Before long, at the entrance to the front hall of the Gong Family’s second courtyard, a dozen servants were kneeling in a row: Chen Yi, three scullery maids, two personal maids, an old groom, two handymen, and a martial arts guard.
Young Master Gong Qingyun stood to the side by an Eight Immortals table, his face twisted in distress; he had clearly already received a fierce tongue-lashing. Gong Quanhui sat in the master’s chair, his face dark and grim. He clutched several sheets of hemp paper in his hand, his complexion blue with rage.
"Speak! Who wrote this for Qingyun?! I told you to supervise the Young Master's studies every day—is this how you fool him? Do you think you’re helping him? You’re ruining him! He has copied the medical treatise on typhoid dozens of times, yet he can’t even pronounce the names of common herbs like *ezhu*, *qinjiao*, and *chushi*! Did you all conspire to sabotage the Young Master? Our house has its own rules. Whoever harmed the Young Master, step forward and accept thirty strokes of the board. If I find out who it was, I’ll break their legs and throw them back into the refugee camp!"
Old Master Gong was truly incensed. Earlier that day, he had been in a good mood after seeing his son diligently copying medical texts, thinking he wouldn’t make things too difficult during the examination. He had asked the boy to read from a random page of the copied manuscript, but the lad couldn’t even read the words, and when questioned, he knew absolutely nothing. Gong Quanhui was furious. However, he couldn't bring himself to hit this child born in his old age, so he vented all his rage on the servants. Their contracts were in the hands of the Gong Family; even if they were beaten to death, five taels of silver to the local authorities would settle the matter.
*Thump, thump, thump!*
The servants, especially the personal maids, knocked their heads against the floor in terror and burst into tears. While Chen Yi was the mastermind behind covering up the Young Master's laziness, they were his accomplices and could not escape punishment. If they confessed now, they wouldn’t survive ten strokes, let alone thirty. They hoped the Young Master would speak up for them to spare them, but they didn't dare dream that Chen Yi would volunteer, nor did they dare to tattle on him. The Old Master hated backstabbers more than anything; while tattling might save them today, they would almost certainly be driven out of the Gong Family on some pretext later—the fate of previous examples had been gruesome.
To everyone’s surprise, Chen Yi lifted his head and confessed: "Master, I am the one who copied the medical books for the Young Master. I accept the punishment."
Chen Yi’s behavior stunned the other servants. They didn't know that Chen Yi was acting out of necessity. He had made a private deal with the Young Master: he would copy the books, and the Young Master would teach him the Gong Family Fist Stance in secret. He hadn't expected the Young Master to be so incredibly ignorant—with the big examination approaching, the boy not only skipped the copying but couldn't even read the text. He was a teammate as useless as a pig. The situation had spiraled out of control; not only would Chen Yi lose his chance at the Fist Stance, but he couldn't escape punishment either. Chen Yi knew he couldn't hide anything from the Old Master; if he didn't confess, he would be found out, and the resulting heavy punishment might cost him his life. By confessing, he might find another way out.
"You? That boy from Snow Country who has read some books?" the Old Master sneered. "Hmph! Don't think that by stepping forward, you’ve earned my respect for your loyalty and can avoid punishment. House rules are house rules. You sabotaged the Young Master’s education—thirty heavy strokes, not one less! If there is a next time, I’ll break your legs and cast you out of the Gong Family!"
As the Old Master finished speaking, the martial arts guards brought out a bench and a heavy board. Gong Qingyun looked pale, regretting the loss of the servant who had finally managed to imitate his handwriting so well. With thirty heavy strokes, Chen Yi would surely die, and he would have to do his own tedious copying from now on.
Yet, Chen Yi remained calm. He looked up at the Old Master’s knees and said: "Master, I knew this violated the Gong Family rules beforehand. But even knowing the punishment, I had no choice but to do it."
Hearing this, Old Master Gong was truly angered. He narrowed his eyes at Chen Yi, murder in his gaze. "A mere servant dares to challenge the authority of the Gong Family? You know the rules, yet you deliberately break them? Do you think the Gong Family is afraid to kill?"
Chen Yi remained unmoved. "That is not the case. Two years ago, when I arrived and the Young Master chose me as his attendant, you said that I belonged to the Young Master, that I was to serve only him and obey only his commands. I took those words to heart. Therefore, to me, the Young Master’s orders take precedence over the Gong Family rules. I knew it was wrong, but I did it because it was what the Young Master asked of me."
Chen Yi lowered his head and waited for the punishment. His words silenced the Old Master for a moment. The other servants didn't fully grasp the long-term implications; some were gloating, some were waiting to watch the beating, and others who were close to Chen Yi were already wondering how they might treat his wounds later. Only Old Master Gong thought further ahead. He was over sixty, and after a decade of searching, he had failed to find a path to immortality for his son. In another dozen years, his own health would decline, and the family would pass to the next generation. In the martial arts world, there were many with talent, but few who were truly loyal. He hadn't expected this boy, purchased on a whim from Snow Country, to possess such character. Even if his son failed to reach immortality and had to run the Gong Family, having such a loyal servant would be a great asset. He recalled his own youth and his relationship with his own old servant.
Moved by this, Old Master Gong glanced at his old housekeeper. The housekeeper was looking at him, too. It was clear they shared the same thought. The Old Master’s expression softened slightly. He snorted, "There are extenuating circumstances, but the house rules cannot be ignored. Old Yang, you oversee the punishment. Qingyun, come inside with me."
With that, the Old Master rose and led Gong Qingyun into the inner courtyard, followed by the martial arts guards. Behind them, Old Yang, the housekeeper, had two men administer the thirty strokes lightly, just enough to leave Chen Yi bedridden for seven days—fulfilling the rules while satisfying the Old Master. The servants thought Chen Yi was lucky and that the kind-hearted housekeeper had gone easy on him, even advising him to thank the housekeeper for his life later. They didn't know that Chen Yi had fought for his own life.
...
That evening, Gong Qingyun came to the servant quarters, brought a bottle of medicine, and said, "Xiao Chen, this is the Gong family’s Safflower Liniment, excellent for bruises and injuries. Apply it; you should be able to get out of bed within a week. Once you’re recovered, I’ll teach you the Gong Family Fist Stance."
Chen Yi took the medicine, reflecting on the situation. The Young Master was a mischievous boy who would never think to care for a servant; this was almost certainly at the Old Master’s direction. The Old Master had doled out the punishment, and the Young Master had provided the care—the old man was teaching his son the art of managing subordinates. Though he was the one being managed, Chen Yi felt no resentment. As a servant in a world where martial power reigned supreme, his body was as weak as a jackal’s. He would survive first, then slowly seek his dignity.
Furthermore, this benefited him. At the very least, his standing in the Old Master’s eyes was higher than before. In the Young Master’s courtyard, Chen Yi was now on par with "Zhuifeng." He realized this because, for the past few days, the scullery maids had been bringing him meat porridge—a privilege previously reserved only for Zhuifeng. It seemed Chen Yi had chosen the right path.
...
Seven days later, Chen Yi’s theory was confirmed once more. As soon as he recovered, he returned to the Young Master’s side. That very day, Gong Qingyun took him to a small training ground in the side courtyard—a space reserved exclusively for the Gong family’s children. A sturdy, middle-aged martial artist was already waiting there.
Seeing them arrive, the man bowed to Gong Qingyun, glanced silently at Chen Yi, and began his instruction: "Today I will teach you the Gong Family Fist Stance. It consists of thirty-six movements. I will perform them once; you watch, then learn them one by one. I expect you to master the basics within a month."
Chen Yi and Gong Qingyun had originally agreed that he would copy the books while Gong Qingyun secretly taught him the stance, hidden from the family. Now, Chen Yi was receiving formal instruction from a Gong Family master. This act alone saved him twenty taels in apprenticeship fees, not to mention that formal instruction was far more significant than secret study. Chen Yi had turned a disaster into a blessing.