The results of the tongsheng exam were to be posted in three days.
Those three days were agonizing for both the examinees and the examiners, every minute and every second.
Due to the large number of candidates, the examiners had been grading overnight and were thoroughly exhausted.
The examiners for Fu'an Town had been assigned from the prefectural office.
By convention, the tongsheng exam was a county-level examination and should have been presided over by the county magistrate. However, if a magistrate's jurisdiction produced many successful tongsheng and xiucai candidates, the magistrate's own performance record would improve.
Consequently, in previous years, it had been common for county magistrates to engage in fraudulent practices. Scholars would offer silver to the magistrate, creating a mutually beneficial arrangement that secured their success.
This system made it exceedingly difficult for students from impoverished families to advance. In contrast, children from wealthy backgrounds often attained the tongsheng title based on their family's influence rather than their own merit, meaning they were impressive in name only.
These unqualified individuals held the tongsheng title, but their true lack of ability was exposed during the more rigorous provincial academy entrance examination. Their answers to the questions were often completely irrelevant, demonstrating none of the knowledge and substance a genuine tongsheng ought to possess.
Therefore, to prevent such situations from recurring, the authorities began assigning examiners from the capital and various prefectures.
Examiners from the southern prefectures were sent to oversee examination halls in the northern prefectures, while examiners from the north were sent to the south. This system of exchange improved the situation somewhat.
The method by which examiners reviewed papers remained consistent, regardless of the era.
Papers with poor handwriting received only a cursory glance.
Those that were densely written and messy were also given just a rough look, with no further consideration.
So, why did scholars always spend a great deal of time practicing their handwriting? Were they simply bored with nothing better to do?
Of course not.
Good handwriting could leave a positive impression on the examiner grading the paper, and the score for presentation could be higher.
For the two types of papers mentioned above, even if the scholar was knowledgeable and possessed real talent, it was useless if the examiner did not look carefully and simply tossed the paper aside after a first glance.As soon as Fang Zichen returned to the village, the village chief immediately came to see him.
He also had tact, he didn't ask about the imperial examination results, as that would inevitably put pressure on him and be difficult to answer.
If he said it was difficult, and many others passed, it would make him seem incompetent.
If he said it wasn't difficult, or was okay, and then he failed, it would make him seem boastful.
The village chief just chatted with him for a while.
Seeing him completely relaxed and without a trace of worry, the village chief thought that if it had been someone like Scholar Wang, he would have been able to guess the outcome.
But when it came to Fang Zichen, he did not dare to hold even a sliver of hope. He could only assume that the young man was simply broad-minded and able to take things in stride.
The village chief was not alone in this opinion. The entire village shared the same thought.
There was not a single person who believed he could pass.
However, regardless of whether he passed or not, Uncle Liu's family, He Daleng's family, and the clan leader's family, knowing he had returned, specially sent quite a few eggs, saying he must be tired, had worked hard, and should nourish himself well.
Fang Zichen, carrying a basket of eggs and scratching his head, couldn't figure out himself where exactly he had gotten tired.
In the examination hall, he ate well and slept well, even women in the village doing their month-long postpartum confinement weren't as content as he was.
That evening, Zhao Ger remembered what Zhou Ger had said the day before: "Right now, quite a few people in the village are waiting to see the joke your husband will make. The things they say are terribly unpleasant. If he comes back, keep him at home for a few days, and don't let him go out if there's no reason."
Zhou Ger's words weren't because he was afraid Fang Zichen would lose face, but because he was afraid he would get angry upon hearing those things and start hitting people again.
Zhao Ger was afraid Fang Zichen would hit people, but even more afraid that hearing those words would make him feel bad.
In the eyes of a lover, one saw only beauty—in Zhao Ger's eyes, Fang Zichen was the absolute best. He couldn't bear to hear others say even half a bad word about him, and couldn't bear for him to be the slightest bit unhappy.
So he immediately instructed him to stay home properly and not go out.
Fang Zichen was puzzled: "Why?"
"Our son and I missed you," Zhao Ger said.
These words were pleasing to hear. Fang Zichen felt both proud and delighted: "Longing for me madly? You need to learn to control yourself. Thinking too much can easily make you crazy. If you go crazy, I'll have to take care of you."
"...Okay," Zhao Ger said.
During these three days of waiting for the results, Fang Zichen obediently stayed home.
He either played with Guaizai in the yard or helped Zhao Ger chop chili peppers and pickle sour vegetables.
Being busy, time passed quite quickly.
The small patch of wasteland they had cleared earlier had been planted with some mustard greens, which were now fully grown.
He specifically went to the Du family to buy a large vat, brought it back, scrubbed it clean, and left it in the yard to dry in the sun.
The process of making sour vegetables was not particularly troublesome, but washing them was quite a tedious task.
In those times, there were no pesticides. Any insects in the vegetable patch had to be caught by hand.
There were no idle hands in the household. Although Guaizai was young, his daily schedule was completely full. In the mornings, he went with Zhao Ger to sell chili sauce. At noon, he returned home to dig for earthworms to feed the chickens and then helped peel garlic. If he worked quickly enough, he could spare some time to go to the vegetable patch and catch insects. In the evenings, when Fang Zichen returned home, Guaizai had to study characters with him and then play—his days were extremely busy.
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