Chapter Sixty-Eight: The Letter

Peng Jingyi led Zhang Yue out the door, not to go elsewhere, but to a vegetarian eatery on the street in front of their home. It was here that Zhang Yue had once helped host the deputy abbot and monks of Huahua Temple with Cao Baozheng. Now, his old classmates from their days in the village school were already seated at a table upstairs, several of whom he’d seen during the recent county school examination.

Here, Zhang Yue quickly understood Peng Jingyi’s intention.

He smiled and took his seat, greeting everyone in turn. Unlike his second brother, a prodigy who could afford to disregard social niceties, Zhang Yue always treated others with courtesy as long as there was no open enmity. Even if he sensed hidden resentment, as long as they maintained appearances, there was no need to make enemies, was there?

The table was abuzz with lively conversation, and the atmosphere was genuinely convivial. Zhang Yue let his mind rest, gazing out the window at the distant mountains shrouded in mist, where clouds drifted above green hills and clear waters. Fields stretched along the riverbank, with farmers toiling diligently—a scene like a painting.

By the banks of the Nanpu Creek, cargo and merchant ships plied the waters, their hulls heavy with goods. Laborers, bare-chested, rested on the shore after hauling ropes, while townsfolk jostled to board the ferry at the crossing. The view flowed seamlessly from the idyllic to the bustling world.

Zhang Yue was so absorbed in the scene that he didn’t return to himself until everyone raised their cups for a toast. He smiled and drank a cup of the vegetarian wine.

This toast, of course, was to celebrate Zhang Yue’s success in passing the scholar’s examination.

Suddenly, one of the guests asked, “I heard that your second brother changed his registration and went to Suzhou for the imperial exam, and hasn’t sent word home since. Is that true?”

At this, everyone leaned in, eager for gossip. Zhang Yue thought to himself, these people are certainly well-informed.

He immediately sensed a few envious glances, tinged with schadenfreude.

He looked at the questioner and replied with a smile, “And where did you hear such idle talk?”

At his response, Peng Jingyi quickly changed the subject, and the man, embarrassed, asked no more.

When the meal was nearly over, Zhang Yue was about to pay, but the others insisted on splitting the bill, with one promising to treat him to drinks another day.

Zhang Yue thought, If only I’d known, I would have ordered something pricier.

After everyone departed, Peng Jingyi and Zhang Yue lingered by the balcony overlooking Nanpu Creek, chatting as a warm breeze drifted by.

“You’re a true friend,” Peng Jingyi said, “I was worried you wouldn’t socialize with them.”

Zhang Yue chuckled. “How could I snub my classmates? Even without your invitation, I would have come.”

“I knew you were someone who valued old ties,” Peng Jingyi replied happily.

“So, how are things at the patrol outpost?” Zhang Yue asked.

Peng Jingyi sighed. “What is there to say? I spend my days with a bunch of village soldiers. The martial warden’s post is just the lowest rank among the three classes.”

The “three classes” referred to the lowest grade of military officials.

Zhang Yue said, “I heard there are many salt smugglers at Renshou Outpost, smuggling salt instead of selling the official variety…”

Peng Jingyi gave a wry smile. “So you’ve heard of that too. Those smugglers are bolder than the authorities, and there’s nothing we can do about them.”

The Song dynasty had state monopolies on salt and tea, which inevitably led to smuggling. The famous uprisings of Li Shun and Wang Xiaobo began with tea smugglers, and the notorious salt smuggler Fan Ruwei sparked a massive revolt in Jianyang during the Jianyan era.

This also explained why so many of the 108 heroes in “Water Margin” came from all walks of life in Song society.

“So your second uncle sent you to Renshou Outpost to smooth things over between him, the martial warden, and the salt smugglers?” Zhang Yue asked.

Peng Jingyi’s expression shifted slightly. With private salt so widespread, how could the county constable and the patrol office not be greased? There was a reason why Constable Peng had sent Peng Jingyi there…

“That godforsaken place has nothing to offer,” Peng Jingyi said. “I’m so poor I can barely keep food on the table.”

“Is that so?” Zhang Yue said. “I was thinking of borrowing some money from you, but I suppose that’s out of the question…”

“What, you want to borrow money? Just say the word—fifty strings, or a hundred?”

Zhang Yue smiled. “Two hundred.”

“That much? What for?”

“I want to open a restaurant.”

“With your family’s status now, even Registrar Zhao wouldn’t dare burn down your shop again.”

“He wouldn’t dare,” Zhang Yue agreed. “But Renshou Outpost isn’t a place to stay for long. Why not ask your second uncle to reassign you?”

“My second uncle’s getting old, and military officers are always sidelined in the bureaucracy. Even now, the court is appointing civil officials as county constables.”

Zhang Yue nodded. “If ever I find fortune and success, I won’t forget you.”

Peng Jingyi laughed. “With a brother who’s a jinshi, you’ll have no trouble finding a good position.”

Zhang Yue forced a bitter smile. His second brother was hardly reliable—he’d run off from an arranged marriage without a word, changed his registration, passed the jinshi exam, and not so much as sent a letter home since.

People might not say anything openly, but some must already be suspicious. All the favors people did for the Zhang family now were because of that jinshi title; if his brother disowned the family, it would all be for nothing. If this continued, they wouldn’t be able to keep up the pretense.

But then again, his second brother wasn’t an ungrateful man. In history, he was fiercely loyal to friends, especially Su Shi—he always kept them in his heart. Why treat his own family so coldly?

Did he really look down on his elder brother and me?

That was too much.

Meanwhile, in Registrar Zhao’s household, the scene was bleak.

Madam Zhao had wept several times already. “I told you not to go to the Zhangs and break off the engagement! Just look at what’s happened…”

Registrar Zhao snapped, “It was their son who insulted me first! Enough from you. If you’re so worried, go back to the country for a few days.”

His wife replied, “I’m not only worried about us—I’m worried about your daughter. You know how she feels about the Zhangs’ second son. Who knows who told Second Zhang about what happened between her and the third son of the Lu family years ago? Now, after the broken engagement and with Second Zhang winning the jinshi degree, how do you expect her to take it?”

“What’s done is done. What do you want me to do, send her back to the Zhangs and disgrace ourselves again?” Registrar Zhao barked.

“Second Zhang is a jinshi now, but you ransacked their house, and secretly plotted against his two brothers. Given his temperament, do you really think he’ll let you off? You’ve done plenty of shady things in the county over the years—not to mention how much money you’ve pocketed, there are probably a few lives on your hands as well. In the past, no one cared, but now…”

“Nonsense! Who in officialdom hasn’t done the same? Someone, take Madam away.”

He ordered two maids to escort his wife out. At that moment, he seemed to age several years in an instant.

Just then—

“Registrar, a letter from the capital,” the doorman announced as he entered.

“From the capital? Who sent it?”

“I’m not sure—the messenger didn’t show his face. He only said it was from an old friend of yours in the capital.”

Registrar Zhao’s expression tightened as he tore open the letter.

“Dear Registrar, it has been long since we parted, but you have never been far from my thoughts…”

The handwriting was forceful and powerful. At the bottom, the signature read: “Your son-in-law, Zhang Xu.”

At the sight of this, Registrar Zhao’s face turned as pale as death.