Chapter Fifty-One: Bowing in Reverence and Proceeding to the Academy Examination

August fifteenth, the day to depart for the provincial examination in the city, had finally arrived.

As usual, Song Mu rose early for morning reading, while Second Uncle Song Liangda and Aunt Zhu busied themselves packing his belongings, constantly stuffing his travel bag with various items.

“The new shoes we made for you recently, soft and breathable—wear them in the examination hall, they'll be comfortable,” Zhu said as she tucked a pair of thick, layered fabric boots into Song Mu's bundle, her face alight with joy. Song Liangda nodded, then called out to Yaya, Song Mingwei.

“Yaya, fetch the packet of preserved fruit I bought yesterday. Mu can chew on it to ease fatigue along the way.”

The two moved hurriedly, and after Song Mu finished his recitation in the courtyard, he returned to his room and found them still loading his luggage with packages. He quickly approached.

“Uncle, Aunt, that's enough. I'll only be gone for half a month or so and then I'll come back. There's no need for so many things.”

“You've prepared so much lately, I can't possibly carry it all,” he protested.

“It’s not too much, Mu. You’re all traveling by carriage anyway, you can take it,” Song Liangda insisted.

Song Mu pursed his lips, took a nearby book chest, and packed it himself, then looked at them with renewed resolve.

“Uncle, Aunt, I’ll write to you once I arrive in the city. There’s no need to worry.”

Song Liangda was visibly moved, nodding repeatedly. “Very well, Mu. We’re not anxious. You’re still young. We know it’s not easy to pass the scholar exam—don’t feel pressured.”

He spoke soothingly, but Zhu interjected, “The scholar exam is important. Mu will surely succeed.”

As they spoke, Yaya came over, her wide eyes sparkling, handing Song Mu the packet of preserved fruit.

“Brother, when you return, you must tell Yaya what you saw in the city. Last time you went, you didn’t tell me, and Da Mao, Er Mao—they want to hear too.”

Song Mu smiled, gently patting her head, but did not reach for the fruit. Instead, he promised, “Alright, big brother promises Yaya. I’ll bring back some city treats for you as well.”

“Okay!” Yaya’s eyes turned into crescents as she grinned with delight.

Just then, shouts came from outside—the Kong family’s carriage had arrived at the gate. Song Mu glanced at his uncle, and the family gathered their things and stepped outside.

Outside, Kong Zong, clad in scholarly robes, entered to help carry the luggage. Song Mu politely declined, speaking softly, “Brother Kong, I must trouble you again.”

“Not at all! We agreed long ago, we’re all going together. We can enjoy the scenery and discuss literature along the way!” Kong Zong replied with a laugh, helping load the carriage. Song Liangda bustled about, sweat glistening on his short, stout frame.

At last, all was ready. The three stood at the gate, their expressions varied: Yaya radiant with joy, Zhu full of expectation, and Song Liangda with a hint of melancholy.

“Mu, your second uncle won’t see you off at the city gate. I’ll wait here for your return. When you’re back, we’ll share a drink and reminisce.”

A moment passed before Song Liangda spoke, his mood somber.

Song Mu understood well—his uncle feared his emotions might overwhelm him. Though their time together had not been long, Song Mu truly felt his uncle’s nurturing care; not one for words, yet Song Mu was always his priority.

So, with solemn expression, Song Mu lifted his robe and knelt before Song Liangda.

“Mu, what are you doing? Don’t—men’s knees are made of gold!” Song Liangda rushed to help him up, but Song Mu bowed his head deeply.

“Uncle, I will give my utmost, restore the Song family’s former glory, and never disappoint my father or you!”

“Good, good, good child. Uncle has never misjudged you. With you, Song family will shine again. Now, rise.” Song Liangda’s eyes brimmed with tears as he helped Song Mu up. Kong Zong, witnessing the scene, was equally solemn.

Song Mu rose, saluted his uncle once more, then boarded the carriage with resolute determination.

Inside, Kong Zong handed him a silk handkerchief to wipe away the dust from his brow. Song Mu touched his face, feeling somewhat embarrassed. “Brother Kong, forgive my abruptness today.”

“Brother Song, why say that? Loyalty and filial piety come first. Your actions are those of a true gentleman,” Kong Zong replied.

The carriage rumbled toward the southern city gate, where Jin Changwu and his soldiers awaited. Due to the recent troubles in Shiyang County, the Gan River was still under martial law, so Song Mu and his companions could not travel by boat—they had to take the winding mountain roads.

Many students from the county school had already gathered, with townsfolk crowding the gate. Song Mu and Kong Zong alighted, Jin Changwu approached, and Song Mu hurried to greet him, but Jin waved off the formality.

“Today, Shiyang County scholars head to the city for the examination. I wish you all victory. When you return triumphant, I’ll welcome you ten miles out and host a feast in your honor!”

“We will not fail your expectations, sir!” the students replied in unison, their voices ringing with conviction, stirring the crowd.

This day was the most important in the county besides traditional festivals. Whether the provincial or academy exams, the townsfolk always lined the roads to send off their scholars.

These scholars would enter the examination halls, seek their names on the golden list, and pursue the path of the literati.

They carried the hopes of their families and of all the people of Shiyang County.

“Then let us depart, toward victory beneath the morning sun!” Jin Changwu’s official robes billowed as he gestured southward. Firecrackers sounded, and the great bell atop the gate began to toll.

Amid faint smoke, countless students stepped through the gate at the chime, embarking on another unforgettable journey of their lives.

...

The carriage jolted through the noon hours, and after several hours' journey, the students rested at the entrance of a small village.

Master Xun called several scholars to help prepare the meal, and Song Mu stepped down to stretch his limbs.

Song Mu looked around, greeted his companions, then found a spot to relieve himself.

Travel in ancient times was always rough. Carriages lacked any suspension, and Song Mu felt as if his backside would crumble to bits. His steps were still unsteady.

Others fared little better—many preferred to walk part of the way. Fortunately, all were cultured students, generally in good health and able to endure.

After finishing, Song Mu returned and sat on a stone slab beneath an ancient tree. Kong Zong handed him some dry bread and a water gourd.

“Brother Song, eat something. We still have a stretch to cover before reaching tonight’s inn.”

Song Mu nodded, took the food, and glanced around. Everyone was massaging their legs, relaxing, chatting over their meal.

The group was much more at ease this time, having previously traveled to the city for exams. The countryside outside Shiyang County was now a familiar sight.

As Song Mu surveyed the resting scholars, he noticed a solitary figure by the distant carriage, eating bread in small, distracted bites, with no one around him.

It was Pan Wenhao.

That chaotic night in Shiyang County, Pan Shun had been possessed, and, at the last moment, Shi Bufeng drained all his literary energy. By morning, he was found as a desiccated corpse, petrified.

The Pan family was devastated, mother and son weeping in anguish.

Yet, having cultivated their standing in Shiyang County for years, and with Pan Wenhao still a child scholar, their days could continue.

But Pan Wenhao had lost the power to bully others.

He now wandered like a lost soul, more withdrawn than ever.

Seeing Song Mu watching, Kong Zong sighed, “He’s learned now—when something’s gone, it’s truly gone.”

“Now the family depends on him. Even if he never earns the scholar degree, he can be a wealthy landowner. But I hear his mother insists he pursue scholarly honors. Though the mourning period has barely passed, he’s here for the exam.”

Kong Zong spoke without much sympathy, and Song Mu withdrew his gaze, composed.

He had no reason to pity Pan Wenhao.

Pan still had his mother, and a comfortable home. Song Mu’s situation was far more tragic.

Song Mu recalled their rash wager: if Pan succeeded in the scholar exam, perhaps he would no longer pester him; if not, Song Mu would simply forget the whole affair.

He shook his head, ate the bread, washed it down with water, and enjoyed a moment’s shade under the tree.

...