By late March, the evening wind carried the scent of early-blooming peach blossoms. Du Heng, as usual, placed a few sprigs in a vase by the window.
He closed the window halfway, leaving the other half open for the spring breeze to enter. The air carried the fragrance of fresh grass and wildflowers, and with no mosquitoes at this time, the weather was perfectly comfortable.
At night, wrapped in his quilt, he would drift to sleep to these subtle scents, free of strange, unsettling dreams.
Turning back after tidying the window, he noticed that Qin Xiao Man had not gone to bed early as usual. Instead, she had taken out the old, dusty sewing basket.
Under the warm glow of the lamp, she focused on stitching a small embroidered circle, her fingers working with a mix of concentration and inexperience, resembling a scholar unaccustomed to physical labor.
Though her work was rough, Du Heng felt warmth in his heart. Even the usually spirited Qin Xiao Man now carried the air of a caring parent. He was reminded of the first time she had watched him in the fields.
“Yikes!”
Du Heng’s brow twitched at the sound. “Did you prick your hand? Let me see!”
Qin Xiao Man pressed her fingertip. “Ah, it’s nothing.”
“This needle is sharp—one prick and it’ll leave a hole. Let me see if you’re bleeding.”
Du Heng took her hand and examined it; the skin was unbroken. He raised an eyebrow.
“I told you it’s nothing,” she said, noticing out of the corner of her eye that someone might be watching her struggle with the needle. She held Du Heng’s hand for support. “No matter how I try, I can’t sew these stitches neatly. Perhaps I’ve lost dexterity from too much work in the fields.”
Du Heng let her hold his hand. “Why are you doing needlework now? You’ve never liked it before.”
Qin Xiao Man rested his hand on his belly. “The child will be born in three months. In summer, when it’s hot, we can’t leave the baby naked like farm kids. They have no clothes, but we, though not wealthy, can at least afford garments for our child.”
Du Heng glanced at her playful scolding and chuckled.
He picked up the embroidered circle. From the front, the design was barely visible; from the back, the threads were a tangled mess.
“You’ve made a garment that will surely rub the baby’s delicate skin raw,” he said, cutting the messy threads and re-stitching the damaged spots with neat, dense stitches. Soon, a tiny peach blossom appeared on the corner of the fabric. When Qin Xiao Man touched it, it felt smooth and soft, almost like a real petal.
“You know everything and are far too capable,” Qin Xiao Man said with a mischievous grin. “Were you pampered as a boy because of your looks?”
Du Heng ignored her teasing. He had learned these sewing skills back in college when his cousin had dragged him to a club. They never imagined they would one day be used to make clothing for their own child.
“You should have told me you could embroider. I wouldn’t have called your sister-in-law to cut the fabric—then she wouldn’t have been scolded by Aunt Second.”
Now that Du Heng had proven himself as a top scholar, Qin Xiong often praised him in front of Li Wanjü. Li Wanjü, wary of him, no longer dared to speak harshly to Qin Xiao Man.
“That’s not it. When I wasn’t home, you asked your sister-in-law to help so you’d have company,” Qin Xiao Man said.
He raised his eyebrows. “Will you make the baby’s clothes?”
“I will,” Du Heng replied, smiling gently under the lamp.
Qin Xiao Man leaned on his shoulder, eyes cast down, watching three small peach blossoms appear on the fabric. “What if it’s a boy?”
“Babies at that age don’t walk yet. Beautiful clothes suit both boys and girls,” Du Heng said.
“You’re right.” Qin Xiao Man nuzzled his shoulder. “Then what do you want?”
“I said everything’s fine.”
“You know it’s all fine, but what would be best?”
Seeing that Qin Xiao Man’s tone had grown so lively, and that her temperament had become bolder after regaining her health, Du Heng could only sigh and say, “The doctor told me it’s unlikely for our child to be a girl. Usually, it’s sons and you.”
Qin Xiao Man raised an eyebrow. “Hmm. That’s true.”
Du Heng smiled without replying, imagining both the boy and a son in the future.
“You’ve got quite the imagination,” Qin Xiao Man said.
Though unspoken, she guessed his thoughts.
“This child caused you so much trouble in the early months. Though quiet in the womb, he was too weak. You endured all those bitter medicines I got from the doctor. If it had happened again, we’d both have turned into herbs.”
Qin Xiao Man leaned close to Du Heng’s ear. “Even sleeping, you taste bitter.”
Du Heng’s face turned red. “Don’t talk nonsense.”
“The medicine was because your body was weak then; it had nothing to do with anyone else.”
Qin Xiao Man clicked her tongue. “Even before the child is born, you’re already showing favoritism. After all, he’s yours; I’m not.”
Du Heng rubbed her head. “What are you rambling about? You’re as close to me as anyone, isn’t that enough?”
Qin Xiao Man hummed and shook her head, then picked up scissors to cut fabric.
Du Heng’s lips curved in a small smile, thinking that in a few months, the family would gain a soft, chubby little one. A quiet excitement stirred in his heart.
They worked on the clothes together under the warm lamp until the appointed hour, when Qin Xiao Man finally urged Du Heng to bed.
As a scholar, he knew staying up late on needlework would ruin his eyes. Even today, among ten students, two had damaged eyesight, and glasses were precious and rare. Knowing the consequences, he wanted to protect them in advance.
Eager to enroll at the academy as soon as possible, Du Heng and Qin Xiao Man began preparations the next day. Neither knew the exact formalities, but they understood that when students entered the academy, they traditionally presented a shùxiū gift to their tutor as a sign of respect and sincerity.
From what Qin Zhifeng had told him, once enrolled, students were assigned to different classrooms, each with a main tutor who would become their personal mentor.
Thus, Du Heng first needed to complete enrollment and only afterward perform the formal tutelage ritual.
Not wanting to delay, he set out the next morning with his ox-cart to the county town. He stopped first at the county office to obtain his household registration certificate from Qin Zhiyán. Once his information was stamped and confirmed, he headed to Bai Rong Academy. By the time he reached the gates, the sounds of clear, resonant reading echoed from within.
“I am here to enroll. Could you tell me where the enrollment office is?”
He asked a guard at the gate. The man glanced at him without a word, simply gesturing for him to pass.
Du Heng raised his brow, noting the man didn’t seem mute, and politely offered a few coins. The guard accepted them briskly, and his previously expressionless face softened into a friendly smile.
“Enter the academy, go down the left corridor to the end. The enrollment office is there.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Having obtained the directions, Du Heng stepped through the large, slightly weathered gateway of the century-old academy. Despite its age, the academy was beautifully maintained, as most students came from wealthy or noble families who contributed to repairs and upkeep.
Inside, he saw a large stone wall, likely carved with the academy’s founders and history. The wall shielded the inner courtyard, and amidst layers of plum and bamboo, the space exuded a secluded charm.
As expected, the academy was adorned with the “Four Gentlemen” of plum, orchid, bamboo, and chrysanthemum, reflecting the refined taste of scholars.
Du Heng followed the polished corridors, lined with hanging calligraphy and essays, some framed, some fluttering in the wind without mounts.
Most of the framed works displayed vigorous strokes and lofty sentiments, such as:
“Great responsibility comes from labor; may all pursue the world as their own.
Reward comes from constant cultivation; emulate the sages and do not forget innate virtue.”①
“Thirteen prefectures nurture the literary foundation; five centuries of orthodoxy imparted by teachers.”②
He guessed these were writings by accomplished students, meant to inspire future generations to strive academically while honoring their mentors and serving the state. The pieces carried an air of prestige, displayed along corridors all students would pass—an honor and a motivating tool.
Du Heng felt increasingly that Bai Rong Academy was truly a remarkable institution.
Before he could fully take in the dazzling display, he reached the enrollment office. The door was closed; he knocked respectfully.
“Please enter.”
Inside, the office resembled a modern administrative room, with a single man sporting a mustache.
He looked Du Heng over, surprised at the young scholar’s handsome appearance and unfamiliarity, noting he must be new. Yet upon seeing Du Heng’s attire—the brocade he had worn to the banquet, gifted by Qin Zhifeng—he nodded approvingly.
Du Heng had declined to wear the gift Qin Zhifeng first offered, preferring not to feign status. After all, one cannot wear such an expensive brocade every day; a single bolt of such fabric could cost one or two thousand copper coins, a decent but not extraordinary material.
He knew well that relying solely on appearances without ability was a bottomless trap; those who did so were often insecure at heart.
The man with the mustache’s lips lifted slightly in a faint smirk, a certain meaning glinting in his eyes. “What business are you here for?”
“Oh, I’m here to enroll,” Du Heng replied promptly, handing over his documents.
The mustached man barely glanced at them, still holding the scroll in his hand, and said casually, “Who told you to come to the academy? Recently, there hasn’t been any enrollment exam.”
Du Heng remained courteous. “Yesterday, at the birthday banquet hosted by the Tutor, I met the Headmaster and discussed matters with him. It was Headmaster Ming who approved my enrollment.”
At the mention of the Headmaster, the man set down his yellowed paper. He was somewhat attentive now, though still skeptical. He knew of the Tutor’s banquet, but seeing the student’s humble appearance, he found it hard to believe such a one could have attended.
“Do you have a token or official order?” he asked.
“None. It was a verbal approval from the Headmaster.”
The mustached man raised a leg. “Verbal approval? Who’s to say you’re not making it up?”
“That’s simple enough—just see the Headmaster, and it will be clear.”
The man scoffed. “Who is Headmaster Ming? Every day countless scholars request an audience with him. If he saw every one of them, how could he manage the academy? I’ve heard excuses like yours eight times in the past ten days. I don’t know what this gatehouse is for if anyone can just walk in.”
Du Heng understood he was being deliberately difficult. “If you are busy and cannot verify with the Headmaster, I can go myself later. What does sir think?”
The man paused at Du Heng’s calm composure, his tone softening slightly. “The Headmaster isn’t here today. I don’t think you’re lying. In that case, pay the enrollment fees first, then the procedures can be completed and you can start classes.”
Du Heng’s brow lifted slightly—earlier the man had been all posturing, now he changed his tune quickly.
The mustached man wrote something on paper and handed it to Du Heng before the ink had even dried. “Twelve taels,” he said.
Du Heng glanced at it. It resembled a receipt covering tuition and miscellaneous fees for one year: six taels tuition, four taels for materials, two sets of academy robes, books, classroom usage, as well as the customary teacher’s gift and lodging fees.
Du Heng didn’t intend to stay at the academy, preferring to return home each day. Adding up all the fees, the total was just ten taels—so where did the extra two taels come from?
“The paper says ten taels, and I won’t be staying at the academy.”
The man gave him a sideways glance. “The price is the same. Are you truly unaware, or pretending?”
Du Heng realized it was just a small fee for the gatekeeper’s trouble, and not a greedy extortion.
“Are you enrolling or not? If not, go home,” the man said impatiently, seeing the poor scholar dawdling over such a minor payment.
Just then, a knock sounded at the door, and a young man entered.
“Uncle Zhao, are you alone?”
“Ah, yes. Young Master Mu, do you have business here?”
“You needn’t announce me like that.”
Du Heng, noting the man’s obsequious posture, recognized the voice behind him. Turning, he saw the newcomer.
“Du Heng? What are you doing here?”
Seeing a familiar face, Du Heng smiled faintly and greeted him: “Brother Mu.”
Mu Ti’s eyes lit up. “How did you fare in the Tong exam?”
“I passed. I’ve come to the academy today to enroll,” Du Heng replied. “Brother Mu, the books you lent me during the Tong exam were of great help. I’ve wanted to thank you in person but never had the chance.”
“Really?! You’re coming to Bai Rong Academy?” Mu Ti’s joy was clear. “That’s wonderful! From now on, we’ll be fellow brothers under the same roof. You shall call me ‘senior brother.’”
The mustached man beside them froze, puzzled. He hadn’t realized Du Heng and Mu Ti knew each other so well, leaving him uncertain of Du Heng’s background.
He laughed awkwardly. “I didn’t expect Young Master Mu and this new student to know each other. What a coincidence.”
Du Heng, sensing an opportunity to tease, raised an eyebrow.
Feigning hesitation, he said, “Senior brother, could I trouble you for a favor?”
“Anything, just tell me,” Mu Ti said readily. He had a soft spot for Du Heng, and hearing that his guidance had helped Du Heng pass the Tong exam gave him a quiet pride. Hearing Du Heng call him ‘senior brother’ was even more satisfying.
Du Heng lowered his voice slightly. “Today, enrollment requires payment of fees. I wasn’t aware of the costs beforehand, and I don’t have enough silver. Could you lend me some? I’ll repay you in a few days.”
“No problem at all,” Mu Ti replied without hesitation. He wasn’t offended or condescending; he respected Du Heng’s diligence.
“How much do you need?” he asked as he fished out some silver.
“Three more taels,” Du Heng said.
Mu Ti handed him the silver without another word. Du Heng combined it with the nine taels he had brought and presented it politely to the mustached man. “Thank you for your trouble, sir.”
Earlier, Qin Xiao Man had given him a sum of money before he left, uncertain of the exact tuition. Knowing the academy was elite and well-equipped, he had guessed fees would not be trivial.
Du Heng had brought more than enough silver with him—Qin Xiao Man had given him ten taels, and he still had three or four on his person, which would have sufficed entirely.
Seeing Du Heng, honest and straightforward, borrowing money from Mu Ti, the mustached man’s nerves practically shot up to his throat; he didn’t know how to handle it for a moment.
“Why twelve taels? Wasn’t it ten? Has the academy enrollment fee gone up?”
Mu Ti, eager for Du Heng to complete enrollment so he could show him around, raised an eyebrow at the money Du Heng handed over.
“Ten taels? The gentleman said twelve,” Du Heng replied, feigning surprise.
Mu Ti asked again, “Uncle Zhao, what’s going on?”
The mustached man gave a nervous laugh. “I—I said ten taels. Young Master Mu, see? This receipt is all for ten taels.”
“Oh? Ten taels? My apologies, sir. I misheard twelve taels.”
Du Heng turned and handed the money back to Mu Ti. “Forgive me, senior brother. I misheard and misunderstood sir’s meaning.”
Mu Ti furrowed his brow. Mistaking ten for twelve taels was hardly trivial, and a misunderstanding could make things awkward. He glanced at the gatekeeper meaningfully. “Uncle Zhao, you must handle enrollment matters carefully. Bai Rong Academy has a century-old reputation. If it suffers damage through someone’s misdeeds, even the Headmaster might not overlook it, let alone the county magistrate.”
The man’s spine chilled. “Y-Yes, I’ll follow Young Master Mu’s guidance. I—I’ll enroll Du little friend right away.”
With Mu Ti observing, Uncle Zhao’s efficiency improved dramatically. Payment was completed, signatures and seals affixed, books handed over, and Du Heng’s measurements taken for academy robes. At last, he escorted them out respectfully.
Once outside the enrollment office, Mu Ti frowned. “Uncle Zhao has been at the academy for years, but now he’s increasingly incompetent. It’s the students who have created this bad habit.”
“How so?”
“Whenever students come to handle something, they like to slip Uncle Zhao a little gratuity. It makes him forget that the academy hired him to do the work. Now, if there’s no gratuity, he refuses to do his job. Absolutely outrageous!”
Du Heng pretended ignorance but stoked the fire a little. “So, senior brother means Uncle Zhao today was just trying to squeeze a tip out of me? Impossible. The academy isn’t merely a place to study; it’s a place to cultivate character. How could he knowingly misbehave?”
“You’re new and don’t know many things yet. His heart is truly corrupt! I must report this to the Headmaster. If this trend continues, it will ruin the academy’s reputation. Today he could make things difficult for you, tomorrow for any new student.”
Du Heng gently held his arm. “Senior brother, you’ve already warned him today. Why not see if he can improve? Consider it a second chance. If he errs again, then there will be no excuses. What do you think?”
Mu Ti paused. “You are magnanimous. Very well—let’s give him another chance.”
With the warning given, Du Heng knew that Uncle Zhao would be more cautious in the future, less likely to make things difficult, and would probably be wary of him personally. That was enough.
Du Heng followed Mu Ti through the academy for about half an hour. They visited the main dining hall, the library, and glimpsed the classrooms from outside so as not to disturb the students. Since he did not intend to stay at the academy, they skipped the dormitories.
Still, there were plenty of other areas to see: the Morning Reading Garden, the Night Firefly Pavilion on the lake for evening lectures, the Six Arts Hall, the Agriculture and Sericulture Hall, and the Benefiting the People Hall.
It became clear just how vast Bai Rong Academy was; its size could not be guessed from the gate. A newcomer would be easily lost without a guide. Du Heng understood why the enrollment fee was so steep—these facilities certainly justified it.
“What’s the Benefiting the People Hall for?” he asked.
Mu Ti laughed. “It’s mostly for engineering projects or inventions that benefit the people. Previously, the small book stall outside the academy was organized by students from this hall, earning praise from the teachers. Once you’re here, you can visit and see if anything interests you. Becoming a member will let you learn specialized knowledge and interact with the teachers regularly.”
Du Heng smiled faintly. “But I have a personal interest in you joining the Six Arts Hall, since I happen to be the hallmaster.”
“Joining the Six Arts Hall would be wonderful, and I could accompany you. But I’m not skilled in the Six Arts.”
Rituals, music, archery, charioteering, calligraphy, and arithmetic—he was a complete novice at at least three of them. He’d nearly been laughed to death by Qin Xiao Man for struggling with a cart; a spirited horse would be far worse.
“No matter. The next intake isn’t for a while. In the meantime, you can practice. When new students arrive, the halls will recruit new members too.”
Du Heng did not refuse the suggestion but agreed for now.