Chapter 79: The Top Scholar, Invited by the Right Chancellor

"Chapter 79 Top Scholar Bing Wengu: The Right Chancellor’s Summons"

"Holy cow, is business really this easy?" Nan Dalang couldn’t help but doubt. His tofu business was already considered quite smooth, and many envied him. But compared to this novelty business, it paled in comparison—like comparing heaven to earth.

Jiang Jinghuai beamed with pride, "Of course! Whose business do you think this is? When I, Young Lord, take action, nothing fails!"

Bing Silang and Nan Dalang gave Jiang Jinghuai a thumbs-up, making him even more smug. "Yuan Ting, just wait for the huge payout at the end of the month. You’ll see how beneficial partnering with me is—you’ll be grateful for this collaboration for the rest of your life."

Bing Wengu scoffed lightly. "You’ve got it twisted. Partnering with me and befriending me will be the best decision you ever made in your life—something you’ll realize in hindsight."

"You cocky bastard!" Jiang Jinghuai was both annoyed and speechless. "Bing Yuanting, I really don’t know where you get this audacity from!"

Jiang Jinghuai had met many outstanding young talents, but none as brazen as Bing Wengu—someone of modest background yet naturally, unshakably confident, as if it were ingrained in his bones.

"My confidence comes from myself," Bing Wengu replied dismissively.

Jiang Jinghuai wanted to mock him, but the words died in his throat. Grudgingly, he admitted that Bing Wengu truly had some capability.

"Fine, I’ll wait and see the results of the imperial exams."

Bing Wengu remained indifferent.

The business was doing well, so after observing for a while, Bing Wengu and Nan Jinping left with the others.

As they strolled outside the shop, they hadn’t gone far when they heard a street vendor hawking portraits of Dong Geer.

"Don’t miss out, friends! Stop and take a look at Dong Geer’s portraits!"

Intrigued by the call, Bing Wengu glanced at Nan Jinping. "Let’s check it out."

"Alright."

They approached a small stall run by a down-on-his-luck scholar.

The scholar smiled. "Looking for portraits, friends? Whose would you like—Dan Niang? Cui Niang? Or someone else?"

Bing Wengu said, "I heard you have Dong Geer’s. Is it the Dong Geer from *Dong Geer’s Rebirth*? If so, show us."

"Yes, yes!" The scholar quickly pulled out a portrait from the bottom of the pile. "*Dong Geer’s Rebirth* is wildly popular lately—many are crazy about her. Are you gentlemen fans of the book or the play?"

Nan Jinping frowned. "What’s the difference?"

The scholar was surprised. "You’re not Dong Geer fans? You don’t know?"

"Know what? Stop dodging the question—just tell us," Bing Silang urged impatiently.

The scholar just laughed it off. "Book fans and play fans are constantly bickering. Play fans adore Li Shishi’s portrayal of Dong Geer, but book fans reject it. They argue that while Li Shishi’s version is beautiful, it lacks the grit and spirit described in the book. Dong Geer is supposed to be a country-born lad—she wouldn’t look like Li Shishi’s soft, sheltered appearance. She should be more rugged."

As he spoke, he handed two portraits to Bing Wengu and Nan Jinping. "Here are my two versions. One is Li Shishi’s portrayal, loved by play fans. The other is my own interpretation based on the book’s description—more spirited."

The Li Shishi version was nothing special, simply mimicking her stage look.

Bing Wengu focused on the play version, expecting something more masculine. Yet, the image remained effeminate and ambiguous—beautiful in a way that was hard to pin as male or female. Even dressed as Xiao Geer, the girlish softness was unmistakable.

He knew this wasn’t Nan Jinping’s ideal Dong Geer. Just as he thought, she frowned slightly.

"You gentlemen don’t like this version?" the scholar asked quickly. "Tell me your ideal version—I can draw anything!"

Nan Jinping shook her head, put the portrait back, and left empty-handed.

After leaving the stall and walking some distance, Nan Jinping still looked a little downcast. "That's not the Dong Geer I wrote. The Dong Geer I wrote came from a farming family, with a resilient personality—lacking the delicacy of a woman, but rather more like a man’s toughness."

"Nowadays, delicate, feminine Shuang Er are in vogue. Many Shuang Er are famous for their beauty surpassing that of women, and men also prefer that kind of appearance. So it’s no surprise the scholar painted Dong Geer that way," Nan Da-ge suddenly spoke up, casting a complicated glance at Bing Wengu after finishing.

Truth be told, even after being raised in their household for so long, their Jin Geer’s skin had lightened a lot, but he was nowhere near the soft, pretty, androgynous type.

Nan Jinping’s features leaned toward clean-cut male handsomeness—at first glance, he looked like a spotless young gentleman. Now, after studying, he had a bookish elegance about him, his every movement giving him a distinctive presence.

But Nan Da-ge couldn’t honestly say that their Jin Geer was beautiful—though not ugly either. How to describe it? A woman—or Shuang Er—with a man’s looks.

In any case, he didn’t conform to the current male aesthetic. Yet, oddly enough, Bing Wengu seemed to love Nan Jinping’s appearance. Whether it was due to Bing Wengu’s peculiar taste or genuine love for Nan Jinping was hard to say.

Bing Wengu caught Nan Da-ge’s look but ignored it.

Nan Jinping suddenly said, "How about I learn to paint? Then I could draw the characters from my own stories, without depending on others to slap something together."

"Good, a golden opportunity," Bing Wengu replied without hesitation. Nan Jinping’s willingness to learn was a rare and precious chance in Bing Wengu’s eyes.

That very day, Bing Wengu brought in a painting tutor for Nan Jinping. Introducing him, Bing Wengu said, "This is my husband, and also the student you will be teaching. Please teach him well."

The tutor was taken aback to see that his student was a Shuang Er. "You brought me in to teach your husband, not a son?"

His tone was full of disbelief, but Bing Wengu nodded. "Yes, my husband has recently decided to paint on a whim. Please do your best to guide him."

"Very well."

The tutor had strong professional ethics. Having accepted the payment, he didn’t slack or look down on Nan Jinping for being a Shuang Er, teaching him just as seriously as any other student.

Nan Jinping was quite clever, having a knack for painting just as he did for writing stories. His first try wasn’t perfect, but it still captured some of the essence.

What teacher wouldn’t love a student who was intelligent, diligent, and humble? By the end of the lesson, the tutor was quite satisfied with Nan Jinping and spoke a few extra words.

"Your husband truly cares for you. At your age, deciding to paint on a whim, and he still went to the trouble of hiring me."

Nan Jinping knew Bing Wengu’s temperament well and sighed helplessly. "I bet you don’t come cheap."

"Fifty taels a month."

"I knew it," Nan Jinping sighed.

Due to the difference in gender between the tutor and Nan Jinping, they couldn’t be left alone, so Ping’an stuck around the whole time.

Hearing this, Ping’an chimed in, "Our dear goes all out for our Lord, insisting on giving him the very best."

The tutor chuckled. "No surprise. Jin Geer knows I’m pricey, but not who I am, huh?"

"Teacher..."

"I serve in the Hanlin Painting Academy and once had the honor of painting a portrait for the Crown Prince. Many portraits of imperial concubines were also done by my hand." The tutor’s face was full of pride as he mentioned this.

The Hanlin Academy was actually a rather idle government office, lacking lucrative opportunities. The meager salary made life in Bianjing quite difficult, which was why he had been swayed by Bing Wengu’s generous offer to teach Nan Jinping.

Still, regardless, being employed at the Hanlin Painting Academy meant his skills were undoubtedly exceptional.

Nan Jinping immediately praised, "So Teacher holds such a prestigious position. Teaching me must be beneath you."

Flattered, the tutor waved his hand cheerfully. "No need for modesty. You have real talent, and students like you are hard to come by. It’s just... your gender..."

He trailed off, leaving the sentence unfinished.

Nan Jinping knew what the painting master was about to say. Without avoiding the topic, he took the initiative to respond, "Teacher, you were going to say it would be better if I were a man, weren’t you?"

The painting master nodded, "What a pity for your talent. If you were a man, you could certainly achieve great things."

At that moment, Bing Wengu walked in. Hearing this, he retorted, "I actually think my husband’s gender is just fine. Even as an intersex person, he can still accomplish more than any man."

The painting master frowned, "But intersex people are confined to the inner quarters. How can they achieve anything?"

"Do you have a habit of watching plays, sir? The recent hit in the theater district, *Dong Geer’s Rebirth*, was written by my husband. He is none other than the wildly popular Master Inaction," Bing Wengu declared with pride.

The painting master was genuinely shocked this time. "Jin Geer, you’re actually Master Inaction?"

Nan Jinping nodded sheepishly.

The painting master scrutinized Nan Jinping again and blurted out, "What a shame. If you were a man, you could have achieved something truly remarkable."

Nan Jinping replied earnestly, "Teacher, you may think this is high praise, but I’ve never considered being pitied for not being a boy as any kind of compliment. Intersex people and maidens are no less capable than men, and I will prove it. One day, when people witness the excellence of intersex people and maidens, they will acknowledge it openly and praise them sincerely—instead of sighing regretfully and saying, *If only you were a man*, as if that were the highest praise one could offer."

The painting master stood frozen for several breaths before finally collecting himself. He then bowed deeply to Nan Jinping. "I apologize. My words were inappropriate and offensive."

Nan Jinping quickly helped him up. "Teacher, there’s no need for this."

The days that followed were uneventful, with the only notable change being the profits from the kaleidoscope business. In the first month alone, Nan Jinping’s 30% share amounted to tens of thousands in silver, leaving him thrilled. He carefully tucked away the silver notes, planning to save up for a grand residence in the capital Bianjing.

"Wen Gu, I thought I was finally earning a decent income—hundreds or even thousands of strings per month seemed like an enormous sum. But compared to you, it’s still nothing," Nan Jinping said admiringly.

Bing Wengu tapped the tip of his nose affectionately. "This is nothing. Your husband’s real skills are yet to come."

Nan Jinping no longer dismissed Bing Wengu’s words as mere bragging. Smiling, he replied, "Then I’ll wait and see."

Bing Wengu had long begun preparing Lunar New Year’s gifts for Nan Jinping. Now that their family lacked nothing in wealth—and with all the finances managed by Nan Jinping—Bing Wengu had already showered him with precious items like gold, silver, and jade. Thus, the gift couldn’t just be valuable; it had to carry meaning and be one-of-a-kind.

Bing Wengu settled on the idea of wooden blocks—a toy that combined significance and fun, suitable for all ages.

While studying ancient Earth artifacts, he recalled a famous block-building brand that had been quite expensive, called Lego.

Despite Nan Jinping managing their finances, Bing Wengu didn’t opt for cheap wood. Instead, he chose high-quality, fragrant sandalwood, soothing to the senses.

He personally carved and polished each block, ensuring uniform size. Fortunately, his craftsmanship was equal to master craftsmen.

He then hand-prepared dyes to color each block as needed.

Due to time constraints and his impending imperial examination, Bing Wengu kept the set small—about the size of an adult’s palm. But it was rich in meaning: when assembled, the blocks formed two small figures holding a red silk ribbon in a wedding bow—representing Bing Wengu and Nan Jinping, dressed in their wedding attire.

Nan Jinping was absolutely delighted when he saw it on Lunar New Year’s Day. He spent the entire first lunar month assembling the blocks according to the blueprint.

After the Lunar New Year, March arrived swiftly, and the imperial examination began.

Facing the exam, Bing Silang and Nan Jinping’s elder brother were extremely nervous—this was truly a decisive moment. From the moment they woke up, they were terribly anxious.

Nan Jinping couldn’t help but feel anxious too. "Wen Gu, how are you not nervous at all?"

"I have confidence."

"Yuan Ting! Jin Geer!" Jiang Jinghuai’s loud voice reached them.

Bing Wengu turned to see Jiang Jinghuai accompanying Shen Qinghe to the imperial examination.

Bing Wengu gave a slight nod to Jiang Jinghuai and Shen Qinghe as a greeting.

Jiang Jinghuai looked Bing Wengu up and down. "Yuan Ting, you're not nervous at all? This is the make-or-break moment that decides our fate."

Bing Wengu turned to Shen Qinghe. "What, Qinghe, are you nervous?"

Shen Qinghe was indeed nervous. How could one not be at such a crucial moment? Only Bing Wengu seemed unaffected—whether due to overwhelming confidence or sheer arrogance.

"Qinghe, there's no need to be too nervous. I promised you before—my husband can lend you some of his luck to ensure you don’t draw an unlucky booth. You can slap palms with him."

Nan Jinping extended her hand. "Would you like to?"

Shen Qinghe remembered a previous exam where Bing Wengu had also claimed Nan Jinping could lend him luck, and indeed, he hadn’t drawn an unlucky booth. He had always been skeptical, unsure if it was mere coincidence or real.

Regardless, Shen Qinghe didn’t want to risk another bad seat. "Yes."

He slapped palms with Nan Jinping. "Ming Li, aren’t you afraid that if I really borrow your luck and avoid an unlucky booth, I might outrank Wengu in the end?"

Before Nan Jinping could answer, Bing Wengu snorted lightly. "Impossible. Don’t trouble yourself."

"You arrogant—!" Jiang Jinghuai huffed. "We’ll see."

It was time to enter the examination hall. Bing Wengu and Shen Qinghe followed the others inside.

Watching Bing Wengu’s upright figure, Jiang Jinghuai muttered absently, "A commander’s poise."

"What?" Nan Jinping didn’t catch it and asked.

"Don’t you think Yuan Ting has a distinct air? If I had to describe it, it’s like calm mastery—as if he can handle anything with ease."

Nan Jinping smiled, her eyes crinkling. "Thank you for such high praise for Wengu."

Bing Wengu followed Shen Qinghe into the examination hall. In Bianjing, examination cells were assigned by drawing lots. Standing behind Shen Qinghe, Bing Wengu used keen observation to monitor Shen Qinghe’s draw.

To his dismay, Shen Qinghe seemed to have an inexplicable attraction to cursed draws—he drew one again. What jinxed luck.

Bing Wengu had no choice but to repeat his old trick, pretending to bump Shen Qinghe’s arm. With a precise nudge, he struck the sensitive spot on Shen Qinghe’s arm, causing his hand to loosen and drop the lot slip, forcing him to draw again.

Shen Qinghe was perceptive. Two such coincidences made him notice immediately.

The lot slipped from his hand before leaving the tube, but he showed no reaction and smoothly drew a new one—this time, not near an unlucky booth.

Shen Qinghe glanced at Bing Wengu but found no hint of guilt on his face. He wasn’t disappointed—if he could detect anything, it wouldn’t be Bing Wengu.

The metropolitan examination was no different from the others. Bing Wengu wrote as composedly as always and emerged afterward, still as lively as ever.

Jiang Jinghuai saw him and sighed. "Wengu, your stamina is incredible. I just hope my cousin didn’t end up with an unlucky booth this time."

As if on cue, Shen Qinghe appeared. Jiang Jinghuai rushed over excitedly. "Cousin, you really didn’t draw an unlucky booth?"

Shen Qinghe looked at Bing Wengu, his eyes briefly shifting. "This time, I must thank Brother Yuan Ting for his help."

Bing Wengu acted puzzled. "Why thank me? Wasn’t it my husband who lent you his luck? What does it have to do with me?"

Jiang Jinghuai chimed in, "Exactly, cousin. If you’re thanking anyone, it should be Jin Geer. You’ve got the wrong person."

But Shen Qinghe recalled Bing Wengu’s seemingly accidental bump when he drew the cursed slip. Still, he said nothing and instead bowed to Nan Jinping. "Thank you, Younger Brother Ming Li, for your assistance."

Nan Jinping returned the courtesy. "May it truly have aided you, Brother Qinghe."

"Alright, enough talking. I'll head back with my cousin first. Even if we didn't get the bad seating assignment, it was still exhausting. You two should rest well—there'll be plenty of opportunities to chat later." Despite saying this, Jiang Jinghuai couldn't resist bragging as he left.

"Oh, there's some good news I haven’t told you yet. My grandfather got me a hereditary officer position—I’m now serving in the Imperial Guards."

"Congratulations!" Nan Jinping immediately offered her well-wishes.

"Likewise! And may Yuan Ting pass the imperial exams with honors."

The group parted ways. Back at the Bing residence, a physician examined Bing Wengu and concluded there was nothing seriously wrong.

Bing Wengu slept for a full day and night. A few days later, the results were posted, and his name shone brightly at the top of the list—the top candidate in the imperial exams.

"Top... candidate? My elder brother is the top candidate?"

"My brother-in-law... the top candidate?"

Bing Silang and Nan Dalang were so overjoyed they stood dumbstruck, completely overwhelmed.

Meanwhile, Nan Jinping displayed remarkable composure, calmly handling everything—greeting guests, sending them off, and distributing red packets (lucky money envelopes) to the yamen officers who brought the good news—all in perfect order.

Once the crowd dispersed, Bing Wengu praised, "Darling, you were incredible today."

Only then did Nan Jinping reveal his true emotions. "I was pretending. Feel my hands—they're clammy with sweat. You have no idea how nervous I was—my legs were shaking!"

Bing Wengu smiled. "But I couldn’t tell at all."

That evening, the Bing household closed its doors to visitors, but the family prepared a lavish feast and feasted to their hearts' content.

For Bing Silang and Nan Dalang, this achievement was entirely unexpected, and they were beyond delighted.

At the same time, Bing Wengu’s name became the talk of scholars in the capital.

Ping'an reported, "My lord, the gambling houses are already taking bets on this palace examination. You and Shen Lang are the most wagered-on candidates."

Bing Wengu replied indifferently, "I suppose more people are betting on Shen Qinghe to win."

Ping'an scratched his head awkwardly. "They don't know what they're missing."

Nan Jinping immediately took out two hundred silver notes. "Ping'an, go place a bet on Wengu winning."

"Yes, Lord."

A month later, the palace examination finally arrived amid great anticipation.

During the exam, the Emperor and Crown Prince appeared. The Crown Prince stood respectfully by the Emperor’s side without looking around.

Emperor Zhan Yu, however, descended to inspect the candidates. A few scholars were so nervous that they knocked over their inkstones and stained their exam papers when he approached. The Emperor frowned slightly, while the scholars looked as if they might burst into tears on the spot.

Bing Wengu detected this with his keen perception but showed no outward reaction.

Zhan Yu leisurely walked up to Bing Wengu’s desk. The bright yellow imperial robes paused right beside him, yet Bing Wengu never paused his writing—as if the man observing his answers wasn’t the Emperor himself.

A hint of approval flashed in Zhan Yu’s eyes before he moved on to the next candidate.

After the palace examination concluded, Bing Wengu left the palace and met up with Nan Jinping, where they encountered Jiang Jinghuai in his Imperial Guard uniform. He had clearly been waiting for Shen Qinghe, and upon seeing them, the two brothers approached.

Jiang Jinghuai spoke first. "Yuan Ting, I now hold an official post, while you’re still a commoner. Address me as 'Your Excellency' and let's hear it."

Bing Wengu ignored him entirely.

Jiang Jinghuai pressed on relentlessly, "How dare you look down on me? Careful, or I’ll charge you with overstepping your place."

"Don’t forget, though I may be a commoner for now, I’m still a presented scholar," Bing Wengu replied. "At best, you’ve got three more days to strut around. After that, our roles will reverse, and it’ll be you calling *me* 'sir.'"

Jiang Jinghuai had obtained his position through family connections. Though he served in the imperial guards, not all guards held official ranks—his was merely a formal military assignment without an actual title. If Bing Wengu truly won the top honors in the palace exam and was granted an official post by the emperor, Jiang Jinghuai would indeed have to address him as "sir."

Jiang Jinghuai glared, fuming. "Cousin, you *must* do your best this time. No matter what, you have to secure the top rank. We can’t let this arrogant scholar keep flaunting his superiority."

Shen Qinghe looked at Bing Wengu. "Yuan Ting, it seems this time it really is just a contest between the two of us. Did you notice? During the palace exam, His Majesty only stopped near the two of us."

Bing Wengu nodded slightly. That Shen Qinghe noticed such details showed he was steady-minded.

"Indeed. If even I noticed, you certainly did too. This is our last duel—let’s see who takes the prize."

Three days later, when the results were announced, the Bing family wanted to go check the list, but Bing Wengu stopped them, insisting they wait at home.

Nan Jinping kept psyching herself up until Bing Wengu took her hand, easing some of her tension.

The first herald, clad in red robes, arrived at the Bing residence. "Congratulations! Bing Wengu has been personally selected by His Majesty as the top scholar!"

"T-top honors?" Nan Dalang stared blankly. "My brother-in-law, Bing Wengu, is the top scholar?"

"Yes," the official replied cheerfully.

The next moment, Nan Dalang fainted dead away. Bing Silang, who had been grinning foolishly, jumped up in alarm and began shaking Nan Dalang frantically.

When Nan Dalang came to, his eyes glazed as he stared at Bing Silang, his pitch-black eyes eerily fixed. "My brother-in-law… Bing Wengu is the top scholar?"

"That’s right! My elder brother is the top scholar—I’m the top scholar’s little brother now!"

*Thud*—Nan Dalang was out cold again.

Bing Silang had no choice but to carry him inside alone while sending Ping'an to get a doctor.

Fortunately, after an examination, the doctor assured them it was nothing serious—just excessive excitement. He would recover once he woke up.

Strangely, the chaos took the edge off Nan Jinping’s nerves.

With Bing Wengu’s triumph, a flood of well-wishers showed up, but he remained unchanged in his conduct. After seeing off the officials, he shut the gates to guests, turning away all gifts.

Yet not everyone could be turned away. Ping'an entered and reported, "Sir, a servant from the Right Chancellor’s estate is here, requesting your presence."

Nan Jinping, who had been overjoyed moments ago, tensed at once. "Why would the Right Chancellor call for you all of a sudden? Is this about that business with Mrs. Mei?"

"It was nothing serious—not worth his notice," Bing Wengu said. "No need to worry. Maybe the Right Chancellor just wants to pull me into his faction. I’ll find out once I go."