Traveling Through Ancient Times to Be a Teacher - Chapter 31

On the fourth day of the twelfth month, the results were announced.

Zhang Wenhai had already sent a literate servant to wait by the county yamen gates at dawn so that as soon as the results were posted, the servant could rush back with the news—saving Chu Ci from having to squeeze through the crowd and come home drenched in sweat.

At chen hour (around 7–9 a.m.), the county gates opened. Two yamen runners, sabers hanging at their waists, carried out a large sheet of red paper and pasted it on the wall.

Written on it were the words: “Jiayou Year 42 – Winter Examination Results.”

The Zhang Wenhai family servant scanned down from the top—and there it was: Changxi Village, Chu Ci, ranked first!

He was overjoyed and immediately sprinted back toward the Zhang Wenhai residence. Reporting such news would surely earn him a handsome reward.

Meanwhile, the other scholars didn’t leave right away. The top three essays were always posted for public viewing.

“What a fine essay! The opening concise, the argument profound—who knew it could be written this way?” one man exclaimed. A crowd gathered before Chu Ci’s posted paper, all murmuring admiration.

Yet among them were a few scholars with darkened expressions—the county academy students, led by Qi Xu (style name Dayuan), the same man who had once played peacemaker.

“Brother Dayuan,” one of them said bitterly, “that fellow Chu actually took first place. He’s really made a name for himself now.”

“Yes, just look at how arrogant he was last time—making both He Jin and Zhu Jie lose face, and even out-talking you, Brother Dayuan. His tongue’s sharper than a blade. Lucky thing he didn’t pass the Juren exam, or we’d never hear the end of it.”

Zhang Wenhai Ze thought he was insulting Chu Ci on Qi Xu’s behalf, but Qi Xu’s eyes turned cold.

Xu Fang nudged Zhang Wenhai Ze with his elbow, warning him to look. 

When Zhang Wenhai Ze caught the expression on Qi Xu’s face, he flushed with embarrassment. “Brother Dayuan, I didn’t mean you’re worse than that Chu fellow—don’t take it that way.”

Qi Xu’s chill faded. His lips curved faintly. “It’s fine. My skill was inferior—no denying that. But that Brother Chu is a headstrong man, intolerant of the slightest fault. Once he returns to the academy next year, I doubt life there will be easy for any of us.”

The gathered students exchanged uneasy looks. After all, it’s said “in literature there’s no fixed first, in martial arts no fixed second”—but living under the shadow of a model student was misery.

That Chu fellow had merely passed as a Xiucai at fourteen—what was there to praise? It was luck, and being taken in by Master Qin.

Master Qin was the youngest Juren among the county teachers, known for his brilliance. Many dreamed of becoming his disciples. But Master Qin only lectured—he never accepted pupils.

Then, unexpectedly, he had gone to that shabby Qishan Private Academy last year and personally taken in one student—Chu Ci—persuading even the headmaster to admit him free of charge.

Curious, they had gone to look. Chu’s robe and shoes were patched over and over, his meals the cheapest fare, his room bare of any fashionable trinkets. They had sneered then—poor, dull, and withdrawn, never joking, always with his nose buried in books.

But the teachers all praised him as a prodigy. Whenever someone slacked off, the masters compared them to Chu Ci. 

Slowly, resentment built, and Chu Ci became everyone’s common enemy.

When he passed the Xiucai exam at fourteen, the teachers had nearly lost their minds, forcing the rest to double and triple their workload—determined to churn out another “bookworm Chu.”

While Chu Ci recuperated at home after his imprisonment, life in the academy had been blissfully relaxed. 

Now that he was returning next spring, dread hung over them all. Memories of the teachers’ relentless scolding returned in waves.

If only Chu Ci wouldn’t come back.

Someone voiced the thought aloud. The rest exchanged glances, then sighed—who could possibly stop him?

“I heard this Brother Chu has a relative studying at Longchang Academy,” Qi Xu said casually. “If that academy were to offer him a place through county recommendation, he might just be persuaded.”

“That’s… a bit underhanded, isn’t it?” Zhang Wenhai Ze blurted.

“It’s only a jest,” Qi Xu replied with an easy smile, face calm and mild again—as though it truly were just a joke.

Zhang Wenhai Ze laughed loudly. “Haha, Brother Dayuan, you really are amusing!”

Xu Fang silently covered his forehead. Hopeless fool…

——

Back at the Zhang Wenhai residence, when the servant returned with the news, Zhang Wenhai was even more excited than Chu Ci himself. He tossed the man a silver coin and turned to congratulate his friend.

“Congratulations, Brother Chu! First place in the winter exam—truly a man of unmatched talent! I’m in awe!”

Fang Jinyang added with a smile, “Congratulations, Brother Chu.”

Chu Ci demurred modestly that it was all luck, nothing worth boasting of.

“Nonsense,” Zhang Wenhai said. “It’s your own brilliance. Don’t call it luck! Tonight, I’m taking you somewhere good—we must celebrate!”

At once, vivid images flashed through Chu Ci’s mind—“a new song sung by painted lips, drunken eyes beneath tilted brows.” He shivered and quickly chased away the thought.

“That’s… probably not necessary,” he said, his expression slightly strained.

Fang Jinyang chuckled knowingly. “Don’t worry, Brother Chu—it’s a good place indeed. Wenhai may be bold, but he’d never dare go to that kind of place.”

Chu Ci relaxed, laughing along.

Zhang Wenhai, completely lost, frowned. “What are you two talking about? Going or not? Make up your minds!”

“Of course we’re going,” Chu Ci said with a grin. “Since Brother Zhang Wenhai insists, how could we refuse?”

——

That night, the three dressed neatly and headed out of the Zhang Wenhai residence toward Willow Leaf Alley.

There stood a tavern that, on every fourth night, hosted a storyteller who recounted not common folk tales but current events and secret news from the capital and beyond.

For scholars, learning about court affairs was invaluable. So every such night, the tavern was packed—tables full, private rooms booked, a gathering of aspiring men of letters.

Naturally, the tavern charged accordingly. Both hall and boxes cost several times their usual rate, beyond what most students could afford.

When they arrived, the main hall was already full, but one upstairs private room remained. Zhang Wenhai hurried to reserve it. 

Another scholar, a step too late, sighed in regret.

Seeing this, the ever-generous Zhang Wenhai invited him along. “Come, join us! There’s room for one more.”

The man’s face lit up. He bowed in thanks and followed behind.

When Zhang Wenhai returned a moment later with a stranger in tow, Chu Ci and Fang Jinyang exchanged puzzled looks.

“Brother Chu, Brother Jinyang,” Zhang Wenhai said brightly, “this gentleman—ah, forgive me, I didn’t ask your name yet?”

The newcomer smiled. “My surname is Chen, given name Zifang, style Zhongxing. May I ask the gentlemen’s names?”

“Brother Zhongxing,” Zhang Wenhai said cheerfully, “I’m Zhang Wenhai, this is Chu Ci, and that’s Fang Jinyang. We’ve yet to take our courtesy names.”

Zhang Wenhai, at twenty, was the eldest among them. He would officially come of age on the twenty-fifth of this month. Chu Ci and Fang Jinyang would have to wait until next year.

The four chatted amiably as they climbed to their box. The room was elegantly arranged, clearly designed for scholars’ tastes; each private room bore a name like Plum, Orchid, Bamboo, or Chrysanthemum.

As host, Zhang Wenhai called for the waiter and ordered several of the tavern’s signature dishes, asking the others for their preferences.

They all waved it off—there was already plenty. No need for excess.

The waiter then recommended plum wine, newly brewed that summer. “Warm it over a small stove,” he said, “and it pairs perfectly with food—light and mellow, won’t go to your head.”

The group agreed, and soon the dishes and wine arrived. They ate, talked, and exchanged stories.

It turned out Chen Zifang was also from Yuan’an County, though he had been studying in the prefectural city. Family matters had brought him home, and he planned to transfer to the county academy next year.

Upon hearing that, Zhang Wenhai exclaimed, “Perfect! When you enroll next year, you’ll have Brother Chu as your companion—he’s also from the county academy and just took first place in the exam!”

Chen Zifang smiled warmly. “Then it seems fate truly brought us together tonight. Though I’m the elder, allow me to toast you all as younger brothers. May we look out for one another in the years ahead.”

The four raised their cups, glass touching glass with a crisp chime.

They tilted their heads back, drank in unison, and exchanged grins—youthful spirits bright and unrestrained, their laughter brimming with promise for the days to come.