Not long ago, he had talked with Li Feng about matters at the dock. Afterwards, when he spoke to Lu Yang, he felt he didn’t understand enough and came across dry and awkward in his words. Lately, he had been spending time in the quiet room, exchanging ideas with his fellow students.
He wasn’t a great speaker and rarely contributed in debates. Most debates were organized in advance by Sheng Da; participants were given a few days to prepare. Previously, Xie Yan would simply sit in and observe, but later he started preparing notes. He didn’t have as much material as the others, so this time, his exchanges with them focused on how to prepare for a debate, what sources to consult, and where to find examples.
Xie Yan didn’t hold back, giving Wu Pingzhi a concise explanation, then examined Wu Pingzhi’s assignments.
He had left Wu Pingzhi backup notes, which Wu Pingzhi would review and annotate with his own understanding.
Wu Pingzhi was willing to think things through and did very well in this regard. The rest was about essay writing.
Regarding essays, Xie Yan had told him during the New Year period not to rush, not to force things. One must maintain a relaxed pace, writing first and revising later. Wu Pingzhi’s essays, arranged by date, became progressively smoother.
Xie Yan kept the materials a few days before returning them.
“We still have an empty guest room. Do you want to stay here? It’ll make it easier to study together.”
Wu Pingzhi declined, for the same reason as before: his aptitude was average, he didn’t grasp lessons as quickly as Xie Yan, and being together all the time would make him lazy.
He planned to come every five or eight days. If he arrived during Xie Yan’s day off, he could stay for a meal and take half a day of his time.
That way, he could clarify doubts promptly while leaving room for his own thinking—a better arrangement than studying with Xie Yan daily.
Xie Yan thought for a moment, nodded, and agreed. “Then next time you come, I’ll have finished reviewing all of this.”
Pure reading could be finished by tomorrow, but adding annotations would take longer.
Wu Pingzhi was touched to see that Xie Yan remained the same as before.
“Right before the exam, you’re still willing to spend time on me—I don’t even know what to say.”
Xie Yan told him not to mention it. “Teaching you is also a way for me to check myself. Whether I’ve truly understood depends on every word I say to you. It’s beneficial for me too.”
Wu Pingzhi stayed late today, leaving only as dusk fell. They skipped dinner, hurrying home.
That night, dinner was simple: two plates of reheated leftovers and a pot of fish and shrimp stewed with tofu.
By April, the daytime heat was noticeable. Soon, stews would become less appetizing, so Lu Yang had prepared a fresh batch.
The fish and shrimp were small, each bite containing several pieces. The broth had a different flavor from large-fish soups.
During dinner, Xie Yan mentioned the provincial exam schedule: leaving by mid-July, returning after the late-August exam—probably departing around mid-July and coming back in September.
He didn’t want Lu Yang to go along. Since marrying him, Lu Yang had been constantly on the move. They had only just arrived in the prefectural city; traveling back and forth again would be exhausting.
Lu Yang’s health had just improved. The doctor insisted that after a serious illness, care was crucial to fully restore his strength.
Last year, Xie Yan had often attended lessons at the prefectural school alone. With Wu Pingzhi accompanying him now, perhaps other classmates would be there too, so Lu Yang need not go.
Lu Yang didn’t immediately agree, saying they’d see closer to the date. Three months remained, and Xie Yan nodded, planning to persuade him further.
By April, Lu Yang had finished his course of pills.
He took time to visit the clinic for pulse diagnoses, accompanied by Xie Yan.
One physician wasn’t satisfactory, so Xie Yan consulted five more. All agreed, but he still didn’t feel reassured, taking some nutritional recipes with him. He made nourishing soups, learning any he couldn’t prepare on his own.
Since medicine always carries some risk, it was better to use food for nourishment whenever possible. Xie Yan had saved money from the stipends he received at the prefectural school, keeping both silver and the proceeds from selling rice.
When he went to school last year, Lu Yang, fearing he would suffer outside, gave him money each time. He had saved it too. Now, it was just the right time to spend it on Lu Yang.
Rarely asking for money, this time it was solely for Lu Yang.
Lu Yang patted his money pouch, finding about twenty taels in small coins—truly saved up.
Xie Yan usually spent little: food, clothing, and stationery were well taken care of. He didn’t go out to socialize; after moving to the prefectural city, all meals for his classmates were arranged by Lu Yang. Occasionally spending a couple of coins on snacks cost barely anything.
Xie Yan calculated that the saved silver could provide Lu Yang with five months of nourishing meals.
Five months later, he would save more from his stipend, continuing the supply of soups.
He smiled, but then remembered the provincial exam in four months. If he didn’t pass, he could continue receiving money; if he did, as a successful candidate, he wouldn’t be eligible.
He thought that after the exam, he could focus on writing and earning money.
Ideally, if he passed as a successful candidate, his fame would grow, and he could earn more.
Walking along the street, he couldn’t stop smiling.
Lu Yang watched him, seeing his wandering thoughts, but didn’t mention it—his expression alone revealed his plans.
Lu Yang wanted to buy some things, so they visited a cosmetic and ointment shop.
For couples living together, certain ointments or oils were useful at night.
Lu Yang had previously saved, buying large, unscented ointments that lasted months.
The home supply was still sufficient, but he wanted to buy new ones.
He’d heard that good ointments had delicate scents.
He’d never tried oils either and wanted to experiment.
They had no incense at home; Lu Yang also asked about scented materials for the room.
He’d heard that burning incense improved the atmosphere and wanted to experience it.
Xie Yan stood beside him, blushing as he spoke to the clerk.
Lu Yang even asked him to smell the products. “See if you like any of these.”
Blushing, Xie Yan looked at the few fragrant ointments he’d chosen, all rich floral scents. He liked warm, pleasant fragrances.
Lu Yang couldn’t distinguish the subtle differences, so he picked a slightly more expensive box.
There was also a mint-scented one, very refreshing, suitable for summer.
As the weather grew hotter, Lu Yang bought it with the clerk’s enthusiastic help.
The oil was small but scented. Lu Yang dabbed a little on his hands, though he wasn’t keen to buy it. It was greasy, hard to clean if it got on clothes or bedding, and everyone would know what they’d been doing—too intimate.
It was expensive, too. Considering the price and hassle, it was clearly a luxury item.
After browsing, Xie Yan chose one bottle anyway.
Lu Yang teased him: “You look so shy, yet you wanted it all along.”
The clerk laughed.
Xie Yan looked away, and the clerk tried to stifle his laughter.
Xie Yan averted his gaze.
The clerk laughed again.
Lu Yang joined in.
Xie Yan: “…”
Well, as long as Lu Yang was happy.
They didn’t buy incense—Lu Yang didn’t want the hassle, and with his mother and Shun Ge’er at home, it was inconvenient. The clerk suggested scented ointments instead. Unlike the ointments and oils, these were for smelling only, kept in the box when not in use.
Lu Yang liked this idea.
They left the shop, Lu Yang carrying a bag of ointments and oils, sniffing the scented ointment box along the way, walking in high spirits.
Xie Yan asked, “Why did you decide to buy all these things?”
Lu Yang said, “My body’s better now. We can have children, and I can often drink chicken soup. I want it to taste good.”
Hearing this, Xie Yan felt a bit shy.
Lu Yang glanced at him and asked, “You don’t mind chicken soup, do you?”
Xie Yan didn’t, but he found Lu Yang’s words—about ‘having children’—extremely heartwarming. The thought of them possibly having a child made him happy.
