Hai Youtian continued helping Shun Ge’er plan—what to do first, what to do later, which matters required priority.
Shun Ge’er had learned this from Lu Yang before; he was simply afraid of uncertainty. Fresh from experience, even a slight disruption to his plan would make him anxious and restless.
Hai Youtian told him, “There’s no perfect plan in this world. Just think it through, list things in order, and handle them one by one. Early or late doesn’t matter much.”
The two of them chattered in the snack shop all afternoon, drinking plenty of tea. By evening, when it was time to serve dinner guests, both felt the urgent need to use the latrine.
Lu Liu, fearing they would be overwhelmed, went with his mother to assist—though in the end, it just gave them a break.
Lu Liu had remarked in the morning that the couple was overly polite, but by night, after dealing with bodily functions, all pretense of politeness was gone.
Back in their room that evening, Shun Ge’er felt much more at ease with Hai Youtian. He attempted to express dissatisfaction or needs; Hai Youtian complied, and Shun Ge’er softened in response.
By the next morning, he could leave the room together with Hai Youtian.
Li Feng watched approvingly and instructed Hai Youtian to feed the dogs. The horses were fine, but the dogs needed to recognize him and become familiar with his scent, so he was asked to feed them more over the coming days.
The day’s work was clearly planned: Hai Youtian kneaded dough, Shun Ge’er cooked fillings and wrapped buns. The couple worked together and tended the shop together.
Lu Liu, hands free, took up needlework and went to see his brother. The household now had two people tending to daily life, arranged by Xie Yan before his departure. Lu Yang had been well cared for recently.
He didn’t want his mother to be overburdened; others took turns staying up at night.
Lu Liu said he would stay tonight: “I’ll be with you so you can sleep more comfortably.”
Lu Yang declined. Lately, Lu Liu had been busy with numerous matters; adding night duties would make life unbearable.
He asked about Shun Ge’er’s adjustment: “Getting used to it?”
Lu Liu nodded. “I see he’s used to it. He just needs time to overcome his embarrassment; when his face thickens a bit, it’ll be fine.”
Lu Liu cut cloth, fashioned a waist support from a bamboo pillow and mat core, layered with cloth and cotton, making a backrest suitable for a chair. The household chairs were wide, and with his growing belly, sitting was increasingly uncomfortable. The support was nearly finished; he helped Lu Yang try it out and was satisfied.
Returning home, Lu Liu fetched two fish from his father and bought tofu in the street to make fish soup for dinner. The household rarely made soups themselves now, as the shop sold them. After attending to marriage affairs, Lu Liu wanted some intimacy with Li Feng. He prepared the fish soup, two home-cooked dishes, diced cured meat, tofu cubes, and stir-fried pickles.
It had been a while since he and Li Feng ate alone. After dinner was ready, he plated a portion to take upstairs, poured some wine, and welcomed Li Feng warmly.
Li Feng loved the fish soup—the broth fresh, the tofu tender. He could eat two bowls at a time. Home-cooked dishes cleared the palate, pickles went well with rice, and a few sips of wine made everything feel perfect.
After eating, Li Feng leaned back in his chair, looking across the table at Lu Liu with profound satisfaction.
He spoke first: “I’ve had nothing on my mind lately, just thinking about you.”
Lu Liu couldn’t help smiling and confessed honestly, “Me too.”
A bright oil lamp lit the room, driving away the night. Their young faces bore no marks of time, yet in each other’s expressions, they sensed the passage of years—not in wrinkles or weary eyes, but in a maturity nurtured by life itself.
Lu Liu’s resilience radiated outward; Li Feng’s gentleness had solidified into a quiet strength. Their tenderness and assertiveness interwove naturally, shaping themselves and each other.
Li Feng looked at Lu Liu’s features again, no longer feeling that he resembled Lu Yang. They were clearly a couple.
The road to the capital was long. Departing from Yunping Prefecture, passing through two provincial cities, it took over half a month to arrive.
Entry into the city went smoothly, and once there, it was clear where to go.
As before, the first task was to settle in. The examination date had been set: the ninth day of the second month. The examinees were allocated rooms upon arrival, ate, bathed, and rested immediately. Housing near the examination hall was sought by the accompanying parties.
From previous experience, those with means had sent people ahead to rent near the hall, but since house prices rose daily, arriving late meant the desired accommodations were gone.
The examinees were all provincial graduates; landlords, not seeing the tenants in person, rented to the highest bidder. Many rooms already housed servants, and landlords were unwilling to offend anyone, so even extra payment couldn’t secure them.
Left with no choice, they searched along the streets, trying to stay close. Eventually, they rented a room in a commoner’s home—a large shared space, suitable for resting briefly before the exam without staying up all night.
Xie Yan felt in good spirits, rested for a day to recover, then went out to stroll.
Having rested in two provincial cities, Xie Yan noted that, in terms of port prosperity, they were much like Yunping Prefecture. His hometown was wealthy and fertile.
Arriving at the imperial capital was entirely different; everything else paled in comparison. The most striking difference was the numerous tall buildings. In other large cities, most buildings were two-story structures, mostly inns or restaurants.
The taller buildings were famous locally, such as the Golden Buddha Pagoda.
In the capital, looking from a height, one could see many towers and small buildings scattered east and west. A few taller homes were elevated due to their foundations; on flat ground, they appeared ordinary.
The streets were more orderly, with fewer horse-drawn carts and less manure, making the air more pleasant. Sedan chairs moved frequently through the streets.
Shop sizes and merchandise were not much different. Possibly because of the wealthy population, the dense “street-after-street” market scenes of port cities were absent; shops simply sought prime locations.
Xie Yan visited several bookstores along the way. The capital’s bookstores were numerous; common texts were similar, but bindings varied. Cloth-bound books displayed elaborate craftsmanship, with materials and embroidery he had never seen. Even a small piece of cloth could elevate a book’s price beyond what a poor examinee could afford.
Most bookstores also had colored prints, which revealed business opportunities to Xie Yan. Capital bookstores, with extensive networks, could provide calligraphy from notable figures or even examination papers from academies.
Xie Yan and Wu Pingzhi obtained such materials mostly of the latter type.
Cheng Wenwei’s calligraphy was not widely printed. To study exemplary essays, one had to seek them through such channels.
Knowing only one notable figure, Xie Yan asked a clerk directly: “Do you have works by Master Cui Zhongqing?”
The clerk, recognizing an examinee from another region, smiled and explained: “Master Cui’s writings are not circulated widely. Some early pieces exist, but many imitations were made, so he stopped distributing them. If you wish, I can show them to you.”
Xie Yan wanted to see. Upon examination, he realized he had read them before, in some compilation, though he had forgotten when.
He had even attempted imitations himself. Cui’s essays were model responses—clear, straightforward, increasingly rich upon repeated reading. At first glance, simple; a deeper reading revealed new insights each time.
