C11 Seven Years Is Not an Itch

Initially, Zhang Jingxuan was still holding onto a glimmer of hope. Once his father's anger was gone and the limelight was over, he would be able to regain his freedom.

But soon, he would realize that he was still too young.

Jiang Lishen and the others had embarrassed themselves in front of everyone. Naturally, they would not blame themselves for being frivolous and debaucherous. Chen Bingchu's family, which had a broken left leg, also had a small influence. This group of people simply vented their anger on the Zhang family. If not for Zhang Wentao's big business and good relations with all aspects, this group of people could have caused the Zhang family to go bankrupt.

Even so, in the end, they were only willing to let go because someone from the prefecture had informed them. Zhang Wentao had almost given away half of his family property as compensation and to settle the matter.

Seeing that his father rarely showed a smile on his face after that, and the white hair on his head popped out like bamboo shoots, Zhang Jingxuan felt very sad in his heart.

He heard Zhang Er talk about the situation at home and saw some servants carrying bags and never coming back. He finally knew how much trouble he had caused the family. However, Zhang Wentao had never said a word about him because of this matter, which made him feel even more uncomfortable.

It was as if he had become much more sensible overnight. The things he used to play in the past suddenly became dull and boring.

He said to himself, I've grown up. Since he said that he would be confined for seven years, then that was it! If he said seven years, then so be it!

Time could only feel slow and slow when it was going on. When it became a thing of the past... You'll find out that it's so fast... It's so fast that you're wondering if you haven't really lived through the past few days. They've been quietly stolen. The more time passes, the stronger it becomes.

In the past seven years, Zhang Jingxuan had either practiced martial arts or studied. He even felt that those people who were five years old had come for these seven lonely years. Because of them, these seven years didn't seem so lonely.

He did not care about being spoiled or humiliated. He watched as flowers bloomed and fell in front of him.

He had no intention of leaving or staying. He looked at the clouds and clouds in the sky.

When he calmed down, Zhang Er would make jokes about him. Why do I feel like you are almost the same age as me? Then, he laughed and turned back into that green youth.

During this period of time, Zhang Wentao, who had settled those troublesome matters, rarely went out. He spent most of his time at home, even if he wasn't by Zhang Jingxuan's side. He stayed under the same roof as him, reading, writing, and writing. The filial piety of a father was a good time.

It was as if in the blink of an eye, time flew by like lightning. Another year, September 18th. Zhang Jingxuan's 15th birthday had unknowingly arrived. For such a long time, Zhang Wentao had already treated the old Daoist's words as an imperial edict. It was not easy for him to get out of it, but he was also very excited in his heart.

Taking advantage of Zhang Jingxuan's birthday, he gave the whole family a holiday and arranged a banquet to celebrate.

Perhaps it was because he had been suppressing himself for too long, or perhaps it was because he drank too much Happy Wine, but in the end, joy brought sorrow.

The next morning, Zhang Wentao and Zhang Er were discovered to be unconscious. They hurriedly invited a doctor to take a look. Zhang Er had already let go of himself in his sleep, but fortunately, he did not feel any pain.

Although Zhang Wentao was temporarily saved, the doctor also said that it was only the last rays of light, which made Zhang Jingxuan grieve.

Although Zhang Wentao was dying, his mind was exceptionally clear. He even had a smile on his face. He said to his son, "Jingxuan, don't be sad. This is all destined. That Daoist was right. He wanted me to grit my teeth and persist until you are fifteen years old. He even said that he would take me to cultivate. Isn't that true? He really is a living god! "

He reached out his hand to touch his son's face and continued, "Son, from now on, you have to rely on yourself for everything. You have to be careful. Someone will harm you and lie to you. But don't take it to heart, because someone will help you. Love you. When you're really tired, come and find Dad to cultivate with you. " With a smile on his face, it was as if he had fallen asleep.

Zhang Jingxuan knew that he would never be able to hear his father's words in this lifetime.

He buried his father and Zhang Er, and when he finished sprinkling the soil with his tears, they had already dried up. When Zhang Jingxuan returned home, he asked the old servants to help him sell off the properties in the house. After distributing a large sum of money to disperse the servants and maids, no one gave up. Zhang Jingxuan smiled and said, "Sometimes, we will gather and disperse. Don't stay for too long and enjoy yourself. When everyone was together, even if they were separated, they should not have a sad expression on their faces. Maybe someday we will get together happily again. "

Everyone was finally reluctant to part. Those maids could not help but shed tears and bid their little master farewell. Zhang Jingxuan coaxed them until their tears turned into smiles.

After sending everyone away, there was only a small amount of silver left. However, as long as he saved some money, he could still maintain his livelihood for a period of time.

Zhang Jingxuan felt that there was nothing to worry about, only that he had some free time.

This fifteen year old youth was a blank piece of paper, and his contact with the outside world was still at the eight year old stage.

At the same time, he was also a treasure. During these seven years, his Xiuwen had practiced martial arts. He had gained insights from within, and no one had sparred with him. Even he himself did not know how much progress he had made.

At this moment, everything in the county had changed. The previous Jiang County Magistrate had already left his post a few years ago, and the richest man in the city was no longer the Xue family. The young masters who had once been insufferably arrogant were now nowhere to be found.

In just seven years, the world seemed to have changed. Zhang Jingxuan had also changed quite a bit. He had grown from a naughty and playful kid to an elegant youth. His handsome face had a kind and pure expression, and he had a cautious and calm expression hidden in it. It did not match his age.

He was not tired, and the first thing he did was to rely on his father's old friend to enter the government office and become a small police officer.

In this era, being a constables could not be considered a career with a bright future. The world was not good, the people were in chaos, and disasters happened frequently. The government was overwhelmed. As the symbol of the lowest level of the government, being a police officer was nothing more than maintaining social security. They caught thieves and thieves, patrolled day and night, and so on, but they were not welcomed by others.

To Zhang Jingxuan, he was the one who caught criminals because when he was eight years old, his father had told him that he was in charge of catching bad people.

He was not as naive as he was back then, but he still wanted to see what it felt like to become one with the nightmare he had when he was young.

Perhaps, the only difference was that there was no longer any injustice. Instead, it was called carrying out official duties. If his name was not righteous, then his words would not go smoothly. This was one of the knowledge that he had learned in seven years. He also wanted to personally try it out. Paper talking was far from enough.

He did not know if he should call it luck or misfortune. As soon as he entered the government office, the folded folds on his new uniform had yet to be smoothed out when he encountered a major case.

The Hand of Destiny seemed to want to make up for his excessively quiet seven years, impatiently catching up to the roaring war chariot.