WSMTATMC C48

Chapter 48

“Laizhou sent another letter?”

At once, Wang Ying and Chen Qingyan took it from Ershun’s hands.

Had Uncle succeeded already in reversing Qingyan’s case for the examinations?

They tore it open—but inside there was no mention of the Imperial Exams. Instead, it spoke of an altogether different calamity.

Originally, Uncle Chen Jing was due to complete his term this year and be transferred to the capital. Yet in recent months, the Laizhou coast had suffered raids by Japanese pirates (倭寇, wokou)—seven, eight merchant vessels plundered in succession, including an official vessel bearing the family of the Ministry of Justice’s chief minister.

This enraged the throne. The Emperor, furious, punished all involved; as Laizhou prefect, Chen Jing was implicated and demoted prematurely, reassigned as Prefect of Shanzhou.

Though the rank remained the same (Sixth Grade prefect), Shanzhou was a barren hinterland, “a place where even birds would not defecate,” in contrast to fertile coastal Laizhou. One prosperous and vital, the other desolate and poor—the difference stark.

Seeking to make achievements in such a wasteland was near impossible; Chen Jing’s career, they feared, had met a dead end.

The letter’s chief purpose, then, was a personal plea: that his only son Chen Qinghuai, age fifteen, already a tongsheng, should return to the Chen ancestral home. Next year he must attempt the county exam, but by law registration must be in his native longquan county. Travel to and from Shanzhou was too far. Thus he begged his nephew, Chen Qingyan, to shelter and guide the boy for a time.

Accompanying Qinghuai would be his old teacher, Master Liang Boqing, described as man of talent but “eccentric in temper.” His uncle hoped the family would be tolerant.

The two looked up from the letter.

Qingyan, face still, seemed little ruffled. “Our new house is ready. Let’s see whether they prefer to reside with us on the estate, or in the town house.”

“Good. We’ll prepare two chambers in the villa, two more in town,” said Wang Ying.

That evening’s feast stretched until nightfall. Walking home, Ying felt the faint sorrow in his partner. He hooked a finger against his hand.

Qingyan clasped back, sighing. “Though I knew from the start hope was thin… I did not think it would vanish so soon. But no matter. I’ve long accepted it. In this life, the keju may never be mine.”

Ying answered gently, “Let me teach you farming and seed‑breeding instead. If we manage these lands well, is that not also success?

“And remember—even if crowned as juren, even as an official, safety is not assured. See your uncle—decades of toil, yet with one disaster, stripped at once. At the capital, it is worse. One careless word may mean losing your head.”

Qingyan laughed at his comic expressions. “Me? I never dreamed beyond passing licentiate. To speak of juren or the capital is fantasy.”

“Then we only lose the scholar’s robe. Nothing too dire.”

“Brother is right. A title is not worth my grief. Tomorrow, let us return to town. Put the rear courtyard in order and furnish the villa.”

“Good.”

Three months it had been, since they fled to the estate. Returning to town still tightened Qingyan’s chest.

At least, in the cart, he need greet no one. Only at their own gate did he dare breathe.

Madam Li had waited since dawn. At sight of her son, tears filled her eyes; and his own spilled as they embraced.

“Unfilial child—these months, I let you worry,” he murmured.

“You are unharmed? Then Mother is content.” She checked every limb, only settling once sure he was whole.

Within the hall, Wang spoke of Chen Jing’s letter. “Our cousin and his mentor will stay for a while. We plan to repair the back courtyard, and order furniture for the villa so they may choose.”

“Arrange it as you see.”

“Will you two remain at the estate henceforth?” Madam Li asked.

“Yes, Mother. But I’ll return often.”

“Then fine. It is near enough. As long as you come home regular.”

“And where is Third Aunt?”

“She is ill. Her old head pains flared up. Nights sleepless. I did not tell her yet of your return.”

“We’ll call on her soon,” Ying said.

“Go rest in the rear. I’ll send food.”

Their courtyard stood clean, tended daily. Last year’s vegetable plot sprouted again; some melon vines already grew, needing pruning.

Ying could not help himself—sleeves rolled, fussing.

“Sit. These greens no one’s eaten,” Qingyan said.

“Once replanted in our secret field, we can move them to the villa plot.”

Soon they worked side by side, Qingyan deftly transplanting after several lessons.

Since the experimental field’s upgrade, entrance was easier—no longer needed overt activation; Wang had only to think, and he and Qingyan would step inside.

Meals came. They washed and dined under the stone table.

“This fish is well stewed!” Ying exclaimed.

“If you like, I’ll learn from Aunt Chen. Cook it for you next,” offered Qingyan.

“But aren’t scholars supposed to keep far from kitchens?”

He quoted solemnly: “Mencius said: The gentleman feels pity at slaughter. He cannot bear to hear the cries of creatures, nor eat their flesh. Therefore, he keeps his distance. That teaching speaks of mercy, not laziness. To twist it as excuse for idleness is fraud.”

“Well then—next time you cook the fish.”

“I’ll even kill it. Did you not say you faint at fish stench?”

Wang grinned. “Then by your mercy, you’re no gentleman.”

“St. sages taught—the gentleman does not fuss over trifles.”

“Heh—cheek! Trying to sweet‑talk me like a girl.”

Later, they called on Third Aunt. Indeed, she had grown gaunt. “Why didn’t you say you returned?” she whispered.

“We came today only. Hearing you were ill, we came direct.”

“Old affliction. Since Sui’s birth. If I catch a chill, my head pounds. Pills suffice.”

“And the doctor?”

“Already came. Prescription taken.”

They sat briefly. She urged rest.

Back in their rooms, just as they lay down, their younger brother rushed in. Chen Qingsong burst through shouting, “Brother! Sister‑in‑law!”

Stern, Qingyan barked, “Stand straight! You, a scholar, carry yourself poorly.”

Chastened, Qingsong saluted properly. Ever since their father’s passing, Qingyan had served parent’s role; thus he heeded him deeply.

“You’ve entered the Jiang school?”

“Yes, elders asked another—since the first expelled me.”

But that teacher, Jiang Guangzhi, though decent at primers, had never risen beyond tongsheng. He could not improve Qingsong much.

“In some days, both of you come to the estate. I will teach also.”

His face lit. “Truly? Excellent!”

“Not to play—but to study hard. To pass licentiate early and enter county school.”

“I’ll try, Brother!”

Indeed, he suffered pressures too. Since the scandal, their house was mocked among scholars. He had tried to argue once—overwhelmed each time. So now he endured. Though rumors dulled, shame still stung, robbing him of friends.

“At least with Cousin Qinghuai’s arrival, I’ll have a companion.”

Qingyan recalled the boy, last seen at his father’s funeral. Three years younger, but raised under Uncle’s eye—broad learning. His company would serve.

“And…one more.” Qingsong hushed his voice. “The Zhang licentiate—the one who wronged you—he’s gone mad.”

“What?” Qingyan blinked.

Wang too startled: Had I driven him mad when I threatened him?

“They say he went to the county yamen again—yet returned raving. He sits daily at the crossroads, cursing, soiling himself in public.”

Hearing, Qingyan only sighed. He tested Qingsong’s studies, then dismissed him.

Lying together that night, Ying asked softly: “Do you still hate him?”

“…Both yes, and no. For ending my exam life, I cannot forgive. Yet he too has lost all, fallen into filth. That is balance enough. From now, I’ll treat it as if I never knew him.”

By April’s bloom, a carriage halted outside Chen gates.

Alighting was a teenage boy of fifteen, and a slim, scholarly elder.

They were Chen Qinghuai, only son of Chen Jing, and his teacher Liang Boqing.

Qingyan did not yet know—this youth’s arrival was about to change his life’s course.

notes

• : Tongsheng (童生) – Literally “child student,” the very lowest level of exam candidate, who has passed no formal degree but can proceed to attempt county exams. 
• Keju (科举): Imperial Chinese civil service examination system; levels ran from tongsheng → xiucai → juren → jinshi (progressively higher). 
• Wokou (倭寇): Japanese pirates who raided coastal China from the 14th–16th centuries, referenced here as a period‑flavored plot device.