Chapter 340 Charity School

Chapter 340: Charity School

Return to Shengjing City (52)

As the first heat of early summer arrived in June, the morning breeze brought a refreshing coolness. Though summer was approaching, Changping's climate remained pleasantly cool—a single layer of clothing was just right, neither stifling nor chilly.

"Ugh." Meng Wan sat on a stone bench in the courtyard and let out a heavy sigh.

Chang Jinhua carried over a basket of fresh fiddlehead ferns and set it down on the stone table with a thud. "What's the matter? Didn't Da Lang write to say everything was fine?"

Meng Wan didn't need prompting—he started helping her pick the vegetables. "I was thinking about something else."

He'd wanted to kill a man, but it turned out killing him wasn't easy, so he'd let it go. But not killing him left him constantly worried the guy might run his mouth someday.

"Dad, why are you upset?" A Yan came hopping over, clutching his ever-present figurine, with Tong'er trailing behind him like a little shadow.

Chang Jinhua picked through the greens without missing a beat and snorted. "How could your father be upset? I think he's just figuring out how to make others unhappy."

Meng Wan tossed down the ferns and clapped for his mother. "See? Mom knows me best. By the way, where did these ferns come from? Freshly picked, I take it? There are still dewdrops on them."

"Xiao E brought them over early this morning." Chang Jinhua praised as she picked through the greens. "Huang Zheng chose his husband well—handsome, kind-hearted, and hardworking."

Meng Wan resumed picking the vegetables. "Oh yeah? Then why don't you just bring him into our family?"

Chang Jinhua rolled her eyes at him. "Hurry up and pick all the vegetables. Half for buns, half pickled as salted veggies for the road. We've already been in Changping for three days—we're leaving tomorrow."

Even though Changping was nowhere near as hot as Lingnan, Chang Jinhua didn't want to travel during the height of summer. Besides, the closer she got to home, the more urgent her desire to return became. She wished she could sprout wings and fly back to the village—she couldn't wait another second.

Once he knew things in Shengjing were settled and Song Tingzhou was safe, Meng Wan relaxed a lot. He called A Yan and Tong'er over to take his place picking vegetables. "You two behave and help Grandma with the chores. I'm going out for a bit."

A Yan had been under Zheng Su's tutelage for a while now, and at least on the surface, he seemed more composed than before. He didn't clamor for Meng Wan to take him along to play, but quietly sat down to pick vegetables.

Meng Wan headed out with Chi Yu, who was seeing the north for the first time. It had been a long time since he'd seen the Changping residence—the neighbors next door had changed too. It was none other than Huang Zheng's family, who had settled down and made a home in Changping.

After he and Xiao E married, they bought the house next door. Sometimes Shopkeeper Huang and his wife from Quanshui Town would come for a visit. The family's bookshop had been handed over to their eldest son, and Huang Zheng had no objections. The son who'd once been so rigid and unbending had been shaped by Meng Wan into such a capable man—Shopkeeper Huang could die a happy man.

Huang Zheng had taken care of the Song residence's leaks and overgrown weeds, ensuring that when Meng Wan and his party arrived in Changping, they could immediately move in and rest.

"Hey, sister-in-law, I was just about to come find you." It was still early, and Huang Zheng had apparently just finished his meal.

"Come on, let's go check out the pavilion." Meng Wan beckoned him to stroll along. The pavilion wasn't far from here—walking was perfect.

By now, the Qingxiao Pavilion had grown several times its original size. Nearly the entire street was now the pavilion's territory. Its storybooks were now sold all over the Yu Kingdom, and Meng Wan had heard of it even while in Shengjing.

Moreover, hiring writers to churn out storybooks was only half the pavilion's revenue. The other half came from the job-posting service Huang Zheng had started later. Meng Wan had only given him the initial idea—everything else Huang Zheng had figured out himself, step by step. Now it was thriving, with operations spread across the entire northern region, with branches in both Fengtian and Jianping Prefectures.

The original Qingxiao Pavilion was still where the writers worked, quiet and peaceful. Chi Yu pushed open a door and looked around.

So this was the shop his husband used to run?

Meng Wan and Huang Zheng were heading upstairs to discuss business when Chi Yu curiously pushed open the door closest to the meeting room.

"This book's almost done—didn't I say not to bother me these days?" An impatient young man's voice came from within.

Meng Wan leaned over. "Oh? Master Wan's got quite the attitude these days, huh?"

Huang Zheng and Wan Sui were old partners, having held the fort at Qingxiao Pavilion together for years. They'd watched others come and go, but Wan Sui had stayed all along.

Of course, after all these years of failing the imperial exams, he still only held the rank of xiucai.

But he was making money hand over fist—even more than Huang Zheng, the boss himself.

"What are you gawking at? Can't you see the boss is here? You'd think you were snapping at me with that attitude." Huang Zheng glared at Wan Sui, who hadn't yet snapped out of it.

Wan Sui was about the same age as Song Tingzhou. He'd grown up poor, but now he wore expensive brocade clothing, a gold hairpin, and had grown a small beard. He stared at Meng Wan, eyes wide. "Meng... Meng... Master Meng?"

"Long time no see—looks like Master Wan's been doing well for himself? I've heard of your reputation even in Shengjing." Back in the day, the hot writers in Shengjing had all faded into obscurity, while Qingxiao Pavilion's writers had made names for themselves beyond the north.

Sure, plenty of writers had copied Qingxiao Pavilion's storybooks over the years, and a few were even good. But they were the exception, not the rule.

The moment he saw Meng Wan, Wan Sui's smug look turned flustered. He seemed to remember all the times Meng Wan had chewed him out—like a grown man running into his old homeroom teacher. And to make it worse, Song Tingzhou—who'd taken the exams the same year as him—was now a big shot at court. Wan Sui might be making bank writing storybooks, but the two of them were in completely different leagues.

"Go back to work. Huang Zheng and I will talk next door." Meng Wan said casually.

Even after he left, Wan Sui stayed in a dazed fog.

"Sister-in-law, here are the pavilion's account books from all these years."

Huang Zheng unlocked the corner cabinet, pulled out two thick ledgers, then five thinner ones, stacking them into a hefty pile. "And this—what you asked me to do back then. Using your share of the dividends, I set up four charity schools in Guyang, Guwen, Guqing, and Guling counties, plus the one in Changping—five in all. All the expenses over the years are in here. After deducting your share, there's still six hundred twenty taels left. Want me to withdraw it from the money shop?"

Meng Wan picked up the five thinner ledgers and looked them over carefully. "No need to withdraw it. Just leave it there for now."

The books weren't kept in great detail—just rough records of the kids' food, clothing, and daily expenses at the five schools.

Whenever Meng Wan established a business, he never thought about the profits when he left, but rather whether the enterprise would remain under his control after he was gone, and whether it might turn against him. The only solution was to not put things in his own name.

Qingxiao Pavilion was entirely managed by Huang Zheng and registered under his name. Nie Zhiyao and Meng Wan only held the remaining dividend shares. Since those who can do more should do more, and Huang Zheng had been managing the pavilion all these years, his share had increased from the original ten percent to half.

Wan Sui had ten percent, Nie Zhiyao had ten percent, and Meng Wan held thirty percent—which he never touched, using it all to build charity schools.

Since the name carried the word "school," these weren't simply orphanages. There were too many pitiful children in the world for Meng Wan to lift them all up one by one. All he could do was provide them a place to take shelter, where they could learn a skill and support themselves.

Each county had one charity school, varying in size. They took in abandoned and homeless children—most of whom were disabled, with the youngest not even a month old.

The schools offered basic literacy and reading, taught by female teachers or educated young men that Huang Ye had gone to great lengths to find.

Boys could stay at the school until age eight, after which they had to go out and make their own way.

For girls and young men, the arrangement was more flexible. In the five years since the schools were established, only a handful had married. The rest remained at the schools learning to read, sew, mend, and grow vegetables—practical survival skills.

County town prices were low, and the accounts showed everything clearly. Clothes were made from coarse cloth that the children sewed themselves. Cotton purchased for one winter could last several years—when it got thin, they simply added more. Changping winters could truly freeze a person to death, making cotton one of the schools' major expenses.

Each month, everyone could have meat once. Every three days, they could have an egg. Normally, it was only coarse rice porridge, but on holidays and festivals, they could have a full meal of dry rice.

Not the best, but better than many.

Meng Wan gave the accounts a general look-over—there were no issues. "By my calculation, my share shouldn't have been quite enough. How is there still over three hundred taels left over?"

Huang Zheng neatly reorganized the ledgers he'd finished reading. "Well, sister-in-law, since you contributed the money, I couldn't very well just stand by and watch, could I? I contributed some of my own funds too, and Young Master Nie's share was also donated to the schools. That's how there's a surplus."

Meng Wan's eyes crinkled with a smile. "You've done well. It seems everything I told you back then has stayed with you."

"Don't be a slave to the stench of money; guard the clarity of an ice-bright heart. Sister-in-law, I didn't just memorize what you said—I had Wan Sui write it out and framed it at home, hoping my son will one day live by it as well." Huang Zheng had become more polished since starting his family, but the stubborn determination of his younger days could still be glimpsed in his brow.

Meng Wan felt gratified and teased him lightly. "Having a child really changes a person—can't go three sentences without mentioning your son."

The morning was spent discussing business at Qingxiao Pavilion, and in the afternoon, they went to check on the charity school in the prefectural city.

Meng Wan didn't ask Huang Zheng to accompany him. He bought several pounds of assorted pastries from the pastry shop, then stopped by the butcher's stall and wrapped up all the remaining meat.

After checking them all, he didn't see Qin Niang or her man Erzhuang, so he asked, "Hey, big bro, what happened to Erzhuang who used to set up his stall here?"

The butcher packed all the meat Meng Wan wanted into baskets and loaded them onto his cart, speaking with obvious envy, "You know Erzhuang too? He's made it big now—gave up the meat stall ages ago. I heard he went to Fengtian with the missus and even opened a restaurant there!"

Qin Niang and the others had learned to make fried dough, but with so many people crammed into Changping, they were barely scraping by. Some who went back to their home counties did a brisk business selling them there.

Qin Niang had guts and a good head on her shoulders, so she and Erzhuang went to the more prosperous Fengtian to look up some relatives. After making money, they opened a restaurant there.

The smile in Meng Wan's eyes deepened. "That's good."

The Charity School was built in the north of the city. When it was built, Huang Zheng was the last one left at Qingxiao Pavilion. He was nervous, worried he wouldn't make much money down the road, so he went cheap and picked the poor district up north—out of the way, in a bad spot, and crawling with petty thieves.

From the moment Meng Wan walked in, several groups had their eyes on him.

Chi Yu snapped a thief's arm. "Husband, should we hand him over to the authorities?"

Having gotten used to being around Song Tingzhou, his first instinct was to report it to the officials.

Meng Wan tapped the jade pendant at his waist. "Forget it. He'd only get a few days in jail at most. Take his money, strip him bare, and toss him in the alley."

Chi Yu didn't consider himself a xiaoge, but he also didn't want to see anything he'd regret, so he at least left the thief his pants.

A couple more clueless ones tried their luck, and Chi Yu handled them all. The rest, realizing they were tough customers, backed off.

When they got to the school gate, the butcher had cut through a side street and beat them there. He was talking to someone at the door, and when he saw Meng Wan, he gestured over. "It was this fella here who bought it all and had it sent over."

"Big sis?" A young xiaoge with a gentle face and soft, sleepy-looking eyes smiled and greeted Meng Wan.

Meng Wan walked over. "Xiao E? You're here too?"

Xiao E said, a little embarrassed, "I saw some fresh fiddleheads at the market this morning and picked some up to bring over." He was kind-hearted and pitied the school's children, often buying vegetables for them. Huang Zheng had told him not to bring anything too expensive, saying it would make the kids greedy.

They were abandoned children to begin with; in their situation, they couldn't afford to want too much, or they'd develop endless cravings and never find happiness in life.

Meng Wan wondered just how many fiddleheads Xiao E had bought—there were still so many left.

Xiao E, as usual, asked Meng Wan about Xiao Liu—the frail, delicate child Xiao E felt shared his fate.

This time, Meng Wan didn't lie to him. "He passed away. He's buried in Guqing County. If you have time, you can burn some paper money at his grave."

Xiao E was stunned for a long time, as if he'd half-expected it. He wasn't overly grief-stricken, just felt like a lifetime had passed.

It seemed like only yesterday they were two lowly third-class pages in the Wu household, huddling together for warmth.

The school was better than Meng Wan had imagined—clean and tidy. Even children without legs were stubbornly clinging to life, using their remaining hands to work. There wasn't a single idle person, nor did any children come rushing over at the sight of the pastries.

They had to finish their assigned tasks before they could eat. Compared to the delicious pastries, coarse rice porridge and cornmeal buns were the daily necessities.

The school was a two-courtyard compound. The front hall was for reading and writing, the side rooms housed the boys, the back courtyard housed the girls and xiaoge, and the kitchen was in the back as well.

The children studied in the mornings, but that time had passed. In the afternoons, all the children worked—weaving, mending, picking vegetables, cooking. These were simple tasks, and the little ones who didn't know how were kept by the older children to learn.

After Xiao E led Meng Wan in, they were received by the school's steward—a widow with two daughters, surnamed Dai. Widow Dai had once been driven to the brink of jumping into the river with her daughters. Now that she knew Meng Wan had funded the school, she was overflowing with gratitude and immediately knelt to kowtow to him.

Meng Wan naturally wouldn't accept her bow. He quickly helped her up and asked about the school's affairs. As they were talking, a commotion suddenly erupted outside.

"My son! My poor son! Your mother has cried all her tears for you!"

"Damn this charity school, stealing people's children and not giving them back! What kind of world is this!"

"Give me back my child! Give me back my child!"