Chapter Thirty-One: The Secret That Must Not Be Shared

“Look, Master Dongpo! Isn’t that our ancestor from the wall?” Su Tai was so shocked that his jaw dropped.

“Hush, don’t make a sound.” Su Man anxiously glanced back, making sure they had already fallen far behind the others before warning, “We mustn’t flaunt our wealth, let alone a treasure like this. If outsiders find out, our family will be in grave danger.”

“Right, right!” Su Tai quickly covered his mouth and nodded vigorously, murmuring, “Don’t worry, big brother, I won’t say a word, even if it kills me!”

“Good. This secret stays between the two of us.” Su Man whispered, “Let’s not tell Qiu yet either. He’s still young and can’t keep his mouth shut.”

“Absolutely,” Su Tai agreed, convinced that his little brother mustn’t be put in harm’s way again.

“But, big brother, are you sure that treasure really showed its power?” The whole thing sounded so outlandish that Su Tai couldn’t just blindly believe whatever his brother said.

“Well…” Su Man was stumped for a moment, stroking his chin. “That thing was given to me by an old monk. He said whenever I hit a roadblock in my studies, I could raise it up and our ancestor would bless me and help me through.”

“What? Is that even possible?” Su Tai’s mouth dropped open. “So, did you ever use it?”

“At first, no.” Su Man cleared his throat. “When I first got it, I didn’t think much of it. It was a gift from an elder, so I couldn’t just throw it away. I rolled it up in my bedding and used it as a pillow.”

“After a while, I forgot all about it,” he continued. “If we weren’t leaving school today and had to clear out the dorm, I wouldn’t have remembered it at all. I hesitated for a long time before deciding to bring it along.”

As he spoke, Su Man pressed his hands together and bowed toward the direction of Meishan, begging forgiveness. “Such unfilial descendants as us truly deserve death.”

“And then?” Su Tai pressed. “You didn’t actually raise it today, did you?”

“At first, I didn’t want to. I thought Qiu was talented enough to pass on his own.” Su Man sighed. “But when he came out after the exam, looking so lost and defeated, I didn’t even know how to comfort him.”

“Didn’t you slap yourself twice?” Su Tai brought up the awkward moment.

“That was because I was anxious and blaming myself, understand?” Su Man replied, exasperated. Lowering his voice, he went on, “I was desperate and clutching at straws, so I thought of that treasure. I found a quiet spot and held it up high, begging our ancestor to let Qiu pass.”

“And then?”

“You saw what happened next.” Su Man spread his hands. “That’s why, when you all said Qiu’s name wasn’t on the list, I just couldn’t believe it and went to check again—and that’s when I saw a corner of the red paper had disappeared!”

“Our ancestor really did show his blessing!” This time, Su Tai was utterly convinced.

“Exactly!” Su Man spread his hands helplessly. “They say scholars should ‘revere spirits but keep their distance,’ but who wouldn’t be confused in this situation? What else am I supposed to think?”

“Either way, it’s a good thing.” Su Tai grinned, trying to reassure his brother. “This means our family’s scholarly fate is on the rise! Maybe our ancestor’s literary legacy will continue through the two of you!”

“Don’t jinx it…” Su Man quickly hushed him. “It won’t work if you say it out loud.”

~~

The Su family, a party of more than ten, walked home by moonlight toward Erlang Beach.

At the front of the group, the Su brothers were busy indulging in their little superstitions, while Su Lu and the others in the middle chatted merrily.

At the rear, the eldest uncle walked with his sword, frowning deeply.

He hadn’t smiled since seeing his nephew pass the academy entrance exam.

At this moment, Su Youcai deliberately fell back to join him.

The eldest uncle kept his gaze fixed straight ahead, clearly avoiding his younger brother.

“Something on your mind, big brother?” Su Youcai asked.

“My wife isn’t here—if anything, I should be happy, what could be bothering me?” the eldest uncle replied gruffly.

“So what did you mean by what you said earlier today?” Su Youcai pressed directly.

“What are you talking about?” The eldest uncle feigned ignorance.

“When Qiu entered the exam hall at noon, what you told him—that was clearly loaded with meaning,” Su Youcai said bluntly.

“Sigh, you scholars sure like to overthink things. There’s nothing to it.” The eldest uncle shook his head vigorously.

“Is it that Qiu’s schooling is hard to afford?” Su Youcai lowered his voice.

“No, no, the family can manage,” the uncle insisted at first, then softened. “If we really can’t, I’ll be sure to tell you.”

“I really didn’t mean anything else. You know how your big brother’s words always come out all wrong.” He tapped his brother lightly with his sword’s scabbard and laughed, “Today is a happy day, don’t spoil it with talk like that.”

Su Youcai nodded and let the matter drop. Still, as a teacher, he could glean layers of meaning from his brother’s words.

~~

As they neared Erlang Beach, the Su clan caught up with the Cheng family’s group.

In these parts, a scholar was always respected—especially an old and famous one like Scholar Cheng. He had personally escorted the candidates to the exam, and the academy had treated him as an honored guest, inviting him inside and serving him fine food and drink. As soon as the results were posted, they had let him see them first, so he could head home early and spare them another meal.

Thus, the Cheng family’s group had set out much earlier. Only a few who still hoped for a miracle had stayed behind to watch the list. Yet, despite their head start, the Chengs were overtaken by the Su clan.

The main reason was the grandeur of Scholar Cheng’s entourage—he needed two porters to carry his sedan chair, and students to light the way with lanterns. In the pitch dark, they could hardly move quickly.

The Cheng family’s younger generation, beaten down, didn’t even bother to sneer as the Su family passed by.

For the first time, Scholar Cheng actually said to Su Youcai, “I hadn’t expected you to have such talent, young friend. Truly, one cannot judge a book by its cover.”

By family ties, he was the younger aunt’s uncle. By custom, scholars honor learning before age: those who have passed the entrance exam are elders, those who haven’t are juniors—so calling Su Youcai “young friend” was perfectly appropriate.

“You flatter me, sir,” Su Youcai replied graciously, not returning the coldness, and bowed. “Our family only had two children pass, while yours had three—you are the superior, truly.”

“That’s not quite right,” Scholar Cheng shook his head. “For you, that’s already an extraordinary achievement, cause for celebration.”

Then he glared at his own kin, sighing with exasperation, “But these boys were all taught by me personally. There should have been at least six successful candidates. Only three made it—such a disappointment!”

His words left both families in awkward silence.

Su Youcai pondered for a long time, finally convinced it wasn’t meant as an insult.

Unlike the rough-and-tumble Su family, the Chengs prided themselves on their scholarly lineage. Of course, in these remote Wumeng mountains where even scholars were rare, whatever they said carried weight.

Besides, these students had been taught by Scholar Cheng himself, a veteran of more than a decade. Their fundamentals were solid, and they could even write the classic essays. For an entrance exam of this level, it should have been a breeze.

In Scholar Cheng’s estimation, six was the minimum number who ought to have passed; if they had outperformed themselves—well, best not to mention it…

He wanted to blame the difficulty of the exam, but the Su family had doubled their success…

So the only conclusion was that they had underperformed.

It wasn’t that Scholar Cheng didn’t know how to speak; he could be charming and eloquent in public. But with a fellow old student like Su Youcai, there was no need to filter his words—he could just speak his mind.

Thankfully, they had reached the edge of the town, and the awkward conversation could end.

~~

It was already midnight, but Erlang Beach was ablaze with torchlight. With both the Su and Cheng clans at the town’s entrance, there were over two hundred people waiting.

Strictly speaking, an academy exam shouldn’t warrant such a spectacle, but once two clans began competing, reason went out the window. In the fiercest years, neither side missed any chance to one-up the other. Back then, whenever the Chengs welcomed their candidates home, they would do so with a grand fanfare—drums and gongs—to rub salt in the wounds of the Su family, who never passed.

It was this annual humiliation that drove the old Su clan leader to found a family school and train their sons to become scholars.

From that point on, the Su clan’s young men slowly improved. Though they never produced a scholar, at least every year one or two would pass the academy entrance.

Though the Chengs still outperformed them, the Su family refused to lose face and began to welcome their own candidates with equal ceremony.

Once the tradition began, neither side could back down, and so this strange spectacle took root. Outsiders often mistook the sixteenth day of the twelfth lunar month for Erlang Beach’s torch festival.

“They’re back! They’re back!” The Su clansmen shouted with excitement at the sight of their young men returning victorious. By noon, it was already known that five had made it to the written exam—surely at least one had passed?

When they learned from Su Youcai that two had, the excitement doubled. Firecrackers and horns rang out, and the three who returned were adorned with bright red flowers.

Su Youpeng even arranged for three sedan chairs to carry the honored students and teacher to the ancestral hall.

Su Lu felt embarrassed at the sight of the sedan chairs. He whispered to his father, “Isn’t this a bit much? We’re still a long way from being scholars.”

“It’s because true scholars are so rare for us—if we don’t celebrate now, there may never be another chance,” Su Youcai chuckled, lifting his robe and climbing into the first sedan.

“Think of it as an advance taste of glory. Who knows if there’ll ever be a next time.” Even the usually sharp-tongued Su Lu straightened the red flower on his chest and climbed into the second sedan to sit with his teacher.

Su Lu had no choice but to follow suit, thickening his skin and joining them. The Su family, beaming with joy, paraded through the narrow streets with their sedan chairs and music.

Meanwhile, the Chengs, who had three candidates pass, couldn’t muster any enthusiasm. They quietly collected their children and headed home, feeling no need to trouble their ancestors with such a small feat.

Truly, a high starting point isn’t always a blessing. The higher the threshold, the harder it is to feel joy.

But look at the Su family—their starting point so low, their emotions so raw, that the slightest encouragement sent them into raptures. They joyfully paraded all the way to the ancestral hall, paid respects to their forebears, and reported this record-breaking achievement.

Afterward, the students and teacher went to the old clan leader’s house behind the hall, where they ate bowls of pork trotter noodles and didn’t return home until the middle of the night.

At home, the old man and his wife were still awake, waiting for their sons and grandsons to come back.

“Grandfather, I didn’t lose my nerve—I didn’t bring shame to the family,” Su Lu said, dropping to his knees as soon as he entered.

“Excellent!” The old man laughed heartily. “That’s the spirit I expect from a grandson of Su Dacheng!”