Chapter 300

Xie Yan’s expression grew considerably more serious, and he responded earnestly.

“I understand. I’ll be careful.”

Lu Yang didn’t say more, letting him return to the school for a nap so he’d have energy for the afternoon lessons.

“I’ll go home and rest too,” Lu Yang said. “Don’t worry. The shop won’t be busy this afternoon. I’ll just handle things until dinner.”

Xie Yan saw him off outside the school, watching him walk away before returning.

Wu Pingzhi had already tidied his bedding and fallen asleep.

Xie Yan moved quietly, sat on the bed, and took a fragrant sachet from his belt. Inside was a field deed marked with a blood handprint. Even after seven months, the shock it carried hadn’t lessened.

After the imperial exams, he began teaching Wu Pingzhi the provincial exam formats.

The focus was on subtle probes within the structure.

These probes were minor—looking at a candidate’s opinion on a matter, their reasoning on a question, and their approach to situations revealed whether they should advance.

In the provincial exams, the literary style differed, but scoring standards weren’t as strict. Avoiding major mistakes was sufficient.

Thus, becoming a jinshi was a one-in-ten-thousand achievement. It was a test of talent, thought, suitability for office, and moral integrity.

Wu Pingzhi’s biggest problem stemmed from his “merchant mindset.”

Being of low social standing and raised in that environment, shaped by years of hardship, he’d grown mature yet developed a desire for power.

This mindset meant that when advocating for the people or assisting rulers, he could carry biases. His positions were flawed. Xie Yan taught him that if he couldn’t change, he must at least pretend.

Pretending was possible.

Xie Yan considered—if Wu Pingzhi could pretend, could he?

He concluded it was possible.

Before the outcome, he couldn’t judge the difficulty of the provincial exam questions. But compared to these scholars, he could easily analyze them.

His problem was lack of practical experience. Even if he wanted to pretend, he didn’t know how.

Xie Yan memorized these issues and tucked the deed away.

That evening, after washing up, he discussed it with Lu Yang, asking for advice.

Lu Yang didn’t immediately know what to say.

Xie Yan remarked, “There’s an old saying: a gentleman judges actions, not the heart. If I act the part, it doesn’t matter what I truly think.”

Lu Yang was a little confused. “Your thinking isn’t flawed?”

Xie Yan nodded. “No, but I’m not suited to be an official.”

Lu Yang understood immediately.

For the civil exams, Wu Pingzhi had a position problem that couldn’t change; he had to pretend. Xie Yan had an ability problem—he was slow to adapt but could still act the part. Theory was easier than practice.

Lu Yang lowered his gaze, thinking for a while, then said, “If it doesn’t suit you, we won’t go.”

Xie Yan touched his face, his smile radiating confidence in a certain domain.

“You forget? I said the court needs scholars too. I just need to pass this one step.”

Lu Yang opened his mouth to argue, but Xie Yan quickly silenced him with a sudden, urgent kiss.

Lu Yang didn’t understand music, but at that moment, it felt like a symphony—the ease and relief in Xie Yan’s mood made him furrow his brow slightly, then he embraced him, kissing in return.

Solving a difficult problem brought an unimaginable joy—both in business and in study.

They held each other, fiery and fluid, like wind and mist, merging as one—forceful yet gentle. Only at dawn did it ease.

By mid-July, Xie Yan was set to depart for the county seat.

Lu Yang helped him pack, gave him meal receipts, and told him where to eat, insisting he take care.

A few days earlier, he had picked out an umbrella, adorned with elegant ink-and-paint motifs, for rainy days.

“You clever head—don’t let rain ruin you. I’d worry,” Lu Yang said.

Xie Yan’s longing began early, but his mind remained open.

He knew what type of books to read at the county academy. As an official school, it trained talent for the court. Some extracts of political documents would appear for study. He had to read more to act convincingly later.

Once he left, only Lu Yang and his mother remained at home.

He trusted Lu Yang to care for the household, not worried about his mother, but feared Lu Yang would overwork himself.

After the wheat harvest, Lu Lin and Zhang Tie returned to town to check on the shop. Xie Yan suggested Lu Yang take his mother to the mountain settlement for a short stay.

The mountain settlement was busy harvesting mushrooms but was remote, peaceful, and ideal for rest and recuperation.

“My mother has never been there. I hear it’s cool in summer. Take her for a short stay when you have time. You promised Lu Ge’er before—you could go now,” he said.

Lu Yang laughed. “Fine, I won’t call you Top Scholar anymore. You’ll be Master Xie. When you’re here, my house has heaven itself. Even I, your mighty husband, must obey!”

Xie Yan couldn’t hold back his smile. In the yard, with his mother present, and the new young scholar around, he couldn’t do much, so he gave Lu Yang a fierce kiss with his eyes.

They chatted, waiting for Li Feng and company to arrive.

Xie Yan wanted to return home before Mid-Autumn to celebrate with family.

Lu Yang said to go with the flow—no need to force it.

“I know. With our circumstances, no date is special. Any fifteenth of the month, I can watch the moon. I’ll be in the county, attending poetry and wine gatherings with classmates, making a name among scholars.”

Lu Yang didn’t intend that. “Fame is risky—selling books is enough. Keep a low profile otherwise.”

He teased Xie Yan: “You hold grudges over birthdays?”

Xie Yan didn’t.

“I thought, if I can’t return, I might as well attend the gathering—it’ll help sell books.”

Lu Yang, unconcerned, reached out to embrace him.

“You don’t need to worry. We’ve already made concessions. How the books sell is Mr. Jin’s business. Once written, it’s no longer yours.”

Xie Yan’s face blossomed with a smile, unsure whether from the embrace or Lu Yang’s words.

Soon after, Li Feng arrived with Lu Liu.

The two men left; the two young husbands stood hand in hand, gazing at each other.

Lu Liu looked pitiful. “Brother, today Da Qiang is bringing game. If you don’t want me staying, I’ll ride back with him.”

Lu Yang led him inside, calling his mother to watch.

“Mother, come quickly! Look at him—his mouth is too sharp. I haven’t said much, and it’s like he’s trying to kick me out!”

Lu Liu laughed immediately.

“Brother, can I skip the guest room? I want to stay in the same room with you.”

Lu Yang agreed. “Anything goes!”

He also noticed a flamboyant little dog.

Its colorful fur called for the name ‘Mighty.’

Lu Yang paused, and Lu Liu handed the dog over.

Small creatures were magical—their warm bodies seemed to carry comfort from the hands to the heart, banishing sorrow.

Mighty was clingy, fearless, licking Lu Yang’s hands, eyes round and shiny.

Lu Yang petted its ears, which twitched in response.

He liked it. Remembering Lu Liu had spoken of “recognizing daddy’s meal,” he fed Mighty well that day.

Lu Liu settled in, playing with the dog daily with his brother, thoroughly happy.

Practice makes perfect.

For the journey to the county seat, Li Feng arranged everything meticulously.

He knew where to slow down, where to rest.

On sunny days, travel could be grueling; humans managed, but animals struggled. He scheduled travel in early morning and evening, resting at noon. When light was optimal, they moved; when the sun peaked, they sought shade.