Great Nation, Small Freshness (Imperial Examination) - Chapter 5

5: Charcoal-Roasted Taro

Bai Family Bookshop.

Mr. Sun lowered his head to look at the manuscript in his hand, then raised it again to look at the youth in front of him. His face twisted into a strange expression.

They really were poor in the most open, brazen way!

He had never seen anyone submit a manuscript written on straw paper!

They, they hadn’t even been willing to spend money on brush and ink, they had directly used sharpened charcoal sticks to write on it. Just now, when he had accidentally touched the characters, his fingertip had turned black!

It was impressive that the pressure had been so perfectly controlled that the straw paper hadn’t torn.

The person responsible, Qin Fanghe, remained perfectly composed. The left side of his face read “poor,” the right side read “broke.” If he could, he wouldn’t even mind hanging a banner across his forehead that read, in big letters, “NO MONEY.”

Qin Shan, on the other hand, thought it was perfectly fine.

In truth, he was completely engrossed in the storybook’s content, his vacant eyes shining with pure, unadulterated stupidity.

Brother He is amazing! Damn it, the storybook he wrote is so good—it’s even more interesting than the tales the storytellers told when I was little!

The half-grown boy wasn’t particularly interested in melodramatic romance yet. The idea of wandering the martial world held far greater appeal for him.

The very day Qin Fanghe had read aloud The Demon-Subduing Martial World, Qin Shan had made up his mind: when he grew up, he would become a knight-errant and slay demons!

But what if I turn out to be a demon myself? Oh no! This is troubling!

This intense inner conflict had kept the twelve-year-old boy tossing and turning for two whole nights. For the first time, he worried about a nonexistent future threat. He rolled around on the kang like a pancake, and at one point even ran out into the yard practicing punches and kicks in the middle of the night, annoying Aunt Xiulan so much that she grabbed a fire poker and whacked him on the backside.

“Mom, be honest—isn’t it true that you picked me up, and I’m actually the child of a demon?” he asked while covering his butt and running away, his tone brimming with unmistakable anticipation.

Aunt Xiulan: “…”

She sneered, rolled up her sleeves, and beat him even harder. “Yes! I never should have fished you out of the latrine pit in the first place!”

“And then what? What happens next?”

Even after being chased out of the house, Qin Shan didn’t mind. He was desperate to know what happened next, but Qin Fanghe said he hadn’t decided yet.

Qin Shan was a little disappointed, but mostly filled with anticipation.

Suddenly, he felt his life had gained a splash of color. Everything that had once been familiar and dull was now filled with unknown excitement. It was as if the moment he opened his eyes, something bright and colorful was waving at him from afar, urging him to run forward, keep running.

And now, that anticipation and thrilling uncertainty had successfully transferred onto Mr. Sun.

The charcoal-written characters were a bit small, so he had to sit by the door, facing the light, squinting as he painstakingly deciphered the text.

The beginning—hmph, a talented scholar and a beautiful maiden. Nothing unusual.

Hmm? The two were actually long lost siblings separated since childhood?!

Hiss! Mr. Sun’s eyes suddenly bulged.

Oh, how thrilling!

Qin Fanghe raised an eyebrow. Oh ho.

Ancient storybooks were indeed thrilling, but their thrill mostly lay in the sexual realm—bluntly put, they threw ethics and morals out the window, relying on crude, unadorned, and blatantly sensual descriptions to hook readers.

But melodrama was different. It was a deeper, more spiritual seduction and temptation. It stayed within the bounds of morality yet repeatedly probed the edges, making one itch unbearably and unable to stop.

Mr. Sun couldn’t help but grow anxious.

They were real siblings—how would it continue? There were certainly similar storybooks on the market, cough cough, but having read this far, he already vaguely felt that this Mr. Xiao Changsheng was no ordinary person and probably wouldn’t write it that way.

Mr. Sun habitually reached for his big teapot, took a gulp, then moistened his forefinger on his lips and carefully turned to the next page, craning his neck to read while squinting.

Oh—so the brother was adopted!

That made sense! A childhood sweetheart husband! He got it!

Mr. Sun smacked his lips knowingly, looking very pleased with himself.

But if that was all, it could hardly be considered first-rate. Come on, let’s see what comes next…

What? The beauty is spitting blood?!

Just when the plot had taken a turn for the better, the beauty fell ill. It truly tugged at the hearts of men who fancied themselves cultured. Mr. Sun nearly shot out of his large round armchair and frantically flipped to the next page.

Hmm?

Hmm??

And… that’s it?!

He stared in disbelief, eyes wide, then abruptly looked up and fixed his gaze on Qin Fanghe.

Qin Fanghe smiled and nodded. “The elder at home hasn’t finished writing it.”

Mr. Sun: “…”

Are you kidding me?

He stared at Qin Fanghe for a while but didn’t really suspect the boy had ghostwritten it.

First, the handwriting in the two manuscripts was completely different, with entirely distinct styles—definitely not the work of one person.

Second, although these two books seemed light and casual, they contained quite a bit of wisdom and broad knowledge that only someone with life experience could produce.

Two such talented gentlemen had somehow remained unknown until now, truly buried gems.

After a brief silence, Mr. Sun suddenly let out a silly laugh, slapped his forehead, and for the first time his short, chubby face showed genuine amiability. “As expected, I’m getting old. I can’t remember so many things anymore…”

With that, he turned and headed toward the back.

Qin Shan leaned close to Qin Fanghe’s ear and whispered, “Liar. My dad looks a whole generation older than him, and he still remembers every time I wet the bed.”

Qin Fanghe held back a laugh. “A merchant’s mouth is full of lies, just listen and let it go.”

That was amusing, Qin Shan chuckled along.

While they joked, Mr. Sun returned carrying a large bundle. He opened it in front of Qin Fanghe: brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones.

Two reams of jade-tablet paper, one rabbit-hair brush, one long ink stick—two identical sets.

“Since you’re working for our shop, there’s no reason for you to pay out of pocket. These are for the two gentlemen. I forgot last time, I’m making it up today. Please take them back, little brother.”

Mr. Sun lied without batting an eye.

Next time, please use proper paper and write properly. That straw paper is thin and rough and bleeds terribly—it nearly made my eyes go blind!

Qin Shan was secretly shocked and mentally calculated: one ream of jade-tablet paper cost sixty wen, that brush probably cost several dozen wen, plus the ink… good heavens.

They were just giving it away? For free?

Heavens above, reading really does make money!

What was it called again? Oh, his big brother once said… something like… oh, “within books there are golden houses”!

Qin Fanghe had expected this and accepted without refusal.

To earn others’ respect, one must first demonstrate one’s own value.

No eagle releases the rabbit before seeing it—if he were in Sun’s shoes, he’d do the same. He didn’t find Sun’s complete change of attitude strange at all.

That wasn’t all. Mr. Sun even brought out a third set, though only one ream of paper this time, and smilingly pushed it toward Qin Fanghe. “Young brother comes from a proper scholarly family, I’m sure you’ll find it useful too. I hope in the future you’ll surpass your teachers.”

This was an unexpected bonus.

The two sides exchanged some meaningless pleasantries, and at one point Mr. Sun said that if there was ever anything they needed help with, they shouldn’t hesitate to ask.

Since you put it that way, I won’t be polite!

Qin Fanghe smiled. “Actually, there is something.”

Mr. Sun: “…”

I was just being polite!

You people really don’t stand on ceremony.

Qin Fanghe genuinely had something to ask.

He already understood the general content of the county examination, but he knew almost nothing about the specific procedures and how to proceed.

When his father was alive, Qin Fanghe had still been young and only receiving basic enlightenment. His father probably never imagined his son would take the exam so soon, so he had passed away before teaching him about registration.

With Baiyun Village’s most outstanding scholar gone, Qin Fanghe had suddenly become a headless fly.

This was the biggest reason he had wanted to establish a connection with the bookshop right away.

When he heard what it was about, Mr. Sun immediately relaxed. He had guessed the two elders who wrote storybooks still wanted to pursue the civil examinations.

Reading couldn’t put food on the table, it was normal for poor scholars to make a living while preparing for the exams. He was happy to build goodwill and immediately explained in detail.

Before the civil examinations, one had to register. If you had a teacher, the teacher would naturally handle it. For independent candidates like Qin Fanghe, you had to take your household registration document to the county yamen’s Bureau of Rites and apply in person.

The Bureau of Rites would first check the applicant’s household registration: non-locals couldn’t take the exam, those with unclean family backgrounds for three generations couldn’t take it, and those of lowly status couldn’t take it. Only after passing this preliminary review would the Bureau issue a “guarantor mutual pledge and personal statement form” noting the applicant’s age and appearance. That counted as half the process complete.

Outside, the sky was overcast, as if snow were coming. The wind blowing in grew increasingly biting, like sharp little knives stabbing into the skin.

Mr. Sun rubbed his aching knees, beckoned the two boys, and led the way into the inner room. He dragged out two small stools from the corner and gestured for them to sit.

The two youths exchanged a glance, both a little delighted, and indeed sat down.

The inner room blocked the wind and had a small clay brazier. A few pieces of glowing red charcoal burned quietly inside. Once close, their bodies soon warmed up.

Having read a good storybook and knowing he could report success to the boss, Mr. Sun was in a good mood.

He reached for the long iron tongs hanging on the wall, poked the fire a few times, and actually fished out several ash-covered, round taros from the embers.

“Help yourselves.” Mr. Sun lifted his chin at Qin Fanghe and Qin Shan.

You’re surprisingly nice!

Qin Shan was a bit overwhelmed by the favor. He glanced at Qin Fanghe, saw him nod, and happily bent down to grab a taro.

It was still very hot. He blew on it furiously for a while, and only when the heat subsided did he grimace, peel it, and first offer it to Mr. Sun like a good guest, then peeled another for Qin Fanghe.

Mr. Sun nodded inwardly.

Hm, this kid looks simple-minded, but he knows proper etiquette.

Slow-roasted over low heat, the taro had lost what little moisture it had, becoming even softer, glutinous, fragrant, and sweet. The moment the skin was peeled, the rich, earthy aroma unique to root vegetables burst out from the cracks, revealing translucent, snow-white flesh. Steam rose in clouds, sticky and deliciously fragrant.

The warm, dry air quickly filled with a faint sweet scent that made one feel utterly content.

After finishing one taro, their stomachs relaxed. Outside the door, white crystals quietly began to fall. Looking closely, one could even make out the delicate eight-pointed patterns on the snowflakes.

The snow that had been holding back for days had finally arrived.

“…The most important thing is still finding guarantors,” Mr. Sun said. Eating taro plain was a bit dry, so he thought for a moment, placed a few bright yellow oranges on the stove to roast, took another big gulp of tea, and continued, “First choice is to find a senior with an official examination degree as guarantor. Second best is to have five examinees mutually guarantee one another.”

Qin Shan, mouth full of fragrant taro, was listening raptly and subconsciously asked, “What if you don’t know anyone?”

In their Baiyun Village, Brother He was currently the only one studying—where would they find that many people!

Mr. Sun laughed. “That’s easy too. Just wait for the yamen to match you up, though it costs an extra fee, and in the end it’s not as reliable as finding your own people whom you know well.”

The local government naturally hoped for as many talents as possible, so every year they would pair up lone candidates.

However, the yamen only cared about filling the numbers, they didn’t screen for character. If you were unlucky enough to be paired with someone desperate enough to cheat, all five mutually guaranteed candidates would be punished together—an innocent disaster.

Qin Fanghe thanked him and fell into thought.

Where should I find guarantors?

Leaving it entirely to luck and the yamen felt unreliable.

But doing it himself—he truly had no connections.

When his father was seriously ill, the friends who were fellow scholars had stopped visiting years ago. If he went to ask for help now, it would inevitably be awkward.

Favors were a two-way street. Even if the other party agreed, they would likely do it perfunctorily, probably no better than the yamen’s random pairing—and he would still owe a favor.

At this point, the importance of entering a proper academy became clear again.

Classmates spent every day together, knew each other’s backgrounds and character well. Rounding up the numbers would be instantaneous.

But as far as he knew, the two academies in town had very questionable teaching standards. The teachers were merely xiucai who had taught for years without producing any notable results. To speak arrogantly, their knowledge and insight might not even surpass his own.

Heaven, earth, sovereign, kin, teacher—these were not just empty words. In this era, taking a teacher was like gaining half a father, from then on, life, death, honor, and disgrace were tied together.

If the teacher was a knowledgeable gentleman of integrity, fine. If not…

Of course, there were hidden talents living in seclusion in the countryside for various reasons, but the probability was no higher than winning the lottery. Qin Fanghe didn’t want to gamble.

If a candidate could now get into a junior college, but by gritting their teeth and repeating one more year could get into a 211 or 985 university, what would they choose?

In just a moment, Qin Fanghe made his decision:

He would aim straight for the top-tier academy he could reach at this stage—the county academy.

The snow was falling harder. What had started as scattered flakes now joined into flocks, looking into the distance, everything was a chaotic white, almost overwhelming in its grandeur.

Qin Shan glanced outside, lamenting that the journey home would be even worse, yet unable to help feeling happy. “Auspicious snow promises a good harvest—what a big snow!”

Next year’s crops would surely have a bountiful yield!

On the surface, Qin Fanghe’s expression remained calm as a mountain, but the thoughts in his mind fluttered like the snow outside, rising and falling.

The direction for entering an academy was set. As for the guarantors… Qin Fanghe subtly glanced at Mr. Sun, who was engrossed in turning the oranges, then quickly looked away.

Hm, that could serve as a fallback option.

But he still had time. It was too early to think about this now, he could postpone it. He would deal with it after resolving the financial crisis.

When heated, the orange peels gradually shriveled and contracted. Occasionally, a drop of juice fell onto the stove lid with a sizzle.

A faint sweet-and-sour scent spread through the little corner of the bookshop, like a knife cutting through the stifling air—sharp, piercing, and invigorating.

“Then, sir, what is the examination hall itself like?” Qin Fanghe smoothly moved to the next topic.

Mr. Sun, having nothing better to do and with someone asking, began showing off with relish.

“There’s plenty to say! There are five full fields of exams, lasting over half a month in total… As for the examination hall, naturally the county magistrate supervises, but since the court values talent, they might send down an imperial examiner… ”

However, the county examination wasn’t taken very seriously, it was still mainly overseen by the local county magistrate. He set the questions and graded the papers. The imperial examiner sent by the court was only responsible for proctoring to ensure fairness.

Qin Fanghe nodded thoughtfully.

Fill-in-the-blank questions had standard answers—nothing to discuss. But the later sections on annotations, explanations, and poetry composition were judged entirely according to the examiner’s personal preferences—extremely subjective, with a lot of room for manipulation.

In short, at the county examination stage, one only needed to grasp the county magistrate’s personal tastes.

So, next, he needed to thoroughly research the local parent-official.

How old was he? Where was his native place? What was his character like? What were his likes and dislikes? In scholarship, which school of thought did he follow?

As thoughts raced through his mind, Qin Fanghe slowly blinked and let his gaze sweep across the County Gazetteer on a nearby shelf.

It seemed that once he had money, he would definitely need to make a trip to the county seat.