"I called out so many times."
"I even knocked on the door several times."
The woman waved her hand.
Her hand was already sore from knocking.
At that, the Young Scholar's expression didn't change.
"Do you need something, Auntie?"
The woman was taken aback.
She lowered the hand she'd been waving, raised her eyebrows, and her voice grew a little shrill.
"Need something?"
"Whether I need something or not, you should have come to see me on your own initiative. You're my junior."
"You're a scholar."
"Surely you don't need your aunt to teach you something so basic?"
"What have you been studying all this time?"
"Don't tell me—"
"Auntie."
The woodcutter strode over.
"Don't be angry."
"It's my fault."
A trace of apology appeared on the woodcutter's face.
"I told my younger brother to focus on his studies."
"He doesn't have to worry about anything else."
"It's my fault."
The woman looked at the woodcutter.
The tall figure approaching through the night made her heart skip a beat.
But she quickly stiffened her neck.
"Dalang."
"I know you're looking out for Erlang."
"But Erlang isn't a child anymore."
"He's a scholar, too."
"Even a country bumpkin understands that. How could he not?"
"You've spoiled him too much."
"What if Erlang fails to make anything of his studies—"
"Auntie."
Startled by her sudden outburst, the woman who had been silent until now spoke up. "Can't you say something nice for once?"
There was a trace of displeasure in her expression.
Ever since the woman had come to their home, she'd been putting her younger brother down...
Everything she said made it sound as though her younger brother would never amount to anything through his studies.
Who would like hearing that in their own home?