Volume 1, Chapter 4: Relying on Oneself

After the meal, Old Mrs. Yu wiped her mouth with a faded blue coarse cloth towel. Her eyes swept over the humble cups and plates on the table as she calmly announced, "Starting from tomorrow, for the next half-month, we will boil three eggs for the evening meal. The eldest and the second son will each eat one. The remaining one will be shared among the rest of you to add a bit of flavor."

"Eggs?" This faint question surfaced in the hearts of the entire family almost simultaneously. The eggs laid by those few old hens were usually the family's only hope for buying basic necessities like oil and salt; who would dare to dream of actually eating them? Yet, this news, which sounded like an "improvement in diet," brought not a shred of joy. Instead, it felt like a massive, ice-cold, soaking-wet shroud suddenly smothered everyone’s nose and mouth. The air instantly congealed into iron, pressing heavily against their chests, leaving them nearly suffocated.

Xiao Ning’s heart sank abruptly. He knew exactly which stagnant pool this stone had been cast into.

The Prefectural Examination! In half a month, the Great Yu Dynasty’s biannual Prefectural Examination would arrive! Only by crossing this narrow bridge could one secure the title of "Xiucai"—the most basic yet most difficult academic rank. These two eggs were the final bit of nourishing "ammunition" prepared by his grandmother for her two sons about to embark on the battlefield (the examination hall).

These were his uncle, Xiao Bodu, and his father, Xiao Zhongyuan—the two brothers were about to enter the examination hall for the eleventh time.

Ten years of time, ten cycles of winter and summer, ten times of failure and defeat!

The Xiao family ancestors had once been illustrious, possessing vast fertile lands and grand houses. Why had they fallen into such destitution in a mere twenty years? Had this bottomless pit of poverty not been dug out, day after day, year after year, by these "two seeds of scholarship" with their failed transcripts and exorbitant study expenses?

On Mrs. Wang’s face, the smile was completely replaced by lines of sorrow. Mrs. Zhou’s hand, resting on her belly, trembled slightly. Xiao Zhongyuan lowered his head, the last flicker of light in his eyes extinguishing, turning as dull as dust-covered ancient pottery.

But who dared to speak? Who, at this very moment, dared to pour a bucket of cold water—a "forget it, stop taking the exams"—on the obsession of "placing high on the honor roll and bringing glory to the ancestors" that burned like an eternal furnace in Old Mrs. Yu’s eyes?

"Mother..." Uncle Xiao Bodu’s dry throat moved. He took a deep breath, the sound raspy like a broken bellows. He puffed out his chest, trying hard to make his voice sound full of firm conviction, despite the unmistakable tremor in his final syllables, "Son... son will definitely... definitely pass this time! I will surely... surely win back honor for you!" He had long forgotten how many times he had said these words. His youthful passion from a decade ago had been ground into powder by failure, leaving only a mechanical, desolate repetition.

Old Mrs. Yu seemed not to see the despair and gray complexions filling the room. A sincere, gratified smile blossomed on her face, her eyes as warm as if she were looking at two priceless pearls. "Do not feel pressured; just study with peace of mind and answer carefully. The last two nights, your father in the underworld came to me in a dream!" Her tone was mysterious and certain. "He said that you two brothers have your fortunes arriving this year! You are sure to pass! Mother believes him! Mother has... absolute confidence in you both!"

Every sentence was "do not feel pressured," every word was "set your hearts at ease."

Yet the eager, almost fanatical light in her eyes was like two red-hot irons, nailed firmly into the faces and hearts of Xiao Bodu and Xiao Zhongyuan. Invisible shackles restrained their breathing, and a suffocating sensation that made one's scalp tingle descended heavily upon them.

"Hus... husband, brother-in-law," Mrs. Wang glanced at her mother-in-law's expression, then at her husband's pale face, and timidly reminded them, "It is... it is time to return to the room to study..."

This reminder acted like a pardon.

"Right! We’re going!" Xiao Bodu practically sprang up, his voice raspy.

"Yes, Mother! Son is going to study hard!" Xiao Zhongyuan hurriedly echoed, following his brother as they fled toward their small, bitter world of study.

Their footsteps were panicked.

Old Mrs. Yu let out a long, weary, yet satisfied sigh, as if she had completed a great and fulfilling task.

The sisters-in-law exchanged a complex look and rose silently. Old Mrs. Yu, Mrs. Wang, and Mrs. Zhou—the latter supporting her waist with slight clumsiness—walked to the creaky old wooden loom in the corner of the courtyard and sat down. Weaving hemp, a tedious chore that earned a few stray copper coins, was the only way poor families could catch their breath during the slack farming season.

Xiao Ning, Xiao Yun, and Xiao Yao’er were called over to help their mother and grandmother with the light work of sorting and straightening the hemp threads. The rough ramie threads emitted a dry scent, and the cloth produced, even on the market, was the cheapest and crudest; a bolt of fabric couldn't even fetch a few copper coins. Yet for the crumbling Xiao family, every strand of hemp was like a lifeline tied to a sinking ship.

Xiao Ning’s fingers twisted the rough hemp fibers, his gaze sweeping over the creaky old loom, landing on his grandmother’s sparse, graying temples and his mother Mrs. Zhou’s side profile, heavy with pregnancy yet unable to hide her exhaustion.

This cage! he shouted in his heart, unwilling to yield. He had to tear a path through!

But this body... this damned shell of an eight-year-old child! Even with a mind full of brilliant essays capable of changing the world, what could he do now? With wings bound, he could not fly!

The imperial examinations... in this era where everything else was considered inferior, it was the only, and most grand, ladder to the clouds.

But...

From the inner room came his father’s familiar reading voice, filled with uncertain pauses and frustrated sighs—"The Master said: 'Is it not pleasant to learn with a constant perseverance and application?'... Uh, the next sentence... the next sentence..."

Xiao Ning closed his eyes in pain, his heart turning icy.

Despair.

He was already in despair over the two elders who were about to make their eleventh charge.

As for the reason—he suddenly raised his head, his gaze piercing the tattered window paper and landing on the two tightly shut doors, his eyes as complex as winter twilight.

Night fell like ink, silently spilling down and swallowing the last traces of light in the Xiao family courtyard.

The dim oil lamp in Xiao Bodu and Xiao Zhongyuan’s room flickered stubbornly once again, much like their precarious dreams of the imperial exams. Under their mother-in-law's strict orders, Mrs. Wang and Mrs. Zhou picked up their own "weapons" and stepped into their husbands' examination hall.

"It is said: 'I hold the yellow battle-axe in my left hand... and in my right... the white yak-tail banner... to command...'" Xiao Zhongyuan’s voice was slurred and thick with heavy sleepiness, buzzing like a mosquito. His head bobbed, and he looked as though he were about to collapse onto the cold desk.

*Snap!*

The suddenly taut hair roots gave a teeth-aching groan! The hemp rope hanging from the beam violently yanked his tied-up hair upward!

"Ow—! That hurts!" Xiao Zhongyuan was instantly shocked awake by the sharp pain, his features contorting, tears springing forth. "It is said... it is said... stop saying it! My dear mother and ancestors! My... my scalp is going to be ripped off!" He whimpered, not daring to touch the lethal "hanging beam rope."

In the room next door.

"It was in the second month, at the full moon, on the sixth day, the day of Yiwei, the King walked from Zhou and arrived at Feng. The Grand Protector... first... the Duke of Zhou... inspected the residence..." Xiao Bodu’s forehead was covered in sweat as he recited stumblingly, his tone filled with irrepressible irritation and collapse. "When the third month arrived... it was... it was..." He slammed his fist on the table. "It was what! I had it memorized perfectly during the day! How did it run away at night?! It ran away again!"

He tugged at his hair in frustration, his eyes bloodshot, roaring at Mrs. Wang who was guarding him with an awl in her hand: "Stab! Wife! Stab me hard again! Here! On the arm! Use some strength!"

Mrs. Wang’s hands trembled so much that she couldn't bring herself to do it, looking at the blood spot from yesterday on her husband’s outer thigh that still had traces of blood.

"Stab! Once I’m awake, I’ll remember it!" Xiao Bodu’s eyes were bloodshot.

Mrs. Wang closed her eyes, hardened her heart, and stabbed hard into the soft flesh of his inner arm!

"Hiss—Ow—!!" A scream almost lifted the roof!

This sharp pain was like a key, "click," unlocking the lock of his memory.

"That's it! That's it! It was 'the day of Bingwu, the first appearance of the moon'!!" Xiao Bodu grimaced in pain, his face twisted, but a manic light shot from his eyes.

"Stab... stab... stabbed too hard... blood... blood is flowing..." Mrs. Wang’s voice trembled uncontrollably, filled with tears.

Xiao Bodu looked down and saw a significant hole in his arm, with blood gushing out!

"Ugh!" He gasped, a sudden darkness clouded his vision, and his body slid off the stool like a limp noodle, crashing straight to the floor!

The next second, Mrs. Wang’s terrified scream and the crying of Xiao Yun and Xiao Yao’er rushing in from the next room completely shattered the hypocritical "peace" of the Xiao family courtyard.

On a small cot in another room, eight-year-old Xiao Ning turned over with effort, burying his small head deep into the quilt that smelled of old straw.

Too miserable... too tragic...

Listening to the chaos on both sides, he roared silently and desperately in his heart—

Heaven above! May the ancestors open their eyes!

Counting on these two fathers to "rise through the imperial examinations"?

Xiao Ning seemed to see an infinitely looping dead end, with only darkness at the end.

It seemed that the mission of shattering the sky of this humble family would, after all, fall upon his shoulders—a pseudo-eight-year-old, true academic prodigy!

This heavy burden was about to crush his tender shoulders.

The night grew deep, and the lamp in the Xiao brothers' room finally went out, leaving only the scent of unspeakable pain and a deathly silence, pressing heavily on everyone’s heart.