Chapter 356
Even the best fabric cost several dozen copper coins for just one chi (about one-third of a meter). In Xiaohe Village, the wealthiest family was the village head's. Yet back when his little grandson was born, even they couldn't bring themselves to buy such cloth, let alone anyone else. So for everyone to buy that expensive fabric, sew it into clothes, and send them all the way to the capital—they really went all out.
Zhou Ger had clearly noted in the letter who gave what.
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Back in the ninth lunar month, when the village head's daughter got married, Aunt Liu and Uncle Liu, being advanced in years, didn't make the arduous trip. Instead, Zhou Ger and Liu Xiaowen returned to the village.
For other families, just sending a gift as a token would suffice. But He Xi made it clear—they had to go back in person. After all, they still needed to live in the village. They had to show the village head proper respect. Plus, there had been heavy rains two months prior. He Xi said the thatch on their main room's roof had blown off in places. Liu Xiaowen figured it was a good chance to go back and make repairs. If left too long, the roof beams underneath would be ruined by wind and sun.
Back when Fang Zichen passed the provincial exams, custom dictated that he return to his registered hometown to honor his ancestors. But the problem was, Fang Zichen was an outsider. Though he had registered as a resident of Xiaohe Village, he had no relatives there. He had no ancestors to honor. And besides, he was in a hurry to get to the capital, so he never made the trip.
Zhao Ger had explained this to the villagers when He Xi brought the chili peppers. The villagers were disappointed, of course. But then Fang Zichen kept climbing—first as zhuangyuan (top scholar), then into the Hanlin Academy. His name spread far and wide. And where did this zhuangyuan come from?
Fu'an Town, Xiaohe Village.
Xiaohe Village had once produced a xiucai (county-level scholar), which brought a bit of fame. Then came a juren (provincial graduate), and the village became well-known. Now that one of theirs had become a court official, the village was truly renowned.
Even a xiucai was rare in Fu'an Town, let alone a zhuangyuan. Everyone's face beamed with pride.
When people walked around town, others would ask, "Where are you from?" "Fu'an Town?" they'd exclaim. "Oh, that's impressive! You're from the zhuangyuan's hometown! Please excuse me, I didn't realize!"
When the news traveled back from the capital, Magistrate Jiang added another achievement to his record. He was so happy he grinned from ear to ear.
The villagers knew Fang Zichen had stayed in the capital and wasn't coming back. He was an official now, and apparently a very important one. Back when the provincial exam results came out, the county office had posted the list. Some villagers went to see it. They watched the townspeople cheering loudly, shouting, "Incredible, incredible! He's a provincial graduate now—a true lord!"
The villagers had felt proud for a moment, sharing in the glory. But then the feeling faded. They didn't really understand any of it. No one in Xiaohe Village had ever been a scholar. They'd just heard that provincial graduates were impressive, that zhuangyuans were impressive, that being an official was impressive. But how impressive? They couldn't grasp it because they'd never seen it.
Even the village head wasn't sure. Later, he went with Wang Damei to a feast in neighboring Xiaorong Village. The head of Xiaorong Village came over to chat. Before, that man had looked down on Xiaohe Village—not just because it was poor, but because Xiaorong had a scholar while Xiaohe had none. And now? In just a few years, Xiaohe had produced an official, while their own Wang Tongsheng hadn't even passed the prefectural exam.
Why couldn't Fang Zichen have ended up in their village instead? Why did Xiaohe Village get all the good fortune?
His attitude had completely flipped—almost fawning, nothing like before.
The village head knew the reason but didn't dwell on it. He saw Wang Tongsheng approaching with a sycophantic smile, asking questions.
"Now that he's zhuangyuan, what position does he hold in the capital? Will he ever come back?"
Wang Tongsheng wasn't a good student, but he understood these things. Every scholar dreams of passing the imperial exams and topping the rankings. His face full of envy and longing, he replied: "He stays in the capital and enters the Hanlin Academy. His rank is the sixth rank, senior grade."
Seeing the village head’s confused look, he explained in simpler terms.
"The magistrate of our Fu’an Town is the seventh rank, senior grade. If Lord Fang returned, our magistrate would have to kneel before him."
Now the village head understood.
His face turned pale with shock. His breathing quickened. His palms sweated from tension. Wang Damei and the others listening were the same.
The villagers were terrified even of the clerks who came to collect taxes. The biggest official they knew was the county magistrate. The emperor was far too distant—the magistrate was the highest authority they could fathom. And this great figure, whom they could never hope to meet, was nothing compared to Fang Zichen. If Fang Zichen came back, even the magistrate would have to kneel before him. Fang Zichen had really made something of himself!
They thought that was all, but Wang Tongsheng dropped another bombshell.
The village head and Wang Damei walked home in a daze, completely stunned.
What was the Hanlin Academy?
It was a place that trained future top officials. The people there were groomed to become Grand Secretaries—members of the Grand Secretariat.
The county magistrate was powerful, sure. But the magistrate reported to the prefect, and the prefect reported to the Grand Secretariat. The Grand Secretariat attended court daily and saw the emperor every day.
And who was the emperor?
He was the ultimate figure—someone they could only hear about, never meet. Like the moon hanging in the sky, impossibly far away.
But Fang Zichen could see him every day.
That boy has ascended to heaven!
"Though he's only the sixth rank right now, if he did come back, he's a close minister of the emperor. Even our prefect would have to show him respect."
No one asked about his monthly salary. They didn't understand such things anyway. But officials always lived in grand mansions surrounded by servants. If they weren't paid well, why would everyone scramble to become one?
Who knew? Maybe someday he'd outrank even the prefect...
He'd really made it. Made it big.
The village head couldn't sleep all night.
Their village had produced someone this accomplished! The next day, Wang Damei abandoned her chores, grabbed a handful of scallions, and sat down at the grain-drying ground. Several women, just back from watering their vegetable plots, saw her snapping scallions and grinning like she'd found silver. They gathered around. "Sister Mei, what's the happy occasion?"
"There really is!" Wang Damei was too excited to hold back and told them immediately.
Fang Zichen had become zhuangyuan and an official.
They already knew that.
Then Wang Damei told them: if Fang Zichen came back, even their county magistrate would have to kneel to him!
Everyone was stunned.
"No... that can't be!" someone stammered. "I heard our magistrate has been in office for over twenty years."
"Why not?" Wang Damei said excitedly. "Yesterday my husband and I went to a wedding feast in Xiaorong Village. He asked Wang Tongsheng. Wang Tongsheng said our magistrate is the seventh rank, senior grade, and young Fang entered the Hanlin Academy at the sixth rank, senior grade—one rank higher. In officialdom, it's not about who served longer. It's about rank. And if he does well in the future, he might see the emperor every day!"
This was big news. Really, incredibly big.
Everyone had thought Fang Zichen's official position would be similar to the magistrate's. But he actually outranked the magistrate. And he was still so young!
First, they'd thought earning three taels of silver a month was impressive. Then he became a xiucai, then a juren—six taels a month. More money than they could earn in a year. He'd left the village and gone far away, to a place they'd only heard of, a place they might never visit in their lives—the capital.
Liu Xiaowen had spent some time in the capital. When he came back for New Year's, people asked him: what's the capital like?
It was a rich place crowded with nobles. Everyone wore fine clothes. Shops lined the streets in endless rows. The bustle and prosperity were overwhelming. The streets were paved with green brick—not a patch of yellow earth to be seen.
The villagers couldn't even afford to build houses out of green brick, yet the capital paved its streets with it. Liu Xiaowen couldn't find the words—he just said it was wonderful, that everyone looked like officials, and he walked with his head down, too intimidated to look up.
The villagers listened for a long time, then He Xi asked: how does it compare to Yuanzhou?
Liu Xiaowen replied: Yuanzhou is nowhere close. There is no comparison.
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