Traveling Through Ancient Times to Be a Teacher - Chapter 42

“Hey, don’t push me!”

“I was here first!”

Outside the county office, the crowd surged and pressed forward. The usually composed scholars were shoving and elbowing one another, terrified of falling behind.

From a nearby restaurant, Zhang Wenhai, Chu Ci, and Chu Xiaoyuan sat in a private room, looking down at the commotion through the window.

“Tsk tsk, is that really necessary? There’s still time before the results are posted. Whether you look early or late, you’ll still see the same thing,” Zhang Wenhai said, shaking his head.

“If only your leg would stop shaking like it’s having a seizure, I might believe you’re calm,” Chu Ci replied coolly.

Who was it, after all, who had dragged him here at the crack of dawn? They’d already been sitting for nearly three hours.

Chu Xiaoyuan was getting restless too. Though the restaurant had plenty of good food, he wanted to go outside—around this time of day, he was usually running about freely.

“It’s up! The list is posted!”

With that shout, the gates of the county office slowly opened. Two lines of clerks emerged, dispersing the crowd, while the county scribe personally posted the results list on the east wall.

The red paper carrying countless dreams was pasted up carefully, and once done, the officials quickly retreated into the yamen under guard.

“Quick, quick—Brother Chu, look! Is my name there?” Zhang Wenhai sprang up, leaning half his body out the window, trembling from sheer nerves.

“Brother Zhang Wenhai, calm down. Xiao Cheng is watching the list for us. If you fall out that window, how will you take the prefectural exam later?” Chu Ci grabbed him by the arm, worried he might tumble out and make a fool of himself.

“Yes, yes, I must stay calm!” Zhang Wenhai began pacing in circles, already regretting that he’d chosen to “wait in comfort” here. He should’ve joined the crowd below instead—this waiting was unbearable.

From below came bursts of cries—“I passed! I passed!”—mingled with sighs and even sobs.

Xiao Cheng, squeezed tight among the throng, had his hair disheveled and one shoe lost. He strained his neck to scan the list for his master’s name.

The list was circular in layout—twenty names in the inner ring, thirty in the outer. The top scorer’s name was written in bold ink, the rest faintly, running clockwise.

“I found it! My young master passed!” Xiao Cheng shouted with joy, shoving his way out of the crowd and sprinting toward the restaurant.

Inside, Zhang Wenhai’s fist slammed the table in elation. His laughter came in bursts, eyes brimming with tears.

“Uncle…” Chu Xiaoyuan tugged at Chu Ci’s sleeve.

“Don’t be afraid—your Uncle Zhang Wenhai’s just too happy,” Chu Ci said with a faint smile. There was a pang of emotion behind it. The life of a scholar was too bitter.

At twenty-one, Zhang Wenhai was considered young to pass the county exam, yet even so, his joy bordered on madness. For every one like him, there were hundreds who would never see their names on a list, laboring year after year for that faint hope.

For commoners, once they chose the path of the examination, there was no turning back.

“Young Master! You passed! Seventh place! It says, ‘Selected from Ping’an Town—Zhang Wenhai!’” Xiao Cheng burst into the room, shouting.

His young master, however, sat elegantly at the table, brow slightly furrowed. “It’s only the county exam. Why such a fuss? Look at yourself—take this tael of silver and buy yourself new clothes and shoes.”

The servant stared between the two men, utterly confused. Shouldn’t his master be leaping up and dancing by now? Why did he sound exactly like Scholar Chu?

“What are you standing there for? Don’t want your reward?” Zhang Wenhai barked, his composure cracking. So much for trying to act calm—now he just looked ridiculous.

“Yes, yes! Thank you, Young Master!” Xiao Cheng snatched the silver. His monthly pay was only two coins—this was five months’ worth! “I’ll go home to tell Master and Madam right away!”

“Brother Chu, I passed! Seventh place! Hahaha, I passed!” Wenhai laughed again, nearly breathless.

But after a while, his laughter faded. “I wonder if anyone from Jinyang’s family came to check the list. Xiao Cheng probably didn’t have the energy to look for his name. If Jinyang really failed again… what should we do?”

“Let’s go see. The crowd should’ve thinned out by now,” said Chu Ci.

“Yes! Let’s!” Wenhai dashed off like a gust of wind.

“Uncle, he didn’t pay for the meal,” muttered Chu Xiaoyuan, displeased. Wasn’t he the one who insisted on treating them earlier? Yet the bill came, and he vanished.

“My dear boy, we’ll cover it this time. Next time, your Uncle Zhang Wenhai won’t dare forget.”

“Okay.” Xiaoyuan nodded thoughtfully. “Even if he doesn’t, it’s fine. Uncle Zhang Wenhai’s nice. He didn’t charge us rent either, and Grandpa and Grandma Zhang Wenhai gave me lots of treats.”

Chu Ci smiled. “You’re a good child. Remember—be kind to those who treat you sincerely.”

“And what about people who aren’t sincere?”

“Bleed them dry,” Chu Ci said calmly, tossing down payment for the meal before leading him toward the county office.

Before they arrived, Wenhai came running back, face alight. “Jinyang passed too! He’s at Sun Shan’s position!”

“When the winner stands at the peak, Sun Shan lies beyond.”

Because of that line from an old poem, “falling beyond Sun Shan” became a term for failure. Yet Zhang Wenhai, unwilling to hurt his friend’s pride for placing last, had twisted it into “ranked at Sun Shan’s position,” which made Chu Ci nearly laugh out loud.

“Let’s go tell him the good news!” said Wenhai.

Chu Ci nodded, and the three made their way toward Guihua Alley, where Fang Jinyang lived.

“Brother Kuo, Brother Chu—you came! And this young one must be your nephew?”

Jinyang sat in the courtyard reading. It was a new residence—he had clearly moved after yesterday’s events. His face was brighter, his spirit lighter. Knowing the truth and having hope again, he was no longer sunk in despair.

“I bet you can’t guess the good news I’m about to tell you,” said Wenhai, grinning mysteriously.

Jinyang smiled. “You passed, didn’t you? I recognized the questions—you should’ve done well. Congratulations in advance.” His tone was gentle and sincere.

“It’s not me—it’s you! You passed too! Ranked at Sun Shan’s position!” Wenhai burst out laughing, waiting for the look of shock.

But Jinyang only smiled wryly. “Don’t tease me. I missed a question—how could I have passed? You’ve heard of falling beyond Sun Shan, not ranking at Sun Shan.”

“I’m not joking! Your name’s on the list! Right next to the bottom scorer’s! It says, ‘Fang Jinyang, from Yong’an Town.’ Who else could it be?”

Jinyang’s eyes widened. He turned to Chu Ci, who nodded with a smile. Then the truth hit him.

“Haha… hahaha! I passed! I passed!”

His laughter was so loud it startled his servant Shitou, who rushed over, panicked.

After the outburst, Jinyang went to wash up and returned composed once more.

“Thank you both for bringing me the news. Allow me to host a proper celebration tonight.”

“No need,” said Chu Ci. “The prefectural exam is the day after tomorrow. You should rest and prepare. And your health has only just recovered—don’t overdrink.”

The words dampened the mood slightly, but both men were grateful. Only true friends would speak with such care.

The Fang Jinyang household had been gloomy after yesterday’s revelation. They had never imagined that kindness could breed such harm.

After Xiaocui’s confession, she had fallen completely deranged and been sent to the Asylum Tower with her mother to care for her. It wasn’t cruelty—ruining a man’s future was as grave as murder. If she could destroy Jinyang’s prospects once, who could say she wouldn’t poison him next? 

For mercy’s sake, the Fang family paid twenty taels to the caretakers, ensuring the two could live out their lives there.

Now that Jinyang had passed, laughter finally returned to the household.

On the fourteenth of the second month, Chu Ci brought Chu Xiaoyuan, laden with baggage, to the Children’s Hall of the county academy.

There were children everywhere—mostly between seven and ten.

Teacher Shen and several other tutors sat at a long table, handing each parent a token and key upon registration. The token bore a room number; they were to find their lodgings accordingly.

Each dorm housed six pupils—simple but adequate. 

Chu Ci spotted a chubby boy clinging to his father, crying not to stay.

The scene made him smile. In modern times, he’d often pass a kindergarten on his way to school—those kids wailed just like this, every day sounding like a slaughterhouse, each with a different excuse not to go in.

“Uncle, it’s our turn,” said Chu Xiaoyuan, tugging his sleeve. He noticed his uncle staring at the fat boy for too long and felt slightly jealous—did Uncle think he was too skinny?

“Teacher Shen, Chu Xiaoyuan reporting for enrollment.”

“Oh, Brother Chu. The Headmaster has already spoken to me. Take Chu Xiaoyuan to the Examination Preparatory Division for his lodgings. Also, the tuition for the Children’s Hall is six taels of silver per quarter, paid in advance.”

So—two taels a month. Chu Ci clicked his tongue. Even beginner education here was expensive, truly the county academy. A village tutor only charged two hundred copper coins, or even bartered for grain and firewood. Still, the quality difference justified the cost.

He paid six taels, received a set of textbooks, and led Xiaoyuan toward the preparatory division.

Shen Xiuniang had sewn him a sturdy cloth book bag; now the boy carried it proudly, stroking it every few steps.

In the preparatory division, classes were taught by lecturers and tutors—lecturers explained texts, while tutors supervised recitation and study. In modern terms, lecturers were professors; tutors were like homeroom teachers and assistants combined.

Tuition there was five taels per month, also paid quarterly. In his student days, Chu Ci had entered for free thanks to Master Qin, who split the fee with the academy. Lodging cost five maces of silver monthly, including laundry and other small fees.

Now that he could afford it, Chu Ci paid the full fifteen taels for tuition and three for lodging, collected his token and two keys, and went to find their dormitory—Bamboo Fragrance Hall.

When they arrived, the room already had occupants.

Steward Xu beamed as he walked over. “Ah, Scholar Chu! What a coincidence indeed! You and your nephew are to stay here too? Young Master, come greet Scholar Chu and your classmate. You must listen well to your Uncle Chu in your studies from now on.”

“Good day, Uncle Chu. Good day, Brother Chu,” said Zhongli Yu, timidly. He had already cried twice that morning upon learning he must board alone. His eyes were still red.

Chu Ci looked at the teary-eyed little master before him and sighed, rubbing his temple.

Then he turned to the smiling old fox beside him—and dared not ask aloud how that man could say, with a straight face, that this was a “coincidence.”