Qin Xiaoman’s eyes flickered with a trace of light as he saw the figure emerge from the city gate. Though dressed in warm winter clothes for the magistrate’s visit, looking sharp and upright, even the most composed man could not escape the chill and looked slightly disheveled in the snow.
Qin Xiaoman did not mind at all; he was simply happy to finally see him.
Instinctively, he stepped forward, intending to brush the snowflakes from Du Heng’s hair. Yet before he could, he was suddenly pulled into an embrace, pushed gently against the rear of the carriage.
Du Heng’s lips were cold, with a faint trace of alcohol on his breath.
Qin Xiaoman’s hands, along with his waist, were held firmly in Du Heng’s grasp, with a force stronger than usual, leaving him no room to move.
He sensed Du Heng’s hurried joy, a rare, unrestrained happiness.
Their chilled noses touched, a confusing mix of cold and warmth. The kiss was fervent, but having just run through the winter wind, Du Heng’s breath was short; they pressed together, struggling for air.
“So late… why are you still here? Have you eaten?” Qin Xiaoman asked.
“How long have you been waiting? Were you cold?”
He draped a blanket over Du Heng, who seemed like snowflakes scattering from the sky, each word a rapid staccato of questions.
Du Heng did not mind the chatter. “I went home first, then came here. I already ate. But you—how will you get home so late?”
A warmth bloomed in Du Heng’s chest. Perhaps on cold, snowy nights, one’s heart hungers for care even more.
Just like when children in the rain run happily toward a parent bringing an umbrella, and those without feel a pang of sadness. Adults are no different—just as susceptible to fleeting joys and sorrows, yearning for a light to shine for them alone in a cold, snowy night.
“You weren’t afraid I wouldn’t return tonight… waiting here in the snow? It’s so cold,” Qin Xiaoman said softly, looking like a plump little chrysalis. Clumsy and slightly awkward, yet utterly endearing.
His heart was gentle, like a still pool, and he instinctively wrapped his arms around Qin Xiaoman’s waist. Though round in appearance, the embrace revealed a subtle slenderness beneath. He rested his chin lightly on Qin Xiaoman’s shoulder, his voice carrying no hint of reproach—only lingering warmth.
Qin Xiaoman had never worried whether Du Heng would return. It seemed there had been no special instructions; deep down, he simply knew Du Heng would not fail to come home. So he waited outside, hands tucked into his sleeves, as if Du Heng had told him in advance to stay there. Perhaps this was their unspoken understanding.
“You wouldn’t wait here until the gate was locked. I’d have known if you couldn’t make it, you’d just go back yourself. You wouldn’t spend the whole night out here,” Du Heng said.
Alone in the pitch-black snow, returning by carriage, Qin Xiaoman would seem pitiful in Du Heng’s imagination. How could he truly bear to let him suffer so?
He hugged him tighter, heart full of affection, unable to put it into words. His face pressed against Qin Xiaoman’s, separated only by the layer of headscarf.
Wanting closeness, Du Heng gently moved the scarf aside, noticing Qin Xiaoman’s ears flushed red. He leaned closer, whispering, “What’s the matter? Are you shy too?”
Qin Xiaoman pursed his lips. “I don’t recognize the two words you just said.”
Du Heng looked at those lips, normally pale like a rosebud, now tinged with the pink of springtime flowering, and couldn’t help smiling.
He said no more, but planted a light kiss on Qin Xiaoman’s ear before resting his cheek against the warmth of Qin Xiaoman’s side face. Though Qin Xiaoman’s face looked small and slight, it was as soft as Du Heng had imagined.
“You’re squeezing me so tight I can’t breathe,” Qin Xiaoman said.
Du Heng had suddenly grown clingy, like a strong young tiger at home, wrapping them both in the blanket as if to keep them entirely contained.
“I just want to hold you a little more,” he murmured.
Qin Xiaoman thought to himself: on cold nights, he always slept holding someone, cozying up like a pair of cats seeking warmth. Du Heng’s sudden fussiness was no different—he liked closeness, liked being together.
He didn’t mind at all. In the winter wind, riding the carriage, the tight embrace brought comfort and a sense of security.
A little reflection arose: once, some people had been so aloof that a mere touch could repel them a yard away. But now, without embarrassment, Du Heng could hold him at the city gate and start nibbling on him right there. Even in the bitter wind, leaning against each other, it no longer felt so cold.
After some days, the magistrate returned to the prefectural seat with several carts of grain. The county, tense with expectations, collectively exhaled in relief.
Though the reserves in Luoxia County were not abundant, there was enough to present—barely satisfying, but sufficient to get by. The county magistrate was not particularly diligent or ambitious; otherwise, he might have advanced further after so many years. Small issues abounded, major ones were rare, and the higher authorities tolerated it. Many counties under the current reign operated in this lukewarm fashion.
Du Heng heard from Qin Zhi Yan that Qi Kaisheng had found Qiuyang County utterly chaotic—grain shortages, hungry citizens, beggars everywhere. The magistrate had been furious. Seeing Luoxia County in comparison, he found it acceptable.
The local magistrate was spared any trouble from his superior; the senior officials were pleased, the junior officers unscathed, and the county could settle into a calm New Year.
“Snow’s falling again!”
A few days later, Du Heng was focused on writing the essays assigned by the master when an unusual stir arose in the classroom. Glancing up, he saw thick snowflakes blanketing the ground.
The morning had been bitterly cold. On his way to the academy, he had seen thin ice form on the small pond, yet birds could stand upon it without breaking through. And now, only hours later, snow was already falling.
Heavy snow was rare in Luoxia County, though light flurries were not unusual. The students, dizzy from their studies, put down their brushes and gathered by the windows, or even stepped outside to watch the falling snow.
Some, in poetic fervor, recited verses inspired by the snow—highly fitting.
Du Heng, seated by the window, enjoyed the view from his spot. He smiled when he noticed a figure approaching through the snow. “Senior Mu, you’re back?”
Mu Ti responded with a nod and a greeting to Du Heng. He carried an umbrella against the heavy snowfall.
“Good you made it back safely; otherwise, after the snow, travel would have been difficult, and you’d have been delayed.”
Mu Ti had received news days prior that his mother was seriously ill. A devoted son, he had promptly requested leave from the master and returned to the Jin Tuan estate.
Mu Ti’s father was a vice-administrator in the prefectural seat. Mu Ti himself had come to Bai Rong Academy from the prefecture, impressed by the master’s lectures.
Du Heng inquired about his mother’s health, and as it happened to be lunchtime, the two went together to eat.
“I heard that while I was away, the magistrate came to inspect the county?” Mu Ti asked.
Du Heng nodded. Had Mu Ti been in town, he would surely have accompanied the inspection.
“Did you attend?”
Du Heng smiled. “You guessed it.” He briefly described the events of the day.
Mu Ti nodded, then said, “The magistrate also kept you for a meal, didn’t he?”
Du Heng, seeing the certainty in his expression, was a little surprised.
Mu Ti smiled, leaning closer to whisper, “The magistrate is upright and fair. He values scholars, often inspecting their studies in the prefecture. But Master Qi has a particular habit…”
Du Heng raised an eyebrow—was this something one could actually hear?
“He favors beautiful women. At banquets, those chosen to accompany him must be of pleasing appearance and proper bearing,” Mu Ti said with a smile. “So I thought it was only natural he would have you stay for the meal.”
Du Heng was suddenly enlightened. It seemed incredible, yet entirely reasonable. No wonder that day the magistrate left behind not the most talented or accomplished, but the young scholars with good looks. At the time, he had sensed something was off, yet hadn’t given it much thought. Now, hearing Mu Ti explain, it all made sense: at such banquets, the magistrate didn’t care for scholarly chatter—attendants were merely ornaments, pleasing to the eye.
As the magistrate’s subordinate, Mu Ti had undoubtedly dined at the same table many times; it was no wonder he knew such private matters.
Du Heng felt slightly embarrassed, a little unsure how to respond, but still cupped his hands in thanks.
“There’s no need to dwell on it. Those high officials in the capital, entrenched in courtly life, carry endless worries; they naturally have their own pastimes to amuse themselves. Otherwise, with all the affairs of state, one would be utterly exhausted,” Mu Ti said.
“The magistrate asked if you were married, which shows he truly appreciates you. Fifth Miss, the daughter of one of Qi’s concubines, is of a suitable age, and her mother is greatly favored by Qi himself. He would certainly take a personal interest in her marriage. During such inspections, surveying all the young scholars in the prefecture, it’s normal to inquire about anyone who catches his eye.”
Du Heng understood, and was a little relieved—thankfully, he had married early. For the other young scholars, winning favor from an official to become a son-in-law was a rare opportunity. But such a match was hardly a cause for him to compliment. The simple, steady life he had now brought him far more contentment.
Taking advantage of the year’s end, Du Heng and Qin Xiaoman set their grain shop in order and opened for business smoothly. Once the business was underway, it was easy to manage. The real challenge had been opening the connections; compared with ordinary merchants, their family, with its scholarly reputation, faced fewer restrictions and thus found things easier.
With two shops now operating, they needed staff to manage them. Though the expenses were higher, it was necessary to hire people for these tasks. The new shop opened, and the household celebrated a truly festive New Year.
The following year passed quickly. Du Heng, engrossed in his studies, barely noticed July approaching. The sun blazed down, farmers busily harvesting crops, and Du Heng had no time even to glance at the fields. The new grain shop brought the first real wave of business.
Du Heng could not spare a hand; the provincial exam was near. The autumn exam was scheduled for the eighth day of the eighth month in the prefectural city, requiring several days of travel. Upon arrival, familiarizing themselves with the environment was necessary. According to Qin Zhifeng’s experience, departing about ten days early was ideal—so Du Heng had to leave by around July twenty-fifth at the latest.
Qin Zhifeng was also taking the exam, and the two would naturally travel together, putting both families at ease.
Seeing his father packing clothes and writing materials, Cheng Yi sensed the imminent departure.
The little one ran to Du Heng, stretching out his tiny hands and showing all ten fingers. “Daddy, are you going away for so many days?”
Du Heng set aside his work and lifted the child into his arms. The journey would last over a month, factoring in exam time and results. He didn’t want the child to be saddened and so lightly fibbed, “Yes, Daddy’s going away for just a few days.”
“Then I won’t see Daddy for that long…”
Cheng Yi, unable to count yet, could still grasp the length of time from seeing all ten fingers, and the thought made him sad. He rested his head against Du Heng’s shoulder.
Du Heng, reluctant to leave both the little one and Qin Xiaoman, could not bring his wife and child along. Even if he didn’t mind others’ ridicule, the household was busy, and he could not abandon the shopwork. He shook his head, thinking how different this was from shortly after his own marriage when the provincial exam had just passed—then, even brief separation had been hard.
Before he could voice the bittersweet thoughts, Qin Xiaoman appeared, forehead beaded with sweat, carrying warmth as if he were a walking furnace. Du Heng quickly scooped up the child and stepped aside.
“Daddy will return as soon as possible and bring some treats from the prefectural city for you, okay?”
“I don’t want cakes. I just want Daddy back soon.”
Du Heng kissed his conscientious little one on the cheek. “Alright, Daddy will come back as soon as possible.”
By late July, Du Heng and Qin Zhifeng set off in the same carriage, accompanied by a Qin family groom and an attendant.
Qin Xiaoman and Cheng Yi came to see them off. The little one clutched Du Heng’s hand tightly, wide-eyed, silent but clearly reluctant to part. His blinking eyes seemed ready to spill tears at any moment.
Cheng Yi’s own lingering melancholy was overtaken by paternal concern. He lifted the child, who nestled against his chest like a soft summer eggplant.
Qin Zhifeng and his wife also lingered, hardly willing to part—less seasoned in married life, with the wife already expecting, naturally concerned. After mutual reminders and farewells, Qin Zhiyan signaled, and the carriage finally departed.
Having traveled some distance, the usually quiet Cheng Yi suddenly shouted, “Daddy, come back soon!”
He pressed his little head out the window and waved vigorously toward his father.
Qin Xiaoman, worried the child would cry if he lingered too long, gave a quick word to his cousin and his cousin’s wife, then brought the little one back to their shop.
“Look at that face—earlier you were saying I’m too sentimental, that a man couldn’t be separated from home. Now that Du Heng’s gone, aren’t you looking as glum as frost?”
Qin Xiaozhu caught the chubby little fellow, who was strong and able to walk on his own. Sometimes he would be brought over by Qin Xiaozhu to play with Cheng Yi.
Though Qin Xiaoman didn’t voice it, he couldn’t help sharing a bit of empathy with Qin Xiaozhu. Li Kai had to go out frequently to restock goods for the shops, and now with three shops instead of one, trips became even more frequent. It was hard on Qin Xiaozhu, often alone at home with the child, though having servants made it less taxing.
Still, no matter how many servants were there, it could never compare to having the whole family together.
Even so, Qin Xiaoman said, “It’s sweltering out here. What frost? I’m swamped with work—who has time to keep thinking about him?”
Qin Xiaozhu pouted. “Brother, eat some sugar cake.”
He looked down at Cheng Yi, pale and chubby, and broke up his own favorite sweets to feed him slowly. The cousins’ bond was full of affection, far warmer than that of their elders.
No matter how scorching the weather, Cheng Yi, though often out in the sun, never darkened. He remained fair-skinned, with big, moist eyes that charmed everyone. Qin Xiaoman could hardly understand how such a rough-and-tumble man could father such an endearing little one.
The child resembled Du Heng more, though Qin Xiaozhu found it surprising. He had heard that between couples, whichever parent was stronger, the child would take after that parent. In their family, Li Laowu was dominant in bed; thus, the chubby little boy inherited his father’s strong frame and earnest nature—essentially a miniature Du Heng.
Yet Qin Xiaoman, supposedly not so strong-willed, had a child that resembled him? Qin Xiaozhu felt a twinge of guilt; he scolded himself silently for having such impure thoughts in front of a child. Seeing the little one softened his heart, and ignoring Qin Xiaoman, he held one of the boys’ hands and took him to the market to buy melon to cool off.
Qin Xiaoman indeed had little time to think of Du Heng. The household’s busiest months were underway. Autumn harvest required inspecting the crops from hired laborers. This year, the family’s farmland had expanded to forty-five acres; more land meant more complex accounts.
Although he had improved his bookkeeping over the past two years of managing the business, he still wasn’t as skilled as Du Heng. To avoid mistakes, he reviewed every ledger slowly, tallying everything two or three times.
After harvest, the grain shops entered their busiest season. Villagers from nearby, eager to sell their grain, came early to contact Qin Xiaoman. He had to be meticulous, leaving him no idle moments.
Du Heng arrived at the prefectural city on the fourth day, coinciding with the autumn exams. Candidates from six counties under the jurisdiction of the Jintuan Mansion all made their way to the city, and the journey was far from lonely, with fellow examinees encountered along the way.
During exam season, security was at its strictest. Patrols lined every checkpoint and official road to ensure examinees reached the prefectural city safely. If banditry occurred, the magistrate would hold the county magistrate responsible. Thus, patrols during the autumn exams were especially rigorous, and criminals dared not risk it—besides, examinees had little money to steal.
Du Heng and Qin Zhifeng reached the city without incident. The first task was to find lodgings. They hadn’t arrived early; other candidates had already secured desirable inns to study. From late July to mid-September, housing in the city was extremely scarce.
Qin Zhifeng, however, was no stranger to the exams. More experienced than the first-time Du Heng, he had already written to previous landlords to reserve a residence. By the time they arrived, their accommodations were ready.
The inn was crowded, but Qin Zhifeng had rented a private house before—quiet and with few occupants. Du Heng, being a first-timer, happily followed along, settling into a small courtyard called Sanhui Minxiang. Though small, it had everything they needed. Du Heng and Qin Zhifeng each had a separate room.
The first night, the house was quiet, and under the flickering oil lamps, it was peaceful enough to study. Du Heng didn’t read that evening. He bathed to wash off some of the fatigue from the journey and set about writing a letter home, preparing the paper as if to reassure Qin Xiaoman:
“Xiaoman， husband has safely arrived in the prefectural city, and everything is settled. All is su—”
Du Heng paused, reconsidered the words “settled” and “smoothly,” and replaced them with “secure and in order, all going well.”
After finishing the letter, he realized he had made more than ten corrections on the white paper. He sighed; writing demanded precision. Even if the composition was beautiful, examiners would penalize careless mistakes. To make it neat, he took a fresh sheet and copied it all again.
He had no choice—after all, their little boy barely recognized a few characters and rarely practiced writing.
Once the letter dried and was placed in an envelope, Du Heng finally lay down to rest.
During the days in the city, neither Du Heng nor Qin Zhifeng went sightseeing. The prefectural city was two or three times larger than their county town and bustling with activity. They only ventured out briefly to inspect the Gongyuan (exam compound), and otherwise remained indoors studying.
On the eighth, after lunch, they went together to the Gongyuan to line up for inspection.
“Do you smell it? Osmanthus.”
Early-blooming osmanthus scented the air, a faint fragrance drifting on the breeze.
Qin Zhifeng sniffed the air and smiled slightly. “Yes, I can smell the osmanthus.”
Du Heng said, “It is said that the results of the provincial exam are announced in September, right when the golden osmanthus blooms. Hence it’s also called the ‘Gui List.’ That we smell the fragrance before entering the exam hall is a good omen.”
Qin Zhifeng nodded. Though he did not speak, a trace of joy appeared at the corners of his eyes at Du Heng’s words.