I Studied Abroad in the Modern Times

Chapter 1: Bacon and Roast Chicken

The glow of the setting sun cast its light on the eaves of the Zheng family's house. Water had been splashed on the ground in front of the door, settling the evening dust and bringing a hint of coolness.

The three members of the Zheng family were eating dinner at a small table directly facing the entrance.

“Madam beat the steward Wang’s son with forty strokes; he’s barely alive and had to be carried back,” Zheng's mother said, sharing the latest gossip from the estate.

Zheng Fa, holding his chopsticks, listened to his mother’s story. His little sister, Zheng Shan, leaned half her body against him, holding a rice bowl larger than her head in both hands, her face buried in it as she ate heartily.

Hearing their mother’s tale, Zheng Shan lifted her head and asked, “Wang Gui? Wasn’t he chosen as the seventh young master’s study attendant by Madam? Why was he beaten?”

Zheng Fa glanced at his sister, seeing her bright, round eyes, a mischievous grin on her lips, and a spot of dark green vegetable juice.

That expression, full of schadenfreude—what a little rascal!

Even though Zheng Shan was only six years old, she understood that the relationship between the Wang family and theirs was not good.

Both families were tenant farmers under the Zhao estate, but their circumstances were vastly different.

In the past, when Zheng Fa’s father had been a steward at the estate, their life was better than that of the Wang family by far.

Five years ago, a beast attack occurred while his father was trying to harvest crops and he tragically died.

With the loss of the family’s pillar and the steward position, the Zheng household fell into decline.

Zheng’s mother had to raise her son and daughter while tending the land, making life extremely difficult.

Meanwhile, the Wang family took over the steward role left by Zheng Fa’s father, and their fortunes rose.

Although others in the estate noticed, a widow and her children held little sway compared to a steward favored by the higher-ups, making the Zhengs' life even lonelier.

Children often mimic the biases of adults. Wang Gui, the steward's only son and de facto leader among the estate’s children, frequently led in bullying Zheng Fa and Zheng Shan.

Zheng Fa, with his tall and steady build, commanded respect among the estate children, so even Wang Gui didn’t go too far.

But lively, playful Zheng Shan bore the brunt of many pranks. Hearing of Wang Gui’s misfortune today brought her joy.

“What’s that look for?” Zheng’s mother scolded her. “It’s said Wang Gui was being mischievous, leading the seventh young master astray. Madam caught them and had him punished. If she saw you acting like this, you’d get a beating too!”

“I’m not as bad as Wang Gui! And besides, I’m not cut out to be an attendant,” Zheng Shan retorted, her eyes wide. “When Wang Gui got picked by Madam, he showed off to everyone in the estate. No one else had a chance like that!”

Zheng Fa shook his head discreetly. He’d long understood Wang Gui’s nature—bullying the weak but lacking real courage. He doubted the boy dared to lead the young master astray.

The sky was still light, but the Zhengs dined early to save on lamp oil, making use of the remaining daylight.

Most tenant families on the estate ate only two meals a day, including the Wang household.

On the wooden table were just two dishes: a plate of bright green leaves called “pigweed” by the estate folk, usually pig fodder but eaten by poorer families. The Zhengs ate it frequently, boiled with barely any oil or salt, making it nearly inedible.

The other dish was different—a bowl of tender bamboo shoots gathered by their mother that morning, topped with two glistening, red slices of—

Meat!

Two slices of cured meat!

Zheng Shan’s mouth was stuffed with pigweed, her cheeks puffed out as she stared at the two pieces of cured meat with wide eyes.

If eyes could eat, those slices would have vanished into her stomach.

She remembered the cured meat, preserved during the New Year, from a single slender piece. Their mother only cut a couple of slices once every ten or fifteen days, using it sparingly. The last time they had any was a month ago.

Zheng Shan wasn’t greedy. One piece for her brother and one for her would be enough...

No, their mother needed some too. She’d settle for half of one slice...

No, even a single bite would make her happy!

At last, their mother’s chopsticks moved toward the meat.

Zheng Shan’s eyes followed, even tilting her head slightly.

The first slice went into her brother’s bowl.

Fair enough.

The chopsticks hovered for a moment over her bowl but ultimately dropped the second piece into her brother’s bowl as well.

Zheng Shan blinked, feeling a twinge of disappointment, but reasoned with herself: Her brother needed more food to work.

Pigweed was tasty too!

She lowered her head and chewed more vigorously, as if eating meat.

...

A pair of chopsticks descended near her forehead.

A piece of meat, close enough for her to smell, brushed against her face.

She looked up suddenly, seeing her brother, who smiled as he placed a slice into her bowl.

“Brother!” she beamed, a grin splitting her face and revealing a missing tooth, happiness spilling out.

“Eat up.” Zheng Fa patted her head.

“Mm!” She nibbled the cured meat, savoring it with little bites.

...

Zheng’s mother, observing this, said nothing. However much she favored her son, her daughter was still part of her. How could she willingly see her suffer?

Her bias had its reasons.

The estate valued men who could work hard. Without her son, Zheng Fa, the family’s status would be even lower.

Zheng’s mother believed her son was the one holding their family together.

Seeing him care for his sister warmed her heart.

Unexpectedly, Zheng Fa then picked up the other slice and put it in his mother’s bowl.

She looked at him, emotions tangled in her chest.

When her husband died, the world felt like it had collapsed. She even considered dying alongside him.

But seeing how her son matured beyond his years gave her hope and made her stay.

“Mother’s too old for meat. Besides, I don’t even like it much. You’re the one who needs it,” she protested.

“Your son’s already tall enough.”

“...”

Zheng’s mother looked at her son’s seven-foot frame, nearly eight feet, unable to argue.

Despite years of hardship, he’d grown taller by the day, surpassing all others on the estate.

The family’s poverty was evident, but the boy stood as the estate’s best.

It kept others at bay...

...

That night, lying in bed, Zheng Fa stared at the worn ceiling, starlight seeping through.

His sister’s soft smacking sounds in her sleep reached him, mixed with his mother’s turning.

The old quilt felt uneven—thin in places, lumpy in others—offering little warmth or comfort.

He closed his eyes, hope brimming as he drifted to sleep.

When he opened them, everything had changed.

Sunlight now illuminated a pristine white ceiling. The blaring of car horns sounded from the street outside.

A down comforter wrapped him in softness.

Yet there was no time to linger. He jumped out of bed, slipped into slippers, and rushed to the kitchen.

He opened the fridge and grabbed a whole marinated chicken and four steamed buns bought from the market, placing them in the microwave.

The rich aroma of chicken filled the room.

As he tore into the hot, golden-skinned roast chicken, its juices sizzled, the warmth traveled from his mouth to his stomach, up his spine, releasing in a contented sigh.

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