Chapter 61: Prefectural Top Scholar – Thankfully Left Early

Bing Wengu was quite satisfied with his answers. When he left the examination hall, he felt no anxiety, confident as ever. Strolling leisurely behind the crowd, he arrived at the agreed meeting spot and immediately spotted Nan Jinping and the other two.

Nan Jinping looked Bing Wengu up and down. "You look worn out."

Bing Wengu chuckled. "Not at all. It’s only been three days. I just couldn’t shave, so I look a bit scruffy."

"You’re in really good shape," a voice suddenly chimed in from the side. The three turned to see Jiang Songde, who smiled wryly. "My cousin was carried out again. Seems he really needs to work on his endurance."

Jiang Songde’s carriage had already prepared a doctor, whom he quickly called over to examine his cousin.

Nan Jinping’s elder brother said, "Let’s get on the ox cart and head back. Jin Geer got you a doctor—he’s waiting at home."

Though Bing Wengu had emerged from the last exam unharmed, Nan Jinping wasn’t taking any chances this time and had arranged for a doctor.

Bing Wengu turned to Nan Jinping with a playful bow. "Your husband is grateful, love."

Nan Jinping lightly pulled his punch, holding back his strength.

When the doctor arrived, the diagnosis was the same as last time—Bing Wengu was in perfect health and needed no medicine.

As Bing Silang escorted the doctor out, he sighed about how expensive everything was in the prefectural city. "Last time, my brother-in-law booked a doctor for just one tael of silver. This one cost five taels. They sure make it look easy."

This time, though, Bing Silang felt the sting but not the same heart-wrenching pain as before.

During his two months in the prefectural city, after deducting costs and accounting for rest days, Bing Silang had already saved up five taels of silver.

Once they reached the provincial capital, they’d surely continue their business. With even wealthier clientele there, earnings would only increase. At this rate, he’d save another five taels, totaling ten taels for the trip. None of his brothers at home could match that—no wonder everyone wanted to follow Bing Wengu out.

Bing Silang was delighted. With a big tiled-roof house at home and ten taels in his pocket, his marriage prospects would surely improve. Maybe he could even find a town girl.

Before, some families from town had inquired, but they were all poor—just like the Bings used to be. Back then, his parents had declined, and Bing Silang hadn’t cared, still getting over it. But this time, if his eldest brother passed the exams, his marriage prospects would undoubtedly get even better.

After a quick bath and a meal, Bing Wengu went straight to bed.

With Bing Wengu resting, Nan Jinping and the others didn’t have much to do. They hadn’t soaked beans the previous day, so there was no business to tend to. Besides, it was nearly noon, and their stall usually only operated in the mornings anyway. With their usual easygoing attitude, the three decided to go out and have some fun.

The next day, Bing Silang and Nan Jinping’s elder brother had their stall up and running again, completely unfazed—after all, business was business.

A familiar customer, knowing their family had a County Top Scholar candidate, stopped to ask, "You’re back at the stall so soon? Not waiting for the Prefectural Examination results?"

Bing Silang shrugged it off. "The exam’s over. Worrying won’t change anything."

The customer teased, "So confident! Seems the County Top Scholar did well. Might he land the Prefectural Top Scholar too?"

Nan Jinping’s elder brother didn’t dare agree. "The prefectural city is full of brilliant minds everywhere. No one can claim the Top Scholar title yet."

The customer didn’t mind, having only meant it as polite small talk.

Soon, it was results day. This time, Nan Jinping’s elder brother and Bing Silang couldn’t stay detached—Bing Wengu had a real shot. They waited eagerly outside the prefectural office for the results.

Ping’an, though young, was shrewd. His former master’s family, though not at the imperial exam level, took the exams seriously. Every results day, they’d send him to push through the crowd, check the rankings, and then visit the top three candidates, hoping to network.

With that experience, Ping’an quickly pushed his way in. Lifting his head, he saw Bing Wengu’s name—right at the top.

"First place! First place!" Ping’an jumped for joy, yanking the two still craning their necks in the crowd. "Go tell everyone the good news! I saw the master take first place!"

"What?" The two men were stunned. Though they now recognized Bing Wengu's capabilities, they had witnessed firsthand how competitive the prefectural city was—a place teeming with talent. Yet Bing Wengu had still won first place?

Ping'an ignored their dazed expressions and sprinted home alone. Spotting Nan Jinping waiting at the gate from afar, he shouted, "Young Master, Young Master Bing has won first place!"

Nan Jinping always wore men's clothing in public and had Ping'an address him as "Young Master."

"Wonderful! Wen Gu, you’ve won first place!" Overjoyed, Nan Jinping hugged Bing Wengu, completely forgetting they were outside.

Bing Wengu smiled and hugged him back openly, his demeanor so natural it prevented any strange assumptions. At most, onlookers might think Nan Jinping was simply overexcited—a youthful lack of restraint.

"Alright, time to get up. The official messengers are coming," Bing Wengu said, hearing the distant sound of suona music. He patted Nan Jinping’s shoulder.

Nan Jinping quickly pulled away from Bing Wengu’s arms and handed Ping'an a red envelope from inside. "This is for you—share in the joy. Your monthly wages are doubled this month."

"Thank you, Young Master, thank you, Young Master Bing! May both of you continue to achieve greater heights, live happily together, and cherish each other forever."

As a mere servant, Ping'an’s oddly phrased blessings raised no eyebrows. Most assumed his limited education led him to recite every congratulatory phrase he knew.

The government clerks soon arrived, following the same routine as last time. Nan Jinping smoothly handed the largest red envelope to them and distributed the rest among the neighbors who came to offer congratulations.

Bing Silang no longer minded spending the money. If it ensured his elder brother’s continued success, he’d gladly keep giving out money.

Once the red envelopes ran out, Bing Wengu instructed Nan Jinping and Bing Silang to close the gates.

"This is the prefectural city. We have no roots here and know no one," Bing Wengu said. "To avoid trouble, we won’t receive any congratulatory visitors this time."

Bing Silang nodded, recalling how his brother had attracted unwanted attention after becoming the County Primus—attempts to bribe the family into replacing his brother-in-law with a merchant’s daughter. Here in the prefectural city, if someone with greater influence had similar designs, it could cause serious problems.

"Don’t worry, Elder Brother. I’ve handled this before," Bing Silang assured, pounding his chest. "Just say you’re exhausted from the exams and resting after taking medicine. We’ll invite them later. I won't let anyone through!"

True to his word, though the Bings shut their gates, knocks persisted continuously as well-wishers arrived.

Bing Silang refused to open the door to anyone, familiar or not. Since their intentions were supposedly congratulatory, none would force entry—they weren’t here to make enemies. Besides, Bing Wengu was only the Prefectural First, not even a government scholar yet. Hardly worth extreme measures.

Once word spread of the Bings’ stance, visitors decreased. Seizing the opportunity, Bing Wengu disguised himself and slipped out the back gate with Nan Jinping.

With Bing Wengu’s fame as the Prefectural First at its peak, now was the perfect time to promote the storybooks Nan Jinping had written.

Bing Wengu took him to several bookshops he frequented, introducing the works as his brother-in-law’s creations. The bookshop proprietors accepted them without hesitation, offering an unusually high price of ten taels of silver per book.

These weren’t exclusive deals—other shops could sell them too. For an unknown newcomer, the rate was unusually high.

Only Bing Wengu’s influence could get such offers. Had anyone else submitted the manuscripts, the offers would’ve been far lower. Ultimately, it was about seeking favor with the Prefectural First.

Most well-connected families in the city knew Bing Wengu refused gifts. Yet here he was, personally escorting his brother-in-law to submit manuscripts—proof not only of his regard for family but also the sole remaining avenue to befriend him.

After visiting ten bookshops, Nan Jinping had earned a hundred taels easily. He was completely stunned.

He also grasped the weight of the Prefectural First title. Had he gone alone, he might not have even found publishers.

A coded knock sounded—three long, two short—the signal Bing Wengu had arranged with Ping'an before leaving. The servant knew his masters had returned but cautiously asked through the door, "This is the Bing residence. Who knocks?"

"Ping'an, it’s us," Nan Jinping whispered.

Ping'an promptly opened the gate, ushered them inside, and shut it firmly behind them.

Inside, Nan Jinping and Bing Silang were packing. To avoid further entanglement with the prefectural merchants, Bing Wengu planned to depart at dawn the next day.

Noticing the bulging bundle in Nan Jinping’s arms, Nan Jinping asked, "What's that you're carrying, Jin Geer?"

Nan Jinping not only didn’t conceal anything but was also somewhat excited. She opened the bundle with a flourish, exclaiming, "My storybook sold for silver!"

Both Nan Dage and Bing Silang were stunned speechless as their eyes fell on the gleaming silver. "This... how is there so much?"

Nan Jinping laughed, "A total of one hundred taels. Wen Gu took me to ten bookshops, and each offered ten taels for it."

"Good grief!" Nan Dage's lips trembled with excitement. Not long ago, he had just learned that his younger brother could write stories, and now Nan Jinping had given him an even greater surprise. Writing stories was one thing, but selling them for a hundred taels was another!

Nan Jinping didn’t forget to credit Bing Wengu. "We must thank Wen Gu. Without borrowing his reputation, I couldn’t have sold it for such a high price."

Bing Wengu smiled. "That’s because you have the talent. Otherwise, no one would give you this money at a loss."

Though Ping An was a servant, no servant from a trading family was a fool.

He knew something was off about Bing Wengu’s words. Right now, people outside were scrambling to send gifts to Bing Wengu, asking for nothing in return—clearly, they just wanted to befriend the Prefectural First.

The shopkeepers were no exception.

Indeed, after Bing Wengu and Nan Jinping left, several shopkeepers glanced at the storybook and set it aside.

A waiter asked, "Shopkeeper, ten taels per book—isn’t that too high for a newcomer? At this price, we might not even recoup our costs."

The shopkeeper replied, "I know that. But when the Prefectural First personally brings someone here, it’s not just about the storybook anymore. So many folks are desperate to send him gifts but can’t find a way. Now that he’s come to us, how can we not show our appreciation?"

The waiter muttered, "This feels like we're being shaken down."

"Shaken down or not, it’s just a small sum. Besides, with the Prefectural First’s name attached, if we play our cards right, we can surely make it back." The shopkeeper thought to himself: since Bing Wengu didn’t forbid them from using his name when he left, he couldn’t blame them for making use of it.

The waiter flipped through the storybook. "Forget the plot—the handwriting alone is mediocre. Not ugly, but not beautiful either, with no distinctive style. If it were well-written, it could’ve fetched a few taels more. But then again, for the Prefectural First’s younger brother to submit such handwriting is rather embarrassing."

The shopkeeper shook his head. "You still have much to learn. Do you really think this is the original manuscript from the Prefectural First’s younger brother? Judging by the script, it was likely copied by a servant. Otherwise, if the handwriting were even slightly better, just the value of an autograph would’ve been worth far more than ten taels."

The waiter fell silent, his attention now completely absorbed by the engaging story of the storybook.

The next day, everyone rose early. While it was still dark, Bing Wengu and his group quietly left the city, leaving Ping An behind to handle the remaining trivial matters—such as ending the rental and selling the family’s bean curd equipment.

Bing Silang had initially wanted to bring the equipment along, but Bing Wengu said no to the idea.

Bing Wengu arranged with Ping An that if they didn’t meet on the road, he should head straight to the prefectural capital.

Once Bing Wengu arrived, he would leave a detailed letter at the post station specifying their lodging. If Ping An arrived and found no letter, it meant they hadn’t reached the city yet, and he should simply wait.

Bing Wengu wasn’t worried about Ping An running off with the money—there wasn’t much to begin with, and Ping An’s indenture contract was still in their possession.

Moreover, without boasting, Bing Wengu knew Ping An wouldn’t find a better life elsewhere than with them.

Ping An thought exactly as Bing Wengu did.

Though their time together had been short, it was enough to see that the Bing family treated their servants well, even generously.

Ping An didn’t look down on his masters for their rural origins. On the contrary, it made him admire them all the more.

A scholar from a village, with no power or influence, becoming the County Primus could be dismissed as luck. But to then achieve the Prefectural First? That was no fluke—it was pure talent.

With such talent, passing the provincial exams was as easy as taking candy from a baby. Barring accidents, success was inevitable. With a bit of luck, even the highest examination honors—Top Scholar, Second Place, or Third Place—were within reach.

If that happened, his masters would truly have achieved the scholar's ultimate success, changing their family's fate.

Being a right-hand man in an official’s household was far better than returning to the countryside to live in a thatched hut.

Just as Ping An was thinking this, he heard a male voice loudly asking at the door, "Is Nan Jinping home?"

Ping An was startled. Although Nan Jinping usually dressed like a man, he knew Nan Jinping was a young master. How could she know an unrelated man?

"Oh, it's you, Mr. Jiang," Ping An turned and saw Jiang Songde, whom he recognized from accompanying Nan Jinping to operas. The two often sat together during performances.

"Ping An, where is your master?" Jiang Songde strode in and asked.

Ping An smiled, "My master and Mr. Bing left early this morning. I stayed behind to handle some chores."

Jiang Songde nodded regretfully, "I was hoping to buy more goods from your place before parting ways. Seems I'm a step too late."

"Don't worry, sir. Once my master settles in the prefecture, he'll likely resume business. You might find us again by asking if there's a prefectural Top Scholar running a shop."

Jiang Songde chuckled, "Mr. Bing is quite the character, taking his family business wherever he goes. By the way, do you have writing supplies? I’d like to leave an address for you to pass to your master. If he’s free and wants to see an opera, he can seek me out."

"Of course, I’ll make sure to relay your message." Ping An indeed had paper and ink, which he handed to Jiang Songde.

After leaving his address, Jiang Songde strolled around before returning to the inn.

Shen Yao sat sipping tea and noticed Jiang Jinghuai carrying several paper parcels but no jars of blue and red fermented tofu, realizing he hadn’t bought any.

"Did the Prefectural Top Scholar's family not open shop today?" Shen Yao’s every movement exuded scholarly air.

Jiang Songde shook his head with a meaningful smile, "Truly, one should never underestimate people. The Prefectural Top Scholar has disappeared overnight."

Shen Yao paused mid-action as Jiang Jinghuai continued, "Ever since learning he’d won the title, he claimed illness to avoid visitors and shut down his family’s business. Who’d have thought he’d vanish by morning?"

"I’m growing rather intrigued by this Prefectural Top Scholar. Born a farmer yet shrewd, knowing which wealth to touch and which to avoid entirely. Otherwise, it’d be like grabbing a hot iron—impossible to let go without losing skin. Such insight is rare for someone of his background," Shen Yao remarked.

Jiang Songde widened his eyes, "Cousin, this is the first time I’ve heard you praise someone. Truly, the man who kept you in second place must have some skill."

Shen Yao lifted his eyelids slightly, giving Jiang Songde a cool glance, "Second?"

Jiang Songde immediately covered his mouth, "My mistake. Next time, in the prefectural exams, you’ll surely surpass him."

In truth, Jiang Songde held Shen Yao’s knowledge in high regard. Back in the capital, countless renowned scholars had praised his cousin’s erudition, even the emperor commending his literary brilliance. Returning home for the exams, everyone in the capital expected Shen Yao to dominate, achieving the rare feat of six consecutive firsts. Yet, unexpectedly, he’d been bested by the same man twice.

But really, it wasn’t Shen Yao’s fault—his luck had simply been abysmal.

Jiang Songde sighed dramatically, "Cousin, I’m certain that as long as you don’t draw a cursed exam seat next time, you’ll surpass Bing Wengu and claim the Top Scholar."

At this, Shen Yao, who had been enjoying his meal, suddenly felt his stomach turn.

Jiang Songde awkwardly signaled to a servant nearby, seeking an excuse to leave before his cousin could retaliate.

The servant caught his master’s hint and quickly interjected, "Masters, today in town I heard something curious. The Prefectural Top Scholar’s husband’s younger brother wrote a folk tale and submitted it to several bookshops. Now, these shops are selling copies under his name, sparking buzz in the prefecture. Many scholars are buying the tales, hoping to catch a glimpse of his talent."

"The Prefectural Top Scholar’s husband’s younger brother—that’s Nan Jinping, isn’t it? I must see this!" Jiang Songde set down his chopsticks. "Let’s go see the commotion."

The shopkeeper had known the Prefectural Top Scholar’s name would draw attention, but not to this extent. By morning, the dozens of overnight-copied chapbooks were nearly sold out. More transcriptions were clearly needed.

"Shopkeeper, do you have any copies left of the folk tale by the Prefectural Top Scholar’s husband’s younger brother?" Jiang Songde asked at the nearest bookshop.

"Just one left!" the shopkeeper beamed.

Jiang Songde flipped through it and immediately knew this was a copied version of the storybook, definitely not the original manuscript.

"Shopkeeper, do you have the original manuscript here? Name your price, I’ll buy the original," Jiang Songde exuded a sucker’s vibe.

The shopkeeper narrowed his eyes. "One flat price—a hundred taels."

"Deal," Jiang Songde said without hesitation, with a snap of his fingers. The manservant behind him promptly presented a banknote.

The shopkeeper immediately summoned a waiter and had him fetch the original manuscript delivered by Bing Wengu the previous night.

Jiang Songde took one glance and knew this was absolutely not Nan Jinping’s handwriting. Though he had never seen her writing before, a person’s handwriting reflected their spirit.

The writing on the paper couldn’t be called ugly, but it lacked any integrity—floppy like wet noodles, more like the script of a servant.

Jiang Songde narrowed his eyes, his demeanor shifting abruptly as he said with a stormy face, "Shopkeeper, this is hardly fair. You’re passing off some random person’s handwriting as the original manuscript of the Prefectural Top Scholar’s brother-in-law?"

The shopkeeper looked awkwardly. "I can’t say for sure if it’s the brother-in-law’s manuscript, but this is indeed the original delivered by the Top Scholar."

"Don’t tell me you can’t tell this is a servant’s copied script. Selling me a servant’s writing for a hundred taels—are you treating me like a fool?"

Just by Jiang Songde’s attire and bearing, the shopkeeper knew he wasn’t someone to trifle with. If deception didn’t work, force was out of the question. Reluctantly, he returned the banknote.

Jiang Songde gestured for his manservant to hand over ten copper coins—the standard price for purchasing a storybook. Renting cost one coin per day. He then picked a copy transcribed by one of the bookshop’s copyist clerks.

The scribes employed by bookshops to copy storybooks had excellent handwriting—otherwise, they wouldn’t be fit for the job.

It was often said that the handwriting makes the man. Readers would imagine the story’s protagonists based on the script. Poor handwriting ruined the fantasy and, consequently, sales.

Even the bookshop copyist clerk’s writing had more elegance than the so-called "original" manuscript.

In the distance, a few thug-like men were eyeing the Bing residence. One in green said, "That man who just left the Bings’ place—wasn’t he the one accompanying the second-place finisher from the Prefectural Examination? Could it be that the runner-up knows Bing Wengu? Should we still go through with buying the recipe? Rumor has it the runner-up has powerful connections—from the capital city."

The man in blue narrowed his eyes. "At most, they’re just acquaintances. I know plenty of people too, but how many would actually stand up for me if I were in trouble? What’s there to fear? This is our turf. Besides, we’re only here to discuss a potential partnership with the Prefectural Top Scholar."

"I heard the Bings’ business made twenty taels in such a short time. We’re only offering a hundred—do you think he’d sell us the recipe?" the green-clad man asked again.

"Hah..." The blue-clad man sneered. "He won’t have a choice."

These two were local strongmen in the prefectural city, their family businesses having their claws in much of the region—renowned wealthy merchants. The Bings’ hole-in-the-wall operation had initially escaped their notice, even earning their disdain. Yet, against expectations, it had steadily grown. Later, the green-clad man’s family bought some to try. After just one bite, his years of experience told him this would eventually take off.

He immediately investigated the food’s origins and discovered the vendor was the family of the County Primus from this year’s Prefectural Examination.

A Top Scholar’s influence wasn’t overwhelmingly powerful, but it wasn’t negligible either—certainly not something he could recklessly challenge. So, he turned to his in-law.

His in-law held far greater influence in the prefectural city, rumored to have connections with the high-ranking officials in the prefectural office. Thus, the green-clad man sought out the blue-clad man.

Sure enough, the blue-clad man looked into the County Primus’ background—just an ordinary farm boy with no power or backing. Immediately, shady ideas got into their heads—a strong-arm buying and selling scheme.

Unfortunately, just then, the Prefectural Examination results were announced, and that farm boy had become the Prefectural Top Scholar.

The blue-clad man hesitated, unsure whether to proceed.

The green-clad man, however, remained unfazed, even entertaining cutthroat tactics. After whispering back and forth, they decided to proceed.

The green-clad man signaled to the blue-clad man, and the two stepped into the Bing residence.

Soon, they noticed something amiss—the main gates stood wide open, the courtyard looked ransacked, as if the family had packed up in a hurry.

"Where’s your so-called Top Scholar?" the green-clad man demanded with a scowl.

Ping'an didn't know what grudge this person held against his master, but regardless, he pretended not to notice and said with a smile, "My young master didn’t want to miss the provincial exam and has already left for the provincial capital."

The green-clad man's face darkened instantly as he snapped, "When did he leave?"

Playing it smart, Ping'an lied, "He took off in the middle of the night. You know, since my young master just became the Prefectural First, too many people came bearing gifts. He didn’t want to owe favors unnecessarily, so he flitted away overnight."

The green-clad man snorted coldly, flung his sleeve, and stormed off, with the blue-clad man quickly following.

Once outside, the blue-clad man glanced back resentfully toward the Bing family’s direction. "In-law, are we just going to let this go?"

The green-clad man fumed, "What else can we do? In this prefecture, the two of us can act with impunity, but in the provincial capital, we’re nothing but ants. Right now, the provincial capital is packed with scholars returning from all corners for the exams. If you dare lay a finger on Bing Wengu, do you think those scholars wouldn’t eat you alive?"

Originally, the green-clad man had planned to deal with Bing Wengu in the prefecture—his own turf—where even offing a Top Scholar could be disguised as an accident. But in the provincial capital, he had no such influence.

"Lucky bastard," the green-clad man muttered before striding away.

Back in Shanghe Village, the Bing family only received the news several days after the results were announced, as it took time for word to travel from the prefectural city to the village.

When the officials entered the village with gongs and drums, the Bing family knew immediately that Bing Wengu must have succeeded. No other household in the village had the prestige to warrant such a visit from officials.

The Bings, being somewhat experienced, had already prepared red envelopes. As soon as the officials arrived, Mrs. Liang promptly handed them out.

The officials, now holding the red envelopes, were all politeness. "Congratulations! Young Master Bing has once again achieved Top Scholar—this time as the Prefectural First!"

Mrs. Liang burst into tears right then. She had guessed Bing Wengu would pass—after all, he knew his stuff. Even in the prefectural city, with all that competition, he should still manage to pass.

But she never expected his scholarship to be so outstanding that he could secure first place even at the prefectural level.

Seeing his parents stunned with joy, Bing Erlang, who now felt entrusted with great responsibility, arranged for the family to buy fine wine and dishes to host the officials for a meal.

After the officials left, the Bing family closed their doors again, refusing all visitors. No matter who came knocking, they wouldn’t open. Bing Wengu had written a few days earlier instructing them not to accept any gifts, and now the Bing family treated his words as gospel truth—no gifts, no exceptions.