Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Just after the first lunar month, it was time for another Spring Imperial Examination.

The capital was packed with scholars who had traveled for the exams.

Those from wealthy families stayed in the guildhalls and inns of the East and West Cities as soon as they arrived.

Those places were exquisitely decorated, with shopkeepers providing warm and attentive service.

Not only were brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones readily available, but to ensure the scholars weren’t delayed in their preparations, three meals and hot water were diligently delivered to their rooms every day.

Correspondingly, the prices were also quite exorbitant.

Because of this, more scholars chose to stay in the North and South Cities.

The North and South Cities mostly consisted of houses converted from private residences, featuring drafty communal kangs and bedding that smelled slightly sour.

It cost only ten copper coins a day.

Noble in the East, wealthy in the West, poor in the South, and lowly in the North.

Though they had all spent over a decade studying hard by the cold window, the difference was like heaven and earth.

My wonton stall was located at the South City Market Entrance.

My mother used to run it.

She passed away three years ago, and I took over.

In those three years, I improved the wonton recipe and built up a bit of a reputation.

Now, as more and more candidates arrived in the capital for the exams, many gathered near the South City Market Entrance, and my wonton stall was crowded every day.

For the scholars who truly couldn’t afford to pay, I would record their names and let them buy on credit.

Some felt too embarrassed and offered to work in exchange for food.

I would find some simple chores for them to do.

By doing some work, they felt more at peace with eating.

After eating here for several days in a row, everyone became quite familiar with one another.

The scholars pooled their money to buy candles, and after I closed up for the night, they would sit together at the stall to study.

Dim candlelight, the rustle of turning pages, the bright moonlight, and the mottled shadows of the trees.

I sat in the corner doing my accounts, feeling that the night was no longer as eerie and terrifying as it used to be.

Suddenly, the group of scholars grew noisy, punctuated by bursts of laughter.

“Miss Song!” someone shouted. “Brother Xie wants to ask how old you are. Are you betrothed?”

Amidst the teasing, Xie Zhixue was pushed forward.

On the day he first came to my wonton stall, he was the one who had sat stiffly, refusing to pick up his chopsticks.

Xie Zhixue’s cheeks were slightly flushed, and his eyes were a bit shifty.

“Miss… Miss Song… I…”

Scholars are so thin-skinned; a little teasing makes them incredibly bashful.

I looked up and ruthlessly sized him up from head to toe.

“You’re decent-looking, and you’re a scholar. Not bad.”

Xie Zhixue’s eyes lit up.

“A pity, though. On her deathbed, my mother instructed me to find a live-in son-in-law,” I said dismissively.

The light in his eyes dimmed again.

In this world, only the most incompetent men are willing to become a live-in son-in-law.

Scholars have high aspirations; with the prospect of passing the exams and gaining a title seemingly within reach, how could they ever agree to such a thing?

“Alright, go back to your books.”

I waved him off and went back to my ledgers.

Xie Zhixue, however, refused to leave.

He hesitated for a long time, took a deep breath, and spoke:

“Miss Song, I am nineteen years old. I have an elder brother at home who is already married; the responsibility of carrying on the family line and surname falls to him.”

“I know I am penniless right now and not good enough for you. If my name is on the honors list this time, may I come back to ask for your hand in marriage?”

His words truly stunned me.

I looked up again and carefully sized him up once more.

When young, people often throw their entire lives away without looking back for the sake of a tiny bit of kindness.

When they grow old and look back, they are filled with regret.

…He’s still just a child.

“Talk to me after you’ve passed the exams,”

I said noncommittally.