Great Nation, Small Freshness (Imperial Examination) - Chapter 10

10: Sour and Crunchy Shredded Radish, Golden Millet Porridge

It was just after dawn when Qin Shan came down the mountain carrying a bulging burlap sack, his sweaty red face brimming with smug satisfaction.

He greeted a few uncles and aunties along the way with great swagger, but when he neared Qin Fanghe’s house, he suddenly hesitated.

Judging by the light, it should be the time when Brother He practices Tai Chi…

Qin Shan unconsciously slowed his steps, wishing he could take three steps forward and two steps back—he really didn’t dare approach the door.

Sigh!

Scratching his hat, he first tiptoed to peek over the top of the gate. He vaguely saw a figure moving inside, and like he’d been stung by a bee, he hurriedly crouched down along the base of the wall, rolled up his sleeves, and stared blankly into space.

Sigh!

He really didn’t have the face to go in!

Who knows how much time passed before he suddenly heard a “creeaaak.” Qin Shan jumped, turned his head, and saw Qin Fanghe—still radiating a bit of warmth from his exercise—looking down at him from above.

“Planning to freeze to death out here?”

He’d noticed the kid the moment he came over. He figured the boy must have been scolded by his parents and was wondering in what kind of posture he’d show up to apologize. In the end…

He never showed up at all!

Qin Shan leapt to his feet, but guilt kept him from meeting the other’s eyes. He just shrank his neck and scratched his head.

This brat really cared about saving face. His cheeks were already flushed red from the cold like high plateaus, his lips turning purple, and still he didn’t make a sound.

If he didn’t get a step down soon, would this guy hold his breath until he suffocated himself? Qin Fanghe felt both annoyed and amused. He nudged his chin toward the bulging sack on the ground. “What’s that?”

“Oh, oh!” Qin Shan snapped out of it, hurriedly grabbing the sack and pulling out a stunned long-eared rabbit to show him. “Caught it on the mountain this morning. This one’s the big one—four or five jin at least. The smaller ones are three or four jin…”

One big one and three to five small ones—he must have raided a rabbit burrow. Quite the effort for early morning.

Qin Fanghe raised an eyebrow in understanding, giving a half-smile. “Apology gift?”

Qin Shan’s face turned beet red. He looked left and right and let out a mosquito-like “mm.”

Qin Fanghe chuckled lightly, turned, and walked away. Qin Shan was stunned.

He’s just… leaving?

“Are you waiting for a formal invitation? Have you eaten?” Qin Fanghe stood a few steps away, turning back. His expression was as calm as ever.

“Coming, coming! Not yet—I left before dawn…” Qin Shan felt like he’d been granted amnesty, he could practically take off flying right there.

“I’ll skin the rabbits for you later. Take the pelts home and let your dad see if there’s enough for a fur vest. As for the meat… you’ve read more books than me, think of something tasty to do with it…”

His own mother could cook it, but rabbit meat—especially winter wild rabbit—was lean and tough, with a strong gamey flavor. His mom was also stingy with salt and seasonings, so the meat always ended up tasting like chewing wood shavings. Just thinking about it made his stomach turn.

Qin Fanghe, who was ladling porridge, felt a spark of anticipation. “Braised in soy sauce, then.”

Actually, he really liked Sichuan-Chongqing style cold diced rabbit, but they didn’t have all the spices at home, so he’d settle for second best.

Winter wild rabbits were on the lean side anyway—cold rabbit was hard on the teeth. Better to slow-braise it until it fell apart, tender and flavorful.

Qin Shan agreed enthusiastically.

What did he know about braising or not braising? He was here to apologize anyway—whatever the other guy said went.

“Eat,” Qin Fanghe said, pushing a bowl toward him. “Go grab your own chopsticks and spoon.”

“Got it!” Qin Shan happily bounced off.

Hehe, he’s even feeding me breakfast. Brother He really isn’t treating me like an outsider anymore.

Today’s breakfast was red date millet porridge with wild herb flatcakes.

The millet had been put in the pot the night before, there was no need for extra fire—just the embers under the stove were enough. After a whole night of slow simmering, the grains were perfectly soft, and a thick, glossy layer of millet oil floated on top, a beautiful bright yellow.

After getting up, he tossed in a few pitted red dates. By the time he finished washing up and practicing his punches, the sweet fragrance of the dates had thoroughly infused the porridge—deliciously comforting.

On top of that, Qin Fanghe had also prepared a plate of shredded radish.

Freshly pulled from the vegetable patch, the radishes were extra juicy. First sprinkle a little salt to draw out the water—but not too much. Once the crisp white strands had slightly wilted, drain them and add a few drops of vinegar. A bowl of sour, crunchy, cold shredded radish was ready—crisp and perfect with rice.

So good!

Way better than what Mom makes! How does Brother He know how to do everything?

Qin Shan thought, deeply moved.

He very restrainedly ate one bowl.

Or rather, he could only eat one bowl.

Because Qin Fanghe had only cooked enough for two bowls total. He hadn’t expected Qin Shan to suddenly show up, which meant both of them only got half full.

The whole day’s energy depends on breakfast, so for a moment, the look Qin Fanghe gave Qin Shan was genuinely not very friendly.

Did this kid come to apologize or to collect a debt?

But for the sake of those rabbits, he could endure it.

After the meal, Qin Shan voluntarily took on washing the pots and dishes. Every now and then he’d twist his head to peek into the inner room. If he held his breath and listened carefully, he could faintly hear the soft scratch of a brush on paper inside.

Qin Shan’s mood suddenly became a little complicated:

I’m already here—why hasn’t Brother He mentioned anything about studying?

Perhaps deep down, humans all have a bit of a masochistic streak: when something is offered on a platter, you push it away, when it’s withheld, you stand on tiptoe to reach for it.

It’s a harsh way to put it, but it perfectly described the feelings of young man Qin at this moment.

After being ignored for three whole days—to the point where even Qin Shan himself was starting to wonder why he kept coming—suddenly he heard Qin Fanghe start reciting: “At birth, human nature is inherently good…”

It was rare to hear him speak outside of mealtimes, so Qin Shan instinctively pricked up his ears.

After reciting a few lines, Qin Fanghe abruptly stopped and asked without warning, “Sound familiar?”

Huh, is he asking me?

Qin Shan blanked for a moment, thought hard, then uncertainly replied, “I think… I think the teacher taught it a long time ago.”

Qin Fanghe’s father had once taught all the village children of suitable age for free, everyone respectfully called him “Teacher.”

Qin Fanghe nodded. “Then recite it for me.”

Huh?

Me?! Recite?!

Caught completely off guard, Qin Shan’s scalp went numb. He was about to reflexively shake his head, but then he remembered everything that had happened the past few days. His whole body stiffened, and he forcibly swallowed the refusal.

Like a man lost in the desert dying of thirst, he painfully swallowed, racked his brain in agony for a long time, and finally stuttered out, “At birth… human nature is good… nature is… similar… something… far…”

Just those few characters nearly made Qin Shan want to cry. The old fear of being caught slacking off by the teacher came rushing back.

Qin Fanghe: “…”

He patiently listened to this broken tape recorder struggle for ages with no continuation, then—against his conscience—gave a very performative smile. “Very good.”

“R-really?!” Qin Shan looked at him in disbelief.

Qin Fanghe took an extremely slow and restrained deep breath and smiled. “Really.”

As if.

But the kid had been eating nothing but sticks for days and still had a pretty sincere attitude. If he didn’t offer a carrot soon, this donkey would probably starve to death.

It’s like flying a kite: if you let it fly wildly, no length of string is enough, but if you keep yanking it tight, the line snaps easily.

The carrot-and-stick approach was something Qin Fanghe was very skilled at.

As soon as he said that, joy visibly bloomed on Qin Shan’s face, followed immediately by shame.

“I… I only remember that much…”

Qin Fanghe raised an eyebrow. Oh ho.

A mature “student” is made of three key ingredients: attitude, diligence, and a proper dose of self-deprecation at critical moments.

This kid wasn’t bad.

Having been affirmed, the boy gradually gained confidence. He scratched his head and cautiously watched Qin Fanghe’s expression. “Actually… actually, if I listen a few more times, cough, I could memorize even more!”

Brother He has never praised me like this before!

Qin Fanghe smiled.

It was a nice-looking smile, but for some reason, Qin Shan felt a chill creep up his spine.

“Do you know what it means?”

Qin Shan nodded, then shook his head.

The teacher seemed to have explained the first couple of lines, but the rest… he’d explained them, or maybe he hadn’t.

Qin Fanghe wasn’t surprised by the answer.

For a very long time in history, the ancient method was “read a book a hundred times and its meaning will reveal itself”—in short, figure it out yourself.

Only after you’d memorized it would the teacher ask if anything was unclear, and then explain the key points.

The gifted ones really could grasp the flavor after reading many times, but the vast majority just went through the motions—that was what was called “slow-witted.”

But that method was unscientific.

All knowledge has rules. Learning is like playing chess: whether you learn the rules first or stumble into them later makes a world of difference—one is “getting crushed,” the other is “dominating.”

In the days that followed, Qin Fanghe didn’t demand Qin Shan recite anything. Instead, he proactively went through the Three Character Classic, Hundred Family Surnames, and Thousand Character Classic, explaining them one by one, including all the related allusions.

Originally, Qin Shan had only come to repair his relationship with his little friend, but gradually… he actually started absorbing it!

“Wow, that Mencius’s mother was amazing—moving house three times. Were they super rich?”

“…There was actually someone surnamed Mi? Mi (rice)—his family must never have gone hungry, right?”

Qin Fanghe: “…”

Kid, your imagination is something else. Should I call you clever or not?

Interest is the best teacher. In just half a month, Qin Shan really did remember many of the interesting stories from the three enlightenment texts. He could recite parts of the original text from memory, recognize some simple characters—just not in full sentences yet.

But this was already astonishing.

Qin Shan’s father silently filled Qin Fanghe’s woodshed to the brim and started maniacally catching rabbits on the mountain. Aunt Xiulan personally boiled and delivered goat milk every day—if she had more clothes to wash, she would definitely outpace a washing machine.

The couple practically enshrined Qin Fanghe.

He even felt that if it weren’t inauspicious to put a living person’s tablet on the ancestral altar, his own spot would definitely be there during New Year sacrifices.

Experienced in tutoring, Qin Fanghe skillfully redirected the parents’ enthusiasm onto the student.

He greatly encouraged him: “I never expected you to learn so quickly and so well, Seventh Brother. It’s a shame outsiders don’t know. When you have time, recite it for your uncles and aunties. And if the villagers are free, perform for them too—that’s the only way to show off how capable you are.”

A lot of people have had this experience: in class you think “I got it,” but when the test comes—“I don’t get it!”

Basically, the knowledge isn’t fully digested, gaps need filling. Relying on oneself to find those gaps is hard—same thought patterns repeated will produce the same omissions.

But if you have to teach someone else, it’s different. You’re forced to master everything.

Huh? Am I really that awesome?

Qin Shan’s heart raced.

Qin Fanghe smiled and suddenly asked an unrelated question: “During festivals, does your family have any performances or entertainment?”

Qin Shan was confused. “What performances?”

Wasn’t it just visiting relatives, eating and drinking? After stuffing yourself, the best thing was to lie on the heated kang with a full belly.

Qin Fanghe’s smile suddenly turned sinister. That familiar hair-raising feeling returned.

“Well, starting this year, you do.”

When a child starts school and learns new skills, shouldn’t he perform—recite the Three Character Classic or Hundred Family Surnames in front of the relatives?

A child who has never performed in public during the holidays has led an incomplete life.