A Poor Man's Son-in-Law: He Picks Up the Daughter of a Duke's Mansion at the Start

Three days later, Lu Qingyan was able to get out of bed.

His fever had subsided, but he was still weak and would get breathless after walking only a few steps. Zhao wouldn't let him leave the room, so he walked around slowly inside, taking the opportunity to tidy up the original owner's belongings.

There weren't many books; the basic classics of the Four Books and Five Classics were all there, but they were old books with curled edges, and some were even handwritten copies. The writing implements were even more meager: a worn-out brush, half a block of inferior ink, and a stack of rough yellow paper.

The most valuable item was an inkstone, made of bluestone, with chipped edges, but still usable. It was a gift from the village private school teacher after the original owner passed the imperial examination.

Lu Qingyan opened the Analects, and familiar sentences came into view. As a professor of Chinese literature, he could recite these classics by heart and even point out the differences in commentaries from different dynasties. But the imperial examinations of this era did not test knowledge itself, but rather the interpretation that conformed to the norms.

"I have to readjust," he muttered to himself.

Footsteps came from outside the door; it was Lu Tiezhu, the father, returning home.

Lu Tiezhu was in his early fifties, slightly hunched, with deep wrinkles on his face. He wore straw sandals covered in mud, his trousers rolled up to his knees, and carried two shoes in his hands. The soles of the shoes were worn through and he could no longer walk in them, so he simply took them off and carried them.

"Father," Lu Qingyan called out.

Lu Tiezhu looked up and saw his son standing at the door. He paused for a moment, then frowned: "Why did you come out? Go back and lie down."

His tone was stiff, but Lu Qingyan saw a hint of relaxation flash in his eyes.

"Lying down for too long is uncomfortable, let's walk around," Lu Qingyan said. "Dad's shoes..."

"It's alright, I can still wear it after some mending." Lu Tiezhu waved his hand dismissively, walked to the water vat in the yard, and scooped water to wash the mud off his feet.

Looking at the thick calluses on the soles of his feet and the old scar on his ankle, Lu Qingyan felt a pang of sadness.

At dinner time, the whole family sat around the broken wooden table in the main room.

On the table sat a bowl of thin porridge, a dish of pickled vegetables, and several multigrain pancakes. The porridge was so thin you could see your reflection in it. The pancakes were made of dark flour mixed with bran, and were rock hard.

Zhao served Lu Qingyan a bowl of thicker porridge and then put a relatively clean-looking flatbread into his hand: "You've just recovered from your illness, eat more."

Lu Qingyan looked at the porridge in her bowl, then at the watery broth in the other people's bowls, and silently broke the flatbread in half, giving one half to Sanya next to her and the other half to Erya.

"Third Brother?" Er Ya was stunned.

"I can't eat that much," Lu Qingyan said.

Lu Tiezhu glanced at him, said nothing, and lowered his head to drink his porridge.

Zhao's eyes were a little red as she turned to serve the porridge.

The dining table was quiet, save for the slurping sounds of people drinking porridge. Lu Qingyan ate slowly; the porridge was bland and saltless, the pickled vegetables were cloyingly salty, and the flatbread was irritating. But he ate with great concentration.

"Father," Lu Qingyan said after finishing his meal, "I want to continue my studies."

Lu Tiezhu, who was smoking a pipe, paused upon hearing this: "Haven't you been reading it all along?"

"I mean, I'll study hard and pass the imperial examination to become a scholar," Lu Qingyan said. "But I also want to help out at home."

The eldest brother, Lu Dashan, was clearing away the dishes when he heard this. He looked up and said, "What can you do? Just focus on your studies."

"Studying alone isn't enough." Lu Qingyan shook his head. "Studying costs money—paper, brushes, ink, inkstones, travel expenses to take the exams, everything costs money. My family has supported me for so many years, it's been hard enough."

Lu Tiezhu tapped his pipe: "You don't need to worry about the money."

"I want to earn some money myself," Lu Qingyan said calmly. "My handwriting is decent, so I can copy books and sell them. Qingming Festival is coming soon, so I can also write couplets and memorial texts. The bookstores in town should have these kinds of jobs."

The room fell silent for a moment.

Zhao spoke first: "You've only just recovered from your illness."

"Copying books isn't tiring; I can do it sitting down," Lu Qingyan said. "I read for two hours a day and copy for two hours, so it doesn't interfere with my studies."

Lu Tiezhu stared at him for a long while before slowly saying, "You really think so?"

"I really think so." Lu Qingyan met his gaze. "I'm a member of the family, so I should shoulder some responsibilities."

Another silence followed.

Finally, Lu Tiezhu nodded: "Okay. But don't neglect your studies; reading is fundamental."

"I know."

At night, Lu Qingyan lay on the kang (a heated brick bed) with his eyes open.

Moonlight streamed in through the broken window, casting a small patch of white on the floor. The sound of low voices could be heard coming from the parents' room next door.

"...Yan'er seems different."

"After being sick, I've become more sensible."

"It's good that he's sensible, but I'm worried that he'll be too competitive and exhaust himself."

"Boys should take responsibility."

The voice gradually faded.

Lu Qingyan turned over and faced the wall.

He wasn't the original sixteen-year-old boy; he was a forty-two-year-old adult with modern knowledge and thinking. But in this era, this knowledge couldn't be directly monetized—you couldn't talk to people about democracy and science, you couldn't make inventions, unless you wanted to be burned as a monster.

The imperial examination was the only safe way out.

But the imperial examinations take time. From a student to a scholar, from a scholar to a provincial graduate, from a provincial graduate to a metropolitan graduate… even if everything goes smoothly, it takes several years. How will this family survive during those years?

"Take it one step at a time," he told himself.

First, take care of your health, then prepare for the exam while earning some money. Copying books is the safest way; it won't arouse suspicion. Once you pass the exam and gain official rank, there will be many more things you can do.

He recalled the original owner's memories: the bookstore in the town, the academy in the county, and even more distant places like the prefecture and the capital...

The road ahead is still long.

The chirping of insects came from outside the window, one after another.

Lu Qingyan closed his eyes.

Starting tomorrow, he will re-plan his life. In this unfamiliar era, with this sixteen-year-old body, he will live on, live a better life, and make things better for his family.

As for the more distant future, we'll talk about that when we get there.

He clenched his fist, his palm still bearing traces of ink from the afternoon when he held the pen.

Let's start with writing.