Chapter 62

Du Heng returned home in the afternoon, having skipped lunch to prepare the enrollment gifts. He wanted to make an early dinner.

The enrollment gifts included celery, lotus seeds, red beans, red dates, longan, and strips of dried lean meat. He bought everything in the county except for the celery and meat already at home.

“Du Tongsheng,”

Just as he reached the courtyard, he saw a hired farmer carrying a bundle of dried cakes coming out to meet him. The man quickly set down his load and bowed in greeting.

“What are these dried cakes for?”

“They’re for fertilizing the fields. You finally made it back. I cooked some stir-fried Toona sinensis with eggs at noon and saved half for you—come inside.”

Du Heng smiled and responded before sending off the hired farmer and driving the ox cart into the courtyard.

“You had the hired farmers bring fertilizer here? For which fields?”

Qin Xiao Man explained, “The remaining fields at home are fertile and don’t need extra fertilization. I told Second Uncle that our planted fields need weeding and loosening, so whoever has time can help. Then they can take a load of fertilizer home.”

Du Heng raised his eyebrows. “You really know how to manage things. Fertile fields yield better harvests, which benefits us in the long run. After all, they’re still our fields.”

Qin Xiao Man hoisted all the items Du Heng had bought onto her own shoulders and carried them into the main hall. “It all comes down to your good guidance. Did you manage to get enrolled at the academy today? When will you start classes?”

Du Heng poured himself a cup of water and drank it down. “All set. I can begin in three days. You wouldn’t believe how expensive Bai Rong Academy is—ten taels for a single year, it’s truly staggering.”

“Ten taels?!”

Qin Xiao Man’s eyes widened in disbelief, her mouth hanging open for a long moment.

Doing the mental math, the family had just over thirty taels saved. Spending ten taels today meant there was barely enough left for two more years of tuition at Bai Rong Academy. The household finances had suddenly tightened. Yet Qin Xiao Man’s concern was for Du Heng. “Luckily, I gave you ten taels today. Otherwise, you couldn’t even enroll. I should have given you more.”

“It was just enough,” Du Heng replied with a smile. “Guess who I ran into at the academy today? The same Young Master Mu who helped us in the county market.”

“He’s at Bai Rong Academy too?” Qin Xiao Man exclaimed, then remembered. “Of course, he’s a student there. That’s good news—Young Master Mu is upright and you know him already. If there’s anything you don’t understand at the academy, you can ask him.”

Du Heng nodded. “Exactly. He’s very helpful. Today he even showed me around the academy.”

“The academy must be beautiful, then?”

“It’s magnificent. With tuition this high, how could it not be?”

Seeing Du Heng so satisfied, Qin Xiao Man temporarily forgot the sting of the tuition. “I’ve already told Second Uncle that you’ll be studying at Bai Rong Academy. From now on, you can ride his ox cart to and from the county every morning and evening. If he’s out on business, you can spend a few cash to hire a carriage along the official road.”

“Alright,” Du Heng replied.

Driving the ox cart by himself was inconvenient. There were no places to tether animals at the academy; leaving it at the county’s animal pens cost ten cash per day—unsustainable long-term. Occasionally taking it himself was fine.

“You’re running back and forth every day—it’s exhausting. Why not just stay at the academy? You wouldn’t have to travel so much,” Qin Xiao Man suggested softly, trying to sound considerate.

Du Heng immediately replied, “The academy only has two rest days every five days. You’re pregnant—I can’t leave you alone for four or five days.”

Hearing that, Qin Xiao Man’s heart settled. If he left her alone for four or five days, he would be tormented with worry. She smiled and led him to the kitchen, where a warm serving of stir-fried Toona sinensis with eggs awaited.

“I’m really hungry.”

The aroma of the Toona sinensis whetted Du Heng’s appetite. The eggs were golden and fragrant, though reheated slightly, not quite as good as freshly cooked.

“I made it. How is it? Tastes good?”

Du Heng nodded honestly. It had improved a lot compared to before. “Delicious. I almost thought my sister-in-law had made it.”

“My sister-in-law is my brother’s wife, Second Aunt’s daughter-in-law. She can’t cook for me every day.”

Du Heng laughed. “Then let the child in your belly grow up quickly and find you a capable, virtuous daughter-in-law. Then someone will cook for you every day.”

Qin Xiao Man laughed. “But if it’s a boy, where would he get a daughter-in-law? We can’t exactly find a chef to marry him. That would solve the gender problem.”

Du Heng pondered. “That could work. A chef as a son-in-law—it’s fair, no bias toward boys or girls.”

Qin Xiao Man chuckled, patting her belly. “Baby, you heard that? Daddy is giving instructions today. If in the future your spouse can’t cook, you must make sure to tell me beforehand.”

Du Heng looked at her with mock grievance. “Clearly, you just want to avoid cooking yourself. You keep shifting all the blame to me, making our child think I’m a strict father.”

Qin Xiao Man laughed and added more eggs to his bowl. “Eat more. I got this Toona sinensis with Second Aunt. When it’s in season, villagers fight to pick it—sometimes it’s snatched even before it fully sprouts.”

“You went out again?”

“Not far. Can’t stay cooped up at home all the time,” she said, then remembered something else. “Second Brother might be getting married.”

Du Heng raised an eyebrow. “Has he chosen someone?”

Qin Xiao Man rested her chin on her hand. “He has someone in mind, but Second Aunt disagrees. There’s quite a fuss at home.”

“Another argument?” Du Heng asked. “Who is it?”

“You know her—the daughter of Doctor Cui, Qiu Yue.”

Du Heng wasn’t surprised. Young people from the same village would naturally meet and develop feelings over time.

“Why won’t Second Aunt approve? The Cui family are doctors, helping the world—they’re a good match. And Miss Cui is healthy and…,” Qin Xiao Man lifted her eyebrows teasingly, “…also learned some of Doctor Cui’s small medical skills.”

Qin Xiao Man didn’t mention the earlier mishap when Cui Qiu Yue had taken Du Heng’s pulse—there was no blame to place, after all. Cui Qiu Yue had done him a favor before, so if she were to marry his second brother, that would be a good match. Most importantly, the two of them got along well.

“You don’t know the situation at the Cui household. Doctor Cui may be our village doctor, serving many of the villagers, so in theory it’s a respectable family—but behind the scenes, people complain that he’s cold-hearted.”

Qin Xiao Man explained, “His medical skills are excellent—patients recover quickly. But his fees are high, varying depending on who comes to see him.”

Du Heng remembered when he had sought treatment for his leg: it had cost over a thousand cash. With Xiao Man now running a small medicine shop in the county, the family could barely cover it, so Doctor Cui’s fees were indeed substantial.

“Doctor Cui charges according to people’s means: wealthier patients pay more, poorer ones less. That’s tolerable. But Second Aunt doesn’t approve of the Cui family’s finances; she worries that if Second Brother marries Qiu Yue, he’ll be constantly supporting her family.”

Doctor Cui might make good money through his medical practice, but at home his wife was chronically ill, relying on medicinal treatments for years. She could not do heavy work and added financial strain on the household. Year after year, the family’s resources went toward her care, leaving the Cui family financially weak.

Du Heng said, “Then perhaps Doctor Cui’s methods are for his wife’s sake. Others can’t really judge right or wrong.”

Qin Xiao Man shook her head. “He’s ruined his reputation and burdened his children for his wife. Qiu Yue is dutiful and manages the household properly—she’s done nothing wrong.”

Du Heng asked, “And what does Second Brother think?”

“Firm as a weighing stone—he insists on Qiu Yue. Second Uncle has fewer prejudices, but with all the quarrels at home, he just grumbles about the younger generation being careless.” Qin Xiao Man shrank her neck. “I went to pick Toona sinensis with Second Aunt and told her to calm down, but I got scolded along with everyone else, so I ran back quickly.”

Du Heng couldn’t help but laugh. Second Uncle really worried about the whole family; knowing his hot temper, he must have been furious inside.

“Anyway, there’s plenty of commotion these days. You’re going to the academy, but I won’t be idle.”

“You better not go stirring up trouble, or Second Uncle will hit you.”

“He won’t have time—he still has Second Brother to deal with first.”

Du Heng patted Qin Xiao Man’s belly, hoping their child would be a little easier to handle in the future.

After resting at home for a few days, Qin Xiao Man and Du Heng made a study box together. Since they didn’t return home for lunch, they also prepared some pickled vegetables. They soaked some yellow soybeans to make fermented soybeans—a perfect accompaniment for meals.

Three days later, Du Heng was to start formal classes at the academy.

The day before, Qin Xiao Man helped him pack the large study box.

Included were the books issued by the academy, along with writing tools—brushes, ink, paper, and inkstone.

In addition, she packed lunch for the next day: a tightly packed bowl of rice, a fried egg, and a small jar of pickled vegetables.

“I’ll leave the rice on the table next to the study box. Tomorrow morning, when you carry the box, be sure to put the rice inside. If you pack it too early, it might spoil.”

“All right.” Du Heng, reading by the oil lamp, added, “Put a few more pickled vegetables in too. Last winter, we dried radishes and pickled them in the jar.”

“They’ve been a few months now. Very sour—do you really want them?”

“The dried radish skins aren’t that sour. Just put in two or three slices.”

Qin Xiao Man went to the kitchen and took out some pickled vegetables from the jar, adding a portion to the lunch box beside the rice. She muttered, “He’s a scholar now, yet he still has to eat pickles with his rice.”

Du Heng set down his book and looked at her. “Pickles aren’t shabby. They need salt, paired with white rice—they’re quite decent.”

Qin Xiao Man puckered her lips. The academy tuition had set off alarm bells for both of them; they had to save whenever possible. No one knew if it would take three years to achieve any success, or five. Planning long-term was necessary.

If convenience were the only concern, he could eat at the academy—but one day would still cost around twenty cash. The ox cart back and forth required four cash as a contingency. A bowl of noodles outside would cost seven or eight cash; a proper rice meal with side dishes would be at least fifteen cash.

Twenty cash per day might not seem like much, but in a month it amounted to five or six hundred cash. For an ordinary farming household, even three to five months might not accumulate that much. Except for some income from selling homemade liquor, during non-harvest months their household couldn’t earn that much.

“Does the academy really have hot meals?”

Du Heng nodded. “Yes. I even checked the dining hall. It’s quite a large space.”

Qin Xiao Man finally relaxed. Bringing meals from home was fine, but at least there would be hot food at the academy.

“You need to get up early tomorrow. Go to bed soon.”

“All right, all right, I know.”

The next day, before dawn, Du Heng woke.

His bed was warm. He heard Qin Xiao Man breathing steadily and got up carefully, dressing quietly so as not to wake her.

He packed up simply and carried the study box out before sunrise.

By the time he reached the county, the sun had only just begun to rise. He hurried to the academy and first went to the enrollment office.

Since he arrived early, the office had more people than usual, not just Eight-Character Mustache.

The mustachioed man didn’t show a good face to Du Heng, but didn’t dare to say much. He pushed the stacked items across the desk: “Everything’s here.”

Du Heng thanked him and checked the items: two sets of academy uniforms, an academy pass, the academy schedule, and a data sheet.

He inspected the uniforms for damage and proper size, then signed the papers.

Following the information on the data sheet, Du Heng’s classroom was in the rear wing. Although he had never been inside this classroom before, Mu Ti had given him a brief introduction. Using the number on the doorplate as a guide, he quickly found the room.

When he reached the door, the interior was already filled with the sound of reading, occasionally punctuated by the teacher’s voice lecturing.

Du Heng furrowed his brows. Today was his first day, and naturally he would need some time to get his bearings. He had arrived early, yet it seemed he was still late.

He knocked on the door. The reading continued unabated. A teacher came to open it, giving him a critical glance. “Why come at this hour? And you aren’t even wearing your academy uniform.”

“Greetings, Master. I am Du Heng, enrolling today.”

“Oh… then first go to the changing room, put on your uniform, and take a seat in the second row once ready.”

“Thank you, Master.”

Du Heng hurried to the changing room, donned his uniform, and returned to the classroom, which was in a break between lessons. Voices could be heard speaking. He entered through the back door and found an empty seat in the second row.

He set down his study box and looked around. The classroom was spacious, with plenty of desks and chairs, but there were fewer than twenty students.

“Brother, are you the new student today?”

After someone spoke, the others gathered around. Including Du Heng, there were only five of them.

Du Heng greeted them politely. “I am Du Heng, enrolling today. I look forward to your guidance.”

“We haven’t been here much longer than you. I suppose I’m the earliest one in this classroom.”

One student, his complexion slightly pale, smiled and spoke in a seasoned tone: “I’ve been at the academy almost a year. Embarrassingly, I didn’t pass last year’s academy entrance exam, so I stayed on.” He continued in a mentor-like manner, “The academy’s entrance exams are less than two months away. Don’t take it lightly. The tests at Bai Rong Academy are challenging. Scoring well on the preliminary exam doesn’t guarantee passing the academy’s tests.”

Du Heng, recalling that Mu Ti had mentioned the academy had entrance exams but had not told him he would need to take them, asked quickly, “Must every student take them?”

The student replied, “Other classrooms’ students need not, but anyone in the rear wing must. Compared to those arriving only at exam time, we have a few days to learn in advance. The teachers instruct us daily, but we cannot enter the formal classrooms. It’s like being a visitor; the instruction isn’t the same quality as the main classes.”

Du Heng’s expression grew serious. While the academy claimed to teach all equally, the school also raised the threshold for entry to ensure it produced capable scholars.

He considered the selection system somewhat flawed, but no one dared complain. For those who didn’t pass, others would just see it as misplaced frustration.

Du Heng sighed. He had even prepared his ceremonial fees, yet they might not be of immediate use. He had assumed that approval from the headmaster meant he could be assigned directly to a teacher, but that was too naive. It seemed the headmaster had merely given him a courteous placement for the instructor’s birthday, leaving him in the rear wing, with little to discuss further.

After the student explained, everyone murmured in understanding and assumed a serious expression. “Thanks for the reminder, Brother Meng.”

Du Heng replied politely and resolved to speak with Mu Ti during breaks to learn more about the entrance exams and prepare properly. If he failed, it would waste both his family’s expense and the effort Qin Zhi Yan had put in arranging his placement.

That morning, the teacher lectured through a chapter of the Doctrine of the Mean before the noon break. At the bell, the academy filled with the shuffle of hurried or lively footsteps, occasionally punctuated by a teacher’s reprimands: “Rushing and disorderly! What a lack of discipline!” After finishing, the teacher dismissed the students.

Du Heng moved his writing implements aside, thinking that students and teachers had always been much the same throughout history. At Bai Rong Academy, renowned as it was, students rushed out after class, and teachers still lingered to finish lessons.

“Hey, Du Heng, want to go grab a meal outside? A new eatery opened on Old South Street. Their fried crispy pork is amazing.”

Du Heng paused, then shook his head with a smile. “I’ve brought my own lunch.”

The other students left together.

Du Heng took out the lunch he had packed that morning. He frowned slightly—the large plates and small bowls fit snugly in the box, but now it was cumbersome to carry them for heating.

Just as he was unsure how to proceed, a basket was handed to him.

Looking up, he saw Mu Ti. “Senior Brother Mu?”

Mu Ti smiled. “I was on my way to check which classroom you were assigned to, but I happened to meet you first.”

“Where did you get the basket?”

“The cherries are ripe this month. My mother cooked some dishes and had the servant deliver them, along with a few cherries. I thought to offer them to the teacher, and happened to pass by you.”

Du Heng said, “You truly respect our teachers above all.”

They chatted a bit, then went to the dining hall together. Du Heng went to the kitchen and found a cook, intending to give her a small fee for heating his lunch.

The cook, smiling warmly, complimented him on being such a handsome young man. Before Du Heng could hand her the money, she agreed to heat it and told him to come to her in the future whenever he needed his meals warmed.

Embarrassed but grateful, Du Heng accepted her kindness. In a place like this, where even the gatekeeper might charge a fee for assistance, such generosity was rare.

Before long, the food was heated. Du Heng packed it back into his basket and carried it out, where Mu Ti waited in a corner.

They each arranged their dishes. The contrast in resources was immediately apparent.

Du Heng scooped a ladle of oil-fried pickled vegetables into his bowl; paired with the steaming rice, the aroma was inviting.

Often, the meals that actually made it down someone’s throat were the simplest, humblest ones.

Mu Ti took two bites of his mother’s braised pork with preserved vegetables, almost choking on how rich and greasy it was. He quickly pushed some over to Du Heng.

“Try my mother’s cooking.”

Du Heng, however, didn’t reach for the chopsticks. Mu Ti went ahead and took the pickled radish that Du Heng had already had his eye on.

Their tastes in food matched surprisingly well.

But Du Heng didn’t have the heart to comment that Madam Tongzhi’s cooking was honestly a bit too much—overly salty and greasy—making him feel like a mountain boar trying to digest fine grains.

“I never expected you to be assigned to the back classroom. Your Tong examination scores are excellent, even better than mine at the time. Logically, with the dean’s approval, you should have been placed directly in a main classroom without needing to go through the placement test.”

Mu Ti sighed slightly. He had originally intended to recommend Du Heng to his own respected teacher—the venerable Xiang Fuzi of the academy—but Xiang Fuzi had left two days prior to give a lecture in the prefectural capital and had not yet returned.

He had felt some regret that Du Heng had missed the chance to meet such a master. Now, learning that Du Heng was placed in the back classroom, he understood why.

“The placement test is the academy’s rule. I’ll prepare properly. This way, no one can claim it’s unfair or improper.”

“You’re open-minded,” Mu Ti said, “but once you’re in the academy, why worry so much? Listening and learning is the proper approach. Spending time worrying about a placement test—April is the academy exam, after all.”

Mu Ti fretted. “Here’s what we’ll do: prepare well for the placement test, and when my teacher returns in a couple of days, I’ll recommend you to him—see if there’s a way around the usual route.”

Du Heng stood to express his thanks. He had already heard from Qin Zhifeng that Mu Ti’s teacher was the renowned Xiang Fuzi. Any chance to enter his classroom would be extremely rare.

After the meal, Mu Ti had other matters to attend to, so Du Heng returned on his own to put away the dishes.

He then made his way to the thirteenth classroom where Qin Zhifeng was, updating him on his current placement and situation. Naturally, Qin Zhifeng would relay this to Qin Zhi Yan.

In the afternoon, Du Heng’s classroom teacher only made a brief appearance, leaving the students to study on their own and not returning until after classes ended.

After class, students from other classrooms discussed that the teacher had gone to the Six Arts Hall to judge the archery demonstration.

The back classroom students couldn’t attend the main halls, but this only strengthened their determination to pass the placement test.

Du Heng, for the moment, didn’t think so far ahead; he only felt that the academy’s dismissal time was too early.

They were dismissed at the very beginning of the Shen hour—around 3 p.m.—but morning classes started extremely early.

Classes began at the Mao hour, six o’clock precisely. No wonder the teacher had looked at him in surprise this morning, wondering why he arrived so late.

Du Heng scratched at his hair in frustration, when suddenly Qin Zhifeng’s voice came from outside:

“Du Heng, come with me to my house first before heading home. My father has prepared some things for Xiao Man.”