Chapter 60

Chapter 60: Bad News

The shops in Anning Ward's West Market opened for business, and the streets gradually filled with pedestrians.

The Ward Head, clad in official robes with a bronze fish tally at his waist, resembling a contented Maitreya Buddha, strolled lazily down the street. Behind him followed a line of upright ward constables with swords at their waists.

The cloth shop's clerk unfurled a bolt of fine linen and hung it on the display rack in front of the store. Sunlight illuminated the fabric, making the vibrant, intricate floral patterns clearly visible. The bright colors and fine weaving techniques were the shop’s best advertisement.

Enticing aromas wafted from food shops, with the most potent scent emanating from the recently popular "Crispy Fragrance Pavilion." This shop sold pastries at reasonable prices, used quality ingredients, and the sweet, rich fragrance at the entrance alone drew customers inside. Moreover, in the scorching summer, buying a pastry allowed one to sit in the shop and enjoy free chilled tea or mung bean soup. Even shopkeepers from nearby would frequent "Crispy Fragrance Pavilion" to relax during their breaks.

The ambiance at "Crispy Fragrance Pavilion" was also quite pleasant—fresh and elegantly arranged. Poems pasted on the surrounding walls added a literary touch. Several poor scholars even dubbed it "the Fucha Tea House of the East Market." Most people in Anning Ward had never been there but, hearing the scholars describe it as a secluded paradise, began referring to it as "Little Fucha." Amid the scholars’ enthusiasm, it became one of the frequent gathering spots for scholars in Anning Ward.

After visiting often, they became regular patrons who acted like shareholders of "Crispy Fragrance Pavilion," offering suggestions to Mrs. Chen. They said the pastries were delicious, the tea was excellent, and the ambiance was elegant, but it lacked privacy. If a second floor could be added or a few separate rooms set up in the backyard, business would surely improve.

Mrs. Chen compiled their suggestions and reported them to Dong Yuting, who was also intrigued. She planned to renovate the backyard to subtly elevate "Crispy Fragrance Pavilion’s" prestige. She wasn’t worried about losing customers; as long as prices remained unchanged and the taste of the tea and pastries stayed the same, adding a few rooms wouldn’t hurt.

These scholars reminded Dong Yuting that transforming "Crispy Fragrance Pavilion" into a more accessible version of the Fucha Tea House was an excellent idea.

Qiu Xiaoshi spent twenty coppers at the West Market street corner to drink two bowls of broth and eat two stuffed buns. In the past, this was something he wouldn’t have dared to imagine. Only now, with more money on hand, did he dare to eat like this. Before, he would only venture to the nearby Grass Market Street in the morning to buy a bowl of plain bran porridge. Though it was hard to swallow, it was cheap and filling.

The broth at this eatery was made from simmered lamb bones, with added greens and some offal. For ten coppers a bowl, refills were free, though the owner would carefully avoid the vegetables and meat when refilling, only adding more broth. The stuffed buns had soft, minced pork stuffing in the middle, juicy when bitten. Qiu Xiaoshi liked to eat the meat filling first, then soak the leftover bun edges in the broth. The bun soaked up the rich, savory broth, making it taste like meat.

After breakfast, Qiu Xiaoshi hurried to "Crispy Fragrance Pavilion."

This had become his habit since the weather turned hot—going there after meals to drink a cup of mung bean soup or chilled tea. The people at "Crispy Fragrance Pavilion" knew Qiu Xiaoshi worked for someone, though they didn’t know exactly what he did. Every time he came, they would let him eat and drink for free.

Qiu Xiaoshi didn’t dare to be too presumptuous. When he came, he only drank the free tea. If he wanted pastries, he always paid for them. His financial situation wasn’t as tight anymore.

"Brother Qiu is here," the waiter said, familiar with him. Without waiting for him to ask, he automatically poured him the day’s free drink.

Looking at the blackish-purple drink in the white-glazed porcelain cup, Qiu Xiaoshi asked, "What is this?"

The waiter smiled. "This is Aunt Fang Lan’s black plum drink, well-chilled. It’s especially refreshing in the heat. Try it quickly, Brother Qiu."

To maintain a sense of novelty, "Crispy Fragrance Pavilion" always came up with new ideas. They introduced new pastries during holidays, and even the drinks changed daily. This black plum drink was Qiu Xiaoshi’s first time trying it.

Perhaps because too much water was added, the sour taste wasn’t strong, which was just right for Qiu Xiaoshi, who wasn’t fond of sour things. With one sip, the icy coolness instantly dissipated the heat in his stomach from the broth.

Qiu Xiaoshi praised, "It’s delicious!"

The waiter said, "Of course! I snuck a few cups earlier too."

Qiu Xiaoshi glanced around and lowered his voice. "What about those two?"

He was referring to the two ward constables sent by the West Market ward head to catch thieves. Although there had been no thefts since they arrived, they hadn’t caught anyone either. They had been eating and drinking for free for over half a month, and Qiu Xiaoshi had long been dissatisfied with them.

The waiter was also displeased with them. He was a new employee hired after the shop’s renovation and hadn’t been working there long but had already developed a deep affection for the place. The high wages, good treatment, and easygoing boss made it a job worth cherishing.

"Them? They’ve left. They said they were ashamed they didn’t catch anyone and will bring compensation tomorrow," the waiter said happily. "I wonder what they’ll bring."

Qiu Xiaoshi said knowingly, "According to the Qianyuan Dynasty’s laws, the ward head should compensate one-tenth of the value of the losses and also provide confiscated fabrics from the official warehouse as restitution."

"Brother Qiu knows so much!" the waiter said. "What are confiscated fabrics?"

"Not really," Qiu Xiaoshi said smugly. He had inquired about these things, worried the plump ward head might try to cheat them. "Confiscated fabrics are the inferior cloth seized by the ward head, used for compensation."

"Ah, what’s the use of inferior cloth?"

"That's what the law says, but since it's inferior cloth, they'll compensate a bit more. It's still good enough for making socks or patching clothes."

The attendant pursed his lips. He'd gotten the job at Crispy Fragrance Pavilion because his parents knew Mrs. Chen, and his family wasn't poor—he'd never worn patched clothes before.

As more customers gradually filled the shop, the attendant stopped chatting with Qiu Xiaoshi and went to attend to them with a bright smile.

Qiu Xiaoshi drank the dark plum drink and felt hungry again, so he bought two pieces of radish cake.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps outside. A team of Imperial Guards ran solemnly past Crispy Fragrance Pavilion. Seated by the window, Qiu Xiaoshi craned his neck to look and saw the team split into two columns, entering two alleys and driving pedestrians off the streets. Behind them, more people arrived on horseback, followed by even more officers from the Capital Prefecture and ward constables. In no time, the streets were filled with dust, and the people, panicked and fearful, scrambled to make way.

People inside Crispy Fragrance Pavilion also heard the commotion and curiously looked outside.

In just a short while, the officers, Imperial Guards, and ward constables had taken control of the entire West Market, with each shop heavily guarded. Qiu Xiaoshi’s heart sank with panic when he noticed an unusually large number of people gathered outside Crispy Fragrance Pavilion.

A sense of foreboding washed over him. The attendant crept up to Qiu Xiaoshi and asked tremblingly, "Brother Qiu, what’s going on?"

The attendant was only fifteen or sixteen and had never seen such a scene. The sight of fierce officers outside made him nervous and at a loss what to do. But Qiu Xiaoshi hadn't witnessed anything like this either. Pale-faced, he said, "I don’t know. It probably has nothing to do with us."

No sooner had he spoken than officers stormed in. One team herded everyone in the shop together, while another began searching the premises—tabletops, under counters, shelves. Everything was collected: account books, inventory records, poems pasted on the walls, even wooden signs bearing the names of pastries. Another team rushed into the backyard. Qiu Xiaoshi watched as the pastry chefs and workers from the back were all forced to the front. His heart pounded so hard he felt it might leap out of his mouth. What was happening? What were they doing?

-

In the Lanzhu Courtyard, the First Madam, Second Madam, the Old Madam, along with Li Nianyao and Liu Wanqing, were sitting together. Steward He from the Correspondence Office had just brought a letter, said to be from the aunt in Wuzhou. The Old Madam had a maid summon Liu Wanqing so she could also hear what was written.

The Old Madam’s eyes were dim, and she could hardly make out the words. Zeng Huiyan volunteered to read it to her, hoping to please the Old Madam after earlier upsetting her.

But halfway through, she regretted it. She stammered, her voice growing softer.

The Old Madam frowned. "What’s wrong? Keep reading!"

Under the Old Madam’s deepening frown, Zeng Huiyan stumbled through the rest: "...The provincial exam results were truly a disappointment for our family. That day, we sent a servant to check the list at the examination hall walls, but unfortunately, Yang Geer’s name was not there. The boy didn’t sleep all night after hearing the news and studied through the evening..."

Zeng Huiyan finished quickly and glanced at the Old Madam’s grim expression. Carefully, she said, "Our younger sister is just too anxious. Yang Geer is still so young—he should study a few more years. Hui Geer won’t take the exam until next year, and Yang Geer is even younger than Hui Geer."

In the Qianyuan Dynasty, the prefectural exam was held yearly, while the provincial exam was held every three years. Li Lingchuan believed a solid foundation was most important, and Li Linghao, following his older brother’s advice, hadn't yet allowed his son to take the exam.

Last year, when news of Yang Geer becoming a scholar reached the Li residence, the Old Madam was overjoyed and threw a grand banquet, celebrating with Li Jinhua far away in Wuzhou. Although he ranked near the bottom of the second-class, he was still a scholar—and a nine-year-old one at that. The Old Madam declared Yang Geer brilliant, and Zeng Huiyan flattered by saying Yang Geer was destined for great things. Li Jinhua and her husband likely thought the same. This year, coinciding with the provincial exam, they had him take it, but the results were not as hoped.

The Old Madam’s expression softened slightly. She also felt her daughter was too impatient—her grandson was still so young and should study a few more years. This could just be treated as gaining experience.

Dong Yuting listened nearby, her thoughts drifting to the exam results announcement.

The provincial exam was not like the metropolitan exam; it didn’t require coming to the capital to take it uniformly. The content of the provincial exam questions was devised by educational officials from each prefecture, so the questions differed from place to place, as did the announcement dates. Wuzhou was some distance from the capital. Judging by the letter, it likely wasn't sent urgently, meaning it would take about a month to arrive. This suggested the results in Wuzhou had been announced long ago. Why was the capital delaying the announcement?