Chapter Sixty-Nine: No Reward Without Merit

As the New Year approached, every household gathered for the festive New Year's Eve dinner, relishing the occasion together. Ordinarily, on New Year's Eve, one would not expect outsiders; the meal was reserved for family alone, and visits from strangers were considered highly unusual.

Yet, on this night, Li Sanjian found himself host to an unexpected guest—Gao Er. Gao Er's sudden arrival left Li Sanjian quite taken aback.

Wasn't Gao Er a native of Kaifeng Prefecture? Why was he not spending New Year's Eve with his own family? What business brought him here to Li Sanjian's humble abode?

Although perplexed by these questions, Li Sanjian said nothing. Instead, he greeted Gao Er warmly, inviting him to join the family at their New Year's Eve table.

By custom, outsiders were not permitted to dine with the womenfolk of a household; not only was it improper to sit together, but even an unplanned encounter was viewed as a grave breach of decorum. However, such formalities held little weight in a poor household. There was neither the means nor the space to separate guests from family. Moreover, Fu Eniang was of the Li clan, known for their hospitality; whenever guests arrived, regardless of status or timing, they would always be received with warmth, without distinction between men and women.

“Ah, many thanks, Sanlang... ah…” Gao Er took a bite of dumpling, sighed deeply, then took another bite, followed by another sigh, much to the silent amusement of Li Sanjian and his family.

On such a festive night, why did Gao Er wear such a mournful expression? Li Sanjian wondered.

“Brother Gao Er, please drain this cup with me,” Li Sanjian said, raising a cup of cheap wine.

“Ah, thank you, Sanlang.” Gao Er sighed again. “You see, on such a night, I shouldn’t be disturbing you, but I… Ah, I truly feel sorry. Sanlang, do you know? The people of this world are cold and fickle. How long have I been gone from the capital? And yet… and yet… they—those heartless men, they act as if they don’t recognize kin!”

Gao Er came from a fallen family and had once been nothing more than a street ruffian in Kaifeng, bullying merchants, swindling, extorting, harassing young women—such things were daily fare. In those days, he had a band of brothers; they caroused and caused mischief together. Now, returning to Kaifeng, some of those brothers were nowhere to be found, while others pretended not to know him. The more polite ones gave him a few coins, as if to send away a beggar; the less polite shut the door in his face, leaving Gao Er simmering with frustration.

“Scoundrels! Who do they think they are?” Gao Er cursed as he drank.

“Vermin, gutless wretches!”

“Damned curs, may they have their tongues cut out and boiled in oil…” Gao Er’s invective was endless, never repeating itself, astonishing Fu Eniang and the others with his creativity—a true man of the underworld.

“Brother, weren’t you planning to go to the residence of the Commandant… what was it called?” Li Sanjian quickly interrupted.

“Ah, it’s a long story. Brother, could I speak with you in private?” Gao Er stammered.

Not a long story, but an embarrassing one, thought Li Sanjian, though he kept his doubts to himself and followed Gao Er outside.

Outside, the winter wind had not abated, cutting like knives against the skin.

Li Sanjian hunched his shoulders, wrapped his coarse cotton robe tighter, stomped his feet, and asked, “Brother, what is it that must be said out here?”

“Well… it’s just that…” Gao Er hesitated, then blurted, “Enough, Sanlang, I’ll not hide it. Look at me, how could I possibly appear at the Commandant’s mansion dressed like this? So… so I must trouble you, brother. Ah, this is killing me!”

You’d rather suffer than lose face, Li Sanjian thought with amusement. Gao Er’s meaning was obvious.

Gao Er’s attire was indeed shabby in the extreme. To present himself at the Commandant’s mansion like this would be the height of embarrassment—he might not even get through the door before being driven off as a beggar.

Without another word, Li Sanjian returned inside, fetched a few strings of coins, and pressed them into Gao Er’s hand. “Brother, this is all I have left—take it for your needs.”

“Sanlang… you…” Gao Er gripped the coins, moved beyond words.

It was no easy thing for Li Sanjian either. He had come to the capital to take the exams, relying entirely on the support of the officials from Guizhou and his own family. By now, his funds were nearly exhausted, and he still had to provide for a family of four. Gao Er could hardly be unaware of this.

What Li Sanjian offered was nearly everything he had. How could Gao Er not be deeply grateful?

“It’s enough, brother.” Li Sanjian smiled at Gao Er’s reaction. “Why such ceremony? Come, let’s go back and drink. No need to mention it again—what are a few coins between brothers?”

“Sanlang, you are truly generous…” Gao Er said, his eyes shining with emotion.

…

The first day of the lunar New Year, known as Yuandan, marked the beginning of a new year and was the most important festival for the people of Song. On this day, whether officials, scholars, merchants, or laborers, whether rich or poor, all would seek to ward off misfortune and pray for blessings, making every effort to celebrate grandly.

In Kaifeng, people pasted peachwood charms over their doorways—these charms served both as door gods to ward off evil and as tokens of festivity.

Li Sanjian’s household was no exception. He held little Douya in his arms as he affixed the charms to their battered door and window frames. But as poverty had stripped him of any means to buy fine, decorative charms, he used ones he had drawn himself.

“Douya, forgive me. One day, I’ll make sure you have real peachwood charms to hang,” Li Sanjian said apologetically as he cradled the little girl.

With a soft smack, Douya hugged his neck and planted a kiss on his cheek, smearing some glue with her small sticky hand over his stubbled jaw. “I don’t care about that. The door gods you draw are the best. I love them.”

Li Sanjian’s skill with a brush was second to none; the figures he painted were exquisite and lifelike, leaping from the paper. Douya truly adored them, not merely out of comfort but with genuine affection.

In her heart, Douya had long regarded Li Sanjian as her closest kin. In these years, they had grown so intimate—a bond even stronger than that of true siblings. So gestures of affection between them were commonplace, raising no eyebrows in the household.

After all, they had slept together, bathed together, what harm in a kiss or two?

“Little Douya, do you know what I like best about you?” Li Sanjian asked.

“Mmm? What do you like, brother?” Douya nestled in his arms, toying with the charm, her large eyes bright and innocent.

“I like how thoughtful and considerate you are.” He tapped her nose with a smile.

“But I’m not thoughtful at all. If I were, why doesn’t brother sleep with me anymore?” Douya pondered aloud.

“Well… that…” Her innocence and bluntness brought a flush to Li Sanjian’s face. He stammered, “It’s just… there’s a difference between boys and girls. Now that we’re both growing up, we can’t sleep together anymore.”

“Oh…” Douya played with her fingers, her expression downcast. “Brother, what does that mean, the difference between boys and girls?”

“That… well…” Li Sanjian was at a loss. To explain propriety seemed too complicated for her tender years, and to discuss the matters of men and women was utterly beyond him.

“Douya, come here and help second mother,” Fu Eniang called, saving Li Sanjian from further embarrassment.

“Go on then. When we’re done, I’ll take you to see the city,” Li Sanjian said.

“Really? You’re not lying to me again?” Her eyes sparkled with joy.

“I promise,” he replied with a gentle smile.

He had been in Kaifeng for some time, but had never truly explored the great city, nor had the others. He longed to see its bustling splendor, though, being penniless, he could only wander at leisure.

For now, however, the main task was preparing for the Ministry of Rites examination. Still, taking a day or two to see the city hardly mattered.

…

“Is this the residence of Li Sanjian, the examinee from Lingnan?”

On the first day of the New Year, besides warding off evil, it was customary for people of Song to visit neighbors and exchange greetings. The homes of the wealthy and powerful were thronged with carriages and visitors, as those seeking favor presented lavish gifts in hopes of currying favor with influential officials. For the poor, aside from close friends and family, few would come calling.

Li Sanjian had brought his family to Kaifeng with no relatives in the city, so he did not expect to receive visitors on New Year’s Day. Yet, that morning, several guests arrived at his door, asking for him by name.

“I am Li Sanjian of Lingnan. And you are?” Li Sanjian greeted them with a bow.

The visitors were servants, well-dressed and bearing gifts.

“So, you’re Li Sanjian?” the eldest, a man of about forty, asked arrogantly, peering down his nose at Li Sanjian, oblivious to the tufts of hair protruding from his nostrils.

Those who knew better would say he was speaking to Li Sanjian; to the uninitiated, it appeared he was addressing the heavens.

Li Sanjian found the man’s demeanor distasteful, but kept his composure. “I am he. May I ask your purpose in coming?”

“My master sends these New Year’s gifts. Bring them in!” the servant barked, gesturing to a wooden chest filled with food, clothing, and other essentials. Some items had been sent by the young mistress herself. The servant could not fathom what his master and young lady saw in this pale, frail fellow, dressed in tattered rags—less presentable than a servant.

“May I ask who your master is?” Li Sanjian inquired, though he could already guess. These were clearly the servants of a prominent official, and he knew no officials save for Li Gefei…

Sure enough, the servant snorted impatiently. “My master is the Assistant Minister of the Ministry of Rites. Hurry up and take this inside so we can report back.”

With so much bounty, the servant wondered why this young man, whose poverty was plain to see, remained so composed. Shouldn’t he be overwhelmed with gratitude?

“You may take it back and please thank Master Li on my behalf,” Li Sanjian replied with a faint smile.

The servants were stunned, scarcely believing their ears. How could someone too poor to afford proper door charms refuse such a generous gift? And from a child, no less?

Ordinary people would be beside themselves with joy to receive a high official’s favor, bowing and scraping in thanks. Li Sanjian, however, was calm and indifferent.

“But why?” the servant asked, mouth agape.

Before they came, Li Gefei and Li Qingzhao had instructed them to be polite. But upon witnessing the family’s poverty, their attitude turned haughty. If Li Gefei or Li Qingzhao heard of this, there would be consequences.

“It’s nothing,” Li Sanjian replied. “My mother always said, ‘Accept no reward where no merit has been earned.’ That is all.”

His expression was serene, his refusal resolute.

…

At the residence of Li Gefei, Assistant Minister of the Ministry of Rites:

“You… you… you’d rather starve than lose face! Let you all perish, then!” Li Qingzhao said bitterly.