After Zhù Ying finished talking with Xiao Jiang, she went back to doing whatever needed to be done next. No visible change came over her mood; her daily routine went on as usual. Neither at home nor in the yamen did anyone sense that anything was out of the ordinary. There was simply no way to tell from Zhù Ying what she had talked about with someone, or whether it had been important.

She had always been that way. One rarely saw her animated, and her routine was extraordinarily regular — steady work, day after day.

That regularity was broken in the latter part of the twelfth month — by lower-ranking officials and local gentry arriving to present their New Year gifts.

For many small capital officials, getting an outside posting was a way to improve their circumstances. The income was more flexible in a regional post — an upright person could draw honest benefits from things like official farmland; a greedy one might levy extra taxes. Beyond that, people sent gifts at the New Year and major festivals. These seasonal gifts were understood by convention to be acceptable to receive.

Even declining to receive any New Year gift, and insisting on returning their equivalent value, invited sideways looks. “Sensible” subordinates typically prepared their gifts well in advance, and made them on the generous side. The gentry and officials of Fuklu County were no different.

At Zhù Ying’s place: she had barely turned two pages of the county gazetteer when Deputy Director Guan arrived with his gift. She wrote two lines of plans for the coming year, and Chief Clerk Mo arrived. She was reading the capital news dispatches and catching up on things, and Elder Gu’s household came to present gifts. She put down the dispatches to flip through a light book for a moment, and Elder Zhao’s household arrived.

Then when Zhao Feng arrived with his son bearing gifts, she gave up entirely and put the book down: “Fine, fine — I’m not getting anything else done.”

Xiao Wu smiled: “Magistrate, you’ve been going all year. It’s time to relax.”

Zhù Ying said: “I don’t feel like I’ve been working especially hard.”

Xiao Wu thought: that would be you.

Anyone else placed in Zhù Ying’s position would worry themselves to death — yet she was still bouncing around cheerfully, managing to cause everyone else trouble along the way.

Zhù Ying straightened her collar and waited for Zhao Feng to come in to pay his respects. Only the father and son arrived. Zhù Ying gave no outward sign of noting this and exchanged pleasantries with Zhao Feng without mentioning Zhao Niangzi. It was Zhao Feng who brought it up first, saying his wife had been “impulsive and rash” — tying people up in the street and bringing them to the county yamen was quite improper. She should have filed a report with the authorities first.

Zhù Ying said: “The Mistress was simply being warm-hearted. And she didn’t overstep into judging the case herself — what is there to take issue with?”

Zhao Feng hurried to say: “I wouldn’t dare even suggest that!”

“Oh?”

Zhao Feng quickly added: “Who would dare overstep into official authority?”

Zhù Ying said: “That’s true — certainly not in our Fuklu County. At least things here are good.”

She then asked Zhao Feng whether he thought the county town was going well, and whether there were any areas for improvement. She added that she was a newly appointed county magistrate and still didn’t fully understand the situation, hoping the “village elders” would speak freely and help her manage the place well.

Zhao Feng said: “I’ll be honest, Magistrate — for quite a few years, we haven’t seen a county magistrate at all. And here you are, so considerate of us — what could we possibly have to criticize?”

The two went back and forth, both giving nothing away. Zhù Ying did not ask about the young woman. Zhao Feng did not mention her either. After a few more minutes of polite exchange, Zhù Ying said to Zhao Su: “It’s a holiday — have fun, just don’t go too far.”

Zhao Su said respectfully: “Understood.”

Zhù Ying said: “Your Mandarin has gotten quite good.”

Zhao Su said: “I happened to meet Jiang Niangzi, and she taught me a few things — it was genuinely helpful.”

Zhù Ying asked: “How are your schoolmates getting along?”

Zhao Su hesitated, then said: “Well — by this county’s standards, quite well.”

Zhù Ying smiled slightly. Zhao Su then took the opportunity to ask Zhù Ying if he might borrow a few books: “This county doesn’t have many books to begin with, and though my father and grandfather have collected some, we can’t compare with families with deep scholarly traditions. We’d like to go to the prefectural or provincial city to search for more, but we have no connections there, and even with money we wouldn’t know what to buy. I hope the Magistrate might lend a few volumes. I would copy them when I return and bring back the originals on time, without allowing any damage.”

Zhù Ying asked: “What sort of books?”

Zhao Su said: “Whatever the Magistrate thinks best.”

Zhù Ying said: “That’s quite a large question to put to me — have you and your father discussed it?”

Zhao Feng also said: “We look to the Magistrate for guidance.”

“I’m a graduate of the law examination track. Do you still want to ask me?”

Zhao Su said without hesitation: “Please enlighten us.”

Zhù Ying held up three fingers: “Without getting into grand principles — just practically speaking, people read books for three purposes: usefulness, scholarly pursuit, and officialdom. Which do you want?”

Zhao Su said nothing. Zhao Feng moved to speak. Zhù Ying held up a hand to stop him. She asked Zhao Su: “Is it for scholarly pursuit?”

Zhao Su shook his head.

Zhù Ying asked: “Is it for usefulness?”

Zhao Su nodded emphatically. Zhao Feng let out a small sigh.

Zhù Ying asked: “Is it for officialdom?”

Zhao Su hesitated, then also nodded.

Zhù Ying said: “Understood. I will plan this out for you carefully.”

Zhao Feng was even more eager than his son. He sprang from his chair and pulled his son to his feet, bowing deeply: “We are grateful, Magistrate.”

Zhù Ying said: “We help each other. No need for thanks. Sit.”

A few more bland pleasantries, and when both sides felt it was time, one took his leave and the other made no effort to keep him.

——

After Zhao Feng and his son left, Zhù Ying saw it was around lunchtime and made her way to the back quarters.

The Zhù family of four sat at the table. Zhù Ying asked: “Did Qi Niangzi eat with Qi Tai?”

Since arriving in Fuklu County, the Zhù family dinner table had not been fixed in composition — sometimes the Qi family father and daughter ate with them, sometimes Zhang Xiangu simply kept Qi Niangzi to eat with them.

Huajie said: “Yes — they said they needed to sort out some New Year goods at home. Xiao Qi said her father isn’t very good with people, so he sits home drinking, and she needs to cook up some small dishes and dried fruit and so on. She made the meal and went over there.”

Zhù Ying said: “That reminds me — with all the bustle of visitors, I nearly forgot something I haven’t taken care of yet.”

Huajie asked: “What is it?” She ran through her mental checklist — the household’s New Year supplies were all in order, the yamen’s New Year goods had been distributed, the letters and greetings to friends in the capital had been sent along with the last outgoing official documents. She had also quietly prepared a suitable gift for Xiao Jiang and the little girl under Zhang Xiangu’s name.

Zhù Ying said: “The county’s elderly.”

As county magistrate, she was also responsible for customs, moral education, and honoring the elderly and virtuous. The county’s “virtuous” were hard to identify clearly, but the standard for “elderly” was plain to see. The household registers had been newly compiled, and Zhù Ying intended to go by the register. Those seventy and above would receive rice, meat, and cloth. Those eighty and above would receive rice, meat, wine, and cloth. Those ninety and above would receive rice, meat, wine, cloth, and a walking staff. She only lamented there were no centenarians — for someone a hundred years old, she would have gladly given double what the ninety-year-olds received.

This was not an expense Zhù Ying had to pay from her own pocket. Before the stamp was sealed, she had Qi Tai work out the figures from the official account. She made the decisions, she authorized it — and spending was even easier than it had been at the Court of Judicial Review.

In the last few days before the New Year, Zhù Ying worked through the household register and called on every family in the county that had an elderly person of the right age. Fuklu County hadn’t seen such a lively affair in years. When Zhù Ying went out, crowds gathered to watch. Some who understood what was happening said: “The Magistrate is paying her respects to the elderly.” Others asked: “Is this only for the county seat?”

Zhù Ying heard this and said: “Anyone who is in the register gets one.”

“Even people in the countryside?!” the person asked boldly.

Zhù Ying looked at the young man who had spoken — short, thin, dark-complexioned, the usual local look, with the usual patches in the usual places, and a rural accent slightly different from the county-seat speech. “As long as they’re in this county’s register.”

“Even far-away villages?”

“As long as they’re in this county’s register.” Zhù Ying said, with the same patience as before.

Elder Gu was over sixty — not quite seventy — but his wife was a few years older and had just hit the threshold. He did not care about a little rice, but he cared enormously about the honor. He had changed into his good clothes early and was waiting at home to receive the county magistrate. The sound of voices could be heard, but the person didn’t come — he sent Elder Gu Tong out to look, and saw that Zhù Ying had been waylaid.

Elder Gu Tong said: “What are you going on about? Has the Magistrate ever gone back on her word? Just watch and wait!” In his heart he was also curious — with a few days left before the New Year and thirteen townships across the county, could Zhù Ying really get around to all of them?

Even with that thought, he politely welcomed Zhù Ying into the house when she arrived, and waited while she paid her respects to Elder Gu. Elder Gu urged her to stay longer. Gu Tong said quietly: “The Magistrate’s time is probably short.”

Elder Gu was also curious. He asked: “Magistrate, is there enough time? Should you send people to distribute on your behalf? I have two elderly folk on my estate — I’d be glad to run that errand for you.”

Zhù Ying looked at Gu Tong and sighed: “The most literate and the longest-lived people in this county are all in the county seat now. I don’t need to go very far. I even have time to visit your estate.”

Zhù Ying was as good as her word. In the last few days before the New Year, she visited all thirteen townships, making it back to the county seat just in time for New Year’s Eve. Zhang Xiangu had originally planned to come along, but Zhù Ying saw how cold it was — the cold of Fuklu County was different from the capital’s, a damp cold that was deeply unpleasant — and left her parents behind at the yamen, saying: “I’ll be back before long. Going out to do this sort of thing and bringing your parents along — wouldn’t people think that was strange?”

Zhang Xiangu did not insist.

When Zhù Ying returned, Zhang Xiangu could finally breathe easy at the sight of her daughter coming back safely: “Oh good — now we can celebrate the New Year!”

——

In the capital, it had been Zhù Ying who went out to pay New Year calls on everyone. In Fuklu County, everyone came to pay calls on her. The county yamen received several dozen visiting cards. Zhù Ying sent out her own cards in return, and on a single day invited all the gentry in the county seat to come together for a New Year banquet.

At the feast, the assembled gentry lavished praise on all that Zhù Ying had accomplished. Zhù Ying said: “It is all through the strength of the people.”

By official regulation, the New Year holiday was seven days. After seven days, work resumed. Fuklu County did not have too much in the way of official business, and spring plowing had not yet begun, so the yamen remained quite quiet. Zhù Ying herself, however, was not quiet at all. Once the official stamp was unsealed, she straightaway drafted an official document and then carefully composed a private letter, which traveled along the official courier road to the capital.

The official document concerned a matter neither small nor large — it was a request to have some convicts sent over.

A remote posting like Fuklu County was exactly the kind of place convicts were sent to ensure they suffered. What a waste not to make use of such an ideal location! And yet since arriving, Zhù Ying had found no trace of any such convicts. Where had they gone?

As someone who had come from the Court of Judicial Review, prisons and convicts were the first things she naturally thought of. The prison itself was another matter — when the previous Magistrate Wang had abandoned his post, Deputy Director Guan had quietly released those in the cells — people jailed for rent arrears, or for offending some person of consequence — so the incoming county magistrate wouldn’t be troubled at the sight of them.

The cells were completely empty.

The question of convicts was also connected to Magistrate Wang. When sentencing convicts to exile, the judgment usually specified “three thousand li” or “two thousand li” and assigned them to a prefecture — often without specifying down to the county level. Because the Fuklu County magistrate was absent from his post, the authorities feared trouble from throwing serious criminals into a county bordering tribal territory. So convicts were either redistributed to nearby counties or taken directly under prefectural management. Fuklu County had once had a small encampment for exiled convicts; the prefecture had simply filed a request citing “proximity to tribal territory” as a safety concern, had it officially moved to a neighboring county, and thereafter eliminated the need for even the “redistribution” paperwork.

So now Zhù Ying was petitioning the Court of Judicial Review for people — just send me some, I’m short of workers here. Though the language of the official document was extremely courteous, the substance of it was ordering off a menu. In a private note tucked inside, she listed her order in explicit detail for Pei Qing: she wanted skilled tradespeople and craftsmen. Farmers too, if available — sturdy, middle-aged preferred. As for the mealy-mouthed book-obsessed ones — she didn’t want them. Any that came would be beaten to death.

Pei Qing laughed and nearly called her something along the lines of “wretched child.”

With the official document dispatched, she sat down to write her private letters.

To Zheng Xi — an abundance of well-wishes, thanks for the New Year clothing, a note that she had been spared the trouble of having new things made. Then a request for a favor: could he ask Yue Miaojun about the curriculum at the National Academy? Were there any special texts used? Could he possibly send some?

Next came a letter to Wang Yunhe — she described the situation at the county school, and then set out her own teaching plan: memorization first, and before anything else could be considered, let them work through the Five Classics. She asked whether, given the county school’s situation, it might be appropriate to redirect some students — those with little aptitude or interest in the Classics — into the law track or other specialized subjects. She also asked whether she could use the notes she had compiled from Wang Yunhe’s teachings in her classes. If that wasn’t suitable, she asked for any other guidance.

Her correspondence with Liu Songnian was an altogether more entertaining affair, letters mostly relayed through Wang Yunhe. Zhù Ying’s style was lightly mocking and subtly needling — but she also wrote about the landscapes and local customs that Liu Songnian loved. Liu Songnian was far more forthcoming — he wrote directly to Zhù Ying, in his own name, scolding her plainly.

For this occasion, Zhù Ying took a separate envelope and wrote to Liu Songnian directly: I know that little piece for the women constables’ examination was written by you — could you write another one?

Just as with her document to the Court of Judicial Review, she placed her order without the least embarrassment: she wanted something in the same style as last time — as many unusual characters as possible packed into a brief passage, ideally no repeated characters, but all of them frequently used in daily life. Something with a good rhythm, easy to be made into a folk song would be ideal. Write ten or eight verses — and if you can’t manage ten or eight, three or five will do in a pinch. As for content, covering arithmetic, common knowledge, everyday objects, forms of address, and so on would be best.

She wanted to put up a stone stele at every village entrance across the county, all bearing the same text. In your own hand, if you please — the stele will be carved from your calligraphy. Set the words to a song, and the common people will be able to sing it by heart as they look at the characters carved on the stone. With any luck, those who want to learn will pick up a few characters, which will make their lives a little easier. I’ve explained the context — you’ll understand how to write it yourself.

She would not trouble him with being there herself to teach the people. If they wanted to learn, good — if not, so be it. She had done her part.

Twenty folk songs were attached, with local melodies, purely for reference.

At the very end, she added a particular note of emphasis: I am in no hurry at all. Truly.

The letters went off on the road. Convicts, at best, would not arrive for several months, and replies, even the fastest, would not reach her until after the first month. Zhù Ying set down her brush, sent word to Tong Bo to tell the county school’s academician and instructor that she would be there on the first day the school opened after the holiday.

The school’s reopening deserved some kind of ceremony.

——

Fuklu County, being remote, had absorbed certain influences from the tribal people nearby. Combine that with the prevailing poverty, and those influences were very much on display. Even the county school, left to its own devices, had the academician and instructor put together an archery ceremony as the opening rite.

Zhù Ying produced a bow and arrows as a prize, smiled pleasantly, and sat up front watching. No one thought to invite her to take part. She had a slight, bookish-looking build; she didn’t drink. Who would provoke a superior at a moment like this?

The students were all too busy showing off their own abilities!

After several rounds, Zhen Qi, who had taken first place in the entrance examination, took first place here too. Zhù Ying presented the prize to him.

Zhen Qi was a young man in his twenties — dark, short, and plain-faced. Fifteen years ago, his mother had brought him with her when she remarried into Fuklu County. His stepfather’s family had no money to speak of — they scraped by at subsistence level — but his stepfather and Elder Zhang were of the same clan, and so Zhen Qi had, by virtue of that clan connection, been able to sit in on Elder Zhang’s household tutor’s lessons.

His circumstances had barely been better than Zhù Ying’s own in those days.

When Zhù Ying was presenting the bow and arrows to Zhen Qi, she noticed that his collar and cuffs had been rebound with new cloth, but the rest of the garment was old. She made no remark at the time. Only after Zhen Qi had returned to his place in the line did she say: “Those who didn’t take first place have also all done well. Having only one first place is a bit lonely too. So — I am setting aside an additional six shi of rice each month to reward the best-performing students. First through third place will divide this six shi in the ratio of three to two to one. Every half year there will be an additional examination. The top student will receive a length of silk I brought from the capital as a prize. Second place will receive a length of the county yamen’s hemp cloth. Third place will receive a length of plain cloth.”

Most of the students didn’t particularly care about rice and plain cloth, but they were very interested in silk from the capital. And there was also the matter of prestige. Everyone felt their competitive spirit stirred.

Zhù Ying gestured to the academician, who stepped forward and called for silence: “Order! Order!” He stopped the students’ buzzing and said a few encouraging words — including “the county magistrate has placed great hopes in all of you, and you must not let her down.”

And so the opening ceremony concluded.

The academician then spoke quietly to ask if Zhù Ying would give another lesson. This time, Zhù Ying declined: “I only came today prepared to watch. I’m not prepared to teach — that’s still your domain.”

The academician’s abilities, much like everything else in Fuklu County, left something to be desired. But his temperament was excellent — even after being turned down by Zhù Ying, he continued composedly, as though nothing had happened, directing the students to prepare for class.

Zhù Ying had a private worry: the academician was a decent enough person, but his scholarship genuinely left much to be desired. When would Wang Yunhe’s reply arrive?

——

As it turned out, things did not proceed quite as she had expected. The capital’s replies did not all arrive at once. Wang Yunhe’s reply came first — less than half a month later, traveling along the same courier route as the Court of Judicial Review’s documents. The official document carried two private letters inside — one from Wang Yunhe and one from Pei Qing.

Pei Qing’s letter allowed itself the rare indulgence of poking fun at Zhù Ying for always having a lot going on and a lot of nerve — but it agreed to her request. Pei Qing told her there were no convicts at hand just now, but once the holiday ended and the Court of Judicial Review was back in session, he would screen out a few reliable craftsmen and farmers to send her way, and would certainly not send her a batch of mealy-mouthed, sighing, self-pitying ones. This time they would be sent directly to Fuklu County.

When Zhù Ying read this letter, she finally wrote to the prefecture requesting that the previously relocated convict encampment be reestablished.

The prefectural superior, whoever it was, had apparently taken some unknown position on the matter — the next day, the approved document came down. The approval said not a single word about the money and grain needed to rebuild the encampment. The message was clear: Zhù Ying would have to sort that out herself.

With no debts pressing on her, Zhù Ying was untroubled. Building a prison was within her means. The old site still existed — no need to scout a new location. She simply needed to raise a new structure on the old foundations. She planned to use the year’s labor-service quota to accomplish this. The exact figures would have to wait until she and Qi Tai had inspected the site in person.

She picked up her brush and marked this item down as something to follow up on.

Wang Yunhe’s letter was quite substantial. He first spoke of the importance of memorizing the Five Classics thoroughly, then said he had no objection to Zhù Ying sharing the notes she had compiled from his teachings with the county school’s students. But he asked her to wait for the time being. Zhù Ying’s copy had been written from memory, and Wang Yunhe had later compiled a proper edited collection — but over the past two years, while managing official affairs, he had developed some new ideas that were not yet committed to writing.

Wang Yunhe said frankly that since becoming Chancellor, his perspective on affairs had shifted somewhat from when he had been serving as Capital Prefect, and he wanted to revise the earlier drafts and add new chapters before sending the updated collection to Zhù Ying. It would not take too long.

Zhù Ying thought: how delightful.

She wrote back at once — thanking Wang Yunhe for his attention to students in remote areas, and promising she would treasure the essays. The Chancellor was busy with official affairs, so there was no rush in sending them — but please, do not stay up late. Your health must come first. As for her students — none of them had their Five Classics as well memorized as she did.

Two days after sending off the second letter to Wang Yunhe, Liu Songnian dispatched a personal messenger with a thick letter.

The messenger had none of Liu Songnian’s temperament and regarded Zhù Ying with eyes full of sympathy: “Magistrate Zhù, this is what my master wrote…”

Liu Songnian had been in a fury from the moment Zhù Ying’s letter arrived. It had frightened his servants badly. They genuinely worried about what Liu Songnian had written — would this young Magistrate Zhù read it and drop dead from the indignity?

But Zhù Ying read the whole thing and still managed to say calmly: “You’ve had a long journey. Please rest here a couple of days before heading back.”

Courteous as ever, without the slightest hint of displeasure directed at the messenger. Truly admirable composure.

Zhù Ying had not needed to be upset at all. She had automatically translated Liu Songnian’s insults and gone straight to the attachment at the end of his letter — a full sixteen passages, each running anywhere from several dozen to over a hundred characters. Even a musical score was included.

The first passage was a simple verse of praise for the imperial dynasty. The second concerned the sun, moon, and stars. The third covered agriculture. Then came simple addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division mnemonics; the five degrees of mourning relations; the nine grades of kinship; common general knowledge; and even a basic summary of the penal code.

Liu Songnian’s insults were penned in bold, extravagant strokes — but the sixteen verses were written in neat, precise regular script. On the final page were three characters: Literacy Stele.

Zhù Ying laughed despite herself. She thought: oh, of course.

She picked up her brush and wrote a brief preface for the Literacy Stele, intending to have it erected in the county seat. Her literary talent was nowhere near Liu Songnian’s level, so she wrote plainly and directly — Liu Songnian was truly a good person who does good deeds and seeks no recognition. But how could that stand? She would make sure everyone knew.

When she was done, she sent Xiao Wu to fetch Xiao Jiang.

This was the second time Xiao Wu had been sent to find Xiao Jiang. He burned with curiosity and couldn’t help asking quietly: “Jiang Niangzi… oh — Jiang Dajie! What could the Magistrate want?”

Xiao Jiang said coldly: “How would I know?” But inside, she was guessing — could it be time to land the first kick on that wretched stone tablet?

Xiao Wu received a small rebuff and touched his nose in mild embarrassment. The two of them arrived quietly at the outer study. Xiao Wu said: “Magistrate, Jiang Niangzi is here.”

Zhù Ying still left the door open. She held out a sheaf of papers for Xiao Jiang: “Take a look at this — would it be easy to learn?”

Liu Songnian had included music scores, and Xiao Jiang was certainly fluent in that. Zhù Ying had called her over directly to look at the scores and ask whether the music would be easy to learn and sing.

Xiao Jiang looked at the characters in the letter and thought: truly excellent calligraphy!

Then she looked at the score and said: “Very easy to play and sing — and such a pleasing melody. Who wrote this? What a talent!”

Zhù Ying couldn’t help smiling: “Next time you see him, you can say that to his face.”

“Who is it?”

“He and a poisonous red snake could bite each other, and the snake would definitely be the one to die. Guess who?”

“Fine, don’t tell me.” Xiao Jiang said.

Zhù Ying showed Xiao Jiang the freshly written Literacy Stele preface. Xiao Jiang read it quickly and stood there with her mouth half open: “He — he — you — you?”

Zhù Ying opened both hands.

Xiao Jiang said: “A great scholar of this caliber — they all have pride. Don’t goad him like this.”

Zhù Ying said: “It’s fine. I’ll let Chancellor Wang read this first.”

Xiao Jiang carefully placed the letters back on the desk and moved the inkstone, the water dropper, and the brush washer all as far away as she could, her heart in her mouth: “Be careful!”

“I know, I know. Grandma.”

Xiao Jiang said with mock indignation: “Do I really look that old? Well — I’ll go home and try singing it. Once I know it well enough, by the time the stele is roughly ready, I can teach the women constables and the others to sing it…”

The women constables — their guards at the women’s detention cells — were the least busy people in the entire county yamen.

Zhù Ying said: “Very good. And while you’re at it, would you mind teaching the people in the rear quarters too.” Huajie had been teaching Zhang Xiangu and Zhù Da to read and write — but as the teacher’s own learning was limited, and the students’ abilities were even more limited, the best that could be said was that Huajie was patient. The two had made some progress since coming south, but their writing was still unsteady. And since the journey south, both had spent every day worrying about their daughter, leaving little space for serious study.

Xiao Jiang said on purpose: “So this elder master’s few passages are better than a year or two of someone else’s teaching?”

Zhù Ying shook her head: “He has returned to the simplest and most essential things. Those who pile up empty words and bury themselves in obscure references aren’t fit to carry his shoes. There may be no single ‘first’ in literature — but as long as he lives, he is first.”

Xiao Jiang said: “All right. I’ll go home and try it out. Just a moment — let me copy the lyrics and score.”

She did not dare take the original. She stayed in the study and copied quickly — looking at the original, then moving back to write a few lines, terrified of getting anything on it. Zhù Ying said: “Why so careful?”

“You don’t understand.” Xiao Jiang said offhandedly. “This is very rare — and it hasn’t been engraved in stone yet. The manuscript absolutely cannot be damaged.”

She finished copying, put the original back carefully, tucked the copy inside her sleeve, and could finally say with some lightness: “When I came in just now, I thought you were going to land a kick on the stone tablet — and it turns out you’re erecting one. Ha.”

“Your laugh is distinctly eerie.” Zhù Ying remarked.

“Hmph!”

——

Zheng Xi’s letter was the last to arrive, and he personally dispatched people with several large carts carrying four crates of books.

Yue Miaojun was Zheng Xi’s brother-in-law. Zheng Xi and his new wife maintained a relationship of mutual respect, and Yue Miaojun, seeing this, had reason to draw closer to Zheng Xi. Zheng Xi rarely asked favors of him, so when he did, Yue Miaojun gave it careful thought and agreed. The textbooks used at the National Academy and the Imperial University were all officially compiled and edited by the court — the same was true for schools lower down, though Yue Miaojun, being on the inside, understood that county schools were not necessarily as rigorously run as the National Academy.

He did not merely find the books Zheng Xi requested; he also wrote a summary of each department’s curriculum, and in the end added several complete sets of recent examination papers from each subject, packing them all into the crates to send to Zheng Xi.

The National Academy was a highly elastic institution. When taken seriously, it held ten-day examinations, monthly examinations, quarterly examinations, half-year examinations, and annual examinations. When the court paid it little attention, or when the proportion of idle aristocratic students grew too high, examinations were still held — but most students were absent, or simply skipped class. Results were poor by any reasonable standard.

Yue Miaojun was a conscientious man. He had always had a nagging feeling that his family’s alliance with the Zheng household, being a marital alliance, ought not to feel as though he had sold his sister — and that meant not leaving the students in a wretched state at the examinations.

When he heard that someone far away wanted to improve the local school’s governance, Yue Miaojun was already inclined to offer some support. With Zheng Xi adding his request, and seeing that the crates still had half a box of space remaining, Yue Miaojun reached for the examination papers and stuffed them in. He personally delivered the books to the Zheng residence and said to Zheng Xi: “That’s all the books there are — one for every department. As for the examination papers, they change with every sitting — there’s always a fresh supply. If you want more, plenty more.”

Those words carried conviction.

Zheng Xi looked through the papers and was satisfied: “Truly excellent.”

When Zhù Ying received these crates of books, she looked through the inventory first, copied out the titles she hadn’t read before, kept the books aside for herself to read, and then pulled out one set of examination papers and sent them to the county school with the message: “Have them sit a test first.”

The county school’s students had never seen examination papers from the National Academy.

Even the top student Zhen Qi, and the comparatively worldly Zhao Su, came out of this examination dripping with sweat. The papers were of this sort — they didn’t test rote recitation. Each sentence seemed to come from a classic text you knew well, and yet when you saw the full question, your certainty collapsed. It was as though you had never memorized it at all. These papers seemed to have a pair of sharp, cruel eyes, probing straight for whatever the candidate didn’t know.

By the end of the paper, three of the forty students had actually fallen ill from the stress.

The academician himself found the paper exceedingly difficult. He and the instructor went together to the county yamen, wanting to ask the county magistrate: what exactly was the point of this?

They arrived to find not only the county magistrate absent, but the usually reliable Constable Wu also nowhere to be found. The academician tracked down Deputy Director Guan. Guan said: “She went out early this morning to inspect the farmland.”

The academician said puzzled: “Is it the planting season? There’s still about half a month, isn’t there?”

Guan spread his hands: “I couldn’t say. She took Little Cao along too.”

The academician also asked: “When will the county magistrate be back?”

Guan shook his head: “Unknown.”

The academician and instructor waited half a day in the yamen without seeing Zhù Ying return. They left their calling cards with Tong Bo and asked him to convey the message, then departed. They thought: what would she be looking at farmland for now? She probably doesn’t know anything about farming.

Zhù Ying did indeed know nothing about farming. The soil and climate of Fuklu County were also completely unlike anything near the capital. But she still couldn’t bring herself to give up. On one hand she was thinking about the orange situation; on the other, she had sent a message with Gan Ze in the capital, asking him to help gather some seeds from the areas near the capital. She wanted to try growing them in Fuklu County.

She remembered Chen Meng’s experience and thought that previous people might have tried this as well and failed for various reasons. So she didn’t want to make a public announcement in advance. She arranged it quietly through Gan Ze. Gan Ze, though a servant, had an aunt and uncle who were proper farming folk, and Cao Chang was already in her service — he knew farming.

Gan Ze was a dependable person. He found several sheng of each type of seed, put each in its own cloth bag, then packed them all into one large crate and sent them along on the book cart to Zhù Ying. There were quite a few varieties. Zhù Ying only knew the cultivation method for one or two of them as grown near the capital. She had Cao Chang look through the seeds and identify them, then ask him about how each was cultivated. Different seeds were planted at different times, and seeds needed particular preparation before planting. Zhù Ying took Cao Chang out of the city to look for a suitable piece of uncultivated land nearby. She wanted to try growing things herself.

The academician’s visit to the yamen happened to fall on that day — naturally he did not find her.