WSMTATMC C153

Chapter 153

As soon as they left, Qingyun couldn’t resist grabbing Lin Sui’s arm. “That was the Marquis of Wuping, right? Why did he come here himself?”

“I don’t really know. You’d just left in the afternoon when he came with his child.”

Wang Ying said, “What did I tell you~”

Lin Sui ducked his head, embarrassed. “Maybe Qing’er wanted to come play with me?”

Qingyun said, “If Qing’er wanted to find you, the marquis could have had a maid or nurse bring her. Why come in person?”

Wang Ying chuckled and patted his sister’s arm. “Enough—another word and Sui will want to crawl into a hole.”

“Hahahahaha…” Cousin and sister-in-law laughed together.

Lin Sui, puffed up with indignation, chased after them. “Don’t make fun of me!”

Jokes aside, this had to be treated cautiously. If the other party truly had no such intent, wouldn’t Lin Sui be rejoicing in vain?

Wang Ying said, “After all, the Marquis of Wuping is a marquis—different from us common folk. If he doesn’t have that inclination…”

“Sister-in-law, everything you’re saying, I understand. With this body, I never planned to marry again. It’s just that Qing’er is so pitiful and sweet—she likes to come to me, and I like her in turn. That’s enough.”

He had been harmed by his former husband and lost the ability to bear children, so he could never be a father. He had always had a special love for children and had never once thought of marrying that tall, sturdy man.

Wang Ying sighed. A few days ago he’d thought the two matched well; one remark from Qingyun and he’d immediately reverted to the mindset of the old days.

Feudal dregs do such harm!

From that day on, the Marquis would bring Qing’er over from time to time; when he couldn’t come, he sent men to escort her to play.

Over time, all became familiar. Li Mu was indeed a fine man. At twenty-five, he spoke and acted with exceptional steadiness—the bearing of a great general.

Sometimes, when business came in, he even helped load and unload ice blocks—without a trace of aristocratic airs.

Little Qing’er grew ever closer to Lin Sui. The two had some mysterious affinity; after only days together, she depended on him, and at night, when it was time to leave, she would hug him with tearful eyes, unwilling to let go.

Today, coming from the garrison to fetch his daughter, Li Mu carried her on his shoulder, and halfway home asked, “Do you like Brother Lin Sui?”

Qing’er nodded fiercely; fearing he hadn’t seen, she even raised a thumb and hooked it.

The next day, Li Mu took two subordinates and personally went to Longquan County to inquire into Lin Sui’s past and family situation.

It wasn’t that he was overly suspicious, but he had been deceived before—he had to be cautious.

Only after a clear investigation and finding nothing amiss would he consider marriage talk. After all, marriage was a matter for two; if Lin Sui was unwilling, he would drop it.

—

Time whisked by to the final day of the provincial exam. When they turned in papers at the Hour of Shēn(approximately 15:00–17:00), the exam would be over.

There was no need to elaborate on the nine days of torment. In the cramped cell, one could neither bathe, nor chat, nor stroll.

Particularly since the exam decided one’s future, those with weaker psyches could be driven mad by the suffocation.

Qingyan’s mental state was all right—only he felt a rank kitchen-slop stink on himself, hair in wild disarray; with no comb, he had tied it up in a rough knot with a hairband. At a glance, he looked like a beggar at the city gate.

Qinghuai was no better. Anxious over the test, he loosened his sash and did push-ups bare-chested in the cell.

The patrolling invigilators were used to it. This was the gentler sort—some around the stink cells had forced themselves to the last day and were numb from the stench of feces and urine.

They sat blankly in place; if not for the occasional blink, one wouldn’t know if they were awake or fainted.

Liu Changyi was worse. He had always slept alone and couldn’t stand the least sound at night.

Surrounded on all sides by people, the night’s snoring roared like cattle—no way to sleep!

He’d been hollowed out these days; dark rings under his eyes—his soul nearly gone—only hoping for the exam to end so he could run home to sleep.

Of the four, only Cousin Li Bingchen fared well. Having sat twice, he had experience; aside from minor disarray in his clothes, his face looked little changed. He even had leisure in the morning to soak his flatbread in hot water to eat.

Qingyan couldn’t eat. At first he could manage a cake a day; by the sixth he ate only half; on the seventh he couldn’t swallow even a corner—putting it in his mouth made him want to vomit—subsisting entirely on jerky.

Fortunately, enough jerky had been prepared—he could hold out until leaving the hall tomorrow.

At the Hour of Shēn, the gong sounded. All candidates set down their brushes; invigilators collected the papers and drafts row by row. The papers were bundled and sealed on the spot to be graded by officials sent from the capital.

These officials were all from elsewhere, so there was no sheltering of local sons.

After collection, candidates still could not leave; night was falling, and they would leave the next morning.

This last night was the hardest: nerves wound to the utmost, and when the papers were taken, the taut string snapped. Some laughed and cried; patrolling officers restrained them. Some tried to run from their cells…

Qingyan also felt unwell. He missed home acutely—missed Ah Ying—missed holding him to sleep—missed caressing his body and driving him to beg for mercy…

He drifted into a doze, and the second day dawned. As when entering, they filed out. Near the front, Qingyan straightened his clothes, set his cap, took up his basket, and walked out.

Just outside the cell, someone called softly behind him. He turned to see his younger brother, pale, grinning; his lips split with cracks, and the smile made him hiss with pain.

Qingyan couldn’t help but smile and continued forward. After the final checks of body and basket, he handed in the cell token—at last, he could leave the compound!

At the gate, the sight made him pause: a sea of people, thousands, all waiting to greet the candidates.

Qinghuai followed right behind, trotting up. “Finally out!”

“Huai—are you all right?”

“Barely. I want a bath, then a good meal, then sleep for a day!”

Qingyan had the same thought. “Let’s find the family—they must be worried sick.”

They looked around and saw Ershun in the back, jumping and waving. “Masters—over here!”

Qingyan took his brother and squeezed through. Ershun took their baskets. “Up to the carriage and rest. Once we’ve got the cousin, we’ll go. Your lord and the old madam are waiting outside!”

Tianyang was just after Longquan; soon Li Bingchen came out and was brought to the carriage. The three met eyes and smiled, relieved.

The exam hall was like a battlefield—they had all fought their way back.

Wang Ying and the family hadn’t come in; it was too crowded to push through. They parked the carriage outside. After hours, they saw Ershun approaching and all hurried down to meet them.

When the carriage stopped and the three got out, Madam Li and Fang Ling took their sons’ arms and looked them over.

Wang Ying too asked with concern, seeing the pallor on Qingyan’s face. “Are you all right?”

Qingyan nodded. “Fine—just very hungry, and very tired.”

“Then hurry home for food!” said Madam Li.

Qingsong climbed into the second carriage with them, peppering them the whole way about the exam. Qingyan and Qinghuai could hardly speak. Second Cousin gave a faint recounting, and soon all three leaned against the wall and slept, waking only on arrival.

At home, Elder Liang had long been anxious. Seeing the trio come out safely, he took a breath. Without waiting for them to speak, he pinched his nose. “Bath—now. What’s that smell?”

The three laughed and hurried to the bath, scrubbing from head to toe.

After washing and changing, half their life returned. In the hall, the sight of a laden table made their eyes light up.

Gathered around, Qingyan ate three bowls before reviving and finding his voice.

Stroking his beard, Elder Liang asked, “How did this session feel?”

“The questions weren’t hard, but the cell was torture. No wonder they say the provincial exam is like crossing tribulation—I’ve experienced it. The ancients did not lie!”

Qinghuai nodded. “Exactly. By the end, who had the spirit to read papers—just being able to write legibly deserved a thumbs up.” He gave one.

Bingwen said, “The first two times I felt the same—numb by the last two days. This time better—hard to bear, but with past experience, I was prepared.”

Qingyun, at the side, kept wanting to ask; Wang Ying helped. “How about Young Master Liu—did he make it through?”

“Changyi was ahead of us—we didn’t see him when we came out. He should have endured.”

Indeed, Liu Changyi had—but he fainted right outside the gate. His two servants rushed him to the carriage. Thankfully, nothing serious—just collapsed from exhaustion. For a pampered young master, making the last day was no small feat.

The three devoured the dishes clean and were drowsy beyond measure. No one asked more; they were sent to rest.

The results would take two months. Time at last to relax.

That night, Wang Ying sent Yuanbao to his grandmother’s and hurried back to the bedroom.

It was dark; as he reached for the lamp, Qingyan hugged him from behind.

“You scared me…”

Hot breath brushed his ear. Qingyan kissed the rim, voice hoarse. “Brother—I missed you.”

The ear was Wang Ying’s most sensitive spot. The damp, soft tongue touched and his whole body went weak, hardly able to stand. “Qingyan…”

Qingyan lifted him onto the bed, pinned his hands above his head, and rained down kisses like a storm—until Wang Ying couldn’t catch breath.

Only after a long time did they part, both panting. With abstinence during the exam, Wang Ying too was ravenous; clothes came off in a few strokes and they rolled together.

That night, sudden rain beat the plantain—heavy, urgent drops, setting the broad leaves trembling without pause, never resting for a moment.