Hua Zhi’s invitation card had only stated the seventh day of the month, with no specific time, yet nearly everyone who received one chose to arrive early. By the Hour of the Dragon, quite a number of people had already gathered.

The firmly shut gates left the crowd exchanging uncertain glances, at a loss for what to do — should they step forward and knock, or simply wait?

While they were still deliberating, the Hua Family’s main gates slowly swung open from within. The assembled scholars watched as two servants carried out a table and set it at the foot of the steps. Then a child of about ten walked out — dressed in a scholar’s robe, his hair wrapped atop his head with a scholar’s kerchief, his small face fair and calm, his entire bearing radiating a clean, scholarly air.

Behind him stood twenty-odd children dressed in identical fashion, each holding a basket, the contents unknown.

“This junior, Hua Bailin, extends his gratitude to all of you for coming as promised.” Hua Bailin performed a proper scholar’s salute.

The assembled scholars, though surprised, returned the greeting one by one.

Seeing that no one looked down on him for his youth, Hua Bailin quietly let out a breath of relief, and his posture relaxed a little. He took a basket from the hands of the younger brother behind him and placed it on the table before him. “With the Autumn Examinations approaching, I dare not waste your time. These are some food items prepared at my elder sister’s direction. They keep well for many days without spoiling, and are intended for your use during the examinations. I sincerely wish each and every one of you success in passing at first attempt.”

An odd expression crossed the faces of those present.

“To avoid any appearance of charity, however, these items may only be sold to you.”

The crowd was startled once more.

“Please prepare exactly one copper coin — no more, no less. If you happen not to have one on hand, that is no trouble; you may send it along afterward.”

“…” Whether bystanders or scholars, everyone was thrown into an emotional tumult by this speech full of unexpected turns. For a moment, all were left wondering: Is he finished? Is there more to come?

After a brief silence, seeing that Hua Bailin clearly had no intention of speaking further, the scholars at last accepted that this was the full extent of what the Hua Family wished to convey. The few standing at the very front, seeing the child’s face grow uncertain at the lack of response, were the first to react. They patted their persons, and those who found a copper coin on them hurried forward to hand one over.

Hua Bailin let out a sigh of relief. Two faint dimples appeared on his smiling face as he pushed an empty basket toward the man. “Place it in here.”

The scholar did so, and Hua Bailin immediately handed over the basket he had been holding. When the scholar lifted it, he found it was not light at all. He glanced at the single copper coin, then asked, “Did I hear correctly?”

Hua Bailin blinked, then shook his head. “Elder Sister said it was one copper coin.”

As soon as the words left his mouth the scholar felt he had asked a foolish question — even if it were light, that wouldn’t mean there was no loss in it for one copper coin. The elegant basket alone was worth far more than that.

Once someone had led the way, others naturally followed. Whatever their private thoughts, the fact that they had sent an invitation card in the first place, and had come here today, meant that no one wished to cause embarrassment to the Hua Family. Even if this were an empty basket, even if the price were ten taels of silver, none of them would have left empty-handed.

In the Great Qing dynasty there was a script known as the Yan style, created by the Hua Family’s ancestor, Hua Jingyan.

The Great Qing dynasty was the dynasty in all of history where meritorious officials had fared the best. Hua Jingyan had used his own life to teach them how to be worthy officials, how to preserve one’s integrity to the end.

Even the poorest scholar invariably owned several well-thumbed, dog-eared handwritten copies of his works. The Hua Family did not produce scholars who authored great works in every generation, yet they upheld the custom of leaving behind written works — regardless of quantity. The most recent such work had appeared two years prior, when Elder Master Hua had compiled a volume of annotations on The Great Learning, drawing on the learning of his entire life. Following the Hua Family’s longstanding tradition, this was printed at the family’s own expense and distributed to academies, bookshops, and libraries throughout the land, along with ink, brushes, and paper, so that anyone who wished to copy it could do so freely. The Hua Family had upheld this practice for as many years as they had stood, and it was impossible to say how many impoverished students had benefited from it over the generations.

How great the Hua Family’s contribution to the Great Qing had been, how far-reaching their influence upon scholars — even the political enemies most at odds with the Hua Family could not deny this. They had always acknowledged the Hua Family’s position as the foremost family of letters, and had longed endlessly to usurp that place for themselves.

Precisely because the Hua Family was what it was, these scholars from every corner of the realm — proud, aloof, or lofty-eyed as they might be — were all willing to show the Hua Family respect, however small the gesture they were able to make.

The copper coins in the basket grew ever more plentiful. The children maintained perfect order; when one’s hands were empty, he returned inside and picked up another basket, then went to stand at the back of his brothers’ line, repeating this over and over.

Hua Bailin was no longer nervous. Each time a person placed down a copper coin, he handed over a basket. If anyone tried to give silver, he would stop them — his dark, bright eyes simply watching the person steadily until they either quickly borrowed a copper coin from someone nearby, or said they would bring one later, and then received their basket.

As time passed, the queue showed no sign of shortening despite having long surpassed the number of invitation cards sent out, and seemed in fact to be growing longer. Yet the Hua Family’s supply of baskets continued to be distributed one by one without interruption, clearly having been prepared in far greater quantities than that original number.

Zhu Ziwen was standing in the queue as well. When his turn came he smiled, saying, “Little Bailin has grown.”

Hua Bailin lowered his head shyly. “Elder Sister had someone send a share to Cousin already.”

“I want this one as well.” Zhu Ziwen set down his copper coin and accepted the basket with a grave expression. “I am a scholar too.”

Hua Bailin’s eyes suddenly reddened. Before this moment he had only dimly grasped his elder sister’s intention behind all this; now he understood it completely. Elder Sister had not only wanted the Wei Family to see how great the distance was between them and the Hua Family — she had also wanted him, wanted his brothers, to understand what the Hua Family name truly stood for.

Zhu Ziwen looked up toward the main gate, where a skirt hem occasionally fluttered into view. He knew that his cousin was standing just beyond that gate.

She may not have been unaware that this course of action carried more risk than reward, yet she had done it anyway. Perhaps she simply had a spirit coiled up inside her, and this was her way of crying out on the Hua Family’s behalf — her way of reminding the world of all that the Hua Family had done for the Great Qing.

Not everyone would understand her intent, but those who should understand, would.

A hand clapped him on the shoulder. “There’s still a long queue behind you — stop hogging the spot.”

Zhu Ziwen turned with an annoyed glare at the friend who had spoken. The others had perhaps truly come for the Hua Family’s sake, but at least half of these few had come for the food. The basket he had taken home from his cousin’s that day — he himself had barely tasted a bite of it before the others had shared it all among themselves.

But it was good that they had come. They were different from ordinary scholars; standing here, they each represented the family behind them. Their attitude was their family’s attitude toward the Hua Family.

No one noticed that the scholar who had stepped away just ahead of Zhu Ziwen discreetly glanced around after walking off, and, once satisfied that no one was watching, made his way toward a carriage parked to one side.

The carriage, aside from being somewhat more refined in appearance, looked little different from the others. If there was any distinction, it was that the coachman was too powerfully built, and his eyes too sharp and watchful.

The scholar approached and was about to make his presence known when he heard a low, slightly hoarse voice from within: “Come up and speak.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”