Chapter Fifty-Two: Father and Son, Both Scholars

“What a wretched carriage is this?” Li Sanjian grumbled as he sat inside, feeling as though he might be shaken to pieces. The jolting was so severe that it left him drowsy and half-asleep.

On his return to Lingshan County, Li Sanjian had hired a horse-drawn carriage. Typically, these were swifter and more expensive than ox or donkey carts, but fortune favored him: the owner, a merchant from Qinzhou, happened to be heading home and agreed to take both Li Sanjian and Shankui along for a modest fee.

“Heh, all carriages are like this. You’ll get used to it. Young sir, are you from Qinzhou?” The coachman, a man surnamed Zhou in his thirties, had a sun-darkened face and a short, stocky build—very much the look of a farmer.

The sun in Lingnan shone long and hard, and the locals were correspondingly dark-skinned. Someone as fair as Li Sanjian was a rare sight, almost an anomaly.

At this moment, Li Sanjian cut the figure of a scholarly youth: a face like sculpted jade, refined features, and a tall, slender build. Surnamed Zhou, the driver, took a liking to him and showed him every kindness on the journey.

Li Sanjian shook his head at the question. “No, I’m from Danzhou.”

“Danzhou? Then you must be of the Li people? What’s your business in Lingshan County?” Zhou inquired.

Qiongtai and Danzhou were regions where Han and Li people lived intermingled, though the Li were the majority. Hence the question.

Li Sanjian glanced at Zhou, noting his surprise—as if being of the Li people were so astonishing. Was it really so remarkable? He felt a flicker of indignation.

Yet he showed no sign of it. He replied calmly, “Indeed, I am Li, born and raised. I go to Lingshan County in pursuit of learning.”

Ancestry followed the father’s line; though Li Sanjian’s mother was Li, he should by rights be considered Han. Even on official documents, he had written himself as Han. But in this moment, he chose to claim his Li heritage—he saw nothing shameful in it.

“Oh, I see.” Zhou gave him another look. He hardly looked the part of a Li—since when did the Li produce such scholarly youths? Zhou mused privately.

In the eyes of most, the so-called “barbarian tribes” were painted with wild colors, faces tattooed, dressed in animal skins, swinging broad blades...

“We’re almost there,” Zhou remarked. “Eh? Why is there such a crowd ahead?”

Li Sanjian peered through the drafty carriage canopy and saw that near Lingshan’s city gates, hundreds had gathered, some garbed in official robes.

As the carriage neared the gate, the scene came into focus. It was the county’s academic officials, led by Huang Huan, accompanied by the students of Lingshan County School, all assembled as if awaiting someone. Among them were officials Li Sanjian did not recognize.

Who were they waiting for? Could it be a high imperial official on inspection? Li Sanjian wondered.

He hastily asked the driver to stop, leaped from the carriage, and strode toward Huang Huan and the others. On reaching them, he bowed and began, “Student Li of Lingshan County—”

Before he could finish, the crowd erupted in drums, horns, and jubilant gongs, firecrackers bursting in a cacophony of celebration.

Li Sanjian was startled, utterly at a loss.

“Haha! Our top scholar has returned! Why do you not pay your respects?” Huang Huan laughed heartily on seeing him.

“We greet Student Li, we greet the top scholar!” the students chorused, bowing in unison.

“Professor Huang… what is all this?” Li Sanjian was even more astonished and asked anxiously.

How had they known he would return today? He was mystified.

“You,” Huang Huan smiled, “you have brought honor to our county school. Today we have come out specially to welcome home the champion of Guangnan West.”

Li Sanjian had insisted on taking part in the imperial exams despite Huang Huan’s reservations, who had thought him capable enough to pass but never expected him to win first place. The officials were both astonished and overjoyed.

“Come, Hanren, allow me to introduce the County Magistrate Zhang,” Huang Huan said.

“Li Hanren, your talent is renowned far and wide,” Magistrate Zhang said warmly. He himself had once passed the imperial exam but, failing the provincial level, had come south to serve as county registrar before his current post.

Li Sanjian’s triumph in the recent exams would count greatly toward Zhang’s record as an official. Should Li Sanjian continue to excel, Magistrate Zhang might be promoted to Prefect.

In the Song dynasty, Prefect and Magistrate were distinct—though both led a county, the Prefect ranked higher and drew much better pay.

Thus Magistrate Zhang looked upon Li Sanjian much as a delighted mother-in-law regards her new son-in-law, beaming as he ordered a banquet to welcome the scholar home.

“Your Excellency flatters me—your student is unworthy,” Li Sanjian replied in trepidation, hastily giving thanks.

Was it not just a “mid-level exam”? Was all this necessary? Li Sanjian thought privately. He knew the Song revered scholarship, but this was beyond his expectations—it was as if he were hailed a hero. What if he had failed? Would this crowd have swarmed to beat him instead? The thought made him uneasy.

“Brother, brother!” At that moment, Little Bean Sprout and Lady Fu approached. The child ran to him, threw her arms around his leg, and nuzzled her face against his stomach with affectionate zeal.

A year had passed, and Little Bean Sprout had grown taller, sweeter, and more adorable—almost like a porcelain doll. Yet no matter how quickly she grew, Li Sanjian had outpaced her.

At nearly sixteen, Li Sanjian was now as tall as a grown man and sturdier by far.

“Mother, what brings you here?” he exclaimed in delight, lifting Little Bean Sprout and turning to Lady Fu.

“I… I…” Lady Fu faltered, intimidated by the crowd of officials and onlookers.

“It was I who invited them,” Magistrate Zhang said, stroking his beard with a smile.

…

“I am soon to depart for the capital. Professor Huang, do you have any advice?” After the banquet, when the students had thanked their teachers, Huang Huan asked him to stay.

Huang Huan opened his mouth as if to speak, but for a long moment, said nothing.

“The capital is a place where dragons and tigers leap—a realm of heroes but also of scoundrels. You must be wary,” he finally said, after much deliberation.

He did not mention the provincial exams at all.

He had wanted to advise Li Sanjian about strategies for the Ministry of Rites examination—how to compose essays that might win favor in the imperial court, perhaps even attract the attention of the emperor himself. The trick was simple: curry favor, even flatter the powerful. Nearly all who had passed the exams over the years had done so thus.

Yet to flatter without understanding court politics was hopeless; to please the emperor or high officials, one had to know their preferences. Huang Huan had considered briefing him on the state of affairs in court, but as a mere academic officer in far-off Lingnan, his knowledge was secondhand at best.

Most importantly, though, he did not wish for Li Sanjian to become such a man—to be someone who knew only how to curry favor.

“Rest assured, Professor. Hanren will manage well enough,” Li Sanjian replied with utmost respect.

…

“Jian’er, Jian’er!” Upon his return to their humble cottage, Lady Fu gazed at her son, now taller than ever, tears of joy streaming down her face.

Two years ago, at thirteen, Li Sanjian had been a fool, the object of ridicule and contempt. Lady Fu had only him for company, and their days were bleak beyond telling. Now, he had turned his fate entirely, transformed from dullard to prodigy, and emerged as the top scholar in Guangnan West. Her heart nearly burst with pride.

“Jian’er, Jian’er…” She gently brushed the tousled hair from his brow, scarcely able to believe that this was the same son she once knew.

“Mother… what is it?” he asked softly.

“It’s nothing, just happiness.” Lady Fu wept as she beckoned, “Come, Jian’er, kneel down.”

What? Again? What was she planning? Had he erred somehow? Li Sanjian stared in confusion, half-wondering if she might demand some ritual tattoo—something he found dreadful, for he knew people in this world liked tattoos, but he certainly did not.

“Why are you just standing there? Come, kneel,” Lady Fu urged with gentle affection.

With no choice, he knelt in the center of the room and looked up at her.

She brought out his father Li Qing’s ancestral tablet, set it on the table, and lit three sticks of incense in a battered old burner.

“Yuming, Yuming…” She wept as she paid her respects. “Your son has made something of himself. He’s become the top scholar—he’s brought honor to the Li family…”

“Father…” Li Sanjian quickly understood and bowed low. “Father, your son pays his respects.”

“Jian’er…” Lady Fu went on through her tears. “Your father also once won first place, but before he could attend the provincial exams, he was exiled to Lingnan with his own father. If his spirit sees you now, he must be deeply comforted.”

“Mother… my father…?” Li Sanjian asked.

He had never known why his father, Li Qing, had been sent into exile, nor did he know the details of his life.

“You’re still young. When you’re older, I’ll tell you,” Lady Fu replied.

Young? I’m already grown… Li Sanjian muttered to himself.