Chapter 11: What Can a Poor Family Do?

Outside the window, a sliver of sunset glided over peach branches, casting dappled shadows on the blue bricks.

The family ate their meal.

At the table, Lu Beigu spoke of transferring household registration: “The County Magistrate himself praised me and wrote a guarantee letter, permitting me to transfer my household to Hejiang County.”

“Must we transfer?” Pei Yan’s slender eyebrows furrowed slightly.

Under Song law, household registers recorded only adult males; in other words, she and Lu Yuchi were not listed at all, and Lu Yanxi was too young to be counted as an adult, and their family, having no land, was classified as “guest households.”

If they transferred registration, the entire family would have to move to Hejiang County—that would be a substantial expense.

“Yes.”

Having supported the household alone for years, Pei Yan was accustomed to preparing for the worst in every matter.

She gently stirred the fish soup in her bowl; amid the steam, her voice sounded faint: “Renting a room in the county town isn’t like in the town—it requires a full year’s payment even for the most remote side room, at least four or five guan.”

Pei Yan set down her chopsticks, fingers twisting the hem of her skirt until her knuckles turned white.

“Last month, I earned 1,720 wen from embroidery, 408 wen from washing clothes, 861 wen from gathering herbs, and after deducting all other expenses, I had 2,535 wen left. Half must be saved for rice and salt, you need money for books and board, and we still owe the clan 28 guan—we simply have no money left.”

In the lower districts of Kaifeng, a common laborer’s net monthly income was just over four guan—slightly higher than a soldier’s pay in the Forbidden Army.

But Gulin Town was a remote hamlet; even with river transport, its economy could not compare to Kaifeng, so even if Pei Yan worked without rest, she earned only 2.5 guan net per month.

Rice cost about 70 wen per sheng; without heavy labor, a family of two adults and two children needed nearly 2,000 wen monthly just for food.

Thus, when Pei Yan said to save half for rice and salt, she was cutting rations for everyone except Lu Beigu.

Lu Beigu stared at his bowl of rice, his vision suddenly blurring.

He rubbed his eyes and said earnestly: “Sister-in-law, don’t worry—I’ll find a way to pay the rent.”

Pei Yan nodded without speaking, but had already made up her mind.

No matter what, she would raise the money to rent a house in Hejiang County.

After all, nothing mattered more than Lu Beigu’s future.

“But doesn’t transferring household registration to Hejiang County require one year of residence and labor?” she asked hesitantly.

Under Song law, residence and labor for one year qualified one for local registration—meaning anyone, regardless of origin, could transfer registration after living and working in a place for a year.

Lu Beigu shook his head: “Living and studying at the county school counts as residence and labor.”

He paused, seeing Pei Yan’s puzzled gaze, and decided to explain fully.

“The real hurdle isn’t the transfer—it’s whether I can enter the Luzhou Prefectural School as a Hejiang student and take the prefectural exam afterward.”

“Can you really enter the prefectural school?”

Pei Yan’s eyes widened slightly—Lu Beigu had shocked her too many times today: first his essay earned top marks, now he spoke of entering the prefectural school.

In her memory, her brother-in-law had always ranked near the bottom in county school exams.

“Of course I can.”

Lu Beigu’s voice was steady and firm: “Sister-in-law, from now on, I will not disappoint you.”

Pei Yan stared at him, speechless.

His features were still the same—clear, refined—but his gaze had become like a deep, still well, calm enough to soothe her heart.

She suddenly realized this Lu Beigu seemed different from the bookish boy who had once buried himself in texts without finding the way.

Seeing Pei Yan’s expression soften, Lu Beigu continued: “The ‘Examination Regulations for Jinshi Candidates’ issued in the fourth year of Jingde stipulated: ‘Those who leave their native place to fraudulently register elsewhere to take the exams shall be severely punished. Each autumn, county assistants shall inspect conduct and guarantee candidates before submitting them to the prefecture; if a guaranteed candidate is later found lacking in virtue, both prefect and county officials shall be held liable.’”

“In other words, the significance of Li Pan’s guarantee letter lies not in the transfer itself, but in his willingness to guarantee my future quota.”

Lu Beigu tapped his finger on the copied essay resting beside his satchel: “Otherwise, even if I pass the prefectural exam and become a juren, I might still be barred from traveling to the capital.”

Pei Yan listened, confused but sensing the gravity: “So Li Pan’s intent isn’t just to transfer your registration—he’ll also guarantee you the quota?”

“Roughly so,” Lu Beigu nodded. “But even if a nobleman lends aid, one must still strive. If I fail the county exam and cannot enter the prefectural school, or enter but fail the prefectural exam, the quota is irrelevant.”

Outside the window, the last sliver of twilight was swallowed by night.

After the meal, they cleared the bowls, chopsticks, and stove.

Still seated at the family’s only wooden table, Lu Yuchi dozed on Pei Yan’s lap, her small face flushed by the dying embers of the hearth, while Lu Yanxi slept soundly, drooling.

Pei Yan gently stroked her daughter’s hair and asked suddenly: “You mentioned this ‘quota’—is it related to the son of the Squire Zhou from town? I heard he excelled in the classics and passed the prefectural exam two years ago, yet never went to Kaifeng to sit for the provincial exam.”

“Exactly. The Zhou family is wealthy but belongs to the Luo tribal client households; Luzhou officials naturally prioritize local registered juren.”

Lu Beigu paused: “There’s a subtlety here: the number of quotas per prefecture isn’t strictly tied to the number of candidates.”

At the founding of the Song, candidate numbers were low, so nearly all who passed the prefectural exam received a quota. But as numbers swelled, by Emperor Zhenzong’s Xianping first year, a fixed quota system was formally established.

Under this system, each prefecture received a fixed number of quotas based on population and scholarly standards—large prefectures might have dozens, remote ones only a few; only those ranked within the quota could qualify for the capital exam, while those beyond were eliminated.

What happened to those eliminated? They simply waited three years and tried again.

Pei Yan blinked, urging him to continue.

“Simply put, some prefectures have few candidates but many quotas; others have many candidates but few quotas.”

Lu Beigu dipped a finger in tea and drew circles on the table: “Without restrictions, students would naturally flock to prefectures with easier quotas. To curb this, the court imposed dual barriers: household registration and official guarantee.”

Pei Yan suddenly understood: “No wonder the Squire Zhou moved his entire family to Luzhou—it was for this.”

“Precisely,” Lu Beigu smiled bitterly.

“But wealthy families can transfer registration—what can a poor household do without noble patronage?”

Lu Beigu’s registered origin was not Hejiang County in Luzhou, but Gulin Town in the Luo tribal client region.

Although in practice, students from client regions studied and took exams locally, which didn’t hinder his entry into the prefectural school, once he passed the prefectural exam and became a juren, he would face obstacles in traveling to the capital.

Well, here lay an unspoken rule.

Prefectures near client regions often favored local registered candidates, manipulating quota rankings to sideline candidates from client regions who scored nearly as well.

Even those not sidelined had to be vetted for character by the county magistrate and guaranteed by him to receive the quota; if a guaranteed candidate failed to take the exam and wasted the precious quota, both prefect and county officials faced joint liability.

Thus, without Li Pan’s recognition, following the normal path, even if Lu Beigu passed the prefectural exam and became a juren, he might still be blocked by the quota system and unable to take the provincial exam, wasting precious years.

How much time does life afford to waste?

Can a youth’s triumph on the golden list, riding the spring breeze, compare to an old man’s decades of toil before finally passing?

Of course, Li Pan’s recognition ultimately stemmed from Lu Beigu’s own talent—that was the root.

——————

① Household register, the Song dynasty’s household record, listing adult males, land, housing, livestock, etc.

② Guest household, an ancient term for migrant households.

(End of chapter)