WSMTATMC C114

Chapter 114

The two stayed chatting at the Wang residence until midday. Assistant Prefect Wang insisted on keeping them for a meal; Master Liang could not refuse and stayed with Chen Qingyan.

Just then Wang’s several sons arrived, so they all ate together.

The eldest was twenty-four this year and, being only a licentiate, had been placed in an idle post at the prefectural yamen.

The second, in his twenties, was dull-witted (cognitively impaired). He worked as a petty clerk in the prison. From a single sentence it was clear he was not like ordinary men. During the meal he even started describing methods of interrogation used in the jail—his vivid scene-setting was enough to ruin anyone’s appetite. Wang Yi slammed his chopsticks down in anger.

“If you won’t eat, then get out!”

He even wanted to shout back at his father, but the eldest son tugged him away by the arm; the third and fourth were so frightened they barely breathed and followed out together.

This sort of scene occurred almost every time the family dined together. If not for the New Year, Wang Yi usually would not let them come home at all, to avoid embarrassment.

“Forgive me for the spectacle, Boqing—this son of mine can’t get his head straight…”

Master Liang was stunned. He remembered these children from years ago as merely dim—not like this.

Only then did he fully understand why his old friend, at such an age, still strained to climb upward. If he stopped striving and one day were gone, this family might fall apart.

“Alas—these years have been hard on you.”

Because of the incident, the meal ended joyless. Seeing them out, Assistant Prefect Wang made a date to drink properly next time.

On the carriage ride back, Chen Qingyan furrowed his brow, uncharacteristically silent.

“What’s on your mind?”

“How to begin Yuanbao’s first lessons.”

Master Liang blinked, then burst out laughing. “He’s only two. What lessons? He can’t even hold a brush.”

“I’ve only this one son. I want to plan well for him now—so he won’t stray later.”

“Don’t fret. The child’s nature is clear early on. Yuanbao is bright and well-behaved; he won’t burden you and Wang Ying.”

“Borrowing your auspicious words—may it be so.”

One doesn’t know a parent’s heart until raising a child. Since Yuanbao was born, he understood at last how parental love plans far into the future.

The very next day was New Year’s Eve. All New Year’s goods were purchased, the shop closed for the holiday, and the family gathered at home to enjoy reunion.

—

Early in the morning, snowflakes drifted down—adding a touch of festivity to the New Year.

Yuanbao was dressed early in new clothes—a red cross-collared jacket under a bright yellow sleeveless vest embroidered with auspicious clouds and ruyi motifs.

The outfit was all silk—soft and fine to the touch—with a thick layer of new cotton inside: light and warm to wear.

The jacket’s flowers had been embroidered by Fang Ling. Madam Li was clumsy with redwork; simple garments were fine, but delicate embroidery she could not manage.

In past years, Chen Rong had done it when present; this year Third Aunt was away, but Fourth Aunt had come—and as Fang Ling’s needlework was superb, she volunteered to embroider Yuanbao’s outfit.

Once dressed, Mutou and Chunsheng took him out to play.

“Keep an eye on him—don’t let him soak his clothes.”

“Yes—no worries.”

The servants, too, received new jackets. The fabric was plain homespun, but the cotton inside was truly thick.

The Chen family was benevolent. Since the Old Master’s time, they had never treated servants harshly. Now that life was slowly improving, Wang Ying would not grind people down; thick cotton coats, pants, and winter shoes were prepared for everyone well in advance.

Wang Ying went in to change into his own new clothes—bought off the rack at a ready-made shop and only altered at the sleeves, fitting perfectly.

Prefectural-city outfitters differed from those in town: more styles and complete sets—almost anything one could imagine could be found.

He wore a stone-blue, diagonal-breasted, waist-fitted robe—the most fashionable gē’er style now—hair bound with a silver coronet, making him look especially upright and refined.

From behind, Chen Qingyan hugged him and kissed his cheek through the bronze mirror. “Ah Ying is truly handsome.”

“Silver-tongued.”

“It’s the truth.”

Wang Ying turned, cupped Chen’s chin with both hands, and appraised him. “I think you’re the one getting more handsome. I fear when you pass as a provincial graduate, someone will seize you right off the examination list as a son-in-law.”

Chen chuckled. “How could that be?”

“In the operas, isn’t it always like this? A poor scholar passes the provincial exam, a rich family fancies him and snatches him as a son-in-law; borrowing the father-in-law’s power and wealth, he ascends in one leap, and the coarse wife at home is secretly killed to prevent future trouble.”

“Where did you hear such plays?”

“Never mind where. Just say—could it happen?”

Chen drew Wang Ying to sit, face turning serious. “I’ve heard of such things, but in our Wu Dynasty it’s difficult. Leaving aside other factors: unless one ranks in the first class among the provincial graduates, a second-class juren at best enters the Hanlin Academy as a seventh-rank compiler; advancement would take a very long time. Worse, a single misstep—offense—and you may be demoted, dismissed, even your home confiscated or your head displayed.”

Wang Ying took a deep breath—before the exams had even begun, he was already worrying over shadows.

“Moreover, who among the eminent would marry a daughter to such a man now? Unless there’s special alliance, no one would set sights on a poor scholar. Merchant families might—but abandoning a coarse-wife for a merchant bride brings no benefit to one’s career and leaves a stain. Best not.”

“Listen to you—truly taking it seriously.”

“Of course I am, Ah Ying. I’m serious about you.”

Wang Ying found it cloying, yet warm in his heart. “Understood. I won’t tease you with that again.”

They headed together to the east room. Madam Li and Qingyun were stringing copper coins. This year hadn’t been easy—since everyone had followed them so far, they planned to give the servants larger New Year’s rewards.

Back home, they had given half a string at year’s end. This year, Madam Li took ten taels from her private savings—one full string per person.

Wang Ying and Chen Qingyan sat to help string the coins. One string was a thousand cash; once finished, it weighed heavily in the hand—a real heft.

Soon, Chen Qingsong came in. “Mother, why string so many copper coins?”

“It’s New Year—handing out rewards so folks can buy food and clothing.”

“Wouldn’t small silver ingots be more convenient?”

Madam Li said, “You don’t understand. Silver is precious, but one tael is only as big as a thumb pad—too light in the hand. Copper cash feels better and spends easier.”

This was the wisdom of the ancients—they knew how servants thought.

After the strings were prepared, Chen Qingyan called all the servants in. Steward Chen needed no mention—beyond the one string, Wang Ying would privately give him more.

Then Aunt Chen and Nurse Zhang who looked after Yuanbao, and also Chen Ershun, Ma Zhandong, Tian Ju, and Chen Fang—each received a string.

The two Huang boys also received a string. Mutou and Chunsheng, of course, were not left out—each a string.

After the division, Huang Baiguan tugged his brother forward, then dropped to their knees to kowtow. “Master, we can’t accept this money. You’ve taken us in and fed us—how could we still take your money?”

Sensible children. Wang Ying motioned for them to stand. “After the New Year, Baiguan will be fifteen. Though your father entrusted you to me, you’re not my servants; so I’ve never assigned you regular work. It’s a good time to ask: what plans do you two have?”

Huang Qianguan looked up at his brother; Baiguan gathered his courage. “I plan to take my brother to a martial hall to train. Once we’ve learned, we’ll stay by the Master and Second Master to guard them—like Uncle Chen Guang.”

Wang Ying was surprised. He had not expected the brothers to make such a plan.

At home, they couldn’t help much; even watching Yuanbao was mostly handled by Mutou and Chunsheng. To freeload long-term would breed resentment—so better to carve out a path of their own.

A few days ago, Baiguan had heard that a martial hall in the city was recruiting pupils—room and board covered and ten cash a month—but in exchange they had to give the hall ten years of service after learning before they could leave.

He thought it suited them. They had few other means; if they learned some skill, they could serve the Chen household—or find work elsewhere and stand on their own.

Wang Ying said, “If you’ve decided, then after the New Year, we’ll send you to a martial hall in the prefectural city. But training is bitter—are you prepared to endure it?”

The two kowtowed. “Rest assured, sir—we’ll endure any hardship!”

The flood had taken their kin, but not their will. Wang Ying esteemed them more for it.

“This is the Old Madam’s New Year’s gift—take it.”

Madam Li nodded. “A gift from elders mustn’t be refused. Take it.” The boys accepted the coins and withdrew.

As for Liang An, who had come with Master Liang, and Chen Guang, the retainer sent by Chen Jing, they should not by rights be given—being not household servants.

But Wang Ying treated all alike—each received a string.

Liang An, much the same age as Steward Chen, grinned to show all his teeth. “There’s some for me too?”

“For good fortune. May Uncle Liang be healthy in the New Year.”

“Don’t dare—being called ‘Uncle’ by you and the Master is plenty. Liang An is enough.”

“You deserve it. You’ve looked after me and the two younger brothers along the way—please accept this small token.”

“All right, I’ll take it.”

When handing it to Chen Guang, he said nothing—just nodded as he accepted.

Chen Guang spoke little, reserved and unwilling to chat. With formidable skill at his back, Wang Ying always kept a careful distance—best not to provoke this ancient-era bodyguard-spy.

Once the servants’ rewards were done, the elders began gifting the juniors.

As the eldest, Master Liang started by showering gifts. Of the brocades he’d brought from Yangzhou, after setting aside two bolts for Assistant Prefect Wang, the remaining six he gave one each—to everyone, even little Yuanbao.

Such things were truly precious—one bolt often cost several hundred strings, and were sometimes unavailable even for a price. All received them with deep bows to the old gentleman.

Next was Madam Li—more practical: one red pouch each, containing a five-tael silver ingot.

Yuanbao was too young; Wang Ying accepted on his behalf.

Finally came Fang Ling. She had the servants carry in a wooden chest—filled with items carefully chosen by the couple.

“Next year is the imperial exam—you must all strive. These Que Scholar inkstones were specially sought by Brother Jing—may they help you win first rank in one stroke.”

Each person took the heavy inkstone and gave thanks. Don’t underestimate these slabs—those who don’t know would call them black rocks; those who do know that the stone came from Kunlun in the northern marches—exceptionally hard and rare. Carving them takes a year for two inkstones at most.

Master Liang eyed one. “Fine things indeed. Had I owned one back then, perhaps what followed would not have happened.”

Wang Ying already knew Master Liang’s story from Chen Qingyan—that year a half-brother had switched his inkstone for a layered one hiding prewritten cheats.

When treachery sprouts within one’s own family, it is hard to guard against.

After distributing to the others, they produced a set of Hetian jade jewelry for Qingyun. In Shanzhou, Hetian jade was a specialty; prices varied with quality.

This set was clearly exquisite—fine, smooth white jade: a hairpin, a pair of bangles, and a pendant.

When it was Wang Ying’s turn, Fourth Aunt lifted out a box with a secretive smile. “This is a special gift prepared by your Fourth Uncle—guess what it is?”

Wang Ying shook his head—how could he guess?

She opened it slowly. Inside lay half a box of seeds.

Four or five kinds were mixed together—but not beyond a student of agronomy. At a glance, he recognized among them chili pepper seeds!

“Where did these come from?”

“When your Fourth Uncle served in Laizhou, he befriended many sea merchants. These were shipped from overseas. We don’t know how to plant them—so we thought to give them to you to try.”

This was precisely Wang Ying’s weakness—and delight. He quickly accepted, with thanks.

Little Yuanbao, standing by, waited and waited without receiving anything. He pouted and whispered, “Did Fourth Grandma forget Yuanbao?”

All burst into laughter. Fang Ling hurried to scoop him up and kiss him. “How could I forget my good boy? Fourth Grandma prepared this.”

She produced a large jar of milk candies—a Shanzhou specialty, handmade by herdsmen, rich with dairy sweetness—children’s absolute favorite.

In a chorus of happy voices, they welcomed the New Year.

Footnotes

• String (贯/串): 1 string = roughly 1,000 cash coins, often threaded together for ease of carry; weight conveys a sense of “substance” vs. light silver. 
• Beggar’s Bride trope: A common opera/fiction motif of poor scholars marrying into wealth post-exam—here discussed and dismissed within the dynasty’s bureaucratic realities. 
• Hetian jade (和田玉): Highly prized nephrite jade; quality varies widely; fine white jade commands very high prices. 
• Que inkstone (魁砚): High-grade inkstones; in this story, carved from hard northern “black stone” akin to Kunlun stone, symbolizing scholarly excellence.