“Go now. Copy the Thousand Character Classic for me a hundred times. You’re not allowed to leave until you finish. If you dare step one foot outside the mansion, just see if I don’t break your legs!” As soon as the old man said this, I saw Madam Foster secretly let out a sigh of relief beside him. Looks like I’ve passed this hurdle with the old master. Just as I stepped out the door, I faintly heard the old man’s voice from behind: “By the way, madam, what kind of spectacle did that unfilial son make yesterday…” Honestly, I really want to ask that question too.

……

Heaven and earth are mysterious and yellow, the universe vast and wild, the sun and moon wax and wane, the stars are arrayed in their constellations, cold comes and heat goes, autumn harvest and winter storage… the leap month completes the year, the pitch pipes harmonize the yang, clouds rise to bring rain, dew forms into frost, gold is born in the beautiful waters, jade comes from Kunlun… Sweat pouring like rain, my hand shaking like a chicken’s claw: “Grace, how many times now?”

“Twice…” Grace, who was standing beside me as my writing assistant, looked about to collapse, covering her mouth to stifle a yawn, clearly sleepy.

“…Twice?” Ancestors, seriously? From morning till now, it’s only been two times? A hundred times—am I supposed to wait until next year to leave the mansion? No way. Give me liberty or give me death. Smack… I slapped the fine wolf-hair brush onto the brush rack: “Grace!”

“Here, young master!” The little maid jumped in fright, her drowsiness flying off to Java.

“Go catch a goose for me.”

“Yes, sir… uh… young master?” Grace’s eyes started sparkling again. Damn!

“Grace, I’m not roasting anything right now. Have William Brooks catch a goose and bring it here. I have a big use for it…” I explained very kindly.

“But young master…” Grace hesitated, full of concern: “You can’t roast goose in the study, or the master will kill you…”

“Huh?…” What does this girl think I’m up to? Does she think I’d use all these books as firewood? In that case, Old Master Brooks would probably lock me in here and have me burn myself along with the goose as a sacrifice to the books.

“…Forget it, just go pluck a few goose feathers for me. Remember, get the big ones. If there are no goose feathers, get chicken feathers. If no chicken feathers, bring me duck feathers. Remember, get the long ones from the tail or wings.” I glared, rolling up my sleeves. Not going? I’m about to lose it.

“Yes, young master…” The little maid gave me a tragic look, as if heading to the execution ground, and ran off in tears? Is that really necessary?

“Scissors…” I took a chicken feather, eyed it fiercely, and held out my hand to Grace.

“Here you go, young master…” Grace blinked her big curious eyes, probably hoping I’d turn the feather into something magical.

Snip. I trimmed the tip of the feather, softened the shaft, dipped it in ink, grabbed a piece of used scrap paper—nice, it’s not smooth, but at least my writing speed has gone from brush: N minutes/character to feather pen: N seconds/character. Wahahaha… The world’s first chicken feather pen is born in my hands.

“Wow… young master, you… you can actually write with a chicken feather…” In Grace’s eyes, I’d already ascended to immortal status. Heh heh…

“Grace!”

“Here!” Good answer. She stood up straight, her big eyes shining at me.

“Write this down: In the great China, the fourteenth year of the Zhenguan era of the Tang Dynasty, a reborn great man, Chris Brooks, after enduring hardships and overcoming countless obstacles, regardless of the difficulties, invented the first chicken feather pen. From then on… hmm, just kidding. Don’t look at me like that, or I’ll smack you!”

“Yes…” Grace pouted aggrievedly. She continued grinding ink, while I continued my arduous battle with the feather pen and tribute paper.

Night fell and dawn came, and as it was about to get dark again, with two dark circles under my eyes, I tossed the thirty-ninth chicken feather pen into the trash. Ancestors, seriously, the great Thousand Character Classic project is finally done. I was so excited. I grabbed the sleepy Grace’s little hand and shouted with excitement, like I’d just seen the Chinese men’s soccer team score an own goal.

Grace’s face turned so red it could almost steam an egg: “Young master… you’re hurting me…”

“Oh… sorry, I was just excited, didn’t mean to…” Sigh, my evil intention of taking advantage of Grace’s soft little hand was actually seen through by this little maid. I’m too wicked. No, I’m not some evil old pervert, I should copy it a hundred times as punishment… Forget it, I just finished copying the Thousand Character Classic a hundred times, my hand is cramping, and I’m a bit allergic to feathers now.

Just then, a dry cough sounded outside the study, and Old Master Brooks strode in. I bowed my head, pressed my ear down, as meek as a lamb: “Greetings, father.”

“Hmm…” Old Master Brooks ignored me, took a few big steps to the desk, picked up my calligraphy, and stroked his beard as he examined the scroll.

“The leap month completes the year, the pitch pipes harmonize the yang. Clouds rise to bring rain, dew forms into frost. Gold is born in the beautiful waters, jade comes from Kunlun… Hmm?… What is this?” Old Master Brooks pointed at the period and asked me.

Damn, I’m so used to it, I even used punctuation marks. “…A period… Your son is dull-witted and didn’t know how to break up the sentences, so I had to use commas and periods to separate them…” I hurriedly and respectfully explained the use of these symbols. No matter how much of a wastrel I am, I was at least a teacher before I transmigrated. If I can’t even explain something this simple, I might as well just kill myself with a block of tofu.

“Oh…” Old Master Brooks squinted at me for a long time before finally looking away, then stared at my hard-pen calligraphy for a while, muttering something under his breath.