Security for the provincial examination was strict, but in form it was much the same as the prefectural and county exams.
Candidates were allowed to bring only a single bedding roll. Their brushes, ink, inkstone, and the like had to be carried in a bamboo basket; all paper was issued by the examination compound.
The number of constables conducting the search doubled—from two to four—eight eyes inspecting every detail.
Although the season meant light clothing, to prevent cheating the candidates still had to enter a room and strip down piece by piece for inspection. Every garment, top to bottom, had to be single-layered.
A crowd of scholars loosening robes and undoing belts made for a rather spectacular sight. Fortunately, they were all educated men and understood the principle of propriety—see no impropriety.
Once the inspection was complete and they entered the examination compound, Du Heng received a placard marked with the character “Hong.” The prefectural examination compound arranged its stalls according to the Thousand Character Classic—“Heaven and earth, dark and yellow; the universe, vast and primordial…”—which meant that Du Heng’s examination cell was relatively close to the main gate.
After waving goodbye to Qin Zhifeng, Du Heng strolled over to find his own cell. Just as he was about to enter, he looked up and saw a tall tower standing in the middle of the courtyard. Looking again, he realized there were four such towers in the compound, one in each of the cardinal directions.
People stood atop them, watching every move the examinees made—watchtowers for supervision.
Though Du Heng had no improper intentions, knowing that a pair of eyes was constantly fixed on him from above still sent a chill down his spine.
He stepped into his examination cell. After all, this was the prefectural city. Though the cells followed the same specifications, this compound was noticeably better than the county one, both in appearance and fittings. At the very least, there were no leaks, no moss creeping along the corners, no signs of mildew.
He recalled Mu Ti mentioning that Qi Kaisheng placed great importance on the imperial examinations. Once inside the compound, it was easy to see that this was true.
The examination would officially begin on the ninth day of the eighth month; today was only for entering early and familiarizing oneself with the surroundings.
There wasn’t much to familiarize oneself with, however—only this single cell. Once inside the compound, candidates were not allowed to wander about freely or make loud noises.
One comparatively humane arrangement was that the latrines were at the end of the alley, so one didn’t have to relieve oneself inside the cell and endure the stench. Still, to go out one had to report first, then be escorted by guards to the latrine entrance, and one could not linger.
Even so, Du Heng felt this was better than the prefectural examination. At least when sitting in the cell left his limbs numb and stiff, he could step out briefly, stretch a little, and breathe some fresh air.
August nights were not cool. Du Heng spread his bedding over the wooden plank bed and covered himself with an outer robe. The night passed just like that.
The next day, when the sky had only just begun to lighten—around the end of the mao hour—the sound of the clapper rang out, followed by a flurry of movement as the scholars rose one after another.
First, the cell officials distributed paper in sequence.
Once the paper was handed out, the first session—the classical interpretation examination—began.
Though daylight had arrived, cells in shaded areas were dim, and some scholars lit candles.
Du Heng’s conditions were a bit better and fairly bright, but the bed plank in the cell was cramped. After a night of restless sleep, he rose with aching shoulders and legs.
It wasn’t just him. Many candidates, worn down by the crude conditions and anxiety over the exam, had barely slept at all. That morning they rose with swollen eyes and bodies out of sorts.
But once they copied down the examination questions, their minds left their own discomfort behind, wholly absorbed in analyzing the prompts.
Du Heng had not sat as many examinations as some veterans who took them repeatedly, but counting everything from the start, he had still gone through more than ten exams along the way.
His routine was always the same: draft first, then copy the final essay.
On the draft paper, he would first identify which classical text the question came from, consider its meaning, break down the topic, then weave in his own understanding and views, writing at length.
Though the structure never truly changed, compared to earlier exams, Du Heng could clearly feel that the provincial examination questions were a level higher than before.
Fortunately, Master Xiang often guided his students in practicing provincial examination questions. He had also compiled booklets collecting questions from the past five provincial examinations, along with the top three candidates’ outstanding essays, annotating excellent lines, clever turns of thought, and the like in detail.
Du Heng studied the exemplary essays for the first three sessions to get a feel for the patterns, then for the remaining two sessions he deliberately did not read the model answers, choosing instead to simulate the exams himself.
After drafting his essays, he presented them to Master Xiang for evaluation. The master stroked his beard and left him with a single comment: “Acceptable.”
At sunset on the day of the provincial examination, papers were collected. After handing in his script and leaving the compound, Du Heng knew the next session would be on the twelfth day of the eighth month. Even so, candidates had to enter the compound a day in advance, meaning there were two days outside to rest and recover.
Since his cell was near the main gate, Du Heng waited off to one side after exiting, watching for Qin Zhifeng.
One by one, examinees emerged carrying their belongings, their faces weary, as if a day of heavy labor had drained all their vitality.
Others, clearly confident they had done well, burst out eagerly discussing the questions and their approaches.
Such scenes were entirely typical after an examination.
“Du Heng.”
Qin Zhifeng came out of the compound, spotted him waiting, and hurried over, arms full of things.
The family’s driver came to take their examination supplies.
Once they boarded the carriage, both felt a little awkward, keenly aware of the sweat on each other’s bodies. August was hot, and being cooped up in those turtle-shell-like cells made sweating inevitable, with no chance to bathe.
For scholars who valued cleanliness, it was pure torment.
“Cousin has experience with the provincial examination—what do you think of this year’s questions?” Du Heng asked.
“The examiner tied the questions to current affairs, especially the border conflicts, and tested military strategy,” Qin Zhifeng replied. “They’ve never examined that before. I fear quite a few candidates will stumble this year.”
Du Heng agreed. He had practiced past provincial questions, and topics on military strategy were indeed rare. Candidates living in peaceful years, far from the frontier, naturally lacked depth on such matters, making their writing dry and shallow.
Still, this wasn’t a difficulty unique to any one person. Judging by the uneasy looks on the candidates’ faces as they left, most felt the same apprehension.
The two of them didn’t dwell on discussing the questions. This was only the first session; losing confidence over it would only make the next two even harder.
They returned together, bathed, rested properly, and restored their strength and spirit in preparation for the remaining sessions.
On the eleventh day of the eighth month, when they entered the examination compound, a light rain began to fall. The weather was poor, and by nightfall the rain had grown heavier, carrying the urgency of a summer downpour, crackling and drumming against the roof tiles.
Du Heng lay on the hard wooden plank bed with his legs drawn up, using folded clothes as a pillow. He couldn’t help but sigh—these conditions were even worse than the bed Xiaoman had once taken him home to sleep on.
Thin roof tiles hovered just inches above his head. The noise alone was bad enough, but he was genuinely worried that the dense rain might smash through the tiles and land right on his face.
He struggled to turn over and ended up sleeping on his side.
The next day, when the examination paper was handed out, the sheets were faintly damp. Afraid the ink would bleed, Du Heng set aside two pages for drafts and took one sheet, folded it, and tucked it against his chest beneath his inner robe. He hoped his body heat would dry it a little.
As he worked through the questions, he repeatedly heard coughing all around him. That night of rain had clearly sickened many already low-spirited candidates, making the examination all the more punishing.
Du Heng narrowed his eyes. Bad weather was one thing, but a person’s own constitution and resilience mattered too.
If not for the fact that his reputation had been attacked time and again—pushing him, out of pride, to quietly train and toughen himself—under these conditions he would probably have come down with a headache or fever as well.
Thinking of this, he couldn’t help glancing toward the sky beyond the window, wondering whether the county town was also being battered by wind and rain.
……
“Daddy, when is Father coming back?”
The little boy lay sprawled over the counter, tilting his head as he stared at his pale pink fingers.
At first, he had bent down one finger each night he slept, using them to count how many days remained until Father came home.
But after a while, he lost track of how many fingers he had already bent. He wracked his memory, trying hard to recall, fidgeting with his chubby fingers again and again, yet still couldn’t come up with an answer.
At times like this, he could only turn to his little daddy for help. The child’s memory wasn’t very good; he would forget that he’d already asked the same question, so he sought help from his little daddy no fewer than ten times a day.
He lifted his head, gazing longingly toward the shop entrance, hoping that one of these times, when he looked up, he would see his father standing there, calling him his little treasure.
“Daddy, a letter!”
Qin Xiaoman was engrossed in working the abacus at the counter. Hearing the child’s voice, he was momentarily confused and didn’t catch what he’d said. When he looked up, he saw a courier standing at the door.
“A letter for me?”
Qin Xiaoman stepped out from behind the counter. Chengyi, barely tall enough to reach the counter, saw his little daddy go to the door and slid off his stool, trailing after Qin Xiaoman like a tiny tail.
Now that Chengyi was older and Du Heng was away sitting for the examinations, Qin Xiaoman brought the child to the shop more often.
Even so, he kept a close eye on him, calling out to him every so often. Even inside the shop, he didn’t let the boy run around. Most of the time, the child stayed by the counter.
Chengyi was quiet and well behaved. Once Qin Xiaoman told him that running around could lead to human traffickers carrying children off, he never dared wander again.
When Qin Xiaoman was busy, Chengyi would sit on a stool, leaning against the counter and playing with the beads of the abacus, or hugging the colorful embroidered ball his father had made for him when he was little.
Customers coming and going often saw the well-behaved, lucky-looking child sitting at the counter and liked to stop and tease him.
“Whose letter is it?” Chengyi tugged at Qin Xiaoman’s clothes, lifting his chin.
“Who else would write to us except your father?” Qin Xiaoman bent down and picked him up, returning to sit behind the counter. The little one settled quietly on his lap, leaning forward expectantly as Qin Xiaoman opened the envelope.
“Xiaoman, I’ve arrived safely in the prefectural city. Everything is well. Don’t overwork yourself at home. Anything you’re unsure about, leave it until I return…”
“Why didn’t Father mention Chengyi at all?” the child said anxiously, frowning as Qin Xiaoman read on.
“He did, he did. Listen carefully!” Qin Xiaoman said.
Chengyi’s eyes widened, and he hurriedly focused on the letter again. Though he couldn’t recognize a single character, he stared at it with great seriousness, as if he truly could read it.
“Has little Yi been eating properly? Has he been sleeping well at night?”
Qin Xiaoman continued, “Ah, I’ll have to write back to your father. There’s a certain child who insists on drinking a big bowl of sugar water at every mealtime, then refuses to eat once his belly’s all puffed up. And at night, after bathing, he plays in the water and won’t get out, and doesn’t want to sleep under the blanket either.”
Chengyi pressed his lips together, panicked. He grabbed Qin Xiaoman’s hand and shook it, pleading pitifully. “Daddy, don’t write to Father about that.”
Qin Xiaoman said, “But isn’t that exactly how our little child behaves? Little daddy isn’t making anything up.”
Chengyi hesitated for a moment, then hurriedly promised, “I won’t drink sugar water before meals anymore, and after I bathe at night I’ll sleep under Daddy’s blanket.”
Qin Xiaoman raised an eyebrow. “Really? You’re not lying to little daddy?”
Chengyi shook his head. “I won’t.”
“All right then. If our little one behaves well, little daddy won’t tell your father.”
Chengyi hugged Qin Xiaoman happily. “Daddy is the best.”
Qin Xiaoman carefully folded the letter and slipped it back into the envelope. Looking at the clear weather outside, he counted the days. Today was already the final examination session. Du Heng would be leaving the examination compound tonight.
He didn’t know how Du Heng had done, or whether this whole journey for the examinations had gone smoothly.
After thinking it over, Qin Xiaoman decided that tomorrow, no matter how busy he was, he would sneak off to the temple. He would light some incense and pray to the bodhisattva—not asking for Du Heng to top the list, just for peace and safety.
On the fifteenth day of the eighth month, Du Heng finished the final session. By the time he emerged from the examination compound, the sun was already sinking in the west. Clouds tinged with sunset glow spread across the sky, scattering their light over the steps at the compound gate. The candidates rushing out seemed bathed in a layer of golden radiance.
Yes—before long, someone among this group would truly be cloaked in gold.
“Du Heng, over here!”
Hearing the call, Du Heng lifted his head and saw Qin Zhifeng already waiting by the carriage. For this final session, Qin Zhifeng had drawn a number near the front.
“How was it?” Qin Zhifeng asked. “Did everything go all right?”
Du Heng chuckled. “It was all right.”
Qin Zhifeng, too, looked visibly more relaxed than he had after the previous two sessions. It wasn’t necessarily because he thought he’d done well; rather, the strain of the examination had kept him wound tight for eight or nine straight days, and now he could finally let out a breath.
No matter how the results turned out, worrying wouldn’t change the grade, and neither would easing his mind. With everything settled, there was nothing left to alter.
Qin Zhifeng took the initiative and suggested, “Let’s go back and wash up. How about we eat out tonight?”
Du Heng agreed. He had been in the prefectural city for more than half a month now and hadn’t really gone out much. They could have a meal and, while they were at it, pick up a few things to bring back home.
Once candidates left the examination compound, they were free to eat, drink, and celebrate in the city. The examiners, however, were only just getting busy.
The provincial examination was no trifling matter—commonly known as the “grand examination.” By convention, the higher one went, the fewer candidates remained. Although the examination site had shifted from the county seat to the prefectural city, broadening the pool of examinees and making the numbers look large, the autumn examination was famously severe. Out of thousands of candidates, only a few dozen would be admitted as provincial graduates.
Only in places like Shuntian Prefecture, right under the Son of Heaven’s feet where talent abounded, could more than a hundred candidates sometimes be selected.
With so few slots available, grading was correspondingly strict.
Once the papers were sent to the grading offices, they first went through the procedures of sealing, pasting over names, and copying, to prevent the graders from recognizing names or handwriting and cheating. The papers were reviewed layer by layer: first, the room examiners gave them an initial reading, keeping the good ones and writing notes on why they were good, before passing them on to the chief examiners for a second review.
Only after all the papers had been fully graded would the pasted names be uncovered, the names copied out one by one, and the list prepared.
Because the grading was so rigorous, the announcement of results was inevitably slow. The list would not be posted until the fifth day of the ninth month—nearly twenty days away.
Du Heng had originally planned to return to the county as soon as the examination ended. Once the list was released, the results would be sent to each county anyway; he would learn his outcome regardless, even if he couldn’t see the posted list in person.
Compared to returning home early to reunite with his family, those details seemed trivial.
Qin Zhifeng, however, urged him to stay. After the list was posted, if someone had passed, the yamen runners would personally arrive at the candidate’s lodging, beating gongs and drums to announce the news. The next day, the prefect would host the Luming Banquet with the examiners, educational officials, and room examiners present, and all newly admitted provincial graduates were expected to attend.
Du Heng thought it over. If he truly passed, skipping the Luming Banquet would be discourteous. But if he went back to the county and then hurried back before the results were announced, the round trip alone would take ten days; he wouldn’t even get to stay home for more than two days. It would be far more trouble than it was worth.
In that case, it was better to stay put in the prefectural city, wait for the list, and then return home.
Having just finished such a major examination, Du Heng wasn’t so diligent as to immediately bury himself in books again. In his free time, he thought even more about his family, sending letter after letter home.
He asked after Xiao Man, Chengyi, the autumn harvest at home, and every bit of trivial, everyday business—nearly to the point of sending his regards to Tiger as well.
Back in the county, Qin Xiao Man had initially been enthusiastic about opening each letter and writing back. But as the letters kept coming—more and more, longer and longer—he eventually reached the point where he only read them and no longer replied.
“Another letter from your man out there?” someone asked.
Qin Xiao Man was slipping a letter into an envelope. Seeing the woman standing at the doorway, he tucked the envelope beneath the counter and smiled in greeting. “Madam Zhuang, come in and sit for a bit.”
“Sit? At midday there’s hardly any business. If I sit down, I’ll just start nodding off. I figured I’d stand up and take a walk instead.”
The woman had a kind face and was always smiling. She was a neighboring shopkeeper—she ran the pharmacy next to Xiao Man’s grain shop.
From time to time, Qin Xiao Man brought Chengyi to play in the shop. Whenever Madam Zhuang saw him, she would beckon Chengyi over to give him a hug and often pressed little snacks into his hands. She was especially fond of children.
Their shops were close, and after enough comings and goings, they naturally became familiar.
When there was no business around noon, the shopkeepers would bring out small stools and sit together in places where the sun didn’t glare too harshly, chatting idly. Qin Xiao Man sometimes joined in as well; he could hear plenty of county gossip—who had opened a new shop, whose business was doing well, and so on.
“They say scholars are heartless once they leave home,” Madam Zhuang remarked. “But Scholar Du is different—he really looks after his family. Not like my man. When he goes out to buy goods, he’s gone for a month or two and you don’t even get a single letter.”
In the county, many shops were tended by women or husbands, simply because the family businesses weren’t large; the men went out to source goods elsewhere.
Qin Xiao Man responded modestly, “He’s a scholar—he just likes writing. I can’t recognize more than a handful of characters. Even when letters come one after another, I can’t read them properly.”
Madam Zhuang laughed and glanced around. “Didn’t your little Yi come to the shop today to play?”
“His younger uncle called him over to the house to play with his cousin.”
“You’re really capable,” Madam Zhuang said. “Raising a child by yourself and still making the trip back and forth from the village every day to mind the shop.”
Qin Xiao Man handed her a stool. The two of them sat chatting under the eaves by the door. “His father will be coming back soon. I’m used to running back and forth, but it really isn’t very convenient. I’ve been thinking about getting a place to settle down here in the county.”
The grain shop had been doing well. Compared to the paper workshop, it made better money, and over the years he had kept steadily at his businesses. He had accumulated some savings, and the desire to buy a house had grown stronger in his heart.
“That would be wonderful,” Madam Zhuang said.
Everyone on this stretch of the street knew that Qin Xiao Man’s husband was a scholar. They saw him coming and going every day—gentle and polite, with proper looks—and last year he had even passed the licentiate exam. The shopkeepers all held such a family in high regard.
Madam Zhuang had been in business a long time and knew best how to manage connections. It wasn’t that she was deliberately currying favor with Qin Xiao Man, but she was noticeably warmer and friendlier toward his household than toward most other shopkeepers.
That, too, was one of the advantages of being a scholar’s family.
“Oh, by the way,” she added, “I’ve heard there’s a pretty good house for sale over in Fuji Alley. I know the owner—a senior physician from our county. He has several children, and the family’s close-knit. Even after the sons married, they didn’t want to split off and live separately. So now they’re thinking of selling their old, smaller house and moving into a bigger one, so the whole family can live more comfortably.”
Qin Xiao Man’s eyes lit up. “Really? How big is the house? Is the layout good?”
“Very good,” Madam Zhuang said with enthusiasm. “You know Fuji Alley—it’s a solid area in the county, good location, good security. It’s a two-courtyard residence, very comfortable. If they weren’t trading up to a three-courtyard estate, they’d never bear to sell this one.”
Seeing Qin Xiao Man’s interest, Madam Zhuang grew even more animated.
“But a house that good must be expensive,” Qin Xiao Man said.
He was tempted. In truth, at first he had only planned to buy a single-courtyard home. His paternal uncle’s place, for example, was already considered quite spacious.
But Du Heng had once told him that with their household registration in Luoxia County, they would most likely be making their living here long-term. As the family grew, a small house would feel cramped, and moving again later would be inconvenient.
Once you settled on a house, you had to think of it as a family home to last generations. People valued returning to their roots—no matter where you went to make a living when young, in old age you were meant to return home.
Even officials in the capital were sent back to their hometowns once they retired, returning home after leaving office.
Seen that way, it made more sense to buy a larger place from the start and spare themselves the trouble of moving again later.
Qin Xiao Man felt the reasoning was sound.
His uncle’s single-courtyard house was far more spacious than Qin Xiao Zhu’s place, but there were only two children in that household. Once Cousin Qin Zhifeng married and gained a sister-in-law, with a child soon to be born, the place had already begun to feel tight.
That said, their lot had been well chosen, with open land around it; if it ever felt too small, they could still expand.
“The price can be discussed,” Madam Zhuang said. “Old Physician Zhang has the highest respect for scholars. If he sold the house to your family, he’d be delighted.”
Qin Xiao Man felt a little buoyed by that.
Madam Zhuang took advantage of the moment. “How about I speak to Old Physician Zhang for you? You can go take a look when you have time. The house is for sale anyway—it’s meant to be shown. Whether you buy it or not, there’s no harm.”
Qin Xiao Man agreed. “Then I’ll go have a look. If the house suits us, we can decide once my husband comes back.”
“Perfect!”
Two days later, Qin Xiao Man tidied himself up and went to Fuji Alley to see the house.
Madam Zhuang truly hadn’t exaggerated. The house was well laid out, and stepping inside, it felt genuinely spacious and bright.
There were gardens, a pond—everything a proper residence should have. The house didn’t feel old at all; you could tell at a glance that the previous owner had cherished it.
When Old Physician Zhang heard from Madam Zhuang that a licentiate’s household had come to see the house, he personally came to show Qin Xiao Man around and was very courteous. “This house was maintained every year when we lived here. All the rooms are in excellent condition. And ours was a physician’s family—nothing immoral or inauspicious has ever happened here. You can live here with complete peace of mind.”
Qin Xiao Man truly liked the place. It faced the sun, the plants and trees inside were lush and thriving, and the rooms were open and airy.
Du Heng would certainly like it too.
With a decision already forming in his heart, Qin Xiao Man directly asked about the price.
Old Physician Zhang said, “This was originally a beloved home. If not for family reasons, we wouldn’t sell it. The price is secondary; what matters is finding the right family. Madam Zhuang says the Qin family is kind and decent. If the husband likes the house, we can sell it for three hundred sixty taels of silver.”
Qin Xiao Man had expected it wouldn’t be cheap, but hearing the actual number still made his heart skip.
“The house is excellent, but this isn’t a small sum. My husband has gone to the prefectural city for the autumn provincial examination and hasn’t returned yet. How about I discuss it with him once he’s back before making a decision?”
Old Physician Zhang nodded. “Purchasing a residence naturally requires the head of the household to decide in person.”
Qin Xiao Man liked the house very much, but he couldn’t make such a decision on his own or ask the owner to hold it for him. He added, “If, in the meantime, you find another suitable buyer, there’s no need to consider us.”
Old Physician Zhang was about to reply when a haughty voice suddenly cut in. “Aside from being a bit old from having been lived in, this house looks acceptable enough.”
As the words fell, four people entered uninvited.
Seeing someone already inside, the man in front flicked open his folding fan, the jade pendant at his waist swinging back and forth. “I hear this house belongs to you, physician. Bring me around for a look.”
Guests were guests, and despite the man’s poor tone, Old Physician Zhang still said “please” and told Qin Xiao Man he could do as he pleased.
Seeing the group’s imposing manner, Qin Xiao Man didn’t rush to leave. He called over Da Zhuang, who had come with him, intending to see how others inspected a house.
The man waved his fan, looking here and there, barging in and out of rooms and slamming doors with loud bangs. He even kicked at doorframes and wooden beams with his foot. “What kind of wood did you use for the main beams in this hall?”
“When it was built, pine was used,” Old Physician Zhang replied.
“Pine?” The man shook his head repeatedly. “This is a reception hall. Pine is far too shabby. At the very least, it should have been yellow rosewood.”
He looked up again. “And the roof tiles are already growing moss. It’s really old.”
After being picked apart like this, Old Physician Zhang’s expression darkened. “This isn’t a newly built house. Whose roof doesn’t have some moss?”
Qin Xiao Man clicked his tongue. This person didn’t seem like he was here to buy a house—more like he was here to make trouble.
Feeling that following someone like this around was bad luck, Qin Xiao Man decided not to stay.
“Who is that man?” he asked quietly as he turned away.
Just then, the man seemed to notice him.
“A prospective buyer,” Old Physician Zhang said.
The man snorted. “With that poor, bookish look, can he afford a house? You’re quite kind, owner—letting any Tom, Dick, or Harry wander in here.”
“That’s a rude thing to say,” Qin Xiao Man stopped and narrowed his eyes. “Whether I buy it or not has nothing to do with you.”
“And who do you think you are, talking like that?” one of the men following him snapped. “Do you know who this is?”
“This is Scholar Wang!”
Qin Xiao Man felt a surge of anger. His own family had a licentiate too, and they didn’t go around throwing their weight like an emperor.
He felt it was truly unlucky and said to Old Physician Zhang, “We’ll take our leave.”
“Hey! This rude, ill-mannered country fellow—no sense of propriety at all! Doesn’t even recognize a licentiate!”
Old Physician Zhang was thoroughly displeased with the people who had come to view the house. With temperaments like that, even if he forced himself to sell the property to them, there was no guarantee they wouldn’t come back later to stir up trouble.
But since the visitor was also a licentiate, he didn’t dare offend him outright and instead deflected tactfully. “Scholar Wang, this house has already been spoken for.”
Scholar Wang’s eyes widened. Shaking his head, he said to Old Physician Zhang, “You’re not saying it was just now taken by that fellow, are you? That sour-looking ger—does he even have the money?”
Old Physician Zhang replied, “That was the husband of Scholar Du. He’s still sitting for the autumn provincial examination this year.”
Scholar Wang was startled for a moment, then grew indignant instead. “How much did he offer? I can add more!”
Old Physician Zhang closed his eyes. “Four hundred taels.”
“Four hundred taels for this broken-down house? Don’t think you can swindle me just because I’m a licentiate!”
“Given the location in Fuji Alley and the size of this residence,” Old Physician Zhang said, “Scholar Wang is welcome to ask around about the prices of neighboring houses.”
Scholar Wang gritted his teeth. “Then I’ll offer four hundred twenty taels!”
As he spoke, he pulled twenty taels of silver from his person. “This is the deposit. I’m taking this house!”
Old Physician Zhang felt a surge of panic. “Scholar Wang, I’ve already given my word to Scholar Du’s family. Taking away what another desires—wouldn’t that be improper?”
Scholar Wang said nothing. The burly men with him folded their arms and closed in on Old Physician Zhang. “Our scholar has taken a liking to your shabby house—that’s your good fortune. Say no more. If that Scholar Du isn’t satisfied, let him come find us!”
With that, the group left in a menacing rush.
Old Physician Zhang was so angry he slapped his thigh repeatedly. How had he gone and provoked such a ruffian masquerading as a scholar? What was he supposed to do now?
“Master, the other buyer is also a licentiate. Snatching it like this—won’t that…”
Scholar Wang shot the servant a glare. “Since they’re both licentiates, what difference is there between big and small? Judging by the look of that man’s kept companion, he’s nothing but a poor licentiate anyway. What is there to fear?”
“I heard he went into the exam hall—what if…”
Hearing this, Scholar Wang kicked the servant squarely in the backside. “You think the provincial examination is so easy? Just entering means you’ll become a provincial graduate? If that were the case, the whole world would be full of worthless gentry and graduates!”
The servant hugged his head and shrank back. “Y-yes, yes.”