Tian Zhongqing had not touched a drop of water for three full days; he sat silently in front of the desk, his thoughts crawling in his mind like ants, his lips turning white, sweating incessantly.
He was just over thirty years old, but he had never made such a grave mistake. The more he thought about it, the more terrified he became, murmuring to himself:
"Should I go and confess my fault? But an unfounded rumor like this... wouldn't it make me seem guilty, a laughing stock to others... Yet if I just let it go, who knows what the family head might think? I fear I might plant the seeds of a disaster..."
His heart full of anxiety, fortunately, Tian Zhongqing was not like Xu Gongming, carrying the burden of his family alone; he had elders above him. He quickly took out paper and ink, unfolded the fine cloth, and wrote:
"My dear uncle, I am in trouble and need your urgent aid. I am at the back mountain estate of Huaqian towns. Let no one know of this."
