Chapter 99
It was unclear exactly how profound Hao Desheng's knowledge was, but he was quite valued by Ji Xiucai at the academy and was often followed by two or three lackeys.
His family was from the town, engaged in some small business. Their business was fairly good, and with a well-off family, he often liked to come to Zuixiao Restaurant for meals.
The private rooms upstairs weren't particularly expensive, but Hao Desheng always preferred to sit in the first-floor main hall whenever he came, engaging in loud, pretentious discussions with a few of his classmates.
Scholars had their typical flaws—their speech was invariably pedantic, littered with archaic phrases like zhi and hu. Ordinary folk who overheard them could only ever understand about half of what was said.
Seeing them wearing the academy uniforms of Anhe Academy, everyone knew they were scholars. Combined with not fully understanding what they said, it gave the impression that their words were profound, that they were deeply learned and highly educated.
The patrons thus held them in great respect.
In ancient China, all occupations were considered lowly only studying was exalted.
Scholars, farmers, artisans, merchants—with merchants ranked at the bottom of the social hierarchy.
No matter how wealthy they became, when they met an official, they still had to kneel and kowtow. After a lifetime of painstaking effort, the highest achievement they could reach was merely 'a family fortune of ten thousand strings,' having endless silver to spend. But they possessed no status, no power, and no rights. If they did not know the right people and had no one backing them, they could only be kneaded, poked, flattened, and bullied as others saw fit.
Studying for the imperial examinations was the only path for commoners to enter officialdom and squeeze into the circle of the powerful and noble.
If one studied well and later passed the exams to become something like a xiucai, they no longer had to kneel when meeting officials, their commercial and land taxes could be halved, and every month they received official silver and grain from the government.
Though it was not much, it was quite respectable to talk about.
Ordinary people dared not casually provoke those who ate the state's rice and received the state's money.
Being literate and educated was always something that earned admiration and respect.
Basking in those worshipful and admiring gazes, Hao Desheng clearly enjoyed it immensely, yet he always put on an aloof, disdainful appearance.
He intensely disliked Fang Zichen.
As for the reason, Fang Zichen himself didn't know.
It was true that he had a quick temper and a bad temper, but he wasn't the type to go around looking for trouble.
Past customers who came to eat all called him brother—if he was willing, there would be a whole crowd wanting to become sworn brothers with him.
The first time Hao Desheng came to the restaurant to eat, when settling the bill, he gave Fang Zichen a look of contempt.
After Fang Zichen calculated the bill and asked him to pay the 'meal fee,' he sneered, questioned Fang Zichen, looking him up and down with a sidelong glance, as disdainful as could be.
Although he didn't say a word, his posture and expression seemed to curse Fang Zichen from head to toe, even down to his eighteen generations of ancestors.
Young people were impulsive and had not yet learned to properly manage their emotions.
If Fang Zichen were to confront them, Shopkeeper Yang wasn't worried he would come off worse, but this was happening in the restaurant, and there were still customers eating. He subtly pulled Fang Zichen back, signaling him to bear with it. After all, the other party was a customer, he shouldn't cause trouble.
Fang Zichen also held back.
After they left, Shopkeeper Yang comforted him, saying that bunch was just like that. Before Fang Zichen came, he himself had been treated the same way by them.
Having been out in the world for twenty or thirty years, it wasn't the first time he had been looked down upon.
Local people of Fu'an Town might still respect him a little, but visitors from outside, when they encountered him, also treated him like a dog.
If he took offense at every single one, it would be impossible to keep up.
Moreover, those who could look at him that way were probably powerful and influential, of high status and not ordinary—he didn't dare to take offense anyway.
The second time, Hao Desheng deliberately picked a quarrel with Fang Zichen, waving his fan and saying some very unpleasant things to him.
Fang Zichen treated it as a dog barking, didn't respond with a single word, and bore it all.
Seeing him like this, Hao Desheng didn't know when to stop but instead became even more presumptuous.
On Hao Desheng's third visit, he brought a whole group of people. Fang Zichen calculated the bill and stated the amount.
A short, skinny scholar stepped forward, glanced at his handwriting, shook his head, and said: "Delicate, fine, and narrow-spaced, truly like something noted by women in inner chambers or village wives. The sages often say the handwriting reflects the person, viewing the writing is like viewing the person. Young Master Fang, tsk..."
He didn't finish his sentence, but the break was perfectly timed.
This was clearly calling Fang Zichen petty.
Delicate, fine, and narrow-spaced.
He meant Fang Zichen's handwriting was written in a petty manner, with short spacing between characters, implying he was stingy.
This scholar didn't say it directly, maintaining the demeanor of an elegant, gentle, and magnanimous scholar.
Saying it outright would seem 'harsh.'
Writing and composition were considered sacred matters. When putting brush to paper, the handwriting did not need to be perfect, but the attitude had to be proper at the very least. Yet this person, he actually wrote so sparingly.
Everyone shook their heads.
The looks they gave Fang Zichen were full of accusation.
This was calculated on scrap paper, so Fang Zichen had written somewhat casually.
Moreover, to prepare for the imperial exams, although his handwriting was already good, he felt there was still room for improvement, so he needed to keep practicing.
Paper is expensive, a single ordinary sheet can cost dozens or even over a hundred coppers. Yang Mutao treated him well, letting him use the restaurant's paper. Fang Zichen didn't know how to write the words politeness or hesitation, he just pretended to say 'how can I accept this' before immediately agreeing.
Although it was 'free' stuff, Fang Zichen also used it frugally.
He remembered Yang Mutao's kindness and knew that every coin was hard-earned. Yang Mutao said he could use it freely, but he didn't extravagantly waste it.
The virtue passed down through the Chinese nation for millennia was now being called stingy.
Motherf*cker!!
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