Chapter 56: Top Scholar, My Little Lady Won’t Mind This

Chapter 56: Top Scholar - My Spouse Won’t Mind This

Over the next few days, the three of them wandered all over the county town, visiting teahouses to drink tea, listen to oral tales, and enjoy storytellers' performances.

Nan Jinping loved it. After hearing it once, he became completely enthralled.

Bing Wengu understood well—there was no internet here, and without entertainment, anyone would feel restless.

To indulge him, Bing Wengu even took Nan Jinping to a bookstore specifically to pick out a storybook for himself.

Over the past six months, Nan Jinping had learned many characters from Bing Wengu, but it still wasn’t enough. While reading the storybook, he often encountered unfamiliar words and had to ask Bing Wengu for help.

Bing Wengu patiently taught him each one, but there were simply too many he didn’t know. No sooner had he explained a word than he’d forget it again.

Frustrated, Nan Jinping smacked his own head several times.

Bing Wengu, however, never blamed his spouse for anything—if there was a mistake, it was always someone else’s fault.

Feeling sorry for him, he thought of a way to help him remember the characters he’d just taught and recalled the concept of pinyin.

Pinyin was ingenious—it could phonetically annotate characters, allowing anyone to sound them out whether they recognized them or not.

Pinyin was easy to learn, and with his mature mind, Nan Jinping picked it up quickly. From then on, he annotated every character Bing Wengu taught him with pinyin, ensuring he only needed to be taught once.

“What are you doing?” Bing Wengu asked one evening, curious as he watched Nan Jinping hunched over the desk, scribbling away.

Nan Jinping explained, “With pinyin, I can recognize any character you’ve taught me as long as I’ve noted its pronunciation. But sometimes, I forget whether you’ve taught me a certain character or not. So, I thought of sorting them alphabetically by pinyin letters. That way, if I encounter an unfamiliar character later, I can look it up by its initial letter and know whether you’ve taught it to me before. It’ll save you from repeating yourself.”

Wasn’t this the prototype of a dictionary?

“Darling, are you a genius? You’re incredibly clever!” Bing Wengu swore he had never mentioned this idea to him—Nan Jinping had come up with it entirely on his own.

“I always knew you were smart, but I never realized just how smart!” Bing Wengu praised him repeatedly, his eyes bright with praise.

Sincere praise was always the most touching—no one could resist it.

Especially someone like Nan Jinping, who had never been praised in his life. His face turned red as a beet, but he couldn’t deny the bursting joy in his heart. At that moment, he might have agreed to any outrageous request Bing Wengu made.

“I-it’s nothing special. I just wanted to make things easier so I wouldn’t waste more of your study time,” Nan Jinping stammered.

“Everyone wants simplicity, but you’re the one who actually made it happen,” Bing Wengu praised him again.

By now, Nan Jinping was thrilled. “I… I guess I’m a little clever, ha.”

“Not just a little—you’re very clever. I swear, if the Great Yong dynasty allowed people of your status to take the imperial exams, you’d be the Top Scholar. No scholar could surpass you.” As he spoke, Bing Wengu edged closer until he was practically pressed against him.

Dazed, Nan Jinping soon found himself pulled into bed, led astray by his whims. His praises still echoed in his ears, making him lose all sense of reason. He completely forgot his earlier resolve to refuse his advances, citing the inn’s thin walls as an excuse.

Finally, the day of the results arrived. Nan Jinping was even more anxious than Bing Wengu, pacing the inn restlessly.

Watching the two Bing brothers—one eating leisurely, the other reading calmly—he fumed, “The results are out today! How can you both be so indifferent?”

“Huh?” Bing Silang, mouth full of peach shortbread, mumbled unintelligibly, “We fail every year anyway. What’s there to worry about?”

Luckily, his words were muffled by food.

Bing Wengu snapped his book shut and looked up at Nan Jinping with a smile. “Did you prepare the lucky red envelopes I asked for?”

Nan Jinping was speechless. At a time like this, how could he still be so casual? “How can you still be so carefree?”

"This isn't boasting, it's confidence, husband," Bing Wengu said with full assurance. "You need to learn to stay calm. Otherwise, when your husband earns you a noble title and you have to enter the palace to receive it, what will you do?"

Nan Jinping rolled her eyes dramatically. "Don't worry. As long as you can be ennobled as a marquis or appointed prime minister, I'll never embarrass you by showing fear in front of the court."

Bing Wengu chuckled like one would with a child. "Then it's settled."

Nan Jinping nodded firmly. "Deal."

Bing Silang was dumbstruck, his peach pastry turning to dust in his gaping mouth. He had known Bing Wengu doted on Nan Jinping, wouldn't let her lift a finger, but he'd never observed their interactions up close like this.

Today was downright eye-opening. Bing Silang would bet his future wealth that if he dared question Bing Wengu like this, the mildest response would be "get lost," and the worst a boot to the ribs.

But with Nan Jinping, his elder brother humorously engaged her, treating it like playing with a child—not about right or wrong, just to keep her talking.

"Then, husband must work harder," Bing Wengu said, tilting his head slightly as if listening for something. Then he smiled with pride. "Husband, the heralds are coming."

Shortly after Bing Wengu spoke, Nan Jinping also heard the fanfare of gongs and drums from the street.

Excited, Nan Jinping grabbed the money basket filled with red envelopes (lucky money packets) and rushed to the door. Just as she was about to open it, Bing Silang swallowed his pastry whole and blurted out with zero tact, "Brother-in-law, don't open the door yet. Wait for them to knock. If they're not here for us, and we're standing there with red envelopes, it’d be so embarrassing."

Nan Jinping listened, not pushing the door open, but her knuckles were white with tension.

Suddenly, knocking came from next door. "Is scholar Shen Yao staying here?"

A man's clear, refined voice answered, "That would be me..."

"Congratulations, placed second in the examinations..."

Bing Silang patted his chest, relieved. "See? Good thing we didn’t rush out like fools, or we'd be humiliated..."

Before he finished, loud knocking erupted at their door. Someone outside shouted, "Excuse me, does Bing Wengu, Top Scholar from Shanghe Village, Xinghe Town, Shangxing County live here?"

Bing Silang gaped, staring at Bing Wengu. "Bing Wengu is you—who’s Bing the Top Scholar?"

Luckily, Nan Jinping had better sense. She quickly opened the door as Bing Wengu stood and strode over, greeting the two yamen runners politely. "This student is Bing Wengu from Shanghe Village."

The runners hurried to support him. "No need for such courtesy, dear sir. We don’t deserve it. Congratulations on first place—County Top Scholar!"

"Likewise, thank you for your hard work," Bing Wengu said, turning to Nan Jinping, who was frozen in joy. "Jinping, give the runners their red envelopes."

Nan Jinping took the two largest envelopes from her bamboo basket and handed them over. The runners weighed them in their hands and smiled contentedly. "Thank you, County Top Scholar. We wish you continued success in the April Prefectural Examination, another Top Scholar title!"

Bing Wengu gestured for Nan Jinping to give them more. "I’ll shamelessly take your kind words to heart."

Nan Jinping felt like she was dreaming, operating on autopilot. She followed Bing Wengu's earlier instructions, distributing red envelopes to the well-wishers.

Their neighbor happened to be the young man who had spoken to Nan Jinping on the stairs. Cheerfully, he said to Shen Yao, "Cousin, fancy meeting you here! First and second place are staying in the same inn, next door to each other."

Shen Yao glanced at Bing Wengu, nodding slightly in acknowledgment.

His demeanor made no overtures of acquaintance, showing no interest in friendship. Though Bing Wengu could tell they were extraordinary, he didn’t push for acquaintance. Pushing for acquaintance would be undignified.

Bing Wengu returned an equally cool smile before turning back to the congratulatory crowd.

Whether the county was too small or news traveled too fast, fellow examinees came calling.

Usually distant, they now effusively hailed him as "Wengu, dear brother." Normally, they'd use courtesy names for closeness, but this one defaulted to his personal name.

"Do you have some secret, or did you consult some great scholar after returning? How did you suddenly improve so much? I remember back in the academy, your grades were dozens of ranks below mine."

Bing Wengu responded with detached politeness, "I didn’t consult any renowned teacher. I don’t know how I suddenly improved—perhaps my accumulated knowledge just reached that point."

The other man remained skeptical of Bing Wengu’s words, assuming he must have some secret he was unwilling to share. His attitude noticeably turned frosty.

Bing Wengu couldn’t be bothered with those who approached him with ulterior motives.

His eyes casually swept over the scene outside the window, and he spotted Li Ye and Zheng Ning standing downstairs.

"It really is him." When Zheng Ning and Li Ye saw Bing Wengu as the Top Scholar on the rankings, they couldn’t believe it. They had made inquiries just to confirm whether it was truly him.

Li Ye fumed with indignation. "How could it be him? How could he pass? And even become the Top Scholar?"

Zheng Ning sighed. "We haven’t seen him in a year. Who knows what happened during that time or how much his knowledge has advanced? This teaches us never to underestimate anyone."

Li Ye seethed with resentment, unable to accept that Bing Wengu not only passed but outranked him by so much.

The Top Scholar—that was someone whose name would be remembered by the county magistrate.

What right did Bing Wengu have?

Li Ye’s eyes turned red with envy, but he couldn’t spill his grievances. He could only grit his teeth and say, "Brother Zhang suffered so much because of him. How can he continue taking exams with a clear conscience?"

Hearing this, Zheng Ning frowned. "Brother Li, that’s unfair. Zhang Ming was carried out halfway because he picked a spot near the stinking privy and fainted from the stench. What does that have to do with Bing Wengu?"

"Brother Zhang said Bing Wengu tampered with his assignment," Li Ye retorted.

"There must be some misunderstanding. Bing Wengu couldn’t have known beforehand which lot was the foul one and which wasn’t."

Li Ye sneered. "Who knows? Maybe he used some underhanded trick. Do you really think Brother Zhang would falsely accuse him?"

Zheng Ning and Li Ye conversed downstairs, unaware that Bing Wengu, with his sharp hearing, could hear every word clearly.

Zheng Ning gave a respectful salute toward Bing Wengu upstairs in congratulations. Bing Wengu returned the gesture but ignored Li Ye beside him. Naturally, Li Ye had no intention of greeting Bing Wengu either.

After the county exam, the county magistrate always called in the top three examinees for a lecture. Bing Wengu stayed an extra day to attend before leaving immediately.

Curiously, Bing Wengu did not see the second-place candidate at the magistrate’s office.

From the start, Bing Wengu had sensed that the second-place scholar came from an extraordinary background. Now, even the county magistrate’s summons was ignored—likely indicating backing from the highest circles.

As soon as Bing Wengu entered the village, someone rushed to the Bing family to deliver the news. By the time he reached his doorstep, Madam Liang had already directed Bing’s father and brothers to light the bamboo firecrackers.

The firecrackers used by common folk weren’t made of gunpowder but rather dried bamboo stalks, which crackled loudly as they burned section by section.

The villagers suddenly seemed much friendlier, crowding around Bing Wengu with praise, so much so that even the Nan and Bing families couldn’t get close.

With the entire village gathered, it was the perfect moment to showcase his husband’s status. Bing Wengu bowed deeply to Nan Jinping beside him. "This time, my success as the Top Scholar in the county exam is entirely thanks to my husband. I express my deepest gratitude."

Bing Wengu’s sudden gesture threw Nan Jinping off balance. "Huh? You passed because of your own knowledge. What does that have to do with me?"

As Nan Jinping spoke, he reached out to help Bing Wengu up. When their eyes met—Bing Wengu’s piercingly deep—it was like a bolt of lightning piercing through fog. In that instant, a resigned understanding flashed through Nan Jinping’s mind.

Sure enough, Bing Wengu said, "Naturally, I must thank my husband for lending me his good fortune."

Nan Jinping felt a strange inevitability. It was always about "fortune." Bing Wengu had repeatedly brought this up in public before, and now he was doing it again.

Nan Jinping himself didn’t believe in the idea of being a blessed immortal reborn. If he truly had such fortune, why would he have been born into the lowest social standing—a lesser shuang (androgynous) type?

Even if he’d been born female, he wouldn’t have faced ridicule from birth. The Nan family wouldn’t have lived in such dire poverty, with empty rice pots being a daily occurrence.

Nan Jinping didn’t understand why Bing Wengu insisted on calling him the reincarnation of a lucky star, seemingly trying to convince the villagers of it.

The truth was simple: Bing Wengu was healing Nan Jinping’s psychological wounds.

Bing Wengu and Nan Jinping had shared countless deep connections. The greatest benefit of such a connection was that neither had any secrets from the other—they were open books to each other.

Under these circumstances, Bing Wengu easily saw Nan Jinping’s deepest fear: his gender.

Nan Jinping didn’t have gender dysphoria—he didn’t identify as another gender in his heart. On the contrary, he was fully aware of his own gender. He simply feared the endless mockery and scorn this gender brought him.

Having grown up surrounded by ridicule and sneers, Nan Jinping hadn’t become twisted or bitter. The fact that he only developed low self-esteem under years of suppression proved his inherently kind nature. If it had been Bing Wengu, he might’ve already turned vengeful.

Though Bing Wengu wasn’t a psychologist and didn’t know the exact treatment for low self-esteem, the simplest principle was to compensate for what was lacking. Low self-esteem meant a lack of confidence, so he would help Nan Jinping build confidence—praising him in new ways every day, becoming his biggest cheerleader.

Nan Jinping also feared the hardship tied to being a "Shuang Er." The solution was to eliminate all the negative associations tied to that identity.

The whole "lucky star reincarnation" idea was, in fact, a form of psychological suggestion therapy.

Confidence was the strongest force in the world. If one believed they could do something, nothing was impossible.

The "lucky star" theory was Bing Wengu’s first step in breaking the cocoon of Nan Jinping’s self-doubt and rebuilding his confidence like armor.

"How could it have nothing to do with you? It’s obvious I’ve been blessed by your luck. Before I met you, everyone in the village saw how our family lived—we couldn’t even scrape together wild vegetables. But ever since our engagement, I saved a nobleman and received a generous reward. Why didn’t I meet this nobleman earlier or later, but right after I became betrothed to you?"

Bing Wengu gazed at Nan Jinping with a smile, his eyes brimming with affection—a far cry from his usual coldness. Even a blind man could see how deeply he loved his husband.

"Even if we dismiss that as coincidence, think about this: I’ve studied for so many years, searched for ways to make money, yet nothing worked. But after marrying you, I suddenly figured out recipes for tofu, dried tofu sheets, and more overnight. Why couldn’t I figure them out before, no matter how hard I racked my brain?"

At the mention of these recipes, the villagers erupted in chatter. Everyone now knew the secret behind the Nan family’s coveted recipes.

"And finally, this county exam. Whether it was my classmates, the town’s teachers, or even my own family—including yours—no one believed in me. Yet I not only passed but took the Top Scholar title."

At this moment, Bing Wengu’s authority was at its peak. Every word he said hit like a hammer, embedding deep into the villagers’ hearts.

This was psychological suggestion. From now on, whenever something good happened to the Bing or Nan families, people would instantly credit Nan Jinping.

"One or two coincidences can happen, but not three in a row. It proves my husband’s just brimming with luck."

Bing Wengu’s argument was logical and well-supported, with himself as the best evidence. For a moment, he had the villagers convinced. Many began to waver, waiting only for the right moment to believe wholeheartedly.

Even the Bing and Nan families started to accept this "lucky star" theory.

Not giving anyone a chance to refute or shake the psychological suggestion, Bing Wengu finished his speech, pushed through the crowd, and led Nan Jinping back to the Bing home.

Naturally, the Bing and Nan families gathered to feast and celebrate. Since there were still two more exams before Bing Wengu could officially become a scholar, they skipped a village feast.

The scholar exams in Dayong consisted of three stages: the county exam, the Prefectural Examination, and the academy exam. Bing Wengu had only passed the county exam so far. If he succeeded in the next two, he would earn the scholar title—otherwise, it’d all be for nothing, and he’d have to retake them the following year.

Afterward, Bing Wengu pleaded illness and turned visitors away. At first, the Bing family didn’t understand his reasoning, but as guests kept pouring in after his return, they grasped it.

Yet another unfamiliar merchant arrived, and by now, Bing’s father could receive them alone without hesitation.

"My apologies, but my eldest son is unwell. He fell ill right after returning from the county exam. The doctor just prescribed a sedative, and he’s resting now."

Bing’s father, an honest farmer who had never lied before, had now learned to lie without flinching.

Before he could finish with this guest, Bing Silang showed in another batch of merchants.

Lately, it had been like this—as if all the merchants had suddenly gathered at the Bing family overnight.

Bing Silang served tea and water to the guests; he had the hospitality routine down pat.

The merchant introduced by Bing Silang was surnamed Jia, who ran a thriving rice shop in town.

Merchant Jia started with some polite small talk with Bing’s father, then quickly realized this country man was straightforward and guileless. So, he got straight to the point: "Aside from congratulating Top Scholar Bing, I’ve come with another purpose—to offer a sponsorship."

Bing Wengu had already instructed the Bing family not to accept any gifts, including those from relatives and friends.

At this moment, the ironclad authority Bing Wengu had built up became evident. His word was law—no questions, no explanations.

This was also why Bing Wengu had given the recipes to the Nan family first instead of the Bings—he wanted to establish this kind of heavy-handed control within his own family.

The Bings, having lived in the village all their lives, were narrow-minded at times due to their upbringing. Without such an approach, opting instead for gentle persuasion, the family might have jumped at quick profits, consequences be damned, potentially causing Bing Wengu major trouble.

Now that Bing Wengu’s authority was firmly established, whatever he said, the Bings obeyed. No one found it odd—they simply knew they couldn’t disobey their eldest brother, or they’d live to regret it.

Bing Father smiled and declined, "Thank you for your kindness, but we’re doing alright as is. There’s no need."

Merchant Jia wasn’t deterred by the refusal. Instead, he gave a sly smile, "Why reject so quickly? Don’t you want to hear what I have to say next?"

Bing Father frowned slightly, finding the man’s tone strange and somewhat uncomfortable. "Really, it’s unnecessary. We’ve saved enough for Da Lang’s studies."

Merchant Jia still refused to give up, convinced that Bing Father hadn’t heard his full offer yet. He continued, "I can sponsor Top Scholar Bing all the way through the imperial exams. How about a small fortune of a hundred taels of silver? That should be more than enough."

A hundred taels? That was a lot of money. The merchants in the hall all turned to look at Merchant Jia, wondering who’d go all out for a scholar who hadn’t even earned his xiucai degree yet. With that kind of money, why not sponsor a juren? Only those who passed the provincial exams had a real shot at becoming officials.

Pleased to have drawn everyone’s attention, Merchant Jia added smugly, "I have just one condition—though it’s hardly a condition. In fact, it’d be a stroke of great luck for the entire Bing family, or Top Scholar Bing himself."

He paused deliberately for effect before revealing, "A marriage alliance between our families. I have a sixteen-year-old daughter, pretty as a picture, sweet-natured and well-bred—a perfect match for Top Scholar Bing."

Bing Father, still not offended, assumed the man simply hadn’t looked into Bing Wengu’s marital status. He explained, "I’m afraid we must decline your generous offer. My Da Lang married last year."

Merchant Jia waved it off. "I know—a Shuang Er. How could he possibly be Top Scholar Bing’s proper husband? If Top Scholar Bing wishes to keep him, just demote him to a concubine. My daughter is virtuous and magnanimous—she wouldn’t mind."