The Scholar’s Unconventional Little Wife - Chapter 6

The day of the first Classic Interpretation Examination had finally arrived.

Lin Ruo’an woke at the first cockcrow.

Though she felt thoroughly prepared, to say she wasn’t nervous would be a lie. She rose from bed with deliberate slowness, each step of her morning routine, binding her chest, dressing, and tying her hair, performed more slowly and meticulously than usual.

When she pushed open her door, the courtyard was still bathed in a hazy, blue-gray light. A sliver of pale white, like a fish’s belly, was just beginning to streak the eastern horizon. To her surprise, a light was burning in the kitchen, and the faint sound of activity drifted from within.

Lin Ruo’an tiptoed over and peered through a crack in the door.

Under the warm, yellow glow of the lamp, Xu Wangyou stood at the cutting board, her back to the door. A small pile of vegetables—white radish, carrots, and a few cucumbers—lay before her. She held a carving knife, her head bowed in deep concentration as she worked.

Lin Ruo’an couldn’t see what she was carving, but the woman’s profile was incredibly serene. Her shoulders were relaxed, her wrist steady, and only her fingers and the knife moved in minute, precise motions.

So early? What’s she carving now? Lin Ruo’an wondered silently, but she didn’t speak. When Xu Wangyou was immersed in a task, she possessed a level of focus that seemed to shut out the rest of the world, a concentration too precious to disturb.

She quietly stepped away, going to the well to splash cold water on her face. The icy shock awakened her senses, shaking off the lingering drowsiness. By the time she returned to the kitchen doorway, Xu Wangyou had stopped.

Seven or eight carved figurines now rested on the cutting board. Lin Ruo’an leaned in, her eyes widening.

They weren’t the Four Treasures of the Study anymore. These were far more whimsical.

A plump, adorable radish pig, symbolizing “all things going smoothly”; a carrot carved into a Ruyi scepter, its lines fluid and graceful; a cucumber leaf with veins so delicate they looked real, the word “Peace” etched into its surface; and a tiny radish Kui Xing, the god of literature. Though no larger than a palm, its starry crown, vermilion brush, and triumphant posture were astonishingly lifelike.

“This is…” Lin Ruo’an pointed at the Kui Xing, her voice trembling with disbelief. Kui Xing was the deity scholars revered most, the patron of literary success.

Xu Wangyou’s eyes brightened for a moment upon seeing her, before settling back into her usual quiet calm. She picked up the radish Kui Xing and held it out. “For you. Good luck on your exams.”

Then, she gathered the pig, the Ruyi, and the Peace Leaf, pressing them all into Lin Ruo’an’s hands. “All for you.”

Lin Ruo’an’s arms were suddenly filled with the cool, crisp radish carvings. The lingering tension and anxiety in her heart seemed to fade, soothed by the sweet, fresh scent of the vegetables.

“You… carved these all night?” she asked.

Xu Wangyou shook her head. “No. I just woke up and started carving. I couldn’t sleep.”

Did she stay up and carve these because she was worried about my exam? Lin Ruo’an’s heart softened even further.

“Thank you,” she said, tightening her arms to hold the carvings securely. “I love them.”

Xu Wangyou gave a faint smile. “Mhm.” She turned to lift the lid off the pot on the stove, sending a cloud of steam billowing into the air. “Eat your porridge. Mother says you need a full stomach for the exam.”

The porridge was a “two-grain” blend of white and millet, cooked thick and fragrant. A small side dish held finely chopped pickles and two plump, white hard-boiled eggs.

Lin Ruo’an sat down and picked up one of the still-warm eggs, gently tapping it against the table. As she peeled the shell, the warmth in her heart grew even stronger.

Xu Fenggu had appeared at some point, leaning against the kitchen doorway and watching them. She said nothing, her gaze lingering first on the radish carvings in Lin Ruo’an’s arms, then on the girl’s face as she ate. Her expression was unreadable, her eyes deep with unspoken thoughts.

“Eat it all, don’t leave anything,” Xu Fenggu finally said, then turned to go prepare for the shop’s opening.

Lin Ruo’an finished her porridge and egg, feeling a warm glow in her stomach and a newfound strength in her body. She carefully wrapped the radish carvings in a clean cloth and tucked them into a corner of her book box.

“I’m leaving,” she said to Xu Wangyou, hoisting her book box onto her shoulder.

Xu Wangyou, standing by the stove, nodded. After a moment’s thought, she added, “I’ll wait for you to come back.”

Lin Ruo’an turned and looked at the young woman standing silently in the morning light. She suddenly realized that this person, who had once been nothing more than a “trouble” and a “lie,” had somehow become someone she would miss when she left and long to see when she returned.

“Alright,” she smiled, then pushed open the door and stepped into the brightening day.

By the time she reached the school, the sky had fully lightened. The neighborhood was bustling with activity, the sounds of street vendors, shopkeepers, and washerwomen intertwining into a familiar morning symphony of city life. Several classmates she knew greeted her as she passed.

Zhou Wenyuan had arrived even earlier than she had. He was already in his seat, a book open before him, though he seemed unable to focus on it. When Lin Ruo’an entered, he glanced up, his lips twitching into a faint smile. He said nothing, but the challenging glint in his eyes remained undiminished.

Lin Ruo’an kept her gaze fixed straight ahead as she walked to her seat. She placed her writing box on the table, then took out her brush, ink, and inkstone, arranging them meticulously. As her fingers brushed against the slightly bulging damp cloth bundle in the corner of the box, a strange sense of calm settled over her.

At the stroke of Chenshi, Old Man Chen entered the hall. Today, he wore a formal dark scholar’s robe, his expression grave and solemn. His gaze swept slowly over the disciples sitting upright in the hall before he announced with gravity, “The Classic Interpretation Examination begins now. The question papers are being distributed. You have two hours. No talking, no peeking.”

The assistant instructor began handing out the papers one by one.

Lin Ruo’an took her paper, drew a deep breath to steady her nerves, and then gently smoothed it flat.

The questions weren’t obscure, but they weren’t easy either. One was from the Analects and the other from Mencius. Both required explaining the underlying principles and relating them to current affairs. This was exactly the type of problem she had been studying relentlessly for the past few days.

She lifted her brush, dipped it in ink, and began to write.

The rustle of brushes on paper filled the quiet classroom, sounding like silkworms devouring leaves.

Zhou Wenyuan sat diagonally behind her. Occasionally, she could hear the slightly hurried sound of him flipping his paper and a soft tsk of frustration, as if he had encountered a difficult problem. But Lin Ruo’an remained completely focused, her mind free of distractions. The classical texts seemed no longer to be dead words etched on a page, but living water flowing through her veins, pouring naturally onto the paper through the tip of her brush.

Time slipped away unnoticed.

Just as the two-hour mark approached, Lin Ruo’an happened to finish the final sentence, inking the last character. She gently blew on the wet ink, then reviewed her work. Finding no errors and the page still relatively clean, she finally set down her brush and rubbed her aching wrist.

Almost at that same moment, the Assistant Instructor announced the end of the exam and began collecting the papers.

As the scrolls were gathered, the classroom filled with a chorus of sighs, some relieved and others frustrated. Lin Ruo’an didn’t join her classmates in their eager post-exam discussions and answer-checking. Instead, she silently packed her belongings and shouldered her bookcase.

The autumn sunlight was brilliant as she stepped out of the school, bathing her in its bright glow.

The results were still unknown, but she had given it her all.

Her pace quickened instinctively, her feet carrying her toward the eatery.

Before she even reached the entrance, a fragrance wafted toward her, different from the usual scents of cooked food. It was a clean, rich aroma with a hint of sweetness, like… osmanthus?

Pushing open the back door, she saw Xu Wangyou in the courtyard, holding a long bamboo pole and looking up, shaking down the high branches of the old osmanthus tree. Below, Zhao Siniang held a cloth to catch the falling blossoms.

Tiny golden blossoms fluttered down like a sweet-scented rain. Xu Wangyou’s movements were unpracticed, even a bit clumsy, but she worked with earnest focus, striking the branches one by one to knock down the most vibrant clusters.

Xu Fenggu poked her head out of the kitchen, spatula still in hand, and jerked her chin toward Lin Ruo’an. “Finished your exams? What are you standing there for? Go help! This girl insisted on knocking down the osmanthus to make you cake because they’re in full bloom.”

Lin Ruo’an stood rooted to the spot, watching the slender figure in the golden rain, head tilted back as she strained to swing the bamboo pole. Somewhere deep inside her, the autumn sun and the sweet fragrance seemed to warm her, melting her heart into a soft, glowing puddle.

She set down her book box and walked over, taking the pole from Xu Wangyou’s hands.

“Let me do it,” she said, her voice softer than it had ever been. “You take a break.”

Xu Wangyou handed over the pole and stepped back, looking up at her. Her clear eyes, reflecting the sunlight and the drifting blossoms, sparkled like crystals.

Lin Ruo’an raised the pole and gently tapped the flower clusters. More golden blossoms fluttered down, landing in her hair, on her shoulders, and on Xu Wangyou’s face and eyelashes as she watched.

The autumn light was perfect, the air thick with the scent of osmanthus.

The challenges of her future exams were far from over, and more storms likely lay ahead.

But in this moment, this small courtyard, filled with the aroma of food and flowers, was the steadiest sanctuary and the sweetest reward.

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