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

The eleventh year of Yonghe, the eighth day of the eleventh month.

Before dawn, the lights in the Lu family courtyard were already on. The aroma of baking pancakes wafted from the kitchen. Zhao, wearing an apron, was busy at the stove, baking pancakes until they were golden brown and steaming hot as they were stacked in a bamboo basket.

Inside the main room, Lu Tiezhu was taking one last look at his son's belongings. The book chest was crammed full of books—commentaries on the Four Books and Five Classics, past examination papers, and three large notebooks compiled by Lu Qingyan himself. Beside it was a blue cloth bundle containing two thick cotton-padded coats, three pairs of cloth shoes with a thousand layers of soles, and knee pads newly sewn by Zhao Shi. At the very bottom was a tightly wrapped purse in oiled paper, containing eighty taels of silver—most of the family's savings from the past six months.

Lu Qingyan was dressed neatly, in a half-new indigo cotton robe with a blue padded jacket over it. He sat at the table and silently recited the things he needed to bring: the certificate of a successful candidate in the imperial examination issued by the Ministry of Rites, the documents issued by the prefectural school, the travel permit, and several important letters.

Lu Dashan came in carrying a bulging cloth bag: "Third brother, this contains fried rice, dried meat, and pickled vegetables for the journey. I also filled a bamboo tube with sesame oil; it'll make the rice taste even better."

Lu Xiaoshan followed him in and handed over a small wooden box: "Mugwort cakes, to ward off the cold and insects. There's also a newly made carving knife; I've hidden two ginseng slices in the handle for emergencies."

Shunhua and Taohua stood by the door, their eyes red. Shunhua handed over a blue purse embroidered with bamboo leaves, the stitches fine and tight: "Third Brother, please be careful on the road."

"Mm." Lu Qingyan took it and carefully put it into the inner pocket close to his body.

As dawn broke, the sound of cart wheels came from the village entrance. Lu Laoshuan arrived in his donkey cart, which already carried two people—Zhou Wenyuan and Zhang Zhiqing.

Zhou Wenyuan, thirty-seven years old, wore a faded dark blue cotton robe, his face solemn, and he was resting with his eyes closed. Zhang Zhiqing, two years older than Lu Qingyan, was full of energy. Seeing the Lu family come out, he hurriedly got out of the car to help carry the luggage.

Zhao stuffed the pancakes, boiled eggs, and pickles into the hidden compartment under the carriage seat, muttering as she did so: "These pancakes will last seven or eight days. We'll have to buy fresh eggs when we get to Dayi Town, as they won't keep. We'll finish them in the first three days. The pickles will go well with rice. Don't just eat dry rations..."

"Mother, I've memorized it all." Lu Qingyan held her trembling hand.

Madam Zhao raised her head and carefully examined her son. In just over three years, the sickly boy lying listlessly on the kang (a heated brick bed) had grown into a young, broad-shouldered, and upright scholar who had passed the imperial examinations. She reached out to straighten his collar, her voice choked with emotion: "Yan'er, do your best in the exams. Even if you don't pass, Mother will still make you pancakes to welcome you back."

"Yes." Lu Qingyan nodded emphatically.

Lu Tiezhu squatted on the threshold, finished his last pipe, tapped the pipe on the sole of his shoe, stood up, and said only three words: "Be careful."

The donkey cart started moving. Zhao chased after it out of the courtyard gate, all the way to the old locust tree at the village entrance, and stood on tiptoe watching until the sound of the wheels completely disappeared into the morning mist.

Lu Laoshuan drove the cart steadily. Once they left the village and reached the main road, it was already broad daylight. The fields in the winter month were desolate; the wheat seedlings had just sprouted tiny green tips, and the bare branches of the old locust trees by the roadside pointed towards the gray sky.

The three people in the carriage remained silent at first. After traveling for about an hour, Zhang Zhiqing finally spoke: "Brother Wenyuan, how long did it take you to travel to the capital the year before last?"

"Forty-two days." Zhou Wenyuan opened his eyes. "That winter the snow was heavy, and we were stuck at the Yellow River for seven or eight days. This year the weather is better, so I estimate it will take about thirty-five or thirty-six days to arrive."

Lu Qingyan did some mental calculations: "Will we be able to reach the capital by mid-December?"

"Pretty much." Zhou Wenyuan nodded. "When we get there, we'll find a place to stay. The inns near the examination hall are expensive, but convenient. Most of us poor scholars stay in 'Examinee Alley' in the south of the city. It's cheap and close to the Ministry of Rites."

He paused, then lowered his voice: "The capital is not like the prefectural city. There are princes and nobles everywhere, and the sons of high-ranking officials are always surrounded by servants. We must be extra careful in our words and actions, so as not to offend anyone or get involved in any trouble."

Lu Qingyan and Zhang Zhiqing both nodded solemnly.

We stopped for lunch in the post town. It was a small, dark-skinned restaurant with greasy square tables and benches. The three of us ordered three bowls of vegetarian noodle soup for twenty coins. The soup was clear with a few specks of oil floating on top, and the noodles were overcooked and mushy, but with the pickles we had brought, it was warm enough to eat.

At the next table, several men who looked like merchants were talking and laughing loudly, saying that the price of furs in the north had risen this year, and the caravans from the south had made a fortune. In the corner sat an old scholar, munching on a cold steamed bun while flipping through a tattered copy of the Analects, muttering to himself.

Zhou Wenyuan glanced at it and said in a low voice, "Rice is as precious as cinnamon in the capital, so we need to be careful with the money we bring. Two years ago, even the cheapest dormitory room cost fifty coins a day."

They continued their journey in the afternoon. Lu Laoshuan said that this trip to the capital would involve crossing three major rivers and climbing two mountains, and even if the journey went smoothly, it would take more than thirty days.

We checked into an inn in the evening. It was the lowest-class "traveling inn," a large, open room with a heated earthen bed taking up most of the space, enough to sleep about twenty people. Each person paid thirty coins, which included a basin of hot water and a bowl of thin porridge.

The room reeked of a pungent mix of sweat, foot odor, mold, and horse manure. A dozen or so people already lived there: traveling peddlers, cart drivers, and a few scholars like them, on their way to take the imperial examinations. One young scholar was writing a letter by the light of an oil lamp, another was soaking his frostbitten feet, and yet another leaned against the wall, staring blankly into space.

Lu Qingyan and the other two found seats by the window and put down their luggage. Zhang Zhiqing went to fetch hot water, Zhou Wenyuan checked the door and window latches, and Lu Qingyan spread out the thin quilt she had brought—it was old, but clean.

At night, snoring, teeth grinding, and coughing filled the air. Some people recited texts in their sleep, while others tossed and turned, cursing. Lu Qingyan, using his book box as a pillow, listened to the howling wind outside and finally fell asleep after a long time.

And so it went, day after day. Along the way, they encountered all sorts of people: wealthy scholars in fine clothes, riding horses and accompanied by servants, staying in the best inns along the way; poor scholars like them, saving every penny and traveling in groups; and emaciated refugees with their families, kneeling by the roadside begging.

Crossing the Huai River, the ferry crossing was packed with people. An elderly scholar with gray hair almost fell off the plank, but Lu Qingyan quickly caught him. The old man thanked him profusely, saying that he had taken the exam his whole life, and this was his last attempt. "If I don't pass this time, I'll go back to my hometown and open a private school. I've given up."

The ferry swayed in the murky river, the distant mountains on the opposite bank appearing like faint ink outlines. Lu Qingyan gazed at the hazy northern horizon and suddenly realized clearly: the capital, that place where power and opportunity intertwined, prosperity and cruelty coexisted, was truly getting closer and closer.

On the seventeenth day of the twelfth lunar month, at dusk, the capital city finally came into view.

When the city wall came into view in the distance, the sun was setting. The wall was so high that one had to crane one's neck to see the crenellations, stretching darkly to the horizon. The city gate tower stood majestically, its eaves and brackets jingling in the cold wind.

A long line of carriages and horses stretched out in front of the city gate. There were camel caravans laden with goods, official sedan chairs with brocade canopies, and dusty horse-drawn carriages, but even more were candidates for the imperial examinations, carrying their books and looking exhausted.

While waiting in line, Zhou Wenyuan gave one last, low-pitched reminder: "Remember, living in the capital is no easy feat. Speak less and observe more, be cautious in your words and actions."

Lu Qingyan nodded and gripped the straps of the book box tightly.

The line moved slowly forward. When it was finally his turn, the gatekeeper checked his travel permit, examined his scholar's certificate, and waved him in: "Go in."

As you step through the deep city gate, a wave of sound and heat washes over you.

The wide Imperial Street, its bluestone slabs smoothed by cart tracks, was lined with shops on both sides, their signs swaying in the twilight. The aroma of roasted meat and fine wine wafted from the restaurants, while the silk shops' windows displayed brocades as dazzling as rosy clouds. Pawnshops, money exchanges, teahouses, bookstores... were all brightly lit, as bright as day.

The crowds were thick; young men in brocade robes rode by on horseback, vendors hawked "steaming hot buns" and "candied hawthorns," sedan chair carriers shouted "Excuse me!" and children chased and laughed as they passed by.

The air was filled with a mixture of scents: spices, food, charcoal, dust, and a faint fragrance of perfume.

Lu Qingyan stood on the street, momentarily dazed. She then took a deep breath of the cold, unfamiliar air and said to Zhou Wenyuan and Zhang Zhiqing, "Let's find a place to stay first."

The three of them shouldered their bags and joined the bustling crowd.

We've arrived in the capital. The most treacherous part of the imperial examination journey has begun.