Great Nation, Small Freshness (Imperial Examination) - Chapter 19

19: Slaughtered Pig Feast and Unexpected Visitors

Qin Fanghe gradually developed a steady correspondence with Kong Ziqing. Their exchanges were not particularly frequent—about two or three letters a month—and followed a very fixed routine: Qin Fanghe would send a letter when he went to the county town to collect his manuscript fees and submit new drafts. When Mr. Sun returned to the county to deliver the account books, he would pass the letter to the Kong residence. Then, a couple of days later, Gui Sheng would run to Baiyun Village with the reply, conveniently staying for lunch.

Gui Sheng genuinely enjoyed this errand boy job, because whenever letters were exchanged, the young master was in an excellent mood and tipped especially generously.

And Young Master Qin was amiable, but the key thing was… his cooking was truly delicious! Incredibly delicious! How could it be so good?

He could never get enough—really, never enough!

After a few times, whenever Kong Ziqing mentioned “delivering a letter,” Gui Sheng would instinctively start drooling…

Starting in late July, Kong Ziqing moved to live at the county school, returning home only once a month. Accordingly, Mr. Sun’s delivery address changed as well.

Thanks to this “pen pal,” Qin Fanghe gained a wealth of critical information: the actual examination procedures, points to note, unspoken rules that weren’t officially regulated but could be flexibly adjusted, and… that one could bring a single bookboy or servant when entering the county school.

This last piece of information was very important to Qin Fanghe.

His fingers tapped lightly on the tabletop a few times. He looked up at Qin Shan, who was frowning in the opposite corner as he practiced tracing characters in red ink. After a moment’s thought, he asked, “Seventh Brother, if I enter the county school in the future, would you be willing to come with me?”

As he progressed step by step through the exams, his social circle would gradually expand. Qin Fanghe needed manpower—trustworthy manpower. In this era, nothing was more reliable than blood ties and clan bonds.

Coming from the same village, with full knowledge of each other’s backgrounds, there were no hidden risks. Even if someone later harbored disloyal thoughts, they would still have to consider their relatives back home—an extra layer of insurance.

The sudden question caught Qin Shan off guard. He looked up blankly, clearly still trapped in the shadow of his forced calligraphy practice, and slowly let out an “Ah?”

But he quickly recovered, jumping to his feet with eyes shining in excitement. “You’re taking me to the city?! For real?”

Qin Fanghe: “…”

He had underestimated the fervor that ordinary people of this era felt toward the splendor of the city.

“For real. But first, you have to recognize all the characters in the Thousand Character Classic.” Qin Fanghe said, vaguely pointing at the homework on the table. “Have you finished writing the large characters?”

In this era, the ruling class monopolized power by monopolizing knowledge. Without literacy, no matter how capable one was, one could only remain confined to a small corner. Only by mastering knowledge could one break through class barriers and freely display one’s talents.

A lone hero needs three helpers. The people around him should at least have the basic ability to break through those barriers, otherwise, the support they could provide later would be negligible.

Qin Shan immediately shrank back and grabbed his brush with unprecedented enthusiasm. “Almost, almost! This time it’ll be quick for real!”

The city! The city!

If he had a tail, it would probably be wagging wildly by now.

When checking the homework later, Qin Fanghe’s expression was somewhat indescribable—gratified, yet also a bit pained.

It was clear that Qin Shan had truly tried hard, but when it came to natural talent…

Enduring the correction process, Qin Fanghe quickly returned the homework, then turned to stare at his book to cleanse his eyes.

That handwriting was truly an assault on the eyes!

“Seventh Brother, besides you, is there anyone else in the village who is keen on studying and relatively diligent?” Qin Fanghe asked.

Besides me—heh heh—sure enough, Brother He values me the most!

Qin Shan secretly rejoiced for a moment before thinking seriously. “There really is someone.”

He simply put down his brush, dragged a stool over, and sat in front of Qin Fanghe. “You know Qin Song from the back of the village, right? He’s half a year younger than me—you’d even have to call him Eighth Brother.”

Qin Song… Qin Fanghe murmured the name once, and the image of a thin, pale boy immediately surfaced in his mind. “So it’s him.”

Qin Shan nodded. “His mother, Aunt Xinghua, was widowed early. Little Eighth was young back then and couldn’t do farm work. They relied entirely on the neighbors’ help. His mother earned a little money by making shoes for people—their life was very hard. With the others, I had to chase them down and force them to study, but Eighth was different. He’d even squat at my door waiting for me!”

Sometimes he felt that Eighth’s fierce determination to study was really comparable to Brother He’s.

Though his brain wasn’t nearly as sharp.

Qin Fanghe lowered his head and glanced at his feet. A pair of blue cloth thousand-layer-soled cotton shoes sat quietly there, with fine, solid stitching—extremely comfortable.

Indeed, excellent craftsmanship.

The mother and son must both desperately hope to take the imperial examination path, but their circumstances were too difficult. Unlike Qin’s father, who had once sheltered the whole village, they truly couldn’t bring themselves to ask the neighbors for support.

At the beginning of the year, when Qin Fanghe started teaching Qin Shan, the mother and son saw hope again. But since Qin Fanghe hadn’t offered to teach others, they were too embarrassed to mention it. Now that Qin Shan was halfway trained, Qin Song had only just begun to push himself hard.

Qin Fanghe got off the kang, paced slowly on the floor, feeling the soft yet resilient soles supporting him steadily—an indescribable sense of security.

He couldn’t imagine what feelings that mother had as she sewed these shoes: her own son wanted to study but couldn’t speak up, while another family’s child openly took that path.

There must have been some bitterness, right?

“Have him come tomorrow.” Qin Fanghe said.

Qin Shan was definitely going with him, but the village must not let its literary tradition die out. A spark needed to be kindled.

One teaches two, two teach four—gradually it would spread, and he would no longer be supporting it alone.

If Qin Song truly had the fate for it and one day earned scholarly honors, it would be good for him, for Qin Fanghe, and for the entire Baiyun Village.

Early the next morning, Qin Song and his mother arrived as promised.

The two had clearly dressed up specially, wearing the neat clothes they only dared to put on for New Year’s. The mother carried a bundle, showing some nervousness and barely concealed excitement.

Qin Shan acted like a head steward, familiarly leading them in. Inside, Qin Fanghe had already prepared a small table and hot tea.

“Auntie, Eighth Brother—we’re all family. Sit, please.”

“No, no, no need. You sit, you sit.” Xinghua smiled broadly, unsure where to put her hands and feet.

Qin Song was rather taciturn by nature and rarely smiled, at this moment, he looked even more bewildered.

He wanted to study and knew this was his best chance right now, but… he just didn’t know how to express it.

Their discomfort made Qin Shan feel awkward too. Scratching his head with a grin, he tried to lighten the mood. “Hey, don’t be so formal! We’re all one family, seeing each other every day…”

Alas, it had little effect. Aunt Xinghua managed only a stiff, dry smile, while Qin Song looked like a corpse coming to life—his strained attempt to pull his cheeks outward resembled a twitch.

Qin Fanghe couldn’t help recalling a saying from his previous life: People who love to smile never have bad luck.

In his view, that statement was pure nonsense.

Because those with truly bad luck simply couldn’t smile. They were wooden from head to toe.

He got straight to the point: “I want to teach Eighth Brother to read as well. Are you willing?”

Hearing this, the worry Xinghua had carried all night finally settled. She nodded vigorously and hurriedly opened the bundle she had brought. “Willing, willing! As long as you don’t mind.”

Inside was a pair of cotton shoes with finely stitched seams.

This was all she had.

She had no money, couldn’t afford tuition for a tutor, and didn’t know how to judge which private school outside was good… There was no better path than the one before her now.

Qin Fanghe’s eyelashes trembled slightly. He reached out, took the shoes, bent down to hold them against his feet, and smiled sincerely. “Then I’ll shamelessly accept them. The shoes you make are the most comfortable.”

A flush of color rose on Xinghua’s sallow face, and her heart finally felt at ease.

As long as he accepts them, as long as he accepts them…

From then on, another person—Qin Song—joined the daily study sessions at Qin Fanghe’s home.

After a few days of interaction, Qin Fanghe grew even more satisfied with Qin Song, because the boy resembled his past-life self in some ways: ruthless with few words.

This ruthlessness was directed at himself.

Qin Song approached studying with the ravenous hunger of a starving ghost reborn, as if he wanted to grab the book and swallow it whole. He needed no urging from Qin Fanghe—he maxed out his diligence on his own.

In his spare time from studying, he even proactively took on tasks including but not limited to feeding the chickens and ducks, chopping firewood, tending the fire, sweeping the floor, and fetching water—a perfect picture of a tireless, all-purpose laborer.

At first, Qin Fanghe felt somewhat uneasy, because Qin Song was truly too thin—thinner than he himself had been back then, like a withered branch in the cold wind. Watching him shakily carry water, Qin Fanghe always felt like a cruel, heartless exploiter, his conscience troubled.

But after stopping him once, the very next day Aunt Xinghua came herself to do the chores.

Qin Fanghe: “…”

Fine, fine. Fortunately, there wasn’t much work at his house.

Pressure breeds motivation. Ever since Qin Song arrived, Qin Shan suddenly sensed an inexplicable crisis. He kept thinking that if he continued like this, would Brother He no longer need him?

And if he no longer needed him, would he still take him to the city?

No, I can’t lose!

Thus, inexplicably, Qin Fanghe found himself with two students—who were also his older brothers—competing fiercely to study hard and work desperately. Even Aunt Xinghua would come over at mealtimes to cook and wash clothes for them, refusing to listen to any dissuasion.

Qin Fanghe himself enjoyed unprecedented leisure. With nothing else to do besides studying, he began compiling an illustrated advanced study guide to leave for Qin Song to slowly work through after he went to the county school.

After hearing from their son about Qin Fanghe’s plans, Xiulan and her husband visited several times, expressing endless gratitude.

The county school was a place people like them wouldn’t even dare dream of. If their child could truly get even a taste of it, it would bring glory to their ancestors! Let alone one or two years—they would wait ten or eight if needed!

Qin Fanghe smiled. “As long as Uncle and Auntie don’t think I’m presumptuous. But for now, please don’t mention this to outsiders, lest people hear and say I’m getting ahead of myself before anything is settled—arrogant.”

“We understand, we understand!” The couple nodded like pecking chickens, feeling the arrangement was even more proper.

One had to prepare in advance! Hadn’t they seen how the servants of great families were trained for years?

As time passed, people’s true natures became evident:

Qin Shan had some cleverness, but he was impatient and couldn’t settle down to study steadily. He was bold yet meticulous in handling greetings and arrangements.

Qin Song, on the other hand, wasn’t particularly gifted—articles that Qin Fanghe could memorize after a few readings took Qin Song days of repeated recitation.

But he was diligent enough.

In truth, most people’s intelligence is roughly the same, and the heights one reaches in life rarely come down to raw talent alone.

In such cases, the one who is harder on himself wins.

In the blink of an eye, it was the twelfth lunar month, and the New Year approached. Storybooks sold even better, and with several volumes stacked up, the effect snowballed. Qin Fanghe’s royalties reached a historic high: two taels and one qian.

The savings now clutched in his hand were approaching thirty taels.

For ordinary people, this was already a height to look up to. But for a scholar, it was only enough for about three years of basic expenses.

The hardship of studying was evident.

After doing the final accounting before the New Year, Qin Fanghe felt satisfied yet also harbored some new plans.

On the twenty-fifth of the twelfth month, Qin Fanghe approached the village head—who was also the clan head—and asked him to buy two fat pigs to prepare a slaughtered pig feast for the entire village.

“Thanks to the care of the villagers, I’ve finally gotten back on my feet…”

The old village head’s slightly cloudy eyes showed gratification. “You’re just a child—having the heart is enough. Don’t spend money on this.”

The fact that he earned money writing storybooks hadn’t been publicized, but everyone could see his living standards had soared. They vaguely knew he had income because of his good scholarship, but no one knew the details—how much or exactly what he did—and no one asked.

After all, he was just a kid. Being able to support himself was already impressive—who would dare expect more?

Qin Fanghe smiled. “Don’t worry, Elder. I know my limits. And there will be more to earn in the future.”

He’s a stubborn one who hates to lose face, the old village head thought. Still uneasy, he asked repeatedly, “Are you really sure you’ll have enough left? Studying isn’t like anything else—it can’t be delayed.”

Only after repeated confirmation did the village head agree and announce it to the whole village.

The villagers had never expected any repayment for helping a child—what was there to say about that?

But when the one helped remembers his roots, it is always a good thing. For a time, everyone was filled with joy.