Chapter 73 Determination

Chapter 73: Determination

Meng Wan still had the second volume of Human-Demon Romance tucked in his arms. The two of them carried their things and first went to the nearest Panshi Studio. Manager Shi, assuming Song Tingzhou was none other than the Qingxiao Hermit who wrote the storybooks, was full of flattery and courtesy. Being shrewd, he had always been polite to Meng Wan on their several meetings, never showing any disdain for him, a husband, doing business.

Though Meng Wan knew this was just a businessman's tactic, he couldn't help but feel relieved.

The Zhu family were merchants too. Second Master Zhu was no fool—surely he understood these basic principles of dealing with others?

He was just in a high position. Not to mention a mere *xiucai* like Song Tingzhou, even a *juren*, a *jinshi*, or a minor seventh- or eighth-rank official would not be worthy of his notice.

Would Second Master Zhu be polite to a dog blocking his way? He'd just kick aside anything in his way.

Leaving Panshi Studio, their spirits had somewhat recovered, only to stumble again at Baojin Studio. Meng Wan pretended not to see the loophole in the contract, smiling on the surface while cursing the bookshop from top to bottom in his heart.

No wonder they had agreed so readily at Ruifeng Tower that day—they were just waiting to set a trap for me.

Gritting his teeth, Meng Wan signed the contract. Well, he couldn't fight them. Even if he pointed out the flaw on the spot, they would only find another way to harm him. It was better to compromise and lose some silver, letting them think he was easy to push around, while buying himself some peace.

Baojin Studio was in the west of the city, fairly close to their home. With the two contracts in hand and still carrying the tea and fruit, they decided to first take the contracts and tea back home.

Song Tingzhou remounted his horse and took Meng Wan to Kongmo Bookshop in the east of the city. Unfortunately, Teacher Nie was not there; the shopkeeper of Kongmo Bookshop greeted them instead. Perhaps Teacher Nie had given prior instructions, so signing the contract there was much simpler than at the other two shops.

Kongmo Bookshop had a vast collection of books. The prefectural school's resources were already decent, but Kongmo's stock was even more extensive, covering all kinds of topics and genres.

Song Tingzhou carefully browsed the books upstairs and downstairs, selecting the ones he wanted. Taking advantage of this time, Meng Wan also bought a copy of the recent years' Court Gazette—only Kongmo Bookshop carried them.

Meng Wan had thought the storybooks were expensive, but the two annotated works by renowned scholars that Song Tingzhou picked cost five taels of silver each!

Good grief, did the officials whose names were annotated get a share of this silver?

The shopkeeper, seeming to notice his surprise, explained, "These are the essays of all the *jinshi* from this year's spring examination, from the top three to the top ten of the second tier, along with annotations by several grand masters from the Imperial Academy and the Hanlin Academy. They are the bestsellers in our shop this year. When they first arrived in Changping, we sold three thousand copies a month. The numbers have only dropped in the last two months."

Meng Wan's eyes widened. It wasn't that he was easily impressed, but... three thousand copies at five taels each... fifteen thousand taels a month? Kongmo Bookshop was truly wealthy. An ordinary family without means could hardly afford to support a scholar.

Song Tingzhou held up the books and looked at him. "I'll trouble my husband to pay the bill."

Meng Wan came back to his senses. "Pay, pay, pay. Is there anything else you want? I'll buy them all for you."

Song Tingzhou thought for a moment. "I probably won't have time to write you a copybook recently. How about we buy a few ready-made ones?"

Ever since they left Sanquan Village, Song Tingzhou had personally made five or six copybooks for Meng Wan. By now, Meng Wan was already familiar with most traditional characters, and his main focus was on practicing handwriting and writing storybooks.

Meng Wan nodded. "We're out of copybooks at home. Let's buy two while we're at it."

Regular script was the most popular font at the time, with small regular script being elegant and neat, favored by women and young gentlemen. But Meng Wan's favorite was running-regular script, which retained the neatness of regular script while incorporating the flowing connections of running script. It was fast to write and had a rhythmic quality, making it delightful to write with.

He picked one standard small regular script copybook and two different styles of running-regular script copybooks, then paid for them along with the gazettes and Song Tingzhou's books.

"The Zhao family's tea plantation is outside the city. Let's go another day," Meng Wan said, sitting on the horse as Song Tingzhou led it.

They had been running around for half the day, and the sun had softened. Song Tingzhou looked up at him. "Alright. Tomorrow I'm meeting Brother Zhu and Brother Wu at Ruifeng Tower. If we finish early, I'll ride over there myself. It won't take more than an hour round trip."

Meng Wan felt bad that he had to go out again on his rare two days off. "It's only a packet of tea. We still have two at home that will last a long time. There's no hurry."

Song Tingzhou's gaze drifted into the distance, but his mind was on the dirt on the tea and fruit wrappers that wouldn't brush off clean.

Back at Liudi Lane, Song Tingzhou lifted Meng Wan down from the horse. Smoke was rising from the kitchen chimney. Song Tingzhou tied up the horse, and Xue Sheng filled the stable with water and hay.

Meng Wan carried the stuff inside. "Mother, what's for dinner today?"

Chang Jinhua was stir-frying in the large iron wok. "Bean sprouts stir-fried with shredded pork, eggplant braised in sauce, and cucumber scrambled with eggs. Wash your hands and come help serve."

Meng Wan put away the books and other items in the west room, and the tea and fruit in the east room. Then he washed his hands and took the dishes Chang Jinhua had just finished cooking.

"Mother, this month my husband placed first in the monthly exam again."

Chang Jinhua's face lit up with a smile, her eyes showing a hint of satisfaction. "That's wonderful. I should have added a roast chicken tonight. The one you bought from the variety theater last time was delicious."

Meng Wan put the dishes on the stone table in the courtyard, then ran back to get the steamed rice from the other pot. "That's easy. Tomorrow we'll go watch a play again, and on the way back, we can buy one from the variety theater."

Usually everyone just worked, did needlework, or chatted—there wasn't much in the way of entertainment. When he said this, not only did Chang Jinhua start thinking about the excitement of the last play, but Lu Chunfang also felt a little tempted. But thinking of the six-copper admission fee, she backed out.

She had been cheated out of her wages by Feng Jinzhang before, but she had been shrewd enough to keep fifty coins for herself. Still, it wasn't much.

Earning money was hard, and spending it was even more painful.

"You and Aunt Song go ahead. I won't go."

Chang Jinhua tried to persuade her a few times but failed, so she dropped it. Meng Wan didn't try to persuade her either.

Xue Sheng brought stools outside, and everyone gathered to eat together. There was no rule about sitting at separate tables; they all sat together.

Meng Wan said to Song Tingzhou, "Tomorrow, you'll be going to Ruifeng Tower around noon. In the morning, take Xue Sheng to the Household Office to transfer his household registration. The sooner it's done, the more peace of mind we'll have."

Although they were certain the Tongqing Troupe wouldn't dare return to Changping Prefecture anytime soon, unexpected things could happen. Having Xue Sheng's registration under the Song family would give them peace of mind.

Song Tingzhou stood up to get another bowl of rice. "Alright, but if we go too early, there might be no one at the Household Office. Let's take care of the family business first before going."

Chang Jinhua scolded him, "There are plenty of people at home now. Why do you need to worry about business? Just focus on your studies."

In the past, Song Tingzhou wouldn't have responded to such words and would have continued doing as he pleased. But today, he hesitated for a moment and then nodded.

After the meal, Meng Wan sweet-talked Chang Jinhua into resting. "Mother, you've worked hard cooking in this heat. Let us clean up."

Once they had washed the dishes and tidied up, they each washed up and returned to their rooms. The desk in their room was long, with Meng Wan and Song Tingzhou each occupying half. Underneath were several boxes of books that couldn't fit elsewhere.

The room was still too small. With the wardrobe and this large desk, there was barely room to turn around.

Meng Wan practiced his calligraphy on one side, copying from his copybook, while Song Tingzhou read his books on the other. Two oil lamps were lit. It was late at night, and the cicadas in the trees in front of each house in the lane chirped incessantly.

After finishing several pages of small regular script, Meng Wan set down his brush and flexed his sore wrist. Small regular script required small, neat characters, so he had been especially focused and exerted a lot of effort. Looking at the time, it was already late, and the oil in the lamps had burned low.

Meng Wan stood up, tidied the desk briefly, and then turned to look at Song Tingzhou.

On his side of the desk, there were even more books and papers, stacked into two tall piles against the wall. From Meng Wan's angle, Song Tingzhou's profile was striking—his jawline sharp and clean-shaven, a slight bump on his high nose bridge, his eyes half-lidded, his lashes not long but thick.

He held the annotated book they'd bought today, carefully recording something on paper as he read. The oil lamp had dimmed, but he hadn't noticed to add more.

Meng Wan picked up the oil jug in the corner and added oil to both lamps. Common folks in the prefectural city mostly used tung oil for lamps, which cost one hundred and thirty coins per catty—not too expensive. But he had heard of a much better oil, *suhexiang* oil, which burned brighter, had no smoke, and gave off a pleasant fragrance. Maybe he could ask about the price at the oil shop tomorrow.

He moved his own lamp closer to Song Tingzhou's side. The brighter light softened Song Tingzhou's expression. "Finished writing?"

Meng Wan stood beside him and urged, "Yes. You should stop reading so late. It's bad for your eyes, and you'll be tired."

Song Tingzhou closed the book, placed his brush on the rest, and pulled Meng Wan into his arms by the waist. "I remember you said the same thing when we lived in the village."

Meng Wan had nearly forgotten that little matter. At the time, he had wanted Song Tingzhou to be grateful and repay him; the best outcome would be if he passed the *xiucai* exam, restored his commoner status, and then recognized him as a nominal younger brother.

Now, lying on Song Tingzhou's shoulder, Meng Wan fiddled with the seam of his clothes, feeling a bit guilty.

"Why aren't you talking?" They were close, and Song Tingzhou's low words mixed with his breath fell on Meng Wan's ear, burning his ear red.

"I forgot."

Song Tingzhou looked at his rounded ear, and upon closer inspection noticed a small hole in the earlobe. He had heard that Qin Niang next door still had some pieces of personal jewelry, and his family now had plenty of money, yet he had never seen Meng Wan buy any hairpins or earrings.

He pulled out the Xiangyun hairpin from Meng Wan's hair, and the long strands reaching his back fell loose down his back, causing Meng Wan to ask in confusion, "Time for bed?"

Song Tingzhou brushed aside the hair by his ear, pressed his lips to it, and murmured, "Mm, time for bed."

The hot lips and tongue wandered from Meng Wan's ear to his neck, causing him to tilt his head back to cooperate with Song Tingzhou's movements. The next moment, the large hand lingering at his waist moved up to cup his cheek, and slightly hurried breaths landed on his lips. Meng Wan wrapped his arms around Song Tingzhou's neck, accepting his sweet kiss.

Their lips and tongues intertwined, and faint, suggestive wet sounds arose. Meng Wan sat on Song Tingzhou's lap, overwhelmed by the kiss.

"Let's... mm... go to bed..."

Upon hearing this, Song Tingzhou used his strength, lifted him from the chair, and the next moment both tumbled onto the bed inside the mosquito net.

The light of the oil lamp shone on the overlapping figures inside the net, swaying unsteadily, rising and falling unpredictably.

Meng Wan woke up late. The side room had already been bustling with activity for a while. Fortunately, with Xue Sheng's help, things were still running smoothly.

On most days, Song Tingzhou would also do some chores, but today when Meng Wan opened his eyes, he saw him sitting beside him reading a book, while holding a palm-leaf fan and fanning him with it.

No wonder there was a cool breeze even in his dreams.

"What time is it?" Meng Wan sat up from inside the mosquito net and asked.

Song Tingzhou put down the fan. "Quarter past seven."

Meng Wan hurriedly put on his clothes. "It's so late! Why didn't you wake me!"

Song Tingzhou helped him get his shoes. "Mother said she and Sister Chunfang can handle the front of the shop, so she told you to sleep a bit longer."

"It's not that they can't manage." It's just that I feel a bit embarrassed.

After washing up, Meng Wan took over Xue Sheng's job of frying oil fritters, and told him to go with Song Tingzhou to the Household Office to handle the official business first.

The family's oil fritter business could earn more than twenty taels a month. It couldn't be abandoned, but fortunately it was a small business that big restaurants wouldn't bother with, and so far no one had caused trouble. However, with such daily popularity, some were sure to be jealous.

Meng Wan had been trying to find a way to share the recipe, but he was afraid of hurting others' interests and ending up gaining nothing while offending people, so he hadn't found a suitable partner yet.

At noon, Xue Sheng came back alone. Song Tingzhou went straight to Ruifeng Tower to meet his classmates.

"Brother Song, are you also going to take this year's autumn provincial exam?" In a private room on the second floor of Ruifeng Tower, Zhu Zening asked in confusion.

Song Tingzhou took a small sip of the wine in his cup and said, "Yes."

Zhu Zening earnestly advised him: "With Brother Song's knowledge, it is indeed very likely that you will pass the provincial exam. But you just took the prefectural exam this year. The masters all say that if you take three more years to deepen your studies, and then take both the autumn and spring exams three years later, you could very well achieve the triple first place—what great glory that would be! Why not wait a bit longer, Brother Song?"

Song Tingzhou had already made up his mind and would not be swayed by a few words from others. "My essays at Changping Prefecture School are indeed passable, but there are so many scholars in the world, and the south is especially rich in talent. Whether I can pass the spring exam four years from now is uncertain. It's better to take one step at a time—first take the provincial exam, then focus on deeper study."

Wu Zhaoyuan, who had been silent all along, suddenly raised his glass to toast Song Tingzhou. "Brother Song is right. Being down-to-earth is far more important than those empty reputations. Hesitating and dawdling only wastes time."

Song Tingzhou drank to that with him. "My ambition is not for fame, and talking about the spring exam is still too early. I just want to give my family a stable footing as soon as possible."

Such frank and honest words would surely be ridiculed by other scholars, but Zhu Zening felt that Brother Song must consider him a close friend to speak from his heart.

Wu Zhaoyuan thought to himself: Brother Song's family circumstances are decent, and no one is forcing him, yet he still pushes himself so hard. He himself must work even harder to break through adversity and forge a bright path.

Zhu Zening was younger than both of them. The relaxed mindset he had after entering the prefectural school was inevitably shaken. If both Brother Song and Brother Wu passed the provincial exam, wouldn't he have to spend three years alone in the Yizi Class? Thinking of those gossipy classmates, compared to them, Brother Song, a man of few words, was much better. "Then I'll also give it a try!"

Needless to say, Third Master Zhu, far away in Guwen County inspecting his properties, was delighted to receive his son's letter. For now, Song Tingzhou rarely drank and chatted with others, and this meal actually lasted until the You hour (5–7 PM).