Chapter Thirty-One: Without Pretense

(First, a statement: this is a work of xianxia fiction set in an alternate world, not a historical novel. Therefore, some settings may be altered or supplemented; please do not take things too literally, nor should you try to map them to real-life counterparts... There’ll be another chapter tonight. Please reserve your votes for next week’s rankings—thank you!)

Minghua Academy was situated at the southern outskirts of Jiangzhou, occupying more than ten acres. The Upper and Lower Courts were divided: the Lower Court lay to the south, the Upper Court to the north, separated by a high wall, with little communication between them. Chen Jianchen understood the purpose of such a division; it was much like certain comprehensive schools on Earth, with separate sections for junior and senior students.

Yet, whether Upper or Lower Court, neither covered a vast area. The buildings were all square and upright, giving an impression of strict order and propriety at first glance.

For new students, the academy had assigned guides to show them around and help them become familiar with the environment.

Unlike Wang Fu, Chen Jianchen was a stipend student. He was assigned a private room within the academy, while Wang Fu, being of lesser status, had to share with another licentiate.

After inspecting his room—though small, it was elegantly simple and spotlessly clean—Chen Jianchen felt quite satisfied. He put away his luggage and books, made his bed; this place was to be his new home.

In truth, there was no fixed time limit for a licentiate’s studies; once one passed the imperial examination and was named a presented scholar, one could be said to have graduated perfectly. But if one kept taking the exams and never succeeded, one could theoretically remain at the academy indefinitely—

Provided, of course, that one had the means to do so.

Studying at an official academy was no small expense. Aside from the regular tuition, there were countless other costs: lodging, food, gifts for etiquette, offerings to teachers, books, and more. Altogether, one could easily spend a tael of silver each month.

Such a steep price was beyond the means of most families.

Of course, licentiates were not required to attend official academies; they could study at home. But that would mean giving up on the imperial examinations entirely. Self-study was difficult enough, and it was nearly impossible to access the myriad exam resources available within the official academies.

As a stipend student, Chen Jianchen did not bear these expenses, and so enjoyed some ease and freedom. But that status was not permanent; should he fall into the lowest rank in the year’s academic evaluations, he would lose his stipend and become an ordinary student. At that point, given his family’s circumstances, the academy’s fees would be utterly unaffordable.

Chen Jianchen kept these looming challenges in mind, always searching for ways to resolve them.

Having settled in, he was about to go out for a walk when Wang Fu arrived, saying, “Liuxian, come—let me treat you to a drink at the Champion’s Tower.”

Champion’s Tower was the foremost restaurant in Jiangzhou; even a plate of simple greens cost fifty coins—a decidedly pricey place. Yet, since Wang Fu was so enthusiastic, Chen Jianchen saw no reason to refuse. After all, the term had not officially begun, so there was no need to observe academy rules; this was a good opportunity to get out, look around, and broaden his horizons.

On the way, Wang Fu grumbled, “My luck is truly rotten—drawing lots for rooms, I ended up sharing with an old codger. Judging by his looks, he’s at least fifty, if not sixty, with a beard of white bristle and a withered, leathery face. He’s dull in speech and unpleasant to behold—life will be tough from now on. I’m thinking of spending ten taels of silver to get a room to myself.”

Chen Jianchen laughed, “That’s your business, Futai, no need to share it with me.”

Truth be told, Chen Jianchen was growing weary of Wang Fu’s constant complaints—he seemed to whine like a resentful housewife these days.

But Wang Fu paid it no mind and went on and on, his words flowing like the endless waters of the Yangtze, never ceasing.

Finding it tiresome, Chen Jianchen simply began practicing the “True Chapter of Three Virtues,” immersing himself in his own world and shutting out Wang Fu’s chatter entirely.

The “True Chapter of Three Virtues” was profound and full of mysteries—a method to cultivate righteous energy. Fortunately, with the Evil-Dispelling Pen awakened, the power of the True Chapter itself had already opened Chen Jianchen’s Niwan Palace, as if someone had unlocked his potential, allowing him to overcome the hardest initial hurdle. All that remained was to persevere in studying and comprehending its teachings.

Chen Jianchen hoped to cultivate righteous energy as soon as possible; then, he would no longer rely on the Evil-Dispelling Pen, but could use any brush or ink to write characters infused with righteousness. That would be a true talent of his own, dependent on nothing external, beyond the reach of anyone else’s grasp.

Jiangzhou was bustling, the streets lined with stalls, the cries of hawkers filling the air.

Wang Fu kept talking, even as his eyes darted everywhere, especially at the young ladies walking along the street—his lascivious nature clearly undiminished.

Chen Jianchen found it amusing, but did not interfere.

Soon, the two reached Champion’s Tower and took a window-side table. Wang Fu, clearly familiar with the place, ordered five fine dishes and a pot of good wine.

When the food and drink arrived, they began their meal.

Wang Fu smiled and asked, “Liuxian, how do you find the food and wine here?”

Chen Jianchen replied calmly, “Not bad.”

“That’s good. In the future, I’ll treat you to meals here often.”

At these words, Chen Jianchen grew serious. “Futai, once the academy officially opens, I’ll need to focus on my studies. I won’t indulge in food and drink, so let’s not bring up this matter again.”

Wang Fu was taken aback, meaning to lighten the mood with a joke, but when faced with Chen Jianchen’s clear, bright eyes, he found himself speechless. He knew Chen Jianchen meant what he said.

Chen Jianchen’s decisive words closed the topic. On one hand, he had no wish to be seen as always sponging off Wang Fu, for once or twice was courtesy, but three or four times would be a loss of it. On the other hand, he needed to devote his time to practicing the “True Chapter of Three Virtues”—he hardly had time to waste on feasting and pleasure.

Wang Fu, in essence, was not a bad man, and his character was passable. Yet he and Chen Jianchen belonged to entirely different worlds, their goals and outlooks diverging utterly. As the saying goes: “Those whose paths differ cannot work together.”

Wang Fu forced a laugh. “Focusing on your studies is good—perhaps I should learn from you, Liuxian…”

But his words lacked any real sincerity, and Chen Jianchen did not believe him. Before coming to Jiangzhou, Wang Fu had openly declared his intention to seek out Madam Zhu upon arrival, hoping she could help him regain his former vigor.

And who was Madam Zhu?

She was the famed madam of Yihong House, Jiangzhou’s top brothel, renowned for her exquisite oral skills; it was said that in her hands, even salted fish could come back to life, and dead wood could bloom—a meaning best left unspoken.

But whatever Wang Fu’s plans were, Chen Jianchen could not be bothered to interfere.

With little in common, the conversation dwindled, and the atmosphere cooled.

A lull was not unwelcome—it allowed them to focus on their meal.

Suddenly, a commotion erupted in the street below. There seemed to be some dispute, with a crowd gathering, voices raised in excitement.

Curious, Chen Jianchen leaned out to look. He saw a dense throng forming a circle. In the center, a burly man was selling large yellow pears from a cart, while in front of the cart, a slovenly Taoist in tattered robes was pestering the vendor, begging for a pear to eat.