Volume One: From a Country Lad to a Scholar Chapter 9: Companion in Study

Su Biao began to speak of the teacher’s past.

The teacher was named Wen Lancang. His father was a scholar, a man of modest means, but despite repeated attempts at the provincial examination, Wen’s father never managed to pass. Proud and lofty by nature, he refused to stoop to mundane affairs, living off what little wealth remained until the family gradually fell into poverty.

When Wen Lancang was ten, his father passed away, leaving behind a widow and orphan.

Having studied with his father since childhood, Wen Lancang, too, aspired to bring honor and glory to his family through the imperial exams. Fortune smiled on him at first: at sixteen, on his very first attempt, he passed the children’s exam, immediately becoming the golden phoenix in the eyes of all. Praise poured in from every side, lifting him to the clouds.

But the higher one is held, the harder the fall. When he failed the college examination, he was dashed from those lofty heights; the former chorus of admiration instantly turned to mockery. The golden phoenix had fallen from its branch, leaving only tattered feathers in Wen Lancang’s heart.

He buried himself in study, but fate never again favored him. Attempt after attempt at the imperial exams—all in vain—success always slipping just out of reach.

Misfortune seldom comes alone. His aging mother died of illness, his wife, unwilling to remain in poverty and despair, took their son and returned to her own family, then divorced him and remarried.

Depressed and disheartened, Wen Lancang lost all ambition, his life forever stalled at the level of a child scholar. His scholar’s pride vanished, and he came to the Su family’s private school to eke out a living as a tutor.

After hearing all this, Chu Liu could not help but feel a ripple of emotion within. The imperial exams were always a narrow bridge over a raging torrent—a thousand soldiers and ten thousand horses fighting to cross. To fail and try again was the norm; some kept at it from youth until their hair turned white, still trudging down that endless, unforgiving road. Its cruelty was clear enough.

There was never any “easy” on the path of the imperial examinations, only steady, determined steps forward.

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After returning from the latrine, the bell rang for class, and the students all filed into the study hall.

The next two periods were for self-study. The teacher did not come, so the classroom became a playground, the children’s laughter and shouts nearly lifting the roof.

Thoughts of hand-slapping or parent-calling were thrown out the window—only the pure joy of childhood remained.

Some played with crickets, some dozed away, some clambered onto tables for horseplay, even a pair wrestling on the floor.

Su Biao ran over to watch the wrestling, playing several roles at once: cheering as a spectator, giving pointers as a coach, and judging as a referee.

He was the busiest and the happiest of them all.

“Bang!”

Chu Liu slammed his desk and roared, “If you want to make noise, do it outside! The rest of us still want to study.”

Silence fell like a curtain.

The children, startled by the shout, glanced around—then, seeing it was only Chu Liu, lost all fear.

“The teacher’s not here anyway! We’re just minding our own business—what’s it to you?”

······

“That’s right, you’re just a tagalong, not even eating much, but you sure like to boss people around.”

······

Chu Liu could only sigh. If not for memories of a past life, he would have been one of the rowdy children himself. But now… never mind, let them play; he would study on his own.

“Jiang Ping, why are you yelling at Chu Liu? Want me to give you a good slap? If your father didn’t have ties with mine, you think the Su family school would even take you, you little turtle?”

Jiang Ping had been the harshest in scolding Chu Liu, so Su Biao decided to stick up for him, jabbing a finger at Jiang Ping and cursing him out.

But this only added to the din. Su Biao, feeling a bit awkward, barked for everyone to sit down and study, then returned to his own seat.

Jiang Ping, smarting from Su Biao’s scolding, shot Chu Liu a venomous glare, then sat at his desk and began rifling through his book with noisy, angry flips.

For a moment, the study hall was a little quieter—but soon enough, the noise returned.

Chu Liu slipped outside to practice his calligraphy in the sand courtyard.

Su Biao, feeling embarrassed, went out to join him.

Su Wei had wanted to go, too, but one look at Jiang Ping’s fierce expression made him stick to his studies.

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“Sit up, everyone. Today we’re checking your homework.”

In the last period, Wen Lancang entered the study hall with a ruler in hand and a solemn expression.

Su Biao whispered to Chu Liu, “I’m not scared at all. The teacher hits all the others on the palm, but never me. You know why?”

Because you have a good father, of course!

Su Biao’s bragging, though quiet, did not escape Wen Lancang’s notice. Fixing him with a glare, Wen selected Su Biao as the first to be checked—a rare occurrence.

Su Biao had memorized the four phrases, but only wrote ten of the sixteen characters correctly—a result of having just practiced calligraphy with Chu Liu; otherwise, he might not have gotten even six right.

“Hold out your hand!”

Seeing the teacher’s ruler, Su Biao didn’t take it seriously, grinning as he stretched out his hand. The teacher had never struck him before. Surely this was just for show.

“Crack!”

Wen Lancang lifted the ruler high and brought it down hard on Su Biao’s palm.

“Aah…”

Su Biao’s face twisted in pain as he snatched his hand back, tears springing to his eyes. He never expected the teacher to actually hit him.

“Hold out your hand. Pull it back again and you’ll get double!”

Wen Lancang’s eyes were fierce, and Su Biao, terrified, obediently offered his hand.

“Crack! Crack!”

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After two heavy blows, Wen Lancang looked at him with bitter disappointment, sighing, “Think of how hard your parents work at home. They send you here to study, hoping you’ll devote yourself and not let them down. Playing around like this—who are you letting down?”

“Remember, these three strokes are on behalf of your parents, to remind you of your purpose in studying.”

“I should have given you ten, as a warning. But since you learned half of it today, I’ll let you off the rest. Next time, old and new mistakes will be tallied together!”

The room was instantly silent.

Wen Lancang’s shock tactic worked.

For the rest of the check, Chu Liu could easily guess—the ruler was busier than ever.

Su Wei, surprisingly, had only missed two characters out of sixteen, so Wen Lancang just gave his palm a gentle tap.

When it came to Chu Liu, all sixteen characters were correct.

“Fifteen of you are over seven, already with formal names, and have had a year more of schooling—yet you’re not as sensible as a six-year-old. He spent two periods writing in the sand—what about you? You just made noise in the classroom. Why do your parents send you to school? Jiang Ping, you answer!”

Jiang Ping stammered, “To study.”

“Have you studied?”

“No!”

“No, but you still have the nerve to argue?”

Wen Lancang smacked Jiang Ping two times on the backside, making his legs tremble.

Jiang Ping turned to glare at Chu Liu, eyes full of jealousy, resentment, and dissatisfaction.

Chu Liu knew well enough: from now on, he’d likely be ostracized by his classmates.

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Old Su, humming a little tune, cheerfully escorted Chu Liu home from school.

At the private school, he wore many hats—sweeping, boiling water, keeping order, trimming, unlocking doors—all for a single wage.

Today, he’d taken on one extra task and earned a little more.

Halfway home, Doumiao appeared.

“Go back now,” Doumiao said, still a bit annoyed at Old Su. He picked up Chu Liu and strode off.

“Chu Liu’s father told me, Young Master Su said himself—Chu Liu must be brought to the bridge. From now on, we’ll make the handoff at the bridge…”

Old Su trailed Doumiao all the way to the bridge before turning back.

If Young Master Su found out he hadn’t delivered the boy to the right place, what if he didn’t get paid?

A few more steps for peace of mind—it was worth it.