Having received a nice gift, Fang Zichen was more amiable towards the giver. He set down his bundle and rummaged through it for a long time. It was full of things bought for Zhao Ger and Guaizai. There wasn't a single item suitable for Li Yisheng. Fang Zichen hemmed and hawed for a long while, then finally, brazenly and with visible pain, shoved the nearly finished jar of pickled vegetables at Li Yisheng: "For you."
"What's this?" Li Yisheng opened the jar. A strange, fragrant aroma assailed his nostrils. He swallowed a mouthful of saliva and peered inside. The pickles were more than half eaten, what remained in the jar was barely enough for... two mouthfuls, and that was being generous.
His eyelid twitched uncontrollably: "You... you're giving me this? Are you sure you didn't mean to give this to someone else?"
Giving this thing was worse than giving nothing at all.
"This is delicious," Fang Zichen said: "My fulang made it with his own hands." He himself had been reluctant to finish it. During those three days in the examination cubicle, he drank gruel every day. Gruel wasn't filling and made him urinate frequently.
The examination hall was strict, even the number of trips to the latrine was limited, and each time an official soldier followed closely behind.
Fang Zichen didn't dare eat much and was always hungry. When he was very hungry, he would take a couple of sniffs of the pickles, or dip his finger in the juice and lick it.
A truly pitiable state.
The fact that there were still some pickles left was the result of his extreme self-control.
Being able to give them away, he felt he was being incredibly generous.
"I estimate it won't be long before I come to live in Yuanzhou." Fang Zichen said: "When the time comes, I'll invite you to my home for a meal. My fulang's cooking skills are top-notch." He gave a thumbs-up.
"You're that confident?" Li Yisheng knew he planned to take the Xiucai exam directly next year. If he passed, he could get a recommendation to study at Qinghe Academy.
Qinghe Academy maintained stringent admission standards. A Tongsheng who passed the qualifying exam could, at best, gain entry into the lowest tier, Class D, of the Academy's Second Court.
The First Court was mostly for those who placed in the top ten in the County Exam, top twenty in the Prefectural Exam, and top five in the Academy Exam.
Fang Zichen, being first in the County Exam, could have gone already, but after thinking it over, he decided to stay in Fu'an Town a while longer.
If he were alone, it wouldn't matter much, but now he had a fulang and a son. Uprooting a family without a means of livelihood or a solid plan was easier said than done.
"I am," Fang Zichen said: "I've read the books."
Li Yisheng: "..."
What scholar taking the imperial exams hasn't read the books?
Does reading the books guarantee passing?
If that were the case, Yuanzhou would probably be crawling with Xiucai!
But the Prefectural Exam results hadn't even been announced yet. To be discussing the Academy Exam at this point felt rather premature.
"Be careful on your way back. Don't run into ghosts again." Li Yisheng said with a sigh.
Fang Zichen glanced at him, entirely unperturbed. "So what if I meet one? A clear conscience fears no accusation. If they dare show up, I'll just pummel them back to the underworld."
"Heh heh," Li Yisheng laughed, then said, "Who was it that said last time they were nearly scared out of their wits by me?"
"It was me!" Fang Zichen didn't seem to feel ashamed in the slightest. Just as Li Yisheng was surprised by his sudden frankness, he heard the rascal say, "That's because I thought you were more terrifying than a ghost."
Li Yisheng made a move as if to hit him: "...Get lost!"
The journey there had nearly cost him half his life. This time, Fang Zichen didn't take a carriage. Besides, carriages were expensive, and he was unwilling to spend that money needlessly. He saved where he could. Having been poor for a while, Fang Zichen had become stingier than anyone. Even when buying two steamed buns, he would still haggle with the 'shopkeeper's wife'.
Li Yisheng waited with him at the city gate for a while before they managed to flag down an ox cart that was heading out of the city.
Horse carriages were fast but jolted severely. Ox carts were slow, but ultimately more comfortable.
The ox cart was only going part of the way. After that, it would be another three shichen walk to Fu'an Town.
Fang Zichen, thinking of his fulang and son at home, felt filled with energy. He didn't feel tired at all, even being injected with adrenaline probably wouldn't have this effect. He slung his bundle over his shoulder and set off walking, his stride vigorous and spirited.
Halfway there, cries for help suddenly came from up ahead.
The voice sounded strangely familiar.
Fang Zichen scratched his head, but couldn't place it for a moment. Whether to rescue them or not made him hesitate.
Previously, when he set off for the exams, Zhao Ger had told him to be careful on the road. If he encountered bandits, he shouldn't fight them head-on. His life was most important. It was better to just lose some money, as long as he returned safely.
Fang Zichen had agreed.
He was a man of his word. A promise made was a promise kept, and he couldn't very well break it now.
And besides... He slipped to the side of the path, crept forward stealthily, concealed himself behind a tree, and parted the grass to look. He thought: It's over.
Although he was skilled in fighting, blades and swords had no eyes!
These mountain bandits might not be skilled in martial arts, but their 'equipment' was complete. They either carried clubs or held broadswords, just like in those TV dramas.
Two fists are no match for four hands, let alone these gleaming great machetes.
Fang Zichen felt a little timid.
Ahead, five or six mountain bandits, their faces covered, stood over the scene. Servants and attendants lay scattered across the ground, unmoving. One old man was being dragged roughly to the side and beaten.
"Grandfather..."
Yang Mingyi tried to rush over, but a bandit grabbed him by the hair and pulled him back, wrapping an arm around him. The bandit's gaze was extremely lewd: "Little ger, where do you think you're running off to? Come here, come to your uncle's arms."
Yang Mingyi's palms were sweaty, he was both panicked and terrified, but his face remained aloof and cold, not showing a trace. He struggled to maintain his composure: "What do you people actually want?"
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