Chapter Three: The True Value of a Scholar’s Degree

The next morning, the eldest uncle entered the station, dark circles under his eyes, only to find the father and his two sons sleeping soundly together.

“You heartless brats, sleeping so well!” he grumbled, kicking Su Youcai. “I didn’t get a wink of sleep all night.”

“Time for breakfast?” Su Youcai opened his eyes, stretched, and saw it was his elder brother. Su Tai and Su Lu woke as well.

“Breakfast, my foot!” the uncle spat. “The Centurion wants us to talk numbers.”

“Alright.” Su Youcai hurried to get up, his sons following him out of the station.

As soon as Su Lu stepped outside, he saw his youngest uncle huddled by the door, a strip of white cloth tied around his swollen head, his once-handsome face now puffed up like a pig’s.

“Second brother, it’s all my fault…” the youngest uncle muttered, eyes brimming with tears and a sob in his voice.

Though the sight was comical, Su Youcai couldn’t laugh. He turned to his elder brother. “You called this not badly hurt?”

“I just wanted you to relax,” the uncle said with a cough, lowering his voice. “Besides, the other guy’s leg is broken. We need to play the victim, too… Before we left, I rubbed his face with nettle leaves.”

“Oh,” Su Youcai nodded. That was just what his brother would do.

Su Lu was stunned. Nettle leaves were covered in stinging hairs—brush against them, and your skin breaks out in red, burning welts. His uncle had rubbed them on his brother’s face! The fierce ways of these mountain folk were truly daunting…

“Youngest, what happened yesterday? Why did they beat you?” Su Youcai pressed his youngest brother.

The youngest uncle only lowered his head, silent.

“Don’t bother, second brother. We questioned him all night, and he wouldn’t say a word,” the uncle said, fuming. “Is he stupid? If he won’t talk, won’t the Cheng family tell us themselves?”

“Exactly, that’s just too passive. With a fight like this, we can’t be in the dark,” Su Youcai agreed.

“Don’t ask, second brother. I won’t say it,” the youngest uncle replied, full of shame but stubbornly silent.

“I’ll beat you, you little bastard!” the uncle raised his arm, but Su Youcai quickly stopped him.

“Let it go, big brother. The youngest must have his reasons.”

“He has his reasons? I’m the one suffering. What did I do to deserve this? Not only do I have to deal with all this trouble, but your sister-in-law spat in my face, too…” The uncle grew more and more dejected, nearly to tears.

—

As they spoke, the five members of the Su family arrived at the main hall, just as the Cheng family entourage appeared.

At the forefront was a man in a black gauze square cap and a black-bordered round-collared robe, sitting upright on a sedan chair carried by two men, surrounded by his clan as they reached the eaves.

There was no need to ask—this was undoubtedly the scholar of the Cheng family spoken of by their elders, the very image of a rural squire.

Centurion Zhou came out with a respectful bow. “Master Cheng, your presence brings honor to our humble post.”

Only then did Master Cheng dismount, returning the bow. “Forgive me for troubling you, Centurion.”

“Not at all,” Centurion Zhou replied, glancing behind Cheng at a stretcher. On it lay a man with a bruised, swollen, and reddened face—he looked just like Su Lu’s youngest uncle.

But the man’s left leg was splinted and wrapped in thick gauze, the air thick with the scent of medicine. He groaned incessantly.

In this contest of misery, Su Lu’s youngest uncle was sorely outdone…

“So this is Elder Cheng? I almost didn’t recognize him,” Centurion Zhou exclaimed in surprise.

“Ow, ow…” Elder Cheng only groaned in response.

“My brother eats vegetarian and prays, always kind to others, yet he suffered at the Su family’s hands!” Master Cheng cried, aggrieved. “Centurion, I beg you to uphold justice…”

“How was he injured?” Centurion Zhou asked, puzzled. The borderlands were rough—brawls and broken bones were commonplace, but a broken thigh was rare.

“I was reading at home,” Master Cheng said, then nodded at his nephew. “You were in the fields yesterday. Tell them what happened.”

“Yes,” the nephew agreed. “…First, Su Youcai kicked my father from behind, sending him sprawling. Then his son charged over and stomped on my father’s thigh—there was a crack, and it broke.”

All eyes turned to Su Tai, whose bear-like build seemed quite capable of breaking a man’s leg…

Su Tai hung his head in fear, not knowing what to do with his hands, like a child who had caused a disaster.

Su Lu squeezed his hand tightly and declared, “I saw it clearly—my brother never touched him.”

“Yes, yes. Master Cheng was kicked by me, two zhang away—how could Tai have stepped on him?” Su Youcai echoed, not sure if Su Lu’s claim was true, but determined to shield Su Tai.

“You’re lying! It was your son who did it!” the Cheng family erupted. “And it wasn’t just a step—it was a stomp!”

“No it wasn’t! Tai didn’t step on him!” The Su family shot back.

“Enough!” Centurion Zhou intervened, then turned to Su Youcai. “Why did you kick Elder Cheng?”

“They had seven or eight people beating my younger brother to a pulp. Blood everywhere—I thought they’d kill him!” Su Youcai pointed at his youngest brother’s swollen face.

“And why did you beat Su Youma?” Centurion Zhou asked the Cheng family.

“Well…” The Chengs exchanged glances. Finally, Master Cheng’s nephew said, “My father ordered it.”

All eyes turned to Elder Cheng on the stretcher, but he turned away, only groaning.

“I questioned my brother all night, but he wouldn’t say why,” Master Cheng sighed. “It must be something too shameful to confess.”

“He deserves to die!” Elder Cheng suddenly cried.

“Listen to that anguish!” Master Cheng exclaimed. “It’s enough to make the cuckoo weep blood, to rend the heart and soul!”

“Youma, what did you do to drive him to such fury?” Centurion Zhou asked the youngest uncle.

“Don’t ask, Centurion. I’ll never tell…” the uncle whispered.

“What is this nonsense?” Centurion Zhou sighed. “No one will talk—how am I to judge?”

“Let’s skip this part and go straight to compensation,” suggested the assistant centurion.

“Good idea, let’s keep it simple.” Centurion Zhou turned to Master Cheng. “Name your price, Master Cheng. How much will it take to settle this?”

“Twenty taels,” Master Cheng replied without hesitation. “My brother’s leg is worth far more, but that’s all they could pay.”

“Yes, yes…” Centurion Zhou turned to Su Lu’s uncle.

“Impossible!” the uncle declared. In those days, silver was precious—his family couldn’t make twenty taels in a year.

“How much can you pay, then?” Centurion Zhou asked.

“One tael,” the uncle said, holding up a finger.

“No deal!” Master Cheng exploded in anger. “We’ll petition the county magistrate and let the elders judge!”

“Don’t get riled up! He’s just talking nonsense. They’re military households—if it goes to the county, it’ll be sent back here to the garrison anyway,” Centurion Zhou assured Master Cheng, then glared at Su Lu’s uncle. “Damn it, offer more!”

“I really can’t. Even if I sold my wife, I couldn’t raise it…” the uncle replied miserably.

“Sell your wife? Dream on!” Centurion Zhou snapped. “I’ll decide—ten taels!”

“We don’t have ten taels…”

“Shut up!” Centurion Zhou glared, then turned to Master Cheng with a pleasant smile. “Come in, Master Cheng, let’s sit and talk this over.”

“Hmph.” Master Cheng finally entered the hall, still sulking.

The uncle tried to follow, but Centurion Zhou stopped him. “You wait here. We’ll finish first.”

“Yes…” The uncle had no choice but to stand by the door, sighing long and hard. There was no way it would be less than ten taels now—how would he explain to his wife?

The others split into groups and waited under the eaves. The Cheng family whispered among themselves, utterly confident that they had the Su family cornered.

—

On the Su side, the mood was grim. Su Youcai, after years of study, understood perfectly the intentions of both Centurion Zhou and Master Cheng… It wasn’t Zhou who’d be paying—of course he wanted a private settlement to avoid trouble from superiors. Master Cheng sensed this and forced Zhou to pressure the Su family into submission. His brother was Zhou’s subordinate; in the end, even the toughest mouth would be forced open…

Meanwhile, the youngest uncle kept muttering, “It’s all my fault, all my fault…”

Su Lu, however, kept stealing glances at Elder Cheng’s injured leg.

“You keep staring at his leg—what are you looking for?” Su Tai finally whispered. “Because it’s so pale?”

“Hush.” Su Lu motioned for silence and beckoned his second brother to follow him outside.

Since the two weren’t important, the Cheng family didn’t care and let them go.

—

After a long while, Centurion Zhou and Master Cheng emerged from the hall.

Centurion Zhou smiled at Su Lu’s uncle. “Master Cheng is generous. Since you truly can’t pay, he’ll forgo the money.”

“Then what does he want?” the uncle asked, not naïve enough to think they’d let his family off.

“Your ten mu of sorghum by the Chengs’ fields,” Centurion Zhou said with a cough. “Just transfer it to them for brewing.”

“No way!” the uncle exploded. “My grandfather and father cleared that field with their own hands! It’s the best sorghum land in Erlang Beach!”

“It’s not worth much anyway!” Centurion Zhou’s face darkened. “It’s settled. Bring the deed tomorrow and transfer ownership at the county office!”

“No, how can it be settled?” the uncle protested, parched with anxiety.

“You’d rather your brother and nephew go to jail?” Centurion Zhou retorted.

“So be it—let them go to jail! I can’t agree to this!” Su Youcai declared.

“Hah! See?” Master Cheng fanned the flames. “Centurion’s good intentions are wasted!”

“If you won’t accept kindness, you’ll get punishment instead!” Centurion Zhou was truly angered now. “I can’t handle outsiders, but I can deal with you!”

The Su brothers immediately lost their nerve. The local officer had more power than any distant magistrate, and the Centurion could control every aspect of a military household’s life.

Seeing the Su family cornered, the Chengs gloated, even Elder Cheng forgetting to groan, craning his neck to watch the drama.

Suddenly, Elder Cheng felt something cold on his neck. Instinctively, he reached up and seized something slick and alive.

Before he could react, pain shot through his wrist. Looking down in terror, he saw a bright green snake, its fangs sunk into his arm.

He leapt up in fright, shrieking, “A snake! A bamboo viper! I’ve been bitten by a bamboo viper! I’m going to die!”

The Cheng family panicked, none daring to help.

Just then, Su Lu returned, grabbed the green snake, and laughed. “Relax, it’s not a bamboo viper. It’s a harmless green snake my brother caught especially to treat your leg.”

“Amazing! What a cure—it worked instantly!” Su Tai exclaimed, clapping his hands.

Realizing it was a false alarm, the Chengs sighed in relief—then awkwardness filled the air.

Everyone stared at Elder Cheng, who now stood firmly on both legs, showing no sign of a broken thigh.

His face burned with shame; he wished the earth would swallow him up. Flustered, he even struck a one-legged pose.

“Enough! Stop the performance!” Centurion Zhou turned on him, roaring, “You’ve made Master Cheng a laughingstock!”