Chapter 33

·

·

·

Protagonist:

Song Miao

By this time, before Song Miao's usual stall spot, a line one and a half people long had already formed on the ground.

What was meant by one and a half lines: half a line was people, and one line was food boxes and other utensils—originally some people had been waiting, some had grown impatient waiting and walked away, leaving only utensils to hold their place, some had been gone too long, feared missing out, and came back again, standing beside the food boxes and other utensils.

And as Song Miao and the others arrived, everyone very consciously made way for the cart to enter, as smooth as an immortal's great blade cleaving sea waves, with people shouting one after another, "Song Xiaoniangzi," "Xiaoniangzi, why are you so late today," "Song Stall Owner, good morning, how much stock did you prepare today," "Can I buy if I stand here," "Is it true that starting today no one is allowed to buy more"……

Instantly it was noisy and clamorous, like a flock of wild ducks fighting over food, ga ga ga ga, everyone crowding forward, some greeting, some asking questions, and many others who had just heard the news running back from behind, preparing to take their original spots.

Even those who hadn't been in line couldn't help but squeeze in, some wanting to cut in line, some wanting to ask questions, or both.

A glance showed the scene was truly quite chaotic; the liveliness of the previous few days was truly small witch seeing great witch.

Seeing so many people surge in all at once, Song Miao was indeed somewhat startled.

The glutinous rice did taste good, and the shaomai were tasty too, but no matter what, they were just an early meal—how could they draw so many people to line up?

She didn't know that people naturally have a herd mentality; Nanlu Academy and Taixue together had at least two or three thousand students, and Song Ji Shitan prepared only two or three hundred portions of food a day, so those who had eaten were actually only a tiny fraction—after all, many customers bought repeatedly, invisibly squeezing out other newcomers' chance to try something fresh.

Thus, the greater the fame spread, the more people became interested, but since they couldn't buy it, their appetites were whetted all the more, and everyone wanted to taste a bite.

Especially since she had spread word yesterday that starting today each person was limited to three portions, which became a gimmick and instead drew even more interest.

This is after-the-fact analysis; Song Miao on the spot naturally couldn't react so quickly, so she hurriedly set up her stall and began selling.

Fortunately, some of Cheng Zijian's classmates came to help; two students, one helping ladle soup and collect money, the other helping maintain order at the back; though it was their first day helping and they were a bit clumsy at first, they soon got the hang of it.

Three people working, the speed was more than one notch faster than the previous few days; before long, all the food was sold out.

Those who hadn't bought any were annoyed and angry, rushing to ask Song Miao what time she would set up tomorrow—how could that be predicted?

Song Miao could only say according to the usual time, and say she couldn't be entirely sure, just roughly.

A crowd was gathered around when Cheng Zijian finally came out from the rear gate of Taixue.

He had a companion with him; the two each extended one hand, together carrying a bamboo basket, and each also carried a bamboo basket on their back; arriving before Song Miao, they both saluted together.

Song Miao hurriedly returned the salute, exchanged a few pleasantries with a smile, then again solemnly saluted the crowd to thank them, saying only that she was thanking them for helping copy books the day before.

The students dared not mention the Song Family Eatery and Song Dalang's matter, so they could only say "no no," "you're too polite," and seemed a bit awkward.

Song Miao didn't delay them; seeing the bamboo basket was large, she pointed to the two large steamers on the cart and said, "The glutinous rice has already been ladled out, all in here; I heard Young Master Cheng went to borrow a basket, so I didn't pack those shaomai separately—rather than move the steamers back and forth, just take the steamers directly, and I'll come collect them at noon; I don't know if that's all right?"

Everyone listened, and indeed stepped forward to move the steamers; when they tried placing them into the bamboo basket, the size was just right.

There was also a pot of Chenpi Mung Bean Drink and a pot of Radish Pork Rib Clear Soup, exactly two bamboo baskets, one pot per basket, very suitable.

Finally everything was packed; Cheng Zijian stepped forward first, turned to look at the few classmates behind, saw everyone nodding, then took down a small cloth bag from his shoulder and handed it to Song Miao, saying, "Song Stall Owner, this is what we all chipped in……"

The bag was heavy and sinking; when taken down, there came from inside a heavy metallic clashing sound; one could tell at once it was strings of coins.

Before he could finish speaking, Song Miao stepped back and said with a serious expression, "Truly not necessary."

A student beside him hurriedly said, "We didn't give an extra wen; it's just according to the price!"

Song Miao stepped back even further, saying, "We agreed that today's two meals are my treat; you all being so distant, how would I have the face to come ask for help again in the future?"

Seeing Song Miao insist so, those few could only exchange glances, then look at Cheng Zijian, using their eyes to urge him.

Cheng Zijian had no choice and was about to step forward to persuade again, but several people here were muttering; the many people gathered behind might not hear, but they could see.

Two such large steamers, who knew how many shaomai and how much glutinous rice inside, plus so many drinks; seeing it all being carried away by one group, how could those who couldn't buy bear it?

Someone immediately shouted an accusation: "Song Stall Owner, wasn't it agreed that starting today each person can only buy three portions? How can they buy so many at once? If you want to sell in bulk, just name a number; can't we gather enough??"

"Wasn't it said sold out? How can there still be so many? Song Xiaoniangzi is usually most particular about fairness; how can you let them cut in line today? This is truly against heaven's reason!"

"Exactly, exactly! It truly makes me furious!"

Song Miao hurriedly said to Cheng Zijian and the others, "Truly don't give it; if you give more, there will be a rebellion here!"

While speaking, she urged them to leave, then stepped forward to explain to the crowd, saying only that she had asked them to help copy books, copying one book all night, helping her greatly; this time it was a special return gift to thank them, not a sale, but specially reserved, and did not occupy the daily sales quota.

Hearing that they only copied a few books and could get so many good things, one or two almost had their eyes turn red, and hurriedly asked what book.

Song Miao answered.

Thus it became even more uproarious.

"Just one book, 'Wei Xing Tong'? And so many people copied it together? Song Xiaoniangzi, why didn't you say so earlier! I have one on hand; I'll lend it to you, no need to return it for ten or eight years; why do you need theirs!"

"Who doesn't know how to copy books! If there's such good news in the future, can't you give advance notice? How could you let them snatch it away; isn't that too unfair!!"

"Exactly, exactly! It truly makes me furious!"

This person who had been made furious twice spoke with his mouth, but his person had already stepped to the front, shook his sleeves, straightened his posture, cleared his throat, and said: "Song Xiaoniangzi is being overly kind; Xiaoniangzi, remember this face of mine; I am in the Neishe of Taixue; my surname is Zhang……"

——Already introducing his name, native place, and background first.

"Next time there's such good news, be sure to remember to come find me, Zhang, in the Neishe!"

Song Miao laughed and cried at once, and could only agree.

Although everyone complained with their mouths, in their hearts there was nothing to fault.

A drop of water's kindness, repaid with a gushing spring—this is indeed a very fine thing under heaven, what a gentleman seeks.

In their view, copying books was the drop of water; glutinous rice and shaomai, to students craving food, could barely be called a gushing spring.

Thus they muttered and grumbled, under everyone's eyes, only watching Cheng Zijian and the four others hold their heads high and puff out their chests, extremely proud; those carrying bamboo baskets carried bamboo baskets, those carrying bamboo baskets on their backs carried bamboo baskets on their backs, entering the rear gate of Taixue; in their hearts they didn't know how envious they were; after returning, they naturally spread the word far and wide.

Let's say Cheng Zijian and the others took the early meal, delivered it to the Xue Zhai; already a room full of people were crying out to be fed; seeing several people carry things in, they swarmed forward.

The food portions were actually more than enough; once the early eaters passed, everyone knew; but eating is tastier when snatched, especially when the steamer opened and the aroma of scallion pork and mutton shaomai was impossible to escape; how could they bear it.

Not long after, there was no sound of talking in the hall, only swallowing sounds, chewing sounds, gulping soup sounds; everyone bowed their heads to eat their own, reluctant to waste time opening their mouths to speak, fearing to miss a bite; only from time to time someone let out a satisfied and happy sigh from their throat and nose.

Everyone ate happily here, all snatching the meat shaomai; only Cheng Zijian ate a few shaomai to satisfy his craving, then hurriedly swallowed the glutinous rice first, and drank a few mouthfuls of soup—he didn't dare drink much soup, fearing he'd have to run to the toilet later.

After finishing, he specially set aside a set of early meal—for He Qi.

Yesterday when delivering breakfast, the other party was not in the academy; I heard there was a matter at home, so he took leave and went back, and it's unknown how long he'll be gone.

Although Song Xiaoniangzi had instructed that if the person wasn't there, he could eat it all himself, Cheng Zijian still felt somewhat uneasy, so today he kept an extra set, just in case.

After putting away He's breakfast, Cheng Zijian went to wash his hands and face, and straightened his clothes.

Once everything was taken care of, he carefully folded the essay he had newly written yesterday, tucked it in his sleeve, took a portion of breakfast, packed it in a food box, and hurriedly delivered it to Shangshe.

Arriving at the place, sure enough, that Han Li was already in the study.

Cheng Zijian entered with practiced ease, knocking and going in; after greetings, he first set down the food box, then presented his newly revised essay.

Na Han Li didn't waste words; he took his food box and essay, casually wrote a few topics, crumpled the papers separately, and said: "You pick one; whichever you pick, write that one — this time just outline the framework; I'll come look after I eat breakfast."

Cheng Zijian agreed, reached out his hand, hesitated among the several paper balls for a long while, finally couldn't help asking: "Brother Han, can I... write all of them?"

Na Han Li looked at him and said: "Ability not great, but person quite greedy."

Clearly scolded, but over these few days, perhaps because he'd grown familiar with the other party, and knew his temper and ability, Cheng Zijian not only didn't feel embarrassed, he didn't even feel a shred of shame.

He steeled his courage and explained: "In a few more days it's the public examination; I thought even if it's last-minute cramming, if I don't exert some effort, even Buddha won't know it's me hugging his feet..."

Na Han Li listened to him say this, glanced at the essay he'd just received, thought a moment, and said: "Pick two then; any more and your brain won't be enough; still need to leave time for Classics — these three years I don't know how you've studied; never mind that you can't memorize the Criminal Code, but Classics only tests those ten-odd books, and you actually..."

He paused, but in the end didn't say more.

Even though Cheng Zijian's face had grown thicker by more than a notch these two days, at this moment he still felt awkward, only thinking in his heart: Every single person in Lower Hall can't memorize those ten-odd books; forget Lower Hall, even among Inner Hall students how many can memorize them?

— Besides, is it just ten-odd books? How many commentaries, how many exegeses?

If I could memorize them, I'd have changed my name to Han Li long ago; why would I still be this Cheng Zijian?

However, no matter what he thought in his heart, he still honestly picked two, didn't dare be greedy again, and went to the front to write the essays.

Cheng Zijian is not known for quick wit; though only writing frameworks, two essays still took him a small half-hour.

During this, Han Li came over twice to knock on his desktop to urge him on; when he received the essays, he dipped his brush in vermilion and corrected them one by one; after finishing, he threw them back, but frowned and said: "Too slow — it's not that you can't write fast; the first half of the time you just wrote nonsense on the paper; after I knocked on the desk, you were forced to produce something, and there are a few usable points."

Speaking, he pointed at the handwriting on the draft and asked: "When you wrote these, what were you thinking?"

Cheng Zijian recalled a bit, then told his mental process: first thinking to enter from a certain angle, what example to cite; later feeling that example wasn't quite suitable, wanting to swap another, but time was already too late, so had to use the previous example again; fearing he couldn't explain his intention clearly, he then cited classics extensively to help support it, and so on.

Han Li said: "You write too verbosely."

He thought a moment, then said: "Policy essays fear length, not brevity; look at those passed down to today — which one is long? With you and my ability, so-called policy essays are just shouting a few pleasant or unpleasant words; if you shout shorter, more sonorous and forceful, with clearer wording, it's easier to leave an impression; too long, and loving empty talk, who wants to read it?"

Cheng Zijian hurriedly said: "Since childhood I've been accustomed to word counts, unknowingly I become verbose; I'll go back and find a way to correct it."

Han Li pondered a few breaths, picked up a book on the desk, flipped through it, took paper and brush, copied out page numbers, handed it to Cheng Zijian, and said: "You go back and compare these few essays; for each section use only the most concise phrasing, see what they can be condensed to — bring them tomorrow for me to see."

Also pointing at his essay, he said: "Besides revising the essay, the writing must also be more concise; don't fear brevity; you write short first, then I'll teach you to write long."

Cheng Zijian stood in place, for a moment besides saying many thanks, he truly had nothing to say, simply wishing he could shatter his body to repay.

His throat choked for a good while before he managed to say: "Brother Han, I truly don't know how to thank you... noon... noon there's food, you must remember to keep your stomach empty and wait for me to deliver it..."

Then he briefly told the matter of Song Miao in a few words.

Only then did Han Li realize that the breakfasts he'd eaten these few days were all made by a stall owner in Food Alley.

And the other party specially made food this morning and noon to give thanks, because of answering his guidance on the "Wei Criminal Code" location, and others helped copy manuscripts.

Hearing this introduction, Han Li didn't ask why a stall owner would use the "Wei Criminal Code," but didn't refuse this delivered-to-the-mouth meal either, only saying: "Since she's a stall owner making a living this way, there's no reason to eat hers for free; you help me settle the bill."

Cheng Zijian wanted to say a few more words about Stall Owner Song, seeing the other party uninterested, he could only shut his mouth; seeing the hour not early, he hurriedly took the essays and took his leave.

Not to mention here Cheng Zijian hurried toward the study; outside a teaching hall in Waishe, there was also a person rushing, and when he arrived at the place, he didn't even knock, just shouted through the door "Lao Duan," calling while pushing the door and entering.

Entering inside, that person called "Lao Duan" was sitting at the desk reviewing student essays, brows furrowed so tight they could pinch a mosquito dead; hearing the movement, he didn't even raise his head, only replied: "Can't you see I'm busy — what is it? You're done reviewing already?"

The newcomer answered in one breath: "Done reviewing."

While speaking, he actually couldn't help laughing twice.

Hearing his tone was very off, and reaction even stranger, Lao Duan finally raised his head and said: "Though this round of Waishe students' submitted essays are somewhat forced, it shouldn't be enough to make you see flaws, right?"

The newcomer laughed heartily, handed an essay over, and said: "Never mind the rest, look at this essay first — rare, rare, the iron tree has bloomed! Among Waishe students there's finally one who has awakened!"