Chapter 14: Scholars Care Most About Their Reputation?

Perhaps people who know how to read are also good at talking?

Lin Ze and his two companions were all sent to study by their families, though their own desires were not particularly strong. Many shops in the county town belonged to Lin Ze’s family. Ren Shuhua’s family ran a bookshop; his grandfather was a scholar, but his father was a man of martial pursuits.

His grandfather insisted that Ren Shuhua must study, and even wished to teach the boy himself. Unfortunately, both Ren Shuhua’s grandmother and mother doted endlessly on the child and could not bear to see him suffer. Whenever Grandfather spoke harshly, his own wife would berate him so fiercely he was left speechless.

Qin Ming’s family was well-off, his father a landlord with all the airs of sudden wealth. He simply wanted his children to learn to read and write, not necessarily to achieve greatness—but if one of them showed talent for study, that would be ideal.

Because of their similar situations, the three boys became fast friends at the private academy.

Li Su, after learning about their family backgrounds, realized that Qin Ming was the infamous “foolish son of the landlord.”

“If you want to go, I’ll go with you,” Li Su thought. It would be a good opportunity to observe the poetry skills of the scholars of this era and analyze whether he could score well in the poetry section of the imperial exams.

“Wonderful! We’ll go together on the day of the poetry gathering. I heard it’s set for mid-April, so about half a month from now,” Qin Ming said, his smile broad, revealing gleaming white teeth.

“Don’t forget to bring your abacus tomorrow—we have arithmetic class,” Ren Shuhua reminded them as they parted ways.

Lin Ze slapped his forehead. “If you hadn’t reminded me, I’d have forgotten.” The events of the day had rattled him, leaving his mind buzzing, and he rarely remembered such details anyway.

Only now did Li Su recall information about the arithmetic class.

It was only in recent years that arithmetic had been added to the imperial exams—an innovation announced in the second year of the new emperor’s reign. Several reference books were specified, and once the news broke, many scholars lost sleep, tossing and turning at night. The exams had become even more difficult.

After all, most scholars and teachers had never devoted themselves to studying arithmetic, so both students and teachers were at a loss.

Though two years had passed, everyone had begun to develop some strategies for studying arithmetic, but they were still exploring.

Li Su’s lips curled into an uncontrollable smile. Arithmetic was excellent—while many scholars feared this subject, he did not. It could become his advantage in the exams.

What’s more, in this era, even child students had to take county and prefectural exams—a change from the previous system, instituted by the last emperor.

Some powerful families wielded influence while the emperor’s authority waned.

These families disliked seeing children from humble backgrounds rise through study and change their status. Even if one became a child student, to earn the scholar’s title required passing county and prefectural exams, greatly increasing the cost. The money generated inevitably ended up in the pockets of the powerful families.

After several attempts, most families and students could not bear the expense and naturally gave up on the scholarly path.

The current emperor likely wished to return to having child students only take the academy exam, but such a change would touch the fundamental interests of the powerful families, and would require the right opportunity.

…

After parting from his three friends, Li Su did not immediately return home. Instead, he found a bookshop to browse.

He selected a volume titled “One Hundred Essays of the Eight-Part Essay,” which included a variety of exemplary essays in different styles and topics. Li Su used it to study the format, structure, and methods of writing the eight-part essay.

As the sky grew dark, he finally stretched his neck and rose. When reading, Li Su lost all sense of time and place, wholly absorbed, oblivious to the world around him.

Coming to his senses, he realized it was quite late and hurried to the ox cart—if he missed it, he would have to walk home.

Fortunately, he caught it. Out of breath from running, he finally recovered after sitting for some time.

When Li Su returned home, there were two new faces: a woman in her twenties and a seven-year-old girl, thin and with hair tinged yellow.

Li Su searched his memory for information about the woman and called, “Third Sister.”

“Fourth Brother,” Li Zhengping forced a smile at him.

This was his third sister, Li Zhengping. She had been married for several years and had a seven-year-old daughter named Wang Zhaodi.

Originally, Li Zhengping wanted her scholar brother to name her daughter, but the right to name the child was not hers. Despite her efforts, the name was decided without her input.

Before marriage, this sister had doted on the original Li Su, always giving him her treats—a truly good sister.

Wang Zhaodi huddled behind Li Zhengping, timid and not joining Li Ziru and the others in play.

“Li Su is home, let’s eat first,” Feng Cuicui said.

Li Su set down his book box. “Mother, you don’t need to wait for me anymore. If I come home late, just leave me some food—I might eat out with my classmates.”

“This…” Feng Cuicui hesitated.

“Mother, it’s not good for everyone to go hungry waiting for me. Just save me some food, please. I might eat with my friends sometimes. Please listen to me,” Li Su insisted, and Feng Cuicui nodded helplessly. “Alright.”

Wang Zhaodi only ate the dishes in front of her, seeming very restrained. Li Zhengping’s spirits were low.

Li Su said to Li Zhengping, “Third Sister, give the child some meat. Look how thin she is.”

Li Zhengping looked at Li Su in surprise, her eyes shimmering with tears, and she gave Wang Zhaodi some meat. Her kindness to her little brother had not been in vain.

Feng Cuicui said to Wang Zhaodi, “That’s right, child. You’re at your grandmother’s house—don’t be afraid, take what you like.”

Wang Zhaodi nodded slightly. She much preferred being at her grandmother’s home. At her own house, only her mother liked her; her grandfather, grandmother, and father disliked her, always urging her mother to have a son, calling her worthless, and making her do everything.

Li Ziru watched Wang Zhaodi curiously, though her mouth never stopped moving.

Ever since the children in the village had tasted her candy, Li Ziru had become the leader of their group. They all listened to her.

The older children were busy helping their families in the fields, so Li Ziru played with a group of three- or four-year-olds. A little candy made each of them wag their tails like puppies.

…

The Wang family.

“Dafa, why don’t you go fetch your wife? It’s outrageous to take the child and run off to her mother’s house whenever there’s a disagreement. Aren’t you worried the neighbors will gossip?” Wang’s mother looked at Wang Dafa in disapproval.

Wang Dafa was unconcerned. “Wasn’t it you who insisted I marry her? You said her brother would pass the exams and get me a comfortable, well-paid job. And what happened? Just empty promises—a farm boy dreaming of government office.”

“Well, you’ve married her. Bring her back. It won’t sound good if the neighbors start talking,” Wang’s mother said, her tone softer.

“I won’t go. If she doesn’t come back, so much the better. She hasn’t given me a son. I’ll divorce her and marry Xiaohua,” Wang Dafa said, nodding as if pleased with his plan.

“You’re mad! Xiaohua may be nice, but she’s a widow with a child. Are you still angry that I broke up you and Xiaohua and made you marry Li Zhengping?” Wang’s mother was agitated—she would never agree to her son marrying a widow with a child.

“Mother, if I marry Xiaohua, I’ll have a son. Isn’t that perfect?” Wang Dafa was now determined to divorce Li Zhengping and marry the woman he liked.

Wang’s mother slapped him on the head. “You must be crazy. Are you planning to raise someone else’s child?” She glared at him, frustrated.

“Who says I’m raising someone else’s child? What if I claim the child is mine?”

“What? Are you serious?” Wang’s mother’s expression changed drastically. If the child really was her son’s, divorcing Li Zhengping would be acceptable.

“But if you divorce Li Zhengping, her family has several brothers. What if they come looking for trouble?” Wang’s mother grew worried.

“What’s there to fear? Isn’t her brother a scholar? Scholars care most about their reputation—they’d never cause trouble,” Wang Dafa sneered, convinced the Li family would not dare confront him, thinking they wouldn’t even utter a word in protest.

Wang’s mother pondered for a while. “Fine, I’ll discuss it with your father.”