Chapter 44

The next day, Du Heng had been thinking about getting up early. Even though he had gone to bed late, he still forced himself up.

He glanced at Qin Xiaoman, still sleeping soundly while clutching the corner of the quilt. The early morning breeze carried a slight chill. Du Heng tucked the quilt in more securely and rose quietly from the bed.

Looking out into the courtyard, the sky was hazy but bright—another clear day.

Roosters from neighboring homes were already crowing. When Du Heng first arrived, he was not used to the hard wooden bed, and with the cold weather, his sleep had been light.

Qin Xiaoman had taken that to heart. Believing Du Heng was easily awakened by noise, they had not kept a rooster at home.

Originally, when they held their wedding banquet, villagers had brought over two, but Qin Xiaoman had taken them straight to the city and sold them at the poultry market.

Seeing how pleasant the weather was for these few hours, Du Heng let the chickens and ducks out of their pen and then went to the cowshed.

The yellow ox, which had been lying there with its legs tucked under, immediately got up when it saw him. Du Heng tossed it a big bundle of fodder.

Other households in the distance were also awake now. In the quiet morning, the sound of chopping firewood and the occasional cough felt especially hollow and clear.

Du Heng returned to the kitchen to light the fire and steam some leftover rice. Yesterday’s fish soup had not contained much meat to begin with. Qin Xiaoman had eaten five fish heads with his wine, and by now there was hardly any meat left.

There was still plenty of fish broth, though. Du Heng planned to throw in some vegetable leaves and have that for breakfast.

Reheating cold rice was simple and required little effort. He piled everything into the pot, lit the fire, tossed in two pieces of firewood, and didn’t need to watch it closely. By the time Qin Xiaoman woke up, the meal would be ready.

Du Heng splashed cold water on his face and rinsed his mouth. He felt much more refreshed.

He took out the book he had put down the night before and read it by the kitchen doorway, where he could keep an eye on the stove fire without standing right next to it and getting overheated.

The xiucai qualifying examination was merely the entry-level civil service examination. Once one became a xiucai, one was called a shengyuan, eligible to proceed later to the prefectural and provincial examinations.

Precisely because it was an entry exam, it was both easy and difficult. Easy, because it tested only basic poetry, prose, and classical texts. As long as one thoroughly studied the required books, there was usually no problem.

What it tested was diligence, not yet depth of talent or personal brilliance.

But it was also difficult, because there were so many stages. First came five consecutive examinations at the county level. Only after passing all five could one qualify for the prefectural examination, which consisted of three more rounds. Passing all of them made one a xiucai.

The challenge lay in passing all eight rounds consecutively. Failing even one meant everything was for nothing.

However, under the Great Yun dynasty, there was an unspoken rule: sons of official families could donate money to purchase a shengyuan qualification, sparing themselves the ordeal of eight examinations.

As a result, in the examination halls, sons of official families were generally much younger than those from ordinary households when sitting for the higher examinations.

In earlier years, only sons of officials could buy shengyuan status. Later, merchant families also sought convenience for their heirs. Over time, there were no shortage of scholars who bought their qualifications with money.

Of course, this was something only families with power or wealth could manage. Du Heng remembered that the original family had once considered buying a shengyuan qualification for him, but by then their business was already declining, and the cost was simply too great.

Back then, they had inquired through various channels. Different connections meant different prices, but even the cheapest was no less than one hundred taels of silver—a staggering sum.

Du Heng’s family, though merchants by trade, still did not possess such vast assets that they could casually hand over more than a hundred taels of silver. They thought that Du Heng was still young at the time, so it would be better to let him study for a few more years and try taking the examinations himself. If he passed, that would save them the expense of such a large sum.

If he truly could not pass, then when it came time to arrange his marriage, they could buy a licentiate title for him. At least it would sound respectable when spoken of, and he might be matched with a better family.

Only, later on, the original Du Heng neither passed the examinations nor did the family fortunes hold up.

Du Heng flipped through the Classics, with no intention whatsoever of buying his way into becoming a licentiate.

Children of official families had relatives serving at court. When they paid to obtain licentiate status, it was not purely for appearances. From a young age, they were steeped in the ways of governance and administration; passing the licentiate examination was hardly an issue. To them, continuing to sit through the exams simply felt like a waste of time.

As for those who bought licentiate status only after failing the exams, most did it merely to save face. If they could not even pass the preliminary examination, how could they possibly expect to pass the prefectural or provincial exams?

Moreover, speaking realistically, his own family simply did not have the money to buy such a title.

Even if they did, Du Heng would not spend it on purchasing licentiate status. He would first repair the house, buy land, or hire servants.

In the early morning, the weather was cool and free of mosquitoes. Du Heng read with focus, turning the books that Master Qin had once used far more quickly than he ever could at night.

By the time Qin Xiaoman climbed out of bed, the sky was already bright. He yawned as he came out of the room and immediately spotted Du Heng standing by the kitchen doorway, reading in the morning breeze.

He stopped his yawn at once.

Du Heng’s hair was neatly tied, his long fingers gently turning the pages, his gaze lowered in concentration.

When Qin Xiaoman’s father was still alive, he also liked to read in the mornings, though he usually did so in his own room.

Qin Xiaoman’s little father would rise early to cook, while the two of them busied themselves in the kitchen.

When Qin Xiaoman was small, he once thought his father was lazy for getting up later than he did. It was only when he was chopping firewood with loud thuds in the kitchen that his little father hushed him, telling him to keep his voice down. Only then did he realize his father was reading in the room.

Those days had been simple and peaceful, sometimes reappearing in his dreams.

“You’re up?”

Du Heng turned his head when he saw the young man standing in the kitchen, still drowsy, as if not quite awake.

He closed the book. “Wash up and eat.”

Qin Xiaoman came back to himself and quickly pressed a hand to Du Heng’s shoulder. “Read a bit more. I’ll take care of it.”

As he went to fetch water, he added, “From now on, I’ll make breakfast in the mornings. You just focus on your reading.”

“Making breakfast isn’t much trouble. You do so much work during the day—heavy work, tiring work, all of it falls on you. Mornings are the best time to sleep, so it’s good for you to rest a little longer.”

It would help him grow taller and stay healthy.

Du Heng did not say the rest of his thoughts aloud, or Qin Xiaoman would surely argue back.

“If I sleep a stick of incense less—half an hour less—and that lets you read in peace, then it’s fine. If my husband can one day earn some scholarly merit, our life will be much easier.”

He did not ask for much. Just having a xiucai degree would already be excellent. Though it would not completely exempt them from land and population taxes, he would not have to kneel before the county magistrate, and ordinary people would not dare strike him. That alone was great honor and dignity.

Moreover, the court would grant a few mu of land, exempt him from corvée labor, and even provide a small monthly stipend. These were benefits that ordinary families could scarcely even dream of.

Yet in their village, aside from his uncle, no new xiucai had appeared in recent years. The difficulty of the imperial examinations was far greater than diligently farming a few mu of land and waiting for the harvest.

“For your sake, I’ll definitely study hard,” Du Heng said.

Hearing this, Qin Xiaoman felt warmth bloom in his chest. The two exchanged smiles.

After breakfast, the sun had begun to climb, and the two of them went to the fields together to hoe weeds.

Thinking of Du Heng’s plan to use sorghum to brew wine, Qin Xiaoman deliberately went to check on how the sorghum was growing.

Sorghum usually ripened in July. Now it had already shot up straight and tall, its leaves somewhat resembling corn, though the stalks were a little smaller.

At the top was a reddish-brown tassel, with large, plump grains faintly visible.

Judging by its growth, it would be ready to harvest in July.

Around the same time, the soybeans they had planted that year could also be harvested.

August would bring the corn, and once that was stored away, the rice would soon mature.

From sowing in spring all the way to late autumn and early winter, there was a long stretch of months filled with constant work.

Qin Xiaoman pulled weeds in the sorghum field. At this stage, the nearly mature sorghum was not hindered much by weeds, but since they kept cattle at home and needed fodder, he cut whatever grass there was and brought it back, saving himself the trouble of searching elsewhere.

“I already told you not to follow me. Are you shameless or what?”

“I don’t want your plain silver hairpin.”

Hearing the familiar voices, Qin Xiaoman and Du Heng poked their heads out of the sorghum field and saw two people walking along the ridge of a field not far away.

In front was Qin Xiaozhu, striding angrily, while behind him followed a tall, thick-headed-looking young man. One in front, one behind.

Seeing potential drama, Qin Xiaoman hurriedly craned his neck farther out of the field.

Du Heng saw him standing on the dirt ridge, with a large paddy field just below. Remembering Qin Xiaoman’s previous tumble into the field, he instinctively grabbed the young man’s arm.

“I don’t have good taste and don’t know how to pick things. If you don’t like that hairpin, I’ll put it away. Just tell me what you do like, and I’ll buy that for you instead.”

“I don’t want your things.”

Qin Xiaozhu showed no sign of softening and kept walking. Seeing that the young man behind him still refused to leave, he threatened, “If you keep this up, I’ll tell my father!”

Hearing this, the young man did not retreat. Instead, he said, “I already asked my father to speak to Uncle Qin about proposing marriage. Uncle Qin agreed.”

Qin Xiaozhu stopped short, turned around, and snapped angrily, “No way. My mother doesn’t agree, and I don’t agree either. My father doesn’t get to decide this marriage!”

Seeing Qin Xiaozhu truly angry, the young man lowered his voice. “All right, all right, don’t be mad. I’ll listen to you, okay? What do you want to do?”

“I just want you to stop following me!”

After saying that, Qin Xiaozhu twisted around and ran off. The young man remained where he was this time and did not chase after him.

He looked at the plain silver hairpin in his hand and let out a sigh.

Seeing that the show was over, Qin Xiaoman hurriedly pulled his head back into the sorghum field.

“Who is he? I don’t think I’ve seen him before.”

Qin Xiaoman replied, “He’s the fifth son of Landlord Li’s family. Since he was young, he liked roaming around outside. When he was twelve, he put together a few peddlers and started doing small-scale trading, traveling north and south. He probably only just came back, so it’s no surprise you haven’t seen him.”

Du Heng nodded. No wonder he spent money so freely—he had family backing and abilities of his own.

“He used to be quite taken with Qin Xiaozhu. He’s been wandering outside for more than ten years now, so maybe he’s tired of drifting around and wants to settle down back home. I didn’t expect him to still be thinking about Xiaozhu after all this time. In that sense, he’s quite devoted.”

Du Heng said, “Putting it that way, he does seem like a good match. But it looks like your younger cousin isn’t willing.”

Qin Xiaoman was also puzzled. Logically speaking, the Li family was one of the top households in the village and more than suitable for his second uncle’s family.

On top of that, Li the Fifth was decent-looking. Though he was a bit older, he was capable. That alone made him far better than men who only lived off their families. Most importantly, he genuinely liked Qin Xiaozhu.

By any measure, it was a good marriage. If someone like that had existed back then, Qin Xiaoman wouldn’t have suffered so much—he would have been over the moon.

Who knew what kind of fit Qin Xiaozhu was throwing now.

Hearing this, Du Heng felt a slight knot in his chest. He pinched the back of Qin Xiaoman’s hand.

Seeing this, Qin Xiaoman immediately declared his loyalty. “I’m already over the moon now. Even if someone ten thousand times better came along, I wouldn’t want them.”

“Still, I think you’re getting more and more petty lately.”

Du Heng replied, “I’ve always been petty.”