The buns were so tiny that they couldn’t be smuggled in, yet they could slip past inspection. No one could break them apart, and if they were, by the end, there’d be nothing left to eat.
The steamed mini buns were soft and one bite wasn’t satisfying—they lacked substance.
The pan-cooked mini buns, however, were a different story. The exterior was golden and crisp, while the inside remained tender and fluffy. Delicious to eat, they could fill the stomach and double as a snack.
Lu Yang didn’t count them carefully; he just packed them together into bamboo tubes, dividing them into two containers.
On the day of the exam, he got up early and made sesame sugar cakes.
Each cake was filled with sugar, the exterior sprinkled with sesame seeds and slowly baked over low heat. Like the small buns, the outer layer turned golden and crisp, with a nutty sesame aroma. Bite into one, and the hot sugar would ooze out—a pleasantly scalding, crisp, and fragrant treat.
These were for the two exam candidates. They could carry them along and eat them on the way to the exam hall, serving as breakfast.
Since they had to depart in the middle of the night, they weren’t alert at first, and their appetites were weak. The sugar cakes gave them something to nibble while waking up on the road.
As they walked, they slowly became alert and hungry.
During the county exam, Lu Yang hadn’t been in good shape and couldn’t go out to see the spectacle. This time, arriving in the prefectural city, he accompanied the two candidates to witness the scene outside the exam booths.
Xie Yan staggered along, still half-asleep. His exam basket was carried by the servants, while Lu Yang fed him mini buns, which he nibbled reluctantly. After weaving through two streets, he finally woke up enough to eat properly.
Lu Yang pulled out the sesame sugar cakes—one for Xie Yan, one for Wu Pingzhi.
After finishing, they split another round—again, one each.
Xie Yan, munching on a cake, asked, “Why aren’t you eating?”
Lu Yang shook his head. He was nervous, far more than he’d been in a long time. His stomach felt full and uneasy, leaving no appetite.
Xie Yan took the wax paper wrapper and distributed the cakes himself.
He handed one to Wu Pingzhi and pushed one toward Lu Yang repeatedly until all were divided. Then he shared one more with Lu Yang.
“One for you, one for me.”
Wu Pingzhi watched silently: “…If married life is going to be like this, maybe it’s better not to marry at all.”
Lu Yang couldn’t stop smiling; his heart felt warm and sweet.
The streets toward the exam hall were crowded.
It was bustling with examinees, their families and attendants, street vendors, and curious onlookers. Waves of people surged like mountains and rivers.
Outside the booths, large lanterns hung, some marked with the county names, guiding candidates to their designated lines.
They needed to arrive before dawn. Following the lanterns, or at least the crowd, they could hardly get lost.
The closer they got, the denser the crowd became.
Xie Yan grew nervous, sweating through his palms while holding Lu Yang’s hand.
Lu Yang squeezed his hand and brushed away crumbs from the cake at the corner of his mouth. “Relax. You’re still young. We’re just here to take a look. Once your exam is over, we can go to the medical hall to check your pulse. Today, consider it a visit to the doctor.”
Xie Yan shook his head. “No, we’re not just looking. We must succeed.”
He asked Lu Yang, “With so many people, do you know the way back? What if we get lost?”
He was always afraid of losing Lu Yang.
Lu Yang laughed, “Now’s not the time to worry about that.”
But Xie Yan insisted, and Lu Yang sighed. True concern often leads to confusion.
“There are two attendants with us. I can go back with them later,” Lu Yang said. He planned to wait outside the exam hall anyway; it was just one day. He could stroll around, chat, and wait for his top scholar to finish. Waiting here, amidst the crowd, would be tiring and noisy.
After thinking, Xie Yan agreed: “You go back with the attendants and rest. I’ll come find you after the exam.”
Lu Yang knew him well. If he agreed immediately, Xie Yan wouldn’t trust it. They walked together, bickering along the way. As they neared the exam hall, many examinees had already lined up under the lanterns marking each county. The time was tight, and Xie Yan grew anxious, so Lu Yang reluctantly agreed.
“Alright, I’ll wait at home for you and make something delicious.”
To ensure he’d go home, Xie Yan even ordered a few dishes. Lu Yang agreed.
Finally reassured, Xie Yan took his exam basket and moved along with the line. Upon hearing his name, he responded “Present,” checked the roster, and received his test papers.
Lu Yang watched until Xie Yan turned the corner and disappeared from sight.
Winter passed into spring, and then early summer. His top scholar had grown several times over, from numb to lively, from stiff to agile, from passively enduring to actively striving. Like a gold nugget washed clean of mud, he finally saw the sun.
Morning sunlight streamed down, a drumbeat echoed through the exam hall—the provincial exam began.
Lu Yang had finally seen him step onto this path to success.
Warm weather brought some downsides for living at the foot of the mountain: lots of bugs—different species, abundant numbers. In unexpected corners, one would always be quietly waiting.
Lu Liu wasn’t afraid of bugs. As a child, he’d catch them to feed the chickens.
When there was no food at home, he even ate some bugs himself. Most tasted bad and upset his stomach, so later he only caught them for the chickens.
Chen Guizhi worried he’d be startled or scared, but after a brief shock, he was delighted. He carried his little bug-catching basket and long chopsticks everywhere, like a hunter, ready to catch any bug he saw.
Shun Ge’er had been instructed by his mother and elder brother to watch over Lu Liu—but Lu Liu was even more fearless. Some bugs that Shun Ge’er found frightening, Lu Liu would handle without hesitation.
Shun Ge’er: “…Who’s really taking care of whom?”
Of course, Lu Liu had his fears—he avoided large flying insects. Those were tricky to catch and could be troublesome if they flew toward him.
Close to the mountain, near the small vegetable garden, the land sloped into green grass and even snakes could appear.
Picking vegetables without watching one’s step could mean stepping on a snake. Luckily, none had been spotted at home.
When Lu Liu first married in, Yao Fulang had told him about occasional wild animals descending from the mountain, sometimes larger creatures like wild boars, though snakes were small fry.
Back then, Lu Liu had been scared, even having nightmares. Eating snakes had desensitized him; now he wasn’t as afraid. Snakes were no problem, and neither were other bugs. Still, the occasional live snake would make him flinch.
If Li Feng was home, Lu Liu would shout “Da Feng!” If not, he’d call “Er Huang.”
Er Huang had plenty of experience fighting snakes: a single swipe would pin the snake’s head, with humans assisting to either move or strike the snake. If unattended, Er Huang would kill it with its bite.
Killed snakes weren’t eaten or sold; instead, they were cooked in Er Huang’s special pot for a proper meal.
Er Huang thought Lu Liu was feeding it on purpose. When Li Feng took it to the mountain, it reluctantly left, frequently looking back at Lu Liu.
Lu Liu would laugh, waving at it to hurry along.
As summer arrived, Lu Liu wore new clothes daily.
Old garments were dismantled, washed, sun-dried, and cut into squares for use as baby cloths. The household had plenty of fabric, so his clothing supply was ample.
From the extra fabric, he kept some bright pieces, especially a maroon cloth with tiny floral prints, making two jackets for Shun Ge’er.
One was thin and snug—perfect for the season. The other was slightly looser, pre-stitched so cotton could be added later in cold weather, giving a fresh garment for the next season.
Shun Ge’er was thrilled, taking every chance to run outside. Compliments on his looks left him grinning all the way home, eyes squinting in delight.
