Chapter 388: Zhi’er Would No Longer Stand Alone and Weak

At the eastern edge of Xiahe Village, the crowd surged like a restless river. The news that Zhu Ping’an had achieved the top rank in the imperial exams spread like a spark in dry grass, setting the entire village ablaze with excitement.

Old neighbor Li Daye once again climbed onto the roof of his own home, from where he could take in the full spectacle unfolding in the Zhu family courtyard. Peering out at the scene below, he saw people climbing trees and standing on tiptoe outside the gate, desperate for a glimpse. Pride washed over his face—who else could enjoy such a clear view without even trying?

Yet, Li Daye’s big fat dog was another story. Just a few days ago, its throat had finally healed enough to bark. Now, with a flood of strangers passing by the gate, the dog had barked itself hoarse. And with so many unfamiliar faces coming and going, it had tired itself out mid-bark and now could barely manage a whimper.

“Everyone’s worked hard—have some water and rest a bit,” Madam Chen said, addressing carpenter Li Dahei after finishing her reminders. She then warmly invited the bearers of the good news to sit down for tea. By now, Madam Chen was familiar with the routine: when Zhu Ping’an had passed the lower-level and provincial exams, the news-bearers would finish delivering their messages, receive their reward, rest a bit, enjoy some celebratory wine, and then depart.

“Madam, please wait a moment,” one of the messengers said.

Madam Chen was taken aback. The messengers showed no sign of sitting; instead, they moved as if tasked with something else entirely.

“Oh, don’t be shy—please, sit!” Madam Chen urged again, thinking them simply polite. Her heart was light with joy; her son had become the top scholar, and her smile refused to hide itself.

But what happened next exceeded her expectations. No sooner had she finished her invitation than a scene unfolded that left her mouth wide open in astonishment.

Plop! Plop!

All the messengers before her sank to their knees, one after another, in a seamless wave of submission. Madam Chen had not been prepared for this at all.

“What… what are you doing? Stand up!” Madam Chen exclaimed, her eyes wide with disbelief.

“The imperial edict has arrived…”

A clear, commanding voice rang from behind her, cutting through her shock.

Madam Chen turned, and there stood the finely dressed man to whom she had just handed a red envelope. In his hands, he unfurled a scroll of bright yellow silk with deliberate slowness.

In truth, he had stepped forward the moment Madam Chen had called the messengers to sit. Seeing him with the scroll, the messengers immediately understood the significance. Without hesitation, they all dropped to their knees.

Even the county magistrate knelt swiftly. Onlookers at the courtyard’s edge dared not remain standing; they, too, sank into a black sea of kneeling bodies. Li Daye, on his roof, let out a clatter as he knelt without hesitation. The men perched in trees balanced precariously on branches to do the same. Even Li Daye’s fat dog—pressed down by someone’s hand—lowered itself to a kneeling position, its paws planted firmly on the ground.

At this moment, only two remained standing: the high official reading the edict, and Madam Chen herself.

“Imperial edict has arrived! Kneel at once!” Zhu Ping’an’s father tugged at Madam Chen’s sleeve. Only then did she, belatedly realizing the moment’s gravity, sink to her knees.

An imperial edict?

The villagers of Xiahe were stunned beyond words. An imperial edict? By their ancestors’ spirits, this was the first imperial decree ever witnessed in Xiahe Village. From now on, they would have an endless story to boast about.

But hadn’t Zhu Ping’an’s achievement already been announced? Why would there still be an edict? What could it possibly mean?

Curiosity in the crowd reached its peak.

“By the Mandate of Heaven, the Emperor decrees…” the official announced, holding the scroll high.

“In the name of the Mandate of Heaven, the Emperor decrees?” Zhu Pingjun, kneeling in a corner, nudged his equally kneeling father, Li Shouren, in confusion. “Father, isn’t it usually ‘the Emperor issues an edict’?”

“What Emperor issues an edict? It’s always ‘the Emperor decrees’! Stop reading all those frivolous books!” his eldest uncle, Zhu Shouren, scolded, believing Zhu Pingjun’s words were just the product of too many storybooks.

Envy and frustration bubbled inside Zhu Shouren. He had been searching for a target for his irritation, and now here was Zhu Pingjun giving him perfect reason to scold—though, of course, he had to wait until the edict was fully read.

Once the official finished the opening line, he continued:

“Zhu Ping’an’s mother, Madam Chen, has long cultivated virtue in herself, possessing grace, wisdom, and the ability to guide her children. It is hereby decreed that Madam Chen, mother of Zhu Ping’an, be honored as an Anren.”

Buzz… buzz…

A wave of astonishment rippled through the courtyard. The edict was for Madam Chen? The Emperor himself acknowledged her? And her son, young Zhu Ping’an, had achieved such merit—how formidable! The villagers, both inside and outside the courtyard, were left speechless.

In the corner, Uncle Zhu Shouren’s jaw nearly dropped. Impossible! Little Zhu Ping’an had secured an imperial title for his mother—an official honorific bestowed by the Emperor himself!

“Please accept the edict, Madam Zhu Chen…” the official said, bowing slightly as he handed her the scroll.

“Anren… what is that?” Madam Chen asked, taking the scroll, her face filled with bewilderment.

“Anren is an imperial title, a reward for your son’s achievement in attaining the top scholar position,” the official explained. Seeing her confusion linger, he smiled faintly. “Simply put, it’s what people commonly call a titled lady by imperial decree. Anren is of the sixth rank.”

“A titled lady… sixth rank…” Madam Chen’s eyebrows shot up as her heart swelled with pride. When Zhu Ping’an had left, he had promised to earn her an imperial honor. She had thought it a playful boast—but now, the promise had been fulfilled in full.

Her pride was palpable. Watching Madam Chen beam with delight, Zhu Laotai and her aunt-in-law felt their teeth grind with envy.

“My son is incredible! He promised me an imperial title—and he delivered!” Madam Chen lifted her head, sweeping a victorious gaze over Zhu Laoye, Zhu Laotai, and the rest of the family, her triumph nearly lifting her off the ground.

“Carpenter, make a finer frame for this scroll—engrave it with flowers…” Madam Chen called out to Li Dahei, waving the imperial edict like a banner of victory.

“Congratulations, Anren! My blessings to Anren!” the county magistrate approached, bowing his hands respectfully.

“Your Excellency…” Though Madam Chen was riding high on joy, her ingrained respect for rank made her instinctively bow.

“Do not, do not! Anren, please do not embarrass me. You are sixth rank; I am only seventh. Only I have seen you—how could you bow to me?” the magistrate hurriedly said, assisting her as if steadying a delicate flower, wiping away imagined sweat from his brow.

His gesture only made Madam Chen feel lighter than air.

He then introduced Madam Chen and Zhu Ping’an’s father to the high-ranking official who had read the edict. Zhu Ping’an’s father and Madam Chen bowed in respect, and the official lavished praise upon Zhu Ping’an, sending Madam Chen into a state of near euphoria.

The officials, bound by heavy duties, could not linger and soon departed, though a dozen messengers remained.

Soon, rustic wine and delicacies from nearby mountains were carried in by the neighboring village’s steward, placed in orderly fashion on dozens of tables outside the Zhu residence. Villagers, messengers, and guests all took their seats, feasting amidst laughter and merriment.

“This Anren… truly sixth rank. Even the county magistrate bowed to me…” Madam Chen boasted, her voice brimming with pride.

“From now on, I won’t lift a finger, and I’ll receive ten shi of stipend every month…” she continued, trying to lower her voice, though Zhu Ping’an’s father, just two tables away, could hear every word. He could even picture her triumphant expression, and a rare smile spread across his usually somber face.

“I’m sixth rank too—my little Zhu’er is no longer alone or powerless…”

After the feast wound down and guests began departing, Madam Chen turned to the eldest uncle, Zhu Shouren, her words deliberate and pointed—a quiet, gleeful reminder of his earlier criticism before the good news arrived.

Uncle Zhu Shouren…