Chapter 111: Good News

The weather in northern July was ever-changing. At dusk, the sky was still awash with colorful clouds, but by nightfall, it had turned into a dense expanse of crimson clouds. Sharp streaks of lightning cut across the darkness, thunder rumbled from afar and drew nearer, and suddenly a torrential downpour unleashed itself.

This year, the rains had been relentless. June had seen countless storms, and July showed no sign of letting up. Word had it that Shandong was already suffering from severe flooding, and poor farmers there faced the grim prospect of a total crop failure.

Fortunately, the northern Zhili region fared somewhat better. The once parched rivers had filled to the brim, but there were yet no signs of flooding.

Father, Zhou Tie, had meticulously repaired the house during spring, covering the roof with a thick layer of earth, then plastering it with a mixture of fine sand and clay.

Zhou Zhi had already finished his dinner and was reclining on the kang bed, listening to the pattering rain outside. His mind, however, was preoccupied with the eight-legged essay that Che Lang was to deliver to Qu Renbin the next day.

These were the days of waiting for judgment.

Nearly a year had passed since he began studying. Over this time, he had read countless books, devouring nearly eighty to ninety percent of the family’s collection at Lv Xingchuan’s household. He had taught himself the Four Books and Five Classics, and with the help of Wang Ding, Fan Jin, and others, he had practiced composing eight-legged essays.

Without a renowned teacher’s guidance, most of his progress was self-taught.

Combining past experience with his current perseverance and understanding, he hoped his work was not too poor. Surely old Master Qu Renbin would give him a favorable review.

There were so many taboos to avoid in the eight-legged essay; he feared he might have inadvertently stepped on a forbidden topic or made some blunder.

Zhou Zhi knew this lack of confidence was natural, but how could he be confident? His essays had only ever been reviewed by a few local scholars and had never been presented in any grand scholarly setting.

His younger brother, Zhou Shaocheng, sat with bare arms blinking his small eyes toward the ceiling beam and suddenly asked, “Brother, when will our family build a big house?”

Zhou Zhi was momentarily taken aback. Considering current prices, building a five-room brick and tile house would cost no more than eight or nine taels of silver. With the family’s present fortune, constructing a new house would pose no problem. He had even once urged Father Zhou Tie to tear down their four mud-brick rooms and build a tiled house.

But Father Zhou Tie had resolutely replied, “We’ll build a brick-and-tile house only when you pass the scholar’s examination!”

His meaning was clear: no matter how much silver they had now, a poor farming family had to maintain its humble appearance. For the Zhou family to truly change their status, they had to wait until Zhou Zhi succeeded in the scholar’s exam; only then would they have a reason to change their household’s standing.

Zhou Zhi did not entirely agree with Father’s thinking, but he did not argue. Rebuilding the house would mean losing their current shelter, and Zhou Zhi’s studies would be disrupted.

Smiling faintly, Zhou Zhi said confidently, “Next year, our Zhou family will build a brick-and-tile house. Haha! By then, Shaocheng will have his own room!”

His words left no doubt: he was determined to pass the scholar’s exam next year. Though confidence was lacking now, resolve was strong.

Little Zhou Shaocheng giggled happily and soon drifted off to sleep, filled with hopeful dreams.

***

The next morning, the heavy rain had ceased early, and Zhou Zhi rose early to study and practice calligraphy.

Though the essay weighed on his mind, once he opened his books, he forced himself to calm down and focus fully.

When tired, he would stroll in the courtyard to visit the two spirited little ponies in the stable. When his mind cleared and his mood lifted, he would return to his studies.

Three days passed in this rhythm until one afternoon, Fan Jin, Che Lang, Lv Xingchuan, and Wei Haogu walked together into Zhou Zhi’s small courtyard.

Before entering the house, Fan Jin called out loudly, “Brother Zhou Zhi, great news! Today, the four of us will surely feast on you!”

Wei Haogu and Che Lang were visiting Zhou Zhi’s humble home for the first time and could not help but admire him all the more.

A noble scion from a poor family—that was exactly who Zhou Zhi was.

But no, his family did not even have a proper gate; they hardly qualified as a poor family.

Yet from such a household, a scholar was about to emerge.

Fan Jin spoke with such excitement that Zhou Zhi’s heart leapt. Could it be that Master Qu had praised his essay?

Without hesitation, he hurried out to greet them, clasping his hands respectfully. “Four esteemed brothers, please come inside!”

But the four stood motionless in the courtyard. Fan Jin’s expression darkened slightly as he feigned anger, “What? Have you not heard what I just said, Brother Zhou?”

Zhou Zhi quickly smiled and said, “I heard, I heard! But please, Brother Fan, do tell us plainly what you mean!”

“Hehe! Come along, bring some silver, and follow us to Zhao’s Tavern. We’ll talk along the way,” Fan Jin said with a smile.

Seeing that these four were determined to celebrate by treating him, Zhou Zhi felt immense joy.

Indeed, it was only right to properly thank them for their help with his studies and compositions these past days.

He hurried back inside, asked his mother, Zhou He, for two taels of silver, tucked them into his breast, and then went out with Fan Jin and the others, heading straight to Zhao’s Tavern.

Fan Jin was not one to keep matters to himself. Before Che Lang could speak, he began explaining the entire story to Zhou Zhi as they walked.

Che Lang had traveled to the county school in Qingdu to find old Master Qu Renbin. He first showed Qu all the essays written by himself, Fan Jin, Wei Haogu, and others. Qu reviewed them carefully, commenting on each. He said their writing had greatly improved lately and believed that with more practice, they would all rank among the first- or second-class licentiates in this year’s imperial examination.

Though the provincial examination was organized by the Education Commissioner, the grading was done by local instructors. With old Master Qu’s endorsement, success was almost guaranteed.

Che Lang was naturally elated and thanked Qu profusely.

Yet he did not leave immediately. Instead, he bowed deeply and hesitated before saying, “Teacher, I actually brought one more essay. But this one was written by a poor country boy. I have read it and think it superb. Perhaps you could also take a look and see if my judgment is accurate?”

This was Che Lang’s cleverness. He did not directly submit Zhou Zhi’s essay for review, nor did he ask Qu to comment on it. Instead, he asked Qu to verify his own discernment.

This subtle shift cleverly transferred the responsibility of reviewing Zhou Zhi’s essay onto Che Lang himself.

After all, only those who can distinguish excellence from mediocrity can better craft superior essays.

But Qu Renbin, seasoned and shrewd, saw right through Che Lang’s little scheme. Yet, seeing Che Lang’s genuine humility and respect, he hesitated briefly before asking him to produce the essay.

Qu quickly read it, his face expressionless.

After a long moment, he asked, “Che Lang, you said this essay was written by a poor country boy?”

Che Lang, reading his expression, nodded hastily. “Yes! I would never deceive you, Teacher. The boy’s name is Zhou Zhi, from Baiyue Village.”

Qu said, “This eight-legged essay, titled with the common theme ‘The Master said,’ opens with remarkable precision. Its flow is natural, the transitions proper and well-structured. A fine piece!

“Lately, I have read many essays by licentiates, but to me, this one surpasses most.”

Though brief, Qu’s comments were full of praise. Che Lang took them to heart and felt a deep joy for Zhou Zhi.

As Che Lang prepared to take his leave, Qu said, “Leave this essay here. Since it was written by a poor country youth, I find myself genuinely curious about the boy. Che Lang, if you get the chance, bring Zhou Zhi to the county school. I would very much like to meet him.”

Clearly, Qu had taken a liking to talent.