WSMTATMC C132

Chapter 132

Elder Liang and Elder Lu returned home together and recounted the full cause and effect of Chen Qingyan’s false accusation in the examinations.

Since antiquity, the court has taken the imperial examinations with utmost seriousness; those stripped of qualification are almost never reinstated.

Liang Boqing was one exception, and Chen Qingyan became the second.

“Thanks to Wang Ying’s cultivation of improved seed, which I had sent to the capital and, through the Grand Minister of Agriculture, used to petition on our behalf, Qingyan’s examination status was restored. Otherwise, relying on my help alone, he might have had to wait until he gained great fame before ever having a chance to re-enter officialdom.”

Lu Zhongqi sighed. “Who would have thought Qingyan had undergone so much. For him to rally again is no small feat.”

Liang nodded. “It was precisely because his plight mirrored mine that I took him as a disciple. The child shows little ostentation day to day, yet he studies with extreme diligence and bears high native talent—offer a hint, and he grasps the whole.”

“I noticed the same at the academy. Each question he asked was subtle, even tricky, yet once explained he understood one point and a hundred opened up.”

For a teacher, taking a fine pupil brings more joy than wearing a fresh laurel oneself.

In earlier years, Liang Boqing had raged against the world, feeling all Heaven and men opposed him. With a mouth that professed disdain for the examinations, his heart still held a lifelong regret.

After taking this pupil, watching the young man steadily grow—he felt as though walking that road again by proxy, and the gratification is beyond words.

“I only hope both boys can pass,” Liang said.

—

As the saying goes, good news stays indoors; bad news travels a thousand li.

No sooner had Xu Rui spread the tale in the teahouse yesterday—how Chen Qingyan was expelled for cheating—than it rippled through Jizhou today.

Most had only read his verses and did not truly know the man; hearing now that a disqualified candidate could still sit the prefectural exam, rumors multiplied at once.

People often choose the worst motives. Some claimed he used family connections to pry open a back door.

Soon enough, Fourth Uncle Chen Jing was dragged in—people said it was by his influence that the qualification returned.

If Chen Jing had such power, he would never have been demoted to Shanzhou in the first place—and even now he toils for results in a desolate backwater.

Others said Elder Liang had pulled strings. That was not entirely wrong, but at root, Chen’s exoneration stood on solid proof; otherwise, restoration would never have been approved.

Even Wang Ying was dug up—because he once borrowed Assistant Prefect Wang’s name for business, folks connected them, assumed Wang Ying was his “dear nephew,” and marched to the vegetable shop to vent.

At dawn, just as the shop opened, four or five students clustered outside, railing at the doorway, denouncing Chen Qingyan as shameless; the clamor soon drew a crowd.

Inside, Lin Sui paced in circles. “Sister-in-law, what should we do? Eldest cousin hasn’t even finished the exam—if word reaches him, it will surely affect his mind!”

“Don’t panic—we’ve been through this before.”

It was precisely because they had that he worried. Last time, his cousin had been badly shaken and had to go to the estate to recover. Here in the prefectural city, with few friends—if this happened again, they could only return home.

“I’ll go and explain!”

Wang Ying caught his sleeve. “Once such talk spreads, even a hundred mouths can’t argue it down. Besides, if Qingyan can’t weather this much, he may as well give up the exam and farm.”

“So—just let them slander him?”

“Their mouths belong to them—we can’t control them. Scholars’ tongues can be filthy; the more one debates, the more excited they get, and who knows what worse they’ll invent next. If we ignore them, they have nowhere to perform; in a few days, it will blow over.”

“What about business in the shop…”

“Those who want to buy won’t be stopped; those who don’t, we won’t drag in. Let it be.”

In the last life, Wang Ying had seen plenty of contrarians online. They loved to bicker; debating only fueled their zeal. The best tactic was to ignore them entirely—leave them with nowhere to spar.

The few students harangued all morning until hoarse, and no one from inside so much as appeared. It was like punching cotton; stifled and fuming, they did not return in the afternoon.

As for Chen, he learned of it the following day. The prefectural results would not be posted until the exam ended, and early that morning he, Qinghuai, and Qingsong went to see the list.

Just outside the yamen, several dozen people surged around them. At their head stood Fang Wenke, the very man who had clashed with Chen at the poetry gathering.

Fanning himself, he stepped forward with a smirk. “I imagined that, as a disciple of Liang Liufang, you’d be a paragon—talented and upright. Who knew you’d stoop to such base tricks—truly contemptible!”

Chen blinked. “May I ask your honored surname—could there be some misunderstanding?”

Fang tightened his grip on the fan—this man didn’t even remember him!

“You are indeed a great forgetter. No matter—do you still recall your county exam?”

Qinghuai blanched and moved to stand before his brother.

Chen said calmly, “I was falsely accused. His Majesty, with discerning judgment, has already exonerated me and restored my status. Only then could I—”

“You—” Fang’s prepared retort jammed in his mouth; he suddenly didn’t know what to say.

A toady behind him blurted, “Who knows if what you say is true—just your side of the story!”

“Are you questioning His Majesty’s judgment?” Chen asked, face turning stern.

“N-no…”

Another sniped, “Don’t press us with the Emperor! Why were you the only one disqualified, and no one else? It could only be because you were at fault!”

Fang chimed in, “Right—why weren’t we disqualified at our county exam?”

“I was framed. Why not denounce the culprits who harmed others—why question me? By your logic, if a thief lifts your purse on the street, you blame not the thief but yourself—for stepping out with money?”

“Sophistry! With so many in the street, why did the thief only steal from you?”

Chen gave a cold smile. “Perhaps because I was ‘rich’ (talented) enough to tempt a ‘thief’? After all, ‘penniless’ sorts hardly draw thieves.”

Before they could reply, officials began posting the list. Ignoring them, Chen pulled his brothers forward.

As the red list went up, all held their breath and read line by line. A dense sheet of names—seventeen admitted in all.

To prevent confusion from homonyms, the roll listed not only names but also native place and age.

“First place, Chen Qingyan, Qingshui Town, Longquan County, age twenty-one… Elder Brother—you’re first—you’re the prefectural list-topper!” Qingsong and Qinghuai sprang up, shouting in delight.

Chen froze; a roaring filled his ears, and the sounds around him seemed to recede far, far away…

He had thought cracking the top ten would be quite good; never did he expect first… For a moment, joy left him at a loss for words.

After a long beat, he snapped back. “Quick—see Qinghuai’s rank!”

They combed the list—at number seven, they found Qinghuai’s name, and the three clenched their fists in triumph.

Both brothers on the list—one as list-topper—and the doubters’ mouths were stopped at once.

In the gawking crowd, a few muttered, “With skill like that, how could he have cheated?”

“He must’ve been framed…”

“No wonder the great Master Liang took him—cherishing talent.”

Ashen behind his fan, Fang slunk away.

Catching it in the corner of his eye, Chen laughed, elated. “Come—let’s take the news home!”

They leapt into the cart and raced back. At the gate, Qingsong could not contain himself. “We passed! Elder and Second Brother both passed!”

Inside, Madam Li, holding Yuanbao, rushed out with Fourth Aunt Fang. “Passed?!”

“Father!” Yuanbao reached out.

Chen swung his son up onto his shoulder. “Mm—we both did.”

“What ranks?” asked Fourth Aunt.

“First for me; Seventh for Qinghuai,” Chen said, pinching his son’s tiny, soft hand.

“Good—good!” Madam Li cried. “I’ll have Aunt Chen buy fish and meat—we’ll feast at noon!”

Tears bright in her eyes, Fourth Aunt gripped her son’s arm. “You’ll write to your father—tell him the news.”

“Mm!” Qinghuai nodded hard.

Elder Liang came out as well; looking at his proud disciples, he could not hide his smile. “Well done. Press on for the academy exam.”

“Yes.”

The academy exam was a further evaluation. All who passed the prefectural round were now licentiates; the academy exam set their grades.

Grade A: stipended students—admitted to the prefectural academy free of charge and given a monthly state subsidy, akin to a scholarship.

Grade B: licentiates admitted to the academy, but at their own expense and without subsidy.

Grade C: licentiates who could only study at the county level; to enter the prefectural academy would require extra fees, roughly like a late-arriving “auditor.”

Both brothers were bent on winning Grade A—to choke those mongers of slander.

After teasing his son, Chen handed Yuanbao to Qingsong. “I’ll run to the shop and tell your sister-in-law. Yuanbao—be good and play with Little Uncle.”

“Go on,” Qingsong said.

Light-footed, Chen made for the shop. Joy brightened every tree and flower he passed.

He greeted everyone he met, whether he knew them or not—leaving passersby puzzled and scratching their heads. Who was that?

At the shop, Wang Ying was serving customers. One look at Chen’s radiant face, and he knew.

When the customer had gone, Chen stepped up. “Ah Ying—I passed!”

Wang wiped his hands. “What rank?”

“Guess.”

“Top ten for sure—fifth?”

“Try again.”

“Third?”

Still a shake of the head.

“Don’t tell me… first?!”

“Your humble husband took the prefectural list-topper.”

“You rascal!” Wang pulled him into a tight hug, tears pricking—his beloved truly had done him proud!

Chen brushed away the tears at the corner of his eye. “What’s this—why tears?”

“Joy! With a husband like this—what more could one want?”

When the swell ebbed, Wang asked, “And Qinghuai?”

“He passed too—seventh.”

“Xiao Ma, Tian Ju—straighten up the shop. Sui—lock the door. No selling today—we’re going home to celebrate!”

“Aye!” The crew moved smartly. Wang and Chen started ahead.

On the way, Wang asked whether, at the posting, there had been ugly talk.

“Not only that—I used the results to slap them silly!”

After years of swallowing bitterness, Chen at last wiped his shame clean—venting all the pent-up rancor. He could not feel more elated.