Poor but talented scholar

Chapter 16 The Bet

Zhang Heng's horsewhip stopped abruptly in mid-air.

He was an old bailiff, and as soon as he heard "Lord Wang" and "cloth shop," his protruding ears immediately perked up.

He jumped off his horse, picked up a stalk of indigo and examined it closely. His face, which was originally full of flesh, miraculously broke into a smile.

"Oh, young man, what are you saying? The county magistrate is compassionate towards the disaster victims, and we officials are naturally reasonable as well." Zhang Heng coughed. "Lord Wang is indeed pressing hard, but your Lu Family Village is quite sensible."

Lu Chuan smiled and said, "These boxes are for Lord Wang. Our village has prepared a carriage, which will accompany the official into the city later. As for the portion to be deposited, it will be paid in accordance with the official amount of thirty cash, not a penny less."

The convoy of constables departed in a grand procession, carrying with them satisfied smiles and the fruits of Lujia Village's half-month of hard work.

Although most of the medicinal herbs that the villagers painstakingly collected were "given away," when they saw the real half-load of buckwheat in their own barn, everyone couldn't help but wipe away tears.

No need to sell your children, no need to eat clay in the dead of winter.

Sixth Uncle Lu Dehuang leaned against the mottled wooden pillar of the ancestral hall, exhaled a long breath of stale air, and slid down the pillar to the ground as if his spine had been removed.

His withered hands gripped the mud bricks on the ground tightly, his lips trembled, and tears that had been building up in his old eyes for more than half a month streamed down his wrinkled face.

"Chuan'er, come here."

After catching his breath, Uncle Liu, under the watchful eyes of everyone, led Lu Chuan to the ancestral tablets in the center of the ancestral hall. The old man relit the broken incense sticks with trembling hands.

Sixth Uncle sat in the head seat, but did not give a speech as usual.

"Brothers, if Lujia Village doesn't produce a man who 'wears a long gown,' we, our sons, and our grandsons will all have to live this kind of life."

Sixth Uncle pointed at the ancestral tablets, a fierce glint in his eyes. "That scholar from Hekou Village had an umbrella to shield him from the rain. And us? We were being whipped shirtless in the pouring rain!"

"So I propose," Sixth Uncle slapped his thigh, his voice reverberating through the rafters, "that once spring comes, even if the whole village has to tighten their belts, we must still send Chuan'er to Li's school in town."

"Not only must we study, but we must also make a name for ourselves in our studies. All tuition, food, lodging, and writing materials will be paid for mostly by the clan's communal property, with each branch of the family contributing a smaller share based on the number of people in the household."

An elderly clan elder spoke hesitantly, his voice trembling: "Dehuang, this is the last 'life-saving food' in our granary... What if... what if it fails, we'll really have nothing left?"

"Life-saving grain?" Uncle Liu sneered, pointing to the muddy ground outside the ancestral hall where the water had just receded. "Without a 'long gown' to cover you, this grain might save your life today, but it could turn into nothing at any time."

"We've accepted our fate all our lives, are we really going to let our descendants continue to be someone else's foot shovels?"

Lu Chuan stood in the center of the ancestral hall, looking at the pairs of eyes that were filled with longing, doubt, and even fear.

This is not just about reading; it's a high-risk, high-reward clan game.

He quickly calculated in his mind: the annual tuition fee was about four taels of silver, plus the cost of consumables such as writing brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones, as well as food and lodging.

"Sixth Uncle, all elders." Lu Chuan stepped forward and bowed deeply to the ancestral tablets.

"Chuan'er has received the great kindness of the entire clan. But this money is the result of everyone's hard work, and Chuan'er dares not accept it for nothing. Since we are going to make offerings, let's set a three-year period."

Lu Chuan's words surprised everyone.

"Three years?" Sixth Uncle narrowed his eyes. "Chuan'er, the road to the imperial examination is long and arduous. In three years, you might not even have touched the threshold."

Lu Chuan's expression was stern, and his words were firm and resolute: "If Chuan'er cannot pass the county examination within three years and even get close to becoming a student, it means that I, Lu Chuan, am not cut out for this."

"When the time comes, I will pack my bags and come back. I will keep a record of every penny I have spent in these three years. Even if I have to work like an ox or a horse and plow the fields, I will repay the village's public property double."

Lu Chuan's words resonated throughout the silent ancestral hall. The clan elders, who had previously been pained by the few taels of silver and hesitant due to the depletion of public property, now looked at Lu Chuan with completely different eyes.

Uncle Liu suddenly straightened up, and a strange blush rose on his wrinkled face from excitement.

"Chuan'er, since you have such courage, we old bones will gamble with you. In the next three years, even if Lu Family Village has to sell everything we own, we will support you to make a name for yourself."

The discussions in the ancestral hall gradually subsided, replaced by a solemn atmosphere.

In this world where people depend on the weather for their livelihood and officials are like tigers and wolves, this money is not some kind of "educational investment," but rather the life-saving money that more than a hundred people in Lujia Village have painstakingly scraped together.

In the following days, Lujia Village became the busiest and quietest place within a ten-mile radius.

To raise the first tuition fee, Uncle Liu personally led people into the back mountain to dig up the bamboo shoots hidden deep in the soil.

The women, their eyes red from working under the oil lamp, rushed to make straw sandals and coarse cloth, which they would then take to town to exchange for a few coins.

Even the laziest of all, Uncle Lu Youcai, after seeing the almost murderous look in his sixth uncle's eyes, shrank back and spent the whole day moving stones on the riverbank.

Lu Chuan, on the other hand, was in that half-collapsed main room.

Without paper, he practiced holding a pen on the sand tray, until his fingertips were blistered, scabbed, and then calloused.

The winter chill was intense, seeping into Lu Chuan's body through the cracks in the earthen wall. His feet developed chilblains, which were red and swollen, causing excruciating pain and intense itching.

But he simply buried his feet deeper into the haystack, his wooden stick moving more steadily across the damp sand.

"Chuan'er, have some hot soup."

Lu Shoutian pushed open the creaking wooden door, holding a bowl of buckwheat porridge with hardly any rice grains in his hand, his eyes filled with heartache.

"Your sixth uncle said that the charcoal fire in your study must not go out. Everyone went up the mountain to collect a lot of hardwood. I'll light a brazier for you later."

Lu Chuan put down the wooden stick, exhaled a puff of white breath, rubbed his stiff fingers, and said softly, "Dad, leave whatever charcoal is left in the granary for the old people and children in the village. I'm not cold; I'm burning with passion inside."

When night fell, Lu Chuan lit the oil lamp with its tiny flame and spread out the few tattered books with curled edges.

Several children wanted to come and play with him, but the women from each household dragged them back with stern faces.

The villagers have developed a tacit understanding: when passing by Lu Chuan's house, the men will walk quietly, and even the most barking black dog, after being kicked, will only whimper and tuck its tail between its legs.

That day, Uncle Lu Youcai drank some wine in frustration. As he passed by, he muttered, "Studying is like attending a funeral. If we don't pass the exam, our whole village will be the ones who suffer the consequences."

Before he could finish speaking, Aunt Lu from next door smacked him on the buttocks with a broom.

Aunt Lu, her eyes red, scolded, "Lu Youcai, you heartless bastard! Was Chuan'er doing that for himself?"

"That's to save the entire Lu family. If you dare to gossip again, I'll cut off your entire household's food supply."