole family is tightening our belts just to afford his schooling; we cannot let him waste his time and squander that brilliant mind of his," Father Di countered, brushing aside his eldest son's objection.

Di Ying curled his lip in secret. When he observed the paths of ants, he was studying their patterns. When he played with pebbles, he wasn't just playing; he was learning the art of military formation. But he couldn't explain that—none of it would sound like anything other than a "lame excuse."

"Enough! You always pick mealtime to lecture people; it ruins everyone's appetite. Come here, Fatty, come to Grandma. Let's ignore them." Seeing the boy's face fall, Grandmother Di felt a pang of heartache. She pulled him close and kept piling delicious food into his bowl. As the matriarch of the house, her word was law; even Grandfather dared not argue.

The family finally fell silent and enjoyed their dinner. Di Ying ate until his mouth was oily and his belly was round. That night, as he practiced his characters on a wooden tray filled with sand using a small twig, his little stomach rubbed against the edge, but he didn't mind.

In his dream, the scene shifted to the schoolhouse. The teacher swayed his head while teaching, and the dozen or so students from the surrounding villages swayed along with him. Every time this happened, Di Ying would lament: no wonder the teacher's neck was so thin and long, unlike his own, which remained short and chubby no matter how much he shook it.

As he was thinking this, he stretched his neck again. Suddenly, amidst the clear, rhythmic chanting of the students, a strange gagging sound broke out. The teacher put down his book and glared, only to see a child stretching his neck, clutching his throat, his face turning a deep, suffocating purple as he gasped for air.

The teacher was alarmed and rushed over. "Quick! He's choking! Get some water!" It was clear that while the others were lost in the beauty of the classics, this boy had been sneaking food and had accidentally swallowed something that got lodged in his throat. The teacher, having seen this before, ordered the other children to fetch water to wash it down.

However, Di Ying realized that the boy was choking quite severely. He feared that the standard method would not only fail to save him but would force the object deeper, endangering his life. The child was seven years old; though thin, he was still much taller than Di Ying.

Di Ying's mind raced. Should he tell the teacher to change his method, or...? Forget it, the teacher wouldn't listen to him. He had to act. He shoved past the other children, rushed behind the boy, wrapped his short, chubby arms around the child's waist, and pressed upward with all his might.

"Di Ying, what are you doing?! Put him down!" the teacher roared, grabbing Di Ying to pull him away.

Di Ying stomped his feet and shouted, "He's choking too badly! Giving him water will just push it down and damage his throat—he’ll die! Teacher, trust me! Hold his waist from behind, cross your arms, and press upward to push the obstruction out. Hurry!"

The teacher hesitated, but seeing the boy's face turning deep purple and remembering Di Ying's usual brilliance, he gritted his teeth and followed instructions.

"Pfft!"

After a few firm thrusts, the boy's mouth flew open, and an apricot pit shot out. It was May in Bingzhou, and the apricot trees were in full bloom; by June in Jinyang, the branches would be heavy with fruit. The boy had likely swiped an apricot from someone's tree on his way to school.

As soon as the pit was out, the boy's color began to return. The teacher let out a long breath of relief. After setting the child down, he gave a thumbs-up to five-year-old Di Ying. "Applying knowledge to practice, or perhaps demonstrating innate ingenuity—excellent!" He assumed Di Ying must have read about this somewhere and had the presence of mind to adapt his knowledge in an emergency.

Di Ying felt shy and rubbed his nose. He took the water the other children had brought and helped the boy sip it slowly. In his dream, the face of the child began to blur and enlarge, eventually transforming into a sturdy, strapping young man.

Di Ying smiled as he woke up. His family had always been his greatest support and motivation. And that boy? He would certainly be of great use now.