Great Nation, Small Freshness (Imperial Examination) - Chapter 9

9: Catching Rabbits

For the first time ever, Qin Shan, who was being forced to study, fled home before mealtime even began. When Aunt Xiulan saw him, she was utterly shocked. “Why are you running like something’s chasing you?”

Qin Shan grabbed the ladle and gulped down several mouthfuls of cold water. His whole body shivered from the chill as he gasped, still shaken, “Brother He forced me to read—it scared me to death!”

Reading?

Aunt Xiulan froze for a moment, then looked up and locked eyes with her husband who had just walked in: Could there really be such a good thing?

So Qin Shan’s father immediately grabbed his son by the back of the collar and dragged him straight back.

“Boy He, you just teach him however you want. If he does anything wrong, feel free to beat him!”

Qin Shan: “?!”

Qin Fanghe: “…”

With this size difference, I couldn’t beat him even if I wanted to.

Aunt Xiulan, who had followed right behind, slapped her husband’s arm. “What kind of talk is that? Boy He is a scholar—how could he casually raise a hand?”

Then she turned to Qin Fanghe and said, “Don’t listen to your uncle’s nonsense. If Little Shan does anything wrong, just tell us—we’ll deal with him.”

Qin Fanghe smiled warmly and said, “Alright.”

Those words were all too familiar. When he was a child going to school, every parent in the village had said the same thing to the teacher, as if any child who didn’t get beaten felt like they’d missed out.

Qin Shan had never liked studying. Hearing this, he immediately stomped his foot and yelled, “I’m not doing it!”

His father glared. Qin Shan glared right back. One big and one small, they looked like two stubborn donkeys facing off.

Seeing things were getting out of hand and it was no longer amusing, Qin Fanghe spoke up, “Uncle, Auntie, you can’t force a melon to be sweet. Don’t push him—this is my fault to begin with.”

Then he looked at Qin Shan, whose face and neck were flushed red with anger, and said, “If you really don’t want to, then forget it. Pretend it never happened.”

Baiyun Village wasn’t wealthy, but Qin Shan was lucky—he had grown up surrounded by love and had never truly suffered. Naturally, he never thought much about the future.

But Qin Fanghe was different. He knew all too well what effort in childhood could bring.

The Qin Shan family had treated him well, so he wanted to repay them however he could. The most practical way right now was to teach Qin Shan to read and write. He just hadn’t expected such strong resistance.

After a pause, he continued, “I was thinking of teaching you a few books so that one day you could have a good livelihood. You don’t like being tied down, and you love storybooks. If you don’t want to end up like Big Brother working as a steward for someone else, you could write a couple of chapbooks yourself in the future—one year you could earn several taels of silver. Isn’t that better than just burying your head in the fields forever?”

The fact that Qin Fanghe had just earned seven taels of silver from writing chapbooks was still fresh in everyone’s mind. Qin Shan wasn’t unmoved. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but no sound came out.

Qin Fanghe glanced at him twice, then looked at Aunt Xiulan and her husband and sighed, “Besides, sooner or later we’ll all have to deal with the town. Not a single person in the village can read or write—that just won’t do…”

At the latest, in two years he would definitely be going to the county academy. Once he left, he would rarely return to Baiyun Village. By then, if everyone in the entire village was still illiterate, just thinking about it was terrifying.

It was a kind of lifeless despair where you could see the end of the road from the very beginning, with no future at all.

Hearing this, Aunt Xiulan and her husband immediately remembered a lawsuit from a neighbouring village and couldn’t help sighing.

About two years ago, the brother-in-law of Lin Laosan from the next village had come to borrow money, saying someone in his family was gravely ill and urgently needed silver. He had even proactively brought a promissory note.

Since they were relatives, Lin Laosan struggled to recognize that the note did indeed have both their names and the word “borrow.” Without a second thought, he scraped together one tael of silver.

Who would have thought that a few months later, the brother-in-law would come demanding money, claiming the note clearly stated that Lin Laosan had mortgaged his house for a loan, and if he couldn’t repay it, the house would be seized as collateral.

Lin Laosan had been kind and ended up cheated. Of course he refused to acknowledge it, and the two parties immediately took it to court, causing a huge uproar…

Qin Shan had only been throwing a tantrum earlier. Now that he saw how sincere Qin Fanghe was, he felt embarrassed instead. But teenage boys care most about face—if he had to admit he was wrong right then and there, he really couldn’t bring himself to do it. So he just hung his head, twisted the corner of his clothes, and scuffed the ground with the tip of his shoe, grunting awkwardly.

No one knows a son better than his mother. Aunt Xiulan knew this little rascal responded to softness but not hardness—she wouldn’t push him too hard. She first took her husband and son back home so they wouldn’t keep making a spectacle of themselves.

Once home, father and son sat glaring at each other. Aunt Xiulan found it exasperating. After glaring at them a few times, she personally steamed a bowl of tender egg custard, generously dripped in a drop of the sesame oil they only used at New Year’s, wrapped it up carefully, and took it to Qin Fanghe.

Qin Fanghe thanked her and tried to persuade her, “Auntie, this can’t be rushed. He has to want it himself.”

Aunt Xiulan sighed, “If he were even half as sensible as you, your uncle and I would thank the heavens.”

At lunch, Qin Shan was still sulking and refused to come when called twice.

His father was furious. “I’ve spoiled you rotten, you ungrateful thing! If you’re not eating, then don’t eat!”

Qin Shan immediately shot back, “Fine, I won’t eat!”

His father was so angry he nearly fell backward, trembling and pointing speechlessly. He took off a shoe to whip him.

Just as the two were about to fight, Aunt Xiulan’s temple veins throbbed. She lost all patience and delivered several hard slaps to both their backs, loud as drumbeats.

“Bullshit!” She grabbed the fire poker, face dark with rage, waving it at them and roaring, “I want to eat in peace! If either of you dares make another scene, I’ll beat the shit out of you!”

Damn it, what bad luck to be stuck with this father-son pair!

If I don’t show you who’s boss, you’ll forget, huh?

Qin Shan’s father: “…”

Qin Shan: “…”

Sure enough, no more urging was needed. Qin Shan quickly sat down. His father put his shoe back on. Just as he reached out, Aunt Xiulan’s glare shot over—he hurriedly washed his hands before picking up his chopsticks and slurping his porridge.

The more Aunt Xiulan thought about it while drinking half a bowl of porridge, the angrier she got. Her chest felt tight. She pounded it twice to no avail, then simply slapped the brat across the face again.

“Your dad wasn’t wrong—you really are an ungrateful blockhead! You’ve been to town so many times and you’re still this short-sighted! So many people want to study but can’t. It’s only because boy He cares about you that he’s offering this chance! Why wouldn’t he force someone else instead? Do you have any idea how much it costs to formally apprentice under a teacher each year, trudging through ice and snow back and forth? And you’re not even jealous of how well your older brother is doing now?”

In the past, because Baiyun Village had Father Qin the scholar, everyone within ten miles respected and envied them, and the whole village benefited. Now, although he was gone, another even more promising one had appeared. How could people not be delighted?

If Aunt Xiulan had her say, a person like this was the God of Literature descended to earth. Normally they wouldn’t even dare ask him to teach their children to read. The fact that he was willing to pull their idiot son along—of all people—and yet the boy was pushing it away!

It made her want to kick him several times even in the middle of the night.

Qin Shan stuffed a few mouthfuls of cabbage leaves into his mouth. His ears burned, but he still talked tough, mumbling unclearly, “I think farming is pretty good.”

“Nonsense!” His father pointed at him and cursed, spitting all over, “Acting all tough now, huh? Didn’t you cry when we were harvesting wheat in the summer?”

Every year, wheat harvest was the hottest, most torturous time of the year—nothing was worse.

The sun blazed like fire, scorching the skin until it hurt. In no time you were drenched in oily sweat. Wheat awns looked soft but were sharp as blades, slicing countless tiny cuts into the skin. Soaked in sweat, the cuts turned red, swollen, painful, and unbearably itchy—you couldn’t scratch, but not scratching was worse.

Bent over cutting wheat under that sun all day, by evening your back felt broken and every part of you ached. At night the pain kept you awake.

Even after painfully harvesting the wheat, there was no rest—you had to thresh it, dry it, and watch it constantly, terrified that wild animals would ruin it or a sudden rain would cause it to sprout and rot…

And that was only if Heaven was kind. The most feared thing was a gust of wind, a downpour, or hailstones—watching the nearly ripe grain rot in the field right before your eyes.

Relying on the sky for food was truly the cruelest thing in the world.

One sentence turned Qin Shan’s face crimson with shame and fury. He didn’t dare make a peep.

Seeing Qin Shan wavering, Aunt Xiulan put a chopstick-full of tender cabbage leaves into his bowl, sighed, and said, “Your dad and I are done for in this life. We don’t hope for anything else—just that one day you and your brother can become city people and never have to suffer like we did. Then we could die with our eyes closed.”

Those heartfelt words brought tears streaming down Qin Shan’s face. Sniffling, he said, “You’re not going to die.”

His father glanced at him and said gruffly, “Everyone dies someday. Otherwise we’d be old goblins.”

After quickly finishing eating. Aunt Xiulan got up, scooped out wood ashes to scrub the bowls, and said while washing, “Boy He is clearly going to have great achievements in the future. Right now he’s close to you, so he thought of you first. Once he really makes it and becomes distant, it’ll be too late for regrets!”

Qin Shan panicked and shouted with wide eyes, “Brother He would never become distant from me!”

There were other kids around their age in the village, but none of them got along with Qin Fanghe—only the two of them were truly close.

His father just sneered coldly, “That’s not up to you. Haven’t you seen those big shots in town, always surrounded by a crowd—sedan bearers, errand runners? When he makes it big, everyone around him will be literate and cleverer than you. Even if he wants to promote you, would you measure up?”

Qin Shan unconsciously followed his father’s words and imagined it. He suddenly felt terrified, like a fish thrown onto the bank, mouth opening and closing without a sound.

For the rest of the day, no one mentioned studying again. Everything was peaceful as they went to bed.

Today was the seventeenth of the eleventh month. The moon was still nearly full, moonlight poured through the paper windows, slanting across the room like spilled broken silver on the floor.

Qin Shan tossed and turned, unable to sleep. He lay stiffly, only one sentence echoing in his mind that Qin Fanghe had said during the day: “Seventh Brother, have you ever thought about the future?”

“Have you ever thought about the future?”

“Have you ever thought about the future?”

The sentence repeated over and over in his head like a summer rainstorm gushing through a ditch—turbulent waves crashing, rumbling loudly. It startled him into sitting bolt upright.

The future?

What future?

To him, everything seemed far too distant.

Until yesterday, he had still been a carefree boy who only knew how to roam the mountains and rivers, pick melons, and hunt birds—his mind filled only with simple joys. But today he had suddenly been dragged by the ear to a strange crossroads.

Everyone insisted he choose a path, and he felt lost, nervous, scared, and helpless.

Actually, for a while now he had felt that Brother He had changed a lot—he seemed to have suddenly become an adult, a little unfamiliar. But his parents said that was because there was no one left in the family, so the child had to grow up and hold the household together.

Qin Shan felt sorry for that little brother and thought he wasn’t like other kids who just fooled around, so he always liked bringing him along to play.

But today…

For the first time, Qin Shan felt something called shame. The feeling was foreign and frightening—he worried that the other boy really would become distant from him, just like his parents said.

Winter nights were cold. After leaving the warm kang for a while, his body quickly froze. Qin Shan hurriedly lay back down and wrapped the quilt tightly around himself.

Sigh!

Rare worries filled Qin Shan’s heart. He turned over irritably.

But asking him to study was really too difficult.

The family was so poor—how could they afford to support a scholar? Brother He was right, studying costs money! And he didn’t have the talent to write chapbooks and earn money like Brother He…

Two days passed in a muddled haze, and Qin Fanghe really hadn’t come looking for him. Qin Shan started to panic.

Was Brother He angry?

Was he really going to become distant from me?

The next morning, the moment Aunt Xiulan opened her eyes, she saw her youngest son—who had still been stubborn yesterday—already up, fumbling to put on his clothes.

“What are you doing up so early?”

Qin Shan didn’t turn around, but the tips of his ears sticking out looked a little red.

He mumbled vaguely, “Going to… to catch…”

He didn’t finish, scratched his head, pulled on his hat, and bolted out the door.

On the kang, husband and wife looked at each other and couldn’t help laughing.

Aunt Xiulan shuffled to the window and shouted outside, “Take the red cloth strip! Don’t go too far—if you can’t catch anything, come back early. Boy He isn’t short on rabbit meat!”

Outside, Qin Shan stumbled, nearly dropping the slingshot in his pocket.

He was mortified, and at the same time utterly baffled—

I didn’t say a word—how did they know I was going up the mountain to hunt rabbits?!