Great Nation, Small Freshness (Imperial Examination) - Chapter 2

2: Pork and Cabbage Buns

Aunt Xiulan forcibly sold two prime, robust hens at a price that was an absolute loss, throwing in half a sack of bran as feed.

Qin Fanghe, with the soul of an adult, felt a pang of shame. His heart raced, and his face flushed hot, but he still accepted the offer.

Only those who’ve been ground down by society would understand that sometimes, the so-called “pride” isn’t as important as it seems.

Bowing one’s head temporarily is fine, as long as you can repay the debt later.

The hens were plump, strong, and vigorous.

When Qin Fanghe reached out, one of them flapped its wings right in his face, giving him a mocking side-eye with its beady little eyes.

Qin Fanghe, covered in chicken feathers: “…”

Truly, he was now powerless to even restrain a chicken.

Besides buying the hens, Qin Fanghe also wanted to visit the town.

Ever since his father fell gravely ill, the village head had vouched for them, leasing their family’s fields to other villagers. Grateful for his father’s past kindness and pitying young Qin Fanghe, the villagers always paid extra rent. But even so, it was a drop in the bucket.

The total came to just over one tael of silver—barely enough to last until the next exam, let alone the two taels needed for the examination guarantee fee.

He needed to find a source of income.

Baiyun Village was tiny, with no shops or stalls. Only during festivals would peddlers occasionally pass through. But dozens of miles away, the town held a grand market every fifth and tenth day, drawing people from surrounding villages. It was said to be bustling.

Most importantly, the town had the only bookstore within a hundred miles.

Qin Fanghe’s father, a scholar who never advanced beyond the xiucai rank, left behind mostly elementary texts like Three Character Classic, Hundred Family Surnames, and Thousand Character Classic, with little beyond the Four Books and Five Classics of Confucian teachings.

Qin Fanghe urgently needed the bookstore’s shelves to understand the current state of affairs and glimpse a corner of this unfamiliar world.

“My family’s saved up some eggs and firewood, and the tenth is market day. Perfect timing to sell them.” Qin Shan said, thumping his chest confidently. “We’ll take our ox cart, leave at the fourth or fifth watch, and be back the same day.”

Surrounded by mountains, Baiyun Village had rough, winding paths. Leaving late meant spending the night on the road.

On the early morning of the eleventh day of the tenth month, with stars still dotting the sky and even the dogs still asleep, a bleary-eyed Qin Fanghe stepped out in an old cotton jacket. The icy air hit him like a slap, making him shiver violently.

So cold!

Moving livestock meant extra feed costs, and a single household’s goods were too small to fetch a good price. So, three or four households teamed up, taking turns using the cart to haul their accumulated firewood, eggs, and, if lucky, wild pheasants or rabbits to sell, splitting the profits later.

The cart was piled high with dozens of bundles of firewood, several baskets of eggs cushioned with straw, and a large jar of freshly milked goat’s milk. Qin Fanghe huddled inside, clutching a basket, watching the inky night stretch endlessly around him.

It was surprisingly warm.

Once Qin Fanghe was settled, Qin Shan nimbly hopped aboard, and the cart jolted slightly.

“It’s winter now, and city folk love hosting banquets. I heard some use dozens of eggs in a single day, so extravagant! Normally, eggs are one wen each, or three or four for two wen when they’re cheap. Now they’re three wen for two—pricey! And by year’s end, you can’t even get them for two wen apiece!”

More money to be made!

His mother had promised to make meat and egg dumplings for the New Year!

A boy’s joy is simple. As he spoke, Qin Shan’s face flushed with excitement, his eyes sparkling.

Qin Fanghe listened with a smile, his gaze drifting over the eggs: three wen for two. Even if they sold all of them, after ten days or half a month of hard work, each household would only make twenty or thirty wen on average…

The hardship of the common people was plain to see.

The night was thick, but the moonlight was decent, reflecting off the frost underfoot, shimmering like scattered diamonds.

Unlike modern society’s ubiquitous asphalt and concrete roads, in ancient times, only official highways could be called “flat” or “wide.” The rest were literally paths worn into existence by countless footsteps, their comfort level predictable.

Creak… creak…

The cart’s wheels rolled over the frozen ground, occasionally slipping, jostling worse than a rollercoaster.

It was Qin Fanghe’s first time in such a cart, and he was unprepared. His head kept banging against the cart’s walls, thumping loudly. Dizzy and disoriented, he earned several large bumps.

Qin Shan focused intently on driving, terrified of breaking the villagers’ eggs. His lips were pressed tight, too preoccupied to talk.

After all, he was only a twelve-year-old boy.

After about an hour, the darkness began to fade, and the scenery along the road gradually revealed itself.

The grass and trees were withered, with only the cold wind sweeping through bare branches, stirring up dry, yellowed grass. The desolate scene had its own stark beauty.

The landscape remained so, and gradually, Qin Fanghe adapted to the cart’s swaying rhythm. Drowsiness crept in, and he dozed off several times. When he opened his eyes again, the sun was high, and the town’s weathered, mottled walls came into view.

The plaque bearing the words “Qingshan Town” was faded, and due to the wall’s disrepair, the top half of the character for “qing” was missing. First-time visitors might easily mistake it for “Yueshan Town.”

Having arrived safely, Qin Shan let out a relieved breath. Turning to Qin Fanghe, his face lit up with a cheerful grin. “Let’s sell our stuff first, then find my brother to store the cart. It’ll be noon soon, so we can eat with him.”

His older brother, Qin Hai, had been named years ago when he studied under Qin Fanghe’s father. Literate and now a minor clerk at a grain shop, Qin Hai had room and board provided, plus five hundred wen a month, a source of envy for the whole village.

Truth be told, no one in the village had ever seen the sea, not even Qin Fanghe’s father. But he had read about it, knowing it as something vast and distant, and yearned for it.

“The sea is so vast, its grandeur impossible to describe without seeing it. It can bear the weight of ten thousand tons and embrace the farthest reaches of heaven and earth…”

From books, he glimpsed a fragment of the universe’s vastness, but he never saw or measured it himself, a lifelong regret.

The market, held every five days, was already lively, and with the New Year approaching, the influx of travelers made the usually unremarkable town feel almost bustling.

In the cold, food stalls set up large pots, simmering various broths, steaming baskets of buns and flatbreads, and serving bowls of noodle soup and sliced meat, all mouthwatering.

Ingredients were transformed into delicacies right before everyone’s eyes. Billowing steam carried tantalizing aromas, weaving through the air like milky dragons, swirling upward and dissipating.

The soup base was made from pork bones, rich and fragrant, with marrow sliding out of cracked bones, creamy and smooth. Chunks of offal and fatty pig’s head bubbled in the broth. Bold customers would sit down and call out, “One bowl of hot noodle soup, a plate of pig’s head to go with my wine, make it fatty!”

A steaming bowl of noodle soup warmed the body, beads of sweat forming on the forehead, slurped down with gusto.

Afterward, they’d lick their lips, sip the last drops of cloudy wine, and exhale a meaty, satisfied breath. “That hits the spot!”

The sound of footsteps, the clatter of hooves, and the vendors’ calls mingled with the hot and cold aromas, flooding Qin Fanghe’s senses. In that moment, it was as if invisible threads bound him to this town, pulsing together, their lifeblood intertwined.

Qin Fanghe finally felt it: I’m truly alive in a completely foreign world.

Incredible.

But not bad.

They sold the eggs first: three wen for two. With ninety-three eggs, and since they were regular customers with fresh, intact eggs, the shopkeeper threw in an extra half wen, totaling one hundred forty wen.

The half-cart of firewood and jar of goat’s milk were sold there too. Firewood was cheap—a large bundle fetched only two wen—but goat’s milk, nourishing and rare, brought five wen.

Qin Shan wasn’t good with numbers, so Qin Fanghe helped, calculating faster than the clerks with their abacuses, earning a sidelong glance from the shopkeeper.

“Sharp kid. Why not work at my shop? Room, board, and pay included. You might even become a respectable clerk someday.”

Qin Fanghe smiled without responding. Qin Shan, however, bristled. “My brother’s a proper scholar! He’s going to be an official someday!”

The crowd froze, then burst into laughter.

“Hahaha, ambitious kid! An official, haha, an official!”

“Pardon us, my lord!”

“Quite something, quite something…”

The laughter wasn’t necessarily malicious, but Qin Shan still felt embarrassed and wanted to argue. Qin Fanghe gently tugged him from behind, saying calmly, “Let’s go.”

He’d heard similar doubts before. No one believed a kid from a poor mountain village could get into a top university in the capital. No one believed someone without connections could pass the national exam and get close to the center of power…

But none of that mattered.

Arguing before the dust settles is the most pointless thing in the world.

Even after leaving the shop, Qin Shan was still fuming. “What nonsense! They’re looking down on us!” he turned to comfort Qin Fanghe, seeming more confident than Qin Fanghe himself. “Brother He, you’ve been smart since you were little. You’ll definitely succeed.”

Qin Fanghe’s heart warmed, and he nodded with a smile. “I will.”

The town was crowded, and maneuvering the ox cart was inconvenient, so they went to store it.

Qin Hai was already waiting at the grain shop’s entrance. “Second brother!”

Seeing a small, thin boy next to his brother, with strikingly large eyes and a fair, delicate face, he hesitated. “Brother He?”

Qin Shan slung an arm around Qin Fanghe’s shoulders, laughing. “Big brother, it’s been half a year. Don’t recognize him anymore?”

Qin Fanghe obediently called, “Big brother.”

Qin Hai ruffled both boys’ heads, then lifted them one by one to gauge their weight. “You’ve grown taller, better-looking… but thinner. Drop off the cart, and I’ll take you to eat meat buns!”

Not one for words, he expressed care through heaps of meat buns rather than verbal fussing.

“Eat up! If it’s not enough, we’ll get more!”

The meat buns, two wen each, were as big as a grown man’s fist, stuffed generously with pork and cabbage, bulging at the seams.

The meat and vegetables were chunky, and after steaming, the cabbage juices mingled with rich, oily fat, sloshing inside the bun’s skin. The smooth wheat dough, slightly yellowed, was fluffy and soft, with creases soaked in savory juices, glistening under the sunlight.

Fresh from the steamer, they were piping hot. One big bite released a burst of fragrant steam, forcing a “huff, huff” to cool it down.

If you were greedy, you’d let the heat linger in your mouth just a moment longer. That rustic, savory flavor would seep into your skin, spread through your pores, and flow through your organs, escaping through every orifice.

Rough, bold, and satisfying, village snacks were all about indulgence and comfort.

Growing boys could eat their parents out of house and home. Qin Shan devoured five buns, his belly round as a ball. Even Qin Fanghe managed three.

The grain shop provided meals, so Qin Hai didn’t eat. He asked a clerk to wrap the remaining buns in coarse paper for the boys to take home.

“There’s a street performance at the east end. Want to see it?”

Qin Shan was tempted but hesitated. “Big brother, we want to visit the bookstore.”

The bookstore? Qin Hai glanced at Qin Fanghe, his expression softening, and he grew chattier.

“Need the four treasures of the study? If it’s not urgent, I can mention it to the shopkeeper. We can buy them with the grain shop’s supplies—it’s cheaper than buying on your own.”

Such a deal?

Qin Fanghe’s heart stirred. “Would that be any trouble?”

Qin Hai grinned. “The shopkeeper’s a good man. It’s just a small favor, and we’re not asking for free.”

Besides, studying for the imperial exams was a respectable pursuit. The shopkeeper would likely be happy to build goodwill.

Hearing this, Qin Fanghe relaxed and thanked him earnestly.

As for the four treasures—ink, brush, paper, and inkstone—his father had left some, enough for now.

But the script was different from modern times, and this body’s arm and wrist strength were lacking. He’d need time to adjust.

In his past life, a leader he worked under loved posturing with traditional culture to seem refined, quoting classics in reports and “practicing” calligraphy appreciation. The man was clueless, but it forced Qin Fanghe, a Chinese literature major, to hone his brush calligraphy as a ghostwriter…

Looking back, it wasn’t entirely a bad thing.

The bookstore was far, and Qin Hai’s noon break was short. He dropped them at the entrance, handed over the buns, stuffed some money into their hands, and left.

Unlike the lively, noisy food stalls, the bookstore was quiet, almost deserted. Passersby instinctively lowered their voices, keeping a respectful distance, as if it belonged to a separate world.

Inside, there were no customers. A man in his thirties, bundled in a cotton coat, slouched in a large chair by the door, eyes half-closed, dozing or daydreaming.

Qin Shan suddenly felt uneasy, as if the clerk’s half-lidded eyes were judging him. This isn’t my place.

“Brother He, maybe…”

Before he could finish, Qin Fanghe opened his water pouch and carefully washed his hands, alternating them. He even pulled out an old cloth from his pocket to dry them thoroughly.

His movements were slow and deliberate, like a sacred ritual, or perhaps a performance for someone watching.

Qin Shan was baffled. What’s he doing?

Looking up, he saw the clerk, no longer feigning sleep, eyeing Qin Fanghe with a complex expression.

“Can you read?” The clerk’s gaze lingered on Qin Fanghe’s slightly reddened hands.

Truthfully, he wasn’t keen on entertaining them. Their clothes screamed poverty, not the type to afford books. What if they clumsily damaged something?

But this kid was clever, washing his hands right in front of him!

In this cold, with water freezing in jars at dawn, his hands were red from the chill. If the clerk made things difficult now, he’d look heartless.

Qin Fanghe rubbed his hands together, nodding. “My father was a xiucai. He taught me himself.”

Qin Shan felt a vague understanding but wasn’t sure. Still, he puffed out his chest proudly.

A xiucai!

The clerk, looking like a gatekeeper, let out an “oh,” toning down his indifference. He shifted aside, clearing a path. “Go in. Be careful not to damage anything.”

A bit of respect, but not much.

Qin Fanghe thanked him and turned to Qin Shan. “Seventh brother, coming?”

Qin Shan hadn’t imagined he’d ever step into a bookstore. He was stunned.

Glancing inside, his gaze passed the clerk’s shoulder, through the dust motes floating in the winter afternoon light, and into the shadowy depths of the bookshelves, like a pebble sinking into a still pond.

He shivered.

It’s huge!

In an unfamiliar place, with a clerk who didn’t seem friendly and Brother He looking so delicate—what if kidnappers took him?

No way. He had to go in to protect him!

So Qin Shan mimicked Qin Fanghe, scrubbing his hands and wiping them on his old cotton jacket, looking eagerly at the clerk.

The clerk chuckled, relenting. “Go on.”

Well, he had nothing better to do.

“Hey!” Qin Shan bounded inside, radiating uncontainable excitement.

A bookstore! A place even grown-ups hesitated to enter, but he dared!

Instinctively, he straightened his back, feeling a little extraordinary.

The noise and bustle faded the moment they stepped into the bookstore. Qin Fanghe took a deep breath, almost tasting the ink as it coursed through his veins, pooling in his chest and exploding like fireworks with his pounding heart.

He gazed greedily at the towering shelves, the rigid spines, trembling with excitement.

This is my domain.

Here lies my future.