Chapter 6: Kindred Spirits

The driver’s remark plunged Huang Yu into silence.

Zheng Fa said nothing either; only the old man’s whip cracked through the wind.

After traveling quietly for an hour, the ox cart reached the city of Jingzhou.

Inside and outside the city seemed like two different worlds.

Outside the city, vast stretches of farmland stretched out—open, airy, yet barren.

The only living people occasionally seen were one or two farmers bent over working in the fields.

Though Jingzhou City was large, the dense crowds on its streets made it feel cramped and suffocating.

The three were likely walking along the city’s main thoroughfare.

Shops lined both sides of the road, and many people strolled leisurely.

The mighty, thousand-li-per-day Danzhu ox could only squeeze meekly through the throng, shuffling forward like a timid kitten.

Huang Yu came alive again, sitting on the cart, gripping the railing and stretching his neck to gaze at the shops on either side.

The cloying sweetness from the pastry shop made him swallow.

The trinkets sold in the general store held his gaze.

The refined young ladies lingering in the silk shop made him sneak glances—he dared turn back for another look only after they had passed.

Only when he recovered from his excitement upon entering the city did he notice Zheng Fa sitting calmly beside him; though also smiling as he observed the bustling streets, he showed none of Huang Yu’s agitation.

As if sensing his gaze, Zheng Fa turned his head and looked at him curiously.

Huang Yu cleared his throat and sat up straight.

Zheng Fa smiled at him; a flicker of shame and anger crossed Huang Yu’s face.

…

The ox cart passed through the main street and headed toward Xicheng.

“Jingzhou has long been known for ‘East Rich, West Noble, South Merchant, North Lowly.’ Our Zhao family lives in the most prestigious West District,” the driver said with no little pride.

Indeed, the farther west they went, the fewer people they saw.

But the area was far from desolate.

Instead, it was lined with endless grand mansions, their gates heavily guarded—ordinary folk dared not loiter here.

Huang Yu, who had been slightly excited earlier, now wore a look of nervous caution.

After another half incense stick’s time, they arrived before a courtyard.

What was called a courtyard was, in truth, a vast, continuous complex of magnificent buildings.

From the street, they could not even see the end of the white walls before them.

The many wealthy households they had passed earlier had already filled Huang Yu with awe—but seeing this one, he opened his mouth wide, his face filled with deep admiration.

At the main gate stood two stone lions, taller than two men, gazing down with haughty eyes at passersby.

Above the gate hung a plaque inscribed with the characters “Zhao Fu.”

The ox cart did not stop at the main gate; instead, it circled around, passed the side gate, and finally halted at an unremarkable back entrance.

“You’re here?”

A middle-aged servant waited at the gate; as soon as he saw the driver, he urged: “Hurry up! The steward’s waiting! He’s waiting for these two!”

“Aren’t these two the farthest away?”

The man waved for Zheng Fa and Huang Yu to follow: “Frankly, I think these two are just fillers.”

The driver made no retort, only grunted: “The Lady said everyone of this age must come. Dare you leave one out?”

“Ah, that’s what I mean!”

Neither man bothered to avoid speaking in front of Huang Yu and Zheng Fa.

Huang Yu found their words grating; he opened his mouth as if to protest.

But looking up at the towering courtyard walls, a look of shame crossed his face, and he fell silent.

Yet his expression grew more pained—he hunched his shoulders, moved stiffly, as if afraid to even lift his feet.

He glanced at Zheng Fa beside him and found the boy seemed deaf to their words, calmly observing his surroundings as if curious.

“What are you pretending?” Zheng Fa heard Huang Yu mutter under his breath, and out of the corner of his eye saw the boy straighten his spine.

Zheng Fa studied the shifting expressions on Huang Yu’s face and guessed part of the boy’s thoughts.

Jingzhou City, Zhao Fu—both were new to him too; truthfully, he wasn’t without excitement inside.

But compared to his arrival in this modern world, the thrill was minor.

Besides, he had seen skyscrapers with his own eyes.

He had seen such grand courtyards on television.

Now stepping into this courtyard, his mindset was less one of inferiority than of novelty.

It felt like visiting a tourist attraction.

Compared to Huang Yu, he naturally appeared more composed.

…

The servant led them to a serene lotus pond, at the end of which stood a pavilion built over the water.

“This is the estate’s second study hall. Go on ahead!” He pointed toward the pavilion’s entrance, then stopped, addressing only them.

Huang Yu followed Zheng Fa across the wooden walkway over the pond to the pavilion’s door.

He found dozens of youths his own age already standing there.

Upon seeing them, the youths sized them up from head to toe.

Then they collectively ignored them, clustering in small groups with barely a reaction.

Huang Yu bit his lip in silent frustration.

Zheng Fa realized these were all competitors for the position of scholar’s attendant.

At this moment, even hostility or disdain from them would have been easier for Huang Yu to bear than this indifference.

But upon closer inspection, Huang Yu’s face fell with a sense of inadequacy; he lowered his head as if ashamed.

Yet as he carefully observed these youths, Huang Yu’s face revealed a hint of dejection, as if overcome with shame, and he lowered his head.

Zheng Fa wore old, coarse cloth.

Huang Yu, of course, fared slightly better—his mother had made his clothes from new fabric—but the material was still rough and stiff.

Many of the youths here wore silk; even if not silk, they wore neat Confucian scholar robes.

Such attire was beyond Huang Yu’s family’s means.

This alone didn’t crush his hope—after all, the position of attendant wasn’t determined by family wealth.

But the silk headbands worn by three youths at the front made him feel utterly powerless to compete.

After years of elementary schooling, he knew that only those who had passed the Tongsheng examination were allowed to openly wear such headbands.

These three’s attire plainly revealed they were already degree-holders…

Realizing this, Huang Yu finally sank into true despair—and finally understood what the driver had meant:

What good were a few years of elementary schooling?

His elementary teacher had been nothing more than an old Tongsheng himself…

Now, the breath of determination he had mustered upon boarding the cart had leaked away, drop by drop, through a hole.

He looked at Zheng Fa, who still wore his usual calm expression—and now, Huang Yu didn’t mind it.

He even felt a quiet sense of kinship.

He himself was suffering so much.

Zheng Fa wore worse clothes and had less schooling than he did.

He must… suffer more?

Zheng Fa sensed the boy’s goodwill in his gaze and felt puzzled: I haven’t said a word—why does he look at me so warmly?

Zheng Fa felt the boy’s goodwill in his gaze and was puzzled: he hadn’t said a word—why did the boy look at him so warmly?

Honestly, Zheng Fa had no idea what a headband was or wasn’t.

As if specially waiting for Zheng Fa and Huang Yu, the door before the youths opened the moment they arrived; a male servant stepped out and announced: “Line up. One by one, enter!”

Inside, dozens of desks were arranged in rows, each bearing brushes, ink, paper, and inkstone.

Zheng Fa took a deep breath—he felt as if he’d returned to a monthly exam. Not fear, but a familiar comfort settled over him.

Zheng Fa took a deep breath, feeling as if he had returned to the monthly exam—not fearful at all, but strangely comforted by the familiarity.