IDWBE -Chapter 57 Tears Flow Freely

On the vast playground, when there were few students, there were about 150–160 people, young and old.

At peak times, there could be six or seven hundred.

And that didn’t even count the seven or eight hundred Baiyun City residents watching from the sidelines.

This place was no longer just a playground—they now called it a public square.

Classroom order had sometimes been disrupted. Xie Zan had suggested building walls around the school, just like the old animal sheds that had been converted into classrooms, so that no idle bystanders could enter.

In the end, Lin Yi stopped that plan, only placing fences outside each classroom, keeping the playground open to the public.

He was pleased with this stable and harmonious atmosphere—it was far better than letting these people idle around fighting and brawling.

“Energy must flow like a wheel; the whole body must follow. If there is any part that does not follow, the body scatters and cannot exert force.”

Toothy He Jixiang—whose remaining teeth were already few—had lost two more in the recent fire, and now his speech was even more slurred.

Those on the playground already struggled to hear him, so they dared not make a sound, afraid of mishearing even a single word.

For a time, all was silent.

Lin Yi walked past, but no one dared look him directly in the eye, let alone greet him.

Lin Yi shrugged, unconcerned. Their eagerness to learn was a good thing.

Passing through the playground, he went straight to the school office.

As he walked past a classroom, something suddenly occurred to him. He stepped back with his right foot, leaned back, and looked through a window without paper, seeing Hong Ying inside.

Hong Ying saw him too, opened the door, and smiled obsequiously, “Your Highness, you’ve come!”

Then he realized how pointless it sounded—when did the Prince ever not come to the school?

Curious, Lin Yi poked his head into the empty classroom. Inside were Hong An, Fang Pi, Cui Gengren, and over a dozen others whose names he couldn’t remember, including several burly adults.

“You good-for-nothings, not a bit of respect!”

Hong Ying shouted into the classroom.

“Long live the Prince!”

Hong An and Fang Pi were experienced and knelt skillfully. The others hesitated for a while before following suit.

“Children, don’t kneel at every little thing—you’ll get weak bones,”

Lin Yi waved impatiently. “A real man stands tall and proud.”

“Yes.”

This time, everyone’s response was finally unanimous.

“What are you doing here?”

Lin Yi hadn’t seen Hong Ying much lately.

Hong Ying pointed inside the room and forced a smile, “Your Highness, these are all promising students. I’m just passing on your teachings so that one day they can support you.”

Mingyue, behind Lin Yi, saw Hong Ying’s frustrated, wrinkled face and couldn’t help smiling. She sympathized with the steward.

Clearly, he was teaching martial arts but couldn’t say so openly.

Although his image as a weakling had improved after his fight with Wen Qian, the change was still limited.

Now, if the Prince knew he was teaching martial arts, he’d probably say it was misleading the students—likely with a hint of disdain.

A proud steward like Hong Ying would never willingly lose face in front of everyone.

“This is fine, mainly reminding them not to fight,”

Lin Yi said without much thought, “I want to enjoy peace and stability in Baiyun City. Anyone who disrupts it is deliberately opposing me.”

He turned and walked away.

Autumn had arrived.

Rain fell often and unexpectedly in Baiyun City, sometimes so suddenly that the wide banana leaves rattled under the drops.

Xie Zan, a scholar of the highest repute, lay unceremoniously in a reclining chair invented by Lin Yi and popular in Sanhe. His already-deformed legs rested on the table in front of him, a hand holding a small teapot, occasionally sipping, the tea hissing in the pot.

At his age, he no longer dreamed of romantic gestures—he just wanted comfort and ease.

But having been exiled to Sanhe for so many years, living in poverty and hardship, he had never experienced even a single day of leisure.

Now, life like this felt almost heavenly.

The wind shook the window panes.

He put down the teapot, dragged his heavy legs to the window, held onto the frame, and looked at the rain outside, sighing, “I wonder if it’s raining in Baocheng.”

Bian Jing teased, “Master Xie, homesick? We are stuck in Sanhe, not even allowed to retire peacefully—truly pitiful and lamentable!”

“Wang Qingbang, you old devil, you’ve truly caused me suffering,”

He Jixiang angrily told Wang Qingbang, “You and I had no grudges—why did this have to happen?”

If not for Wang Qingbang spreading slander before the Emperor, how would he have ended up here?

“Master He, we are both smart men. Even if I hadn’t intervened, His Majesty wouldn’t have spared you,”

Wang Qingbang said with a bitter smile, “If I hadn’t suggested exile, the Emperor would have had your entire family executed.”

“Even someone like Nie Youdao, whose ‘evidence’ was barely credible, had his family exterminated. How much more you?”

Chen Desheng laughed, “I heard the Emperor trained in your army during his youth—your generalship is remarkable indeed.”

He emphasized the word “remarkable.”

He Jixiang’s face flushed red and pale repeatedly, then he sighed deeply, “Regret comes too late!”

He knew they spoke the truth. Strictly speaking, Wang Qingbang had inadvertently saved his life.

“All right, we’ve been together for so many years—who doesn’t know whom? Why dig up old grievances now?”

Xie Zan didn’t turn, staring out the window, “‘The ruler asks when I will return, but there is no set date. Rain fills the autumn pond in Sanhe. When will we share the candlelight by the west window, yet speak of Sanhe’s night rain?’”

Tears welled, and he choked up several times.

“Master Xie,”

He Jixiang, moved by the poem, sighed, “No need to grieve so deeply. My plight is worse—I may die here, pardoned or not.”

“Gentlemen, what day is it today?”

Cao Heng, casual as ever, said, “Crying and wailing like this—if anyone knew, they’d laugh.”

“Unknowingly, it’s been eight years since I arrived here,”

Xie Zan wiped his eyes, smiling, “I truly miss my old wife—please forgive my display. I’ve suffered my own share of hardships, no less than any of you!”

Bian Jing counted on his fingers, “I’ve been here twenty-seven years! The longest among us. My wife and daughters are all gone from the teaching offices, now lost without a trace.”

As he spoke, the usually cheerful old man suddenly sank to the ground, wailing, snot and tears streaming.

Everyone was shocked.

“Master Bian!”

“Brother Bian!”

“Old Bian!”

They all rushed to console him.

Unfortunately, not only did it not soothe him, the others were affected and began crying too.

Tears streamed freely from every elder.