Kays Translations

Chapter 147: Good News in Xiahe Village

Zhu Ping’an gradually walked farther away, his figure slowly disappearing into the crowd on the opposite bank of the Qinhuai River, like a drop of water falling into the sea, never to be seen again.

By the Qinhuai River, the sixteen-year-old girl held in her hands the calligraphy left by Zhu Ping’an, gazing at his departing back, unable to calm down for a long time.

“Let’s go, Susu, a young man like him is not someone we can aspire to.” The seventeen or eighteen-year-old girl shook her head, gathered the red-eyed girl’s scattered hair into a bun, and comforted her in a sorrowful voice.

The sixteen-year-old girl, hearing this, her eyes reddened even more. She silently nodded, biting her teeth, and walked with the seventeen or eighteen-year-old girl toward the opposite bank of the Qinhuai River.

After the scene with the two girls, the time was already nearing dusk. Zhu Ping’an left the bank of the Qinhuai River and casually strolled through the city of Yingtian, looking for some delicious food that caught his fancy. In two days, he would return home; Yingtian had so many delicacies, and he hadn’t had enough yet.

While Zhu Ping’an wandered through Yingtian, a relay postman who had already changed horses three times was racing toward Huaining with the good-news notices for this year’s newly admitted shengyuan.

The sun set and rose again, and the swift horse grew thinner.

As Zhu Ping’an left the inn in formal dress and headed for Mingyuan Tower at the Jiangnan Gongyuan, several yamen runners in black-and-red uniforms rode out from Huaining City carrying copper gongs, red good-news notices, suona horns, and other ceremonial items.

Zhu Ping’an and the other newly admitted shengyuan, dressed in blue robes, entered the Jiangnan Gongyuan and went up Mingyuan Tower. The name Mingyuan evoked the classical idea of cultivating virtue and remembering one’s roots. On the third floor they quietly waited for the education commissioner, who would preside over the banquet and flower-pinning rites.

Round arches opened on all four sides of Mingyuan Tower’s ground floor, with stairs leading upward. From the windows above, Zhu Ping’an could look out across the whole Jiangnan Gongyuan.

While Zhu Ping’an and the others waited for the education commissioner, Xiahe Village had already erupted in excitement.

After breakfast, the people who went out to work in the fields saw five or six yamen officers in red clothes riding in from a distance. As soon as they reached the boundary of Xiahe Village, they dismounted and hung a string of firecrackers on a tree. Bang, bang, bang—the noise was deafening.

Then came the loud sounds of gongs and drums, and the suona horn blared.

At the village entrance, the atmosphere was jubilant. This elaborate good-news procession was treatment reserved for an academy-examination anshou.

“Sir, what’s going on?” A bold old farmer stepped forward to ask.

“Congratulations! Your village’s Master Zhu placed first in the Children’s Examination and has become a xiucai!” the yamen runner holding the red notice announced with a beaming smile.

Upon hearing this, the old farmer dropped his hoe and, with a strong step, ran excitedly into the village.

“Uncle Li, why are you running?” A man working the fields saw the old farmer sprinting and curiously asked.

“Hurry, hurry! Our village finally has a xiucai! After all these years, we finally have one! Let’s go to Old Zhu’s house and bring the good news!” the old farmer shouted excitedly as he hurried toward the village.

“Is that true?” The man was overjoyed.

“Why would I lie at my age? Didn’t you see the firecrackers, gongs, and drums with the yamen officers over there?” The old farmer puffed up his beard and glared.

The old farmer had just finished speaking when he saw the man let out a loud shout, throw aside his hoe, and rush ahead with a swish. The old farmer could only follow behind, eating dust.

“You little rascal. Wait for the old man!” The old farmer was so angry, it made him feel twenty years younger.

“Hahaha, Uncle Li, let me, your nephew, run this errand!” The man laughed foolishly, not looking back, and ran ahead with all his might.

“You little rascal!” The old farmer laughed and scolded him endlessly.

The man just kept laughing foolishly, and the more he was scolded, the faster he ran.

More and more villagers heard the news and joined the crowd. This was great news for all of Xiahe Village. Shanghe Village was wealthier, yes, but it also had a xiucai like Master Sun to lend it prestige. Now Xiahe Village finally had a xiucai of its own.

They still didn’t know what anshou meant. From the messenger’s tone, though, it sounded enormously impressive—perhaps, some of the old farmers thought, even greater than ordinary xiucai status.

More and more people heard the news, and more joined the celebration, a large crowd surging toward the Zhu family’s old home. Everyone was running so fast, it looked like they were being chased by dogs. They had to hurry and tell the Zhu family this good news. If the Zhu family wasn’t prepared when the officials arrived with their congratulations, it would be a problem. The yard needed to be tidied up, tea prepared, and snacks like seeds and candies ready. Of course, there had to be reward money too. They couldn’t let the official look down on Xiahe Village. If anything was missing, they could go home and grab it; they had to make sure the Zhu family looked good.

Why did everyone assume the news concerned the Zhu family? The messenger had said “Master Zhu.” In the Zhu household, both Eldest Uncle Zhu Shouren and the youngest grandson Zhu Ping’an had sat the examinations. Zhu Ping’an had only recently become a tongsheng, and when a runner had previously brought news for him he had been called Young Master Zhu, not Master Zhu. Shouren, on the other hand, had been a tongsheng for roughly a decade after studying for many years. Naturally, the villagers assumed “Master Zhu” meant him.

So, the old farmers naturally assumed that “Master Zhu” meant Zhu Shouren.

Xiahe Village wasn’t very big, and before long, the crowd had run from the village entrance into the village.

Zhu Ping’an’s mother, Chen, was at the front gate stitching shoes. When she saw the crowd rushing past her house toward the village, kicking up a large cloud of dust, she curiously asked a familiar villager what was going on.

“Don’t you know? Your husband’s elder brother, Shouren, has become a xiucai! Er Mazi just saw the good-news runners heading this way,” the villager said excitedly.

At those words, Mother Chen accidentally pricked her finger with the needle. Her brother-in-law had passed—but what about her own Zhi’er?

“What… what about my Zhi’er?” Chen asked anxiously.

“I heard there’s only been one scholar from our village,” someone else added, and then hurriedly urged the villager, “Hurry up, we need to tell Old Zhu’s family, so they can prepare!”

“Your Zhi’er didn’t pass, but he’s still young, so don’t worry. Come on, Second Sister-in-law. Let’s go congratulate your husband’s elder brother Shouren,” someone consoled her.

“Yes, let’s go. Becoming a tongsheng at his age is already impressive. Don’t think too much about it, Second Sister-in-law. Zhi’er will surely pass the academy examination next time.”

The villagers behind them chimed in and hurried on, eager to ingratiate themselves with the new xiucai’s family. They had heard that xiucai enjoyed remarkable privileges—exemptions from certain taxes and corvée, and enough social standing that people even said they could stand as equals with the county magistrate. Who knew when they might need a favor?

Mother Chen stood frozen, clutching the shoe sole as she watched the crowd rush toward the old Zhu residence. Even when the needle pricked her again and drew blood, she did not notice. She had not dared expect Zhi’er to pass, yet hearing that her brother-in-law had succeeded while her own son had failed still left her deeply unsettled.

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