Meng Yao gulped her saliva and wondered how she was supposed to tell Zhao Xiaohua she wasn't lonely. She couldn't resist the little girl's severe expression.
Meng Yao mulled it over before squeezing out a few drops of tears. "I see your father within you all every day. How could I be lonely?"
Zhao Xiaohua tilted her head. "But Madam Wu has a child too. She must remember her dead husband."
"Feelings are complicated, Xiaohua." Meng Yao racked her brain to explain to the little girl what kind of relationship she had with Zhao Ting.
After Meng Yao recited a famous love story to Zhao Xiaohua, the little girl was so touched tears started streaming down her face. She finally believed her mother wasn't lonely.
Zhao Xiaohua's father filled her mother's heart, so how could she be lonely?
Meng Yao was worried it would affect Zhao Xiaohua's view of love which had yet to form. She pondered and said, "It's not like I must stay with one man my entire life. The two people in the love story were in love, and their feelings for each other were profound. They grew old together and led a beautiful life."
"However, no one can guarantee feelings will remain the same forever. If, and I'm saying if, you marry and your husband has a change of heart, I hope you can be strong enough to let your husband go."
Zhao Xiaohua was confused. "Why would he have a change of heart?"
"There are many reasons for that. That person could meet someone they like more, or they could feel unimportant to you. There's also a possibility the person you marry might not like you at all and try to sow discord in your life," Meng Yao said after some thought.
'That should be every significant reason, right?' Meng Yao wondered.
One would be cheating if they met someone they liked more than their wife. The feeling of unimportance might seem trivial, but it consumed a lot of emotions. There was also a possibility of one's in-laws not liking each other and such.
Those were things Meng Yao thought would affect a marriage.
"I can't help meeting someone I like more, right? Can I avoid feeling unimportant?" Zhao Xiaohua paused. "I will deal with whoever wrongs me! I will learn how to dislocate joints. It'll be so painful they'll die."
The corner of Meng Yao's mouth twitched. 'What a strange thought process.'
"Madam Zhao? Xiaohua?" Taozhi approached. She wore her peach blossom dress and embroidered shoes as she swayed gently, vividly displaying her beauty. Taozhi had a gentle smile and misty eyes that could calm the wildest beast.
Zhao Xiaohua immediately grabbed her mother's hand, her face alert. 'Taozhi might be a temptress trying to bewitch me!'
Meng Yao nodded at Taozhi, not looking into her eyes the entire time.
"Where are you two guys going?" Taozhi asked enthusiastically.
"We're going to the riverbank to get some sand." Zhao Xiaohua looked at Taozhi several times, unable to resist her question.
"Why sand?" Taozhi asked.
"Mother wants to teach me how to write," Zhao Xiaohua blurted.
Meng Yao nudged Zhao Xiaohua and strode away. Then Zhao Xiaohua quivered and glared at Taozhi before running after her mother.
"Taozhi is too scary, Mother. Does that mean she can know whatever she wants?" Zhao Xiaohua stopped and panted when she saw that Taozhi couldn't catch up.
It was taxing for Zhao Xiaohua to run because she was heavier than others.
"You won't be affected if you don't look into Taozhi's eyes," Meng Yao said.
"Oh yeah, her eyes were gorgeous, and I couldn't help but look a few times," Zhao Xiaohua said embarrassedly.
Meng Yao pinched Zhao Xiaohua's chubby cheeks. "Don't worry. We'll take it slow, Xiaohua."
"Should we tell everyone Taozhi could be a temptress?" Zhao Xiaohua was anxious.
"We don't have any proof of it. Others might not believe you even if you told them about Taozhi. They might even think you're crazy," Meng Yao said. "Also, Taozhi hasn't done anything to hurt anyone yet. Let's not overthink. There's always a way out of these things."
After that, Meng Yao and Zhao Xiaohua carried a basket of river sand home. Still, they couldn't use the wet sand, so they spread it, dried it, and sifted it. They could only use the finest river sand for writing.
"Can we get a stone slab and use the charcoal pencil you made yesterday?" Zhao Xiaohua asked.
"Just write on the sand. You can wipe it away when you finish writing and use it again. If you use a stone slab, you will have to wipe it with a wet cloth and wait for it to dry before you can use it again," Meng Yao said.
When the sand dried, Meng Yao used a dustpan and carried it to Zhao Xiaoshu's room.
There was a lot of sand in the dustpan, and after writing a few words with a branch, the writing became illegible.
"Mother, can you make me a few wooden plates with sides and cover them with a thin layer of sand so I can expose the wooden plate whenever I write in the sand?" Zhao Xiaoshu said animatedly.
"You can do it instead." Meng Yao asked.
Zhao Xiaoshu nodded. "It's very straightforward."
Meng Yao found Zhao Xiaoshu's tools and brought along some wooden boards. Zhao Xiaoshu made three wooden plates with sides in just half a day after chiseling, carving, and sanding.
Zhao Xiaoshu made the plates without any glue or nails, yet it was seamless. At that moment, Meng Yao believed Zhao Xiaoshu had learned all the skills of a carpenter.
Meng Yao saw Zhao Xiaoshu create mortises and tenons that future generations highly sought after. However, only a few could master it.
"Is that good?" Zhao Xiaoshu asked expectantly.
"All right, that's great! You're incredible, Xiaoshu," Meng Yao didn't hold back her praise.
With a wooden plate in each hand, Meng Yao began teaching her two children about the classic Three Musketeers. She told them to read it thoroughly before memorizing it.
Meng Yao knew it would take some time before she could finish teaching them, but Zhao Xiaoshu had already memorized it in one go.
"I memorized the story when Dahe read it." Zhao Xiaoshu was honest.
"When was that?" Meng Yao asked.
After all, Zhao Xiaoshu was only two years old when Zhao Dahe began his studies.
"I listened to Dahe recite it when I was five," Zhao Xiaoshu said.
Meng Yao felt inferior to her third son. She could only recite a few short poems when she was five. Moreover, she had to read them repeatedly before she could memorize them.
Zhao Xiaohua was much more straightforward compared to Zhao Xiaoshu. Whenever Meng Yao read a book, she could only remember three sentences. She was pretty dimwitted.
However, Zhao Xiaohua wasn't five but nine. Meng Yao almost collapsed.
Meanwhile, Zhao Xiaohua felt distressed and under a lot of pressure because Zhao Xiaoshu was brilliant.
Meng Yao glanced at Zhao Xiaoshu and had an idea. "Teach your sister to recite it, Xiaoshu. We'll learn to read when you're familiar with it, so don't think it's a waste of time."
Zhao Xiaoshu nodded.
Meng Yao was delighted. "You two study while I go make some food."