The Scholar’s Unconventional Little Wife - Chapter 9

The prompt for the policy essay exam was announced one afternoon. The sky was dim, threatening autumn rain.

Old Man Chen said nothing more, simply having his assistant instructor distribute the copied prompts. Each student received a plain white slip of paper with a few sparse words:

“Discuss the pros and cons of canal transport and the gains and losses of Qingjiang Prefecture’s recent flood control efforts.”

The moment the prompt appeared, the classroom filled with the sound of sharp intakes of breath. This had moved far beyond the scope of typical Confucian classics; it was a direct challenge on practical governance. To answer it, one needed not only a thorough knowledge of canal transport regulations but also an understanding of local administrative realities.

Lin Ruo’an frowned slightly as she read the prompt, though she wasn’t entirely surprised. Old Man Chen had always emphasized practical application, so such a topic was to be expected. The real difficulty lay in how to answer it. As a scholar who buried herself in books, where could she possibly find the specific details and the underlying successes and failures of Qingjiang Prefecture’s flood control? Relying solely on textbook theories and generalities would clearly be insufficient.

She instinctively glanced at Zhou Wenyuan from the corner of her eye. He froze for a moment, then a smug smile spread across his face. His family were merchants with ties to both the Caobang and the local government, so he likely had access to far more reliable information than she ever would.

Lin Ruo’an silently packed her things and shouldered her bookcase. She hadn’t gone far from the academy when a voice called out from behind, “Brother Lin, wait!”

She turned to see her classmate, Li Mo, a student from a modest background. He hurried to catch up, glanced around, and lowered his voice. “Brother Lin, about the essay topic just now… are you confident?”

Lin Ruo’an forced a wry smile. “It concerns current affairs. My knowledge is limited, so I can only do my best.”

A look of sympathy crossed Li Mo’s face, and his voice dropped even lower. “I heard… Zhou Wenyuan’s family has considerable property in Qingjiang Prefecture. The inside information they were discussing just now… it’s likely related to that.”

“Thank you for informing me, Brother Li,” Lin Ruo’an said, cupping her fist in a gesture of gratitude.

Li Mo shook his head. “Brother Lin, you are a person of integrity, and your scholarship far exceeds ours. I truly cannot bear to see a petty man like him succeed. However… Zhou Wenyuan is narrow-minded. Since you’ve bested him again, he’s unlikely to let this go. You should make preparations.”

Li Mo’s words confirmed Lin Ruo’an’s worst fears. Zhou Wenyuan wouldn’t just try to outdo her on the exam, he would likely resort to underhanded means outside the examination hall.

“I understand. Thank you again, Brother Li.”

By the time she returned to the eatery, the rain hadn’t started yet, but the sky had grown even darker. The shop was empty of customers. Xu Fenggu was wiping down the counter, and as she saw Ruo’an approach, she noticed the girl looked listless, unlike her usual self.

“What’s wrong?” Xu Fenggu asked, her hands never stopping. “Why do you look so pale? Did the exam go poorly?”

“The prompt was difficult. It was a practical policy essay on flood control in Qingjiang Prefecture.”

“Qingjiang Prefecture? The one that flooded three years ago?”

“You know about that, Mother?” Lin Ruo’an was surprised.

Xu Fenggu lowered her gaze and continued wiping, her voice flat. “Traveling merchants have mentioned it. They said many fields were submerged and many people died. The imperial court allocated funds afterward, but there are conflicting reports on how effective the measures actually were.”

“Are there any students from Qingjiang Prefecture at your academy?” she asked.

Lin Ruo’an shook her head. “No.”

“Then this prompt…” Xu Fenggu trailed off, but her implication was clear. For an academy with no students from Qingjiang Prefecture to set such a specific, local practical problem was highly suspicious.

Lin Ruo’an didn’t reply. She didn’t want to worry Xu Fenggu too much, especially since her mother already had the bigger headache of dealing with Xu Wangyou.

Speaking of Xu Wangyou, Lin Ruo’an suddenly realized how unusually quiet the backyard was today. Usually at this time, Wangyou would either be helping in the kitchen or working in the yard.

“Where’s Wangyou?”

Xu Fenggu gestured with her chin toward the backyard. “Zhao Siniang had to go back to her family’s place this afternoon. Wangyou’s in the kitchen tidying up. Just now…” She frowned. “Two men came in for a meal. Strangers, not from town. They had a northern accent. When they paid, they specifically asked about our braising sauce, saying the flavor was unique and they wanted to buy some. But their eyes kept darting toward the backyard.”

Lin Ruo’an’s heart sank. “Who were they?”

“Claimed to be traveling merchants,” Xu Fenggu sneered. “But they didn’t act like proper businessmen. They had calluses on their hands in the wrong places. Their footsteps were heavy, their stances incredibly steady. I brushed them off, saying the recipe is a family secret. They didn’t press the issue, just paid and left.”

Calluses on their hands, steady stances… Lin Ruo’an immediately connected the dots to certain specialized professions. Was it a coincidence? Or…

“Wangyou hasn’t come out, has she?”

“No, she’s in the kitchen. Those two men didn’t see her either.” Xu Fenggu’s expression was grave. “Ruo’an, for the next two days, come straight home after school. Don’t linger outside. Wangyou, you should avoid coming to the front of the house as well. I have a bad feeling… something’s not right.”

When even the fierce and formidable Xu Fenggu said “something’s not right,” Lin Ruo’an’s unease quickly escalated. Zhou Wenyuan’s threats were out in the open, but what were these suspicious strangers after? Wangyou? Or something else?

She walked to the backyard, where the kitchen was lit. Xu Wangyou was crouching on the floor with her back to the door, a wooden basin in front of her filled with soaking dried mushrooms and wood ear fungus. She held a small brush, scrubbing the folds of a shiitake mushroom.

Hearing footsteps, she turned and saw Lin Ruo’an. Her eyes lit up for a moment, but then she noticed Lin Ruo’an’s grim expression. She asked softly, “Did the exam go badly?”

Lin Ruo’an shook her head, crouched down beside her, and picked up another small brush to help. The ice-cold well water soaking her fingertips slightly eased the agitation in her heart.

“Master asked me to write about Qingjiang Prefecture, so I need to look up a lot of information,” Lin Ruo’an explained, omitting any mention of Zhou Wenyuan or the stranger.

Xu Wangyou let out a soft “oh” and continued scrubbing. After a moment, she suddenly asked, “Qingjiang Prefecture… isn’t there a very large river there?”

Lin Ruo’an paused. “How do you know?”

That same vacant, searching look returned to Xu Wangyou’s eyes. “I don’t remember. It’s like… I heard about it once. A great flood, the dykes breaking, so many people… crying.” Her brow furrowed as she struggled to grasp the fleeting fragment of a memory, but it slipped away. She shook her head. “I can’t remember.”

“If you can’t remember, don’t force it,” Lin Ruo’an said gently, suppressing her own alarm. “Let’s finish washing these first. How about mushroom and tofu stew for dinner?”

“Alright,” Xu Wangyou agreed, refocusing on the task at hand.

After dinner, the rain finally began to fall in a steady drizzle. Zhao Siniang hadn’t returned yet, and Xu Fenggu suggested the rain might have delayed her. The food stall had closed early.

The stove still held some embers, radiating a lingering warmth. Under the lamplight, Xu Fenggu mended clothes while Lin Ruo’an spread out her paper and brush to brainstorm for her policy essay. She listed every point she could recall from the classics on canal transport and flood control, but the section on the specific details of Qingjiang Prefecture remained a blank. She knew that an essay written this way would be superficial at best and fail to make an impression.

Xu Wangyou sat quietly opposite her, holding a piece of old cloth and a needle given to her by Xu Fenggu, trying to learn how to sew. Her grip on the needle was as steady as a seasoned pro, but the stitches she produced were crooked and uneven, the lengths inconsistent. Clearly, this skill was not stored in her “muscle memory.” She worked with intense focus, and when she occasionally pricked her finger, she only hissed softly, sucked the fingertip, and immediately returned to her task.

Around the beginning of the Hour of the Dog, a sudden knock rattled the front door of the restaurant.

The three women froze. Who would visit at this hour, especially in the rain?

Xu Fenggu set down her needle and thread, gestured for Lin Ruo’an and Xu Wangyou to stay put, then rose and walked to the door leading to the front hall. “Who is it?” she called out sternly. “We’re closed!”

An old man’s voice drifted in from outside. “Sister Xu, it’s me, Blind Liu from the riverbank. The rain’s coming down hard. I was just passing by and wondered if I could get a bowl of hot water. Would that be alright?”

Blind Liu? Lin Ruo’an knew of him. He was an eccentric, solitary old man in town, rumored to have worked the docks in his youth. They said he’d seen the world, but that was also when he’d lost his sight. Still, his hearing and sense of smell were exceptionally keen. He rarely visited the restaurant.

Xu Fenggu’s expression relaxed slightly. She glanced back at Lin Ruo’an, signaling her to keep an eye on Xu Wangyou, then moved to the door. She slid the bolt and cracked it open just a sliver.

Standing outside was an old man in a straw raincoat, leaning on a bamboo cane polished smooth by years of use. It was indeed Blind Liu.

“Old Master Liu, it’s so late. Come in, quickly.” Xu Fenggu stepped aside to let him in, then swiftly shut the door.

Blind Liu entered and removed his conical hat, revealing a weathered, lined face and cloudy, sightless eyes. He sniffed the air, a wide grin exposing his sparse, yellowed teeth. “Hah, mushroom and tofu stew. Smells wonderful. Sister Xu, your cooking is as good as ever.”

“You flatter me, Old Master. It’s just a simple meal.” Xu Fenggu poured a bowl of hot water and handed it to him. “What brings you out so late?”

Blind Liu fumbled for a seat, took the bowl, and sipped slowly. His empty eyes seemed to “look” toward Xu Fenggu, then past her, toward the kitchen.

“Old age brings little sleep but sharp ears,” he said deliberately. “I overheard things I shouldn’t have. I couldn’t rest easy, so I thought I’d come warn Sister Xu.”

Xu Fenggu’s gaze sharpened. “What did you hear, Old Master?”

Blind Liu took another sip of water and smacked his lips. “This afternoon, at the tea house, I overheard two outsiders talking. They had Northern accents and carried a… murderous aura. They were asking about the eateries in town, specifically ones with… a unique braising sauce.”

Lin Ruo’an and Xu Wangyou stood by the kitchen door, holding their breath as they listened.

“What did they say?”

“Nothing too unusual. Just asking which place had the most authentic braised dishes. They’d heard the Xu Family Restaurant used a secret blend of spices. One of them even mentioned… that the few fragrant spices in that blend seemed familiar to him.”

Inside the kitchen, Xu Wangyou’s body stiffened slightly.

Xu Fenggu fell silent for a moment before asking, “Do you suspect they’re after the recipe, Old Master?”

Blind Liu chuckled. “What could a blind old man like me possibly suspect? I just figured those two didn’t look like the type to go to such lengths just for a good meal. And…” He lowered his voice, “As they were leaving, one of them muttered something about ‘the trail has been cold for so long, finally a lead’ and ‘the Lord is pressing us for time’… My old ears might have misheard, though.”

Xu Fenggu’s expression was unreadable in the lamplight. She spoke slowly, “Thank you for the warning, Old Master. A bowl of hot water isn’t enough to ward off the chill. Shall I warm up a pot of wine for you?”

“No, no.” Blind Liu waved her off, fumbling to put on his bamboo hat. “The rain is letting up. I must be going now. Sister Xu, you all… be careful. These are turbulent times.” With that, he leaned on his bamboo staff and slowly vanished into the rainy night.

Xu Fenggu bolted the door shut again and turned around, her face now a mask of composure. She walked back into the kitchen, her gaze sweeping over Lin Ruo’an and Xu Wangyou.

Xu Wangyou kept her head down, the fabric in her hands crumpled into a ball.

“Mother…” Lin Ruo’an began.

Xu Fenggu raised a hand to stop her. She walked to Xu Wangyou, knelt down, and spoke with a rare gentleness, “Wangyou, look at me.”

Xu Wangyou slowly raised her head, her clear eyes filled with anxiety and fear.

“Are you afraid?” Xu Fenggu asked.

Xu Wangyou hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Yes. Mother… I don’t want to leave this place.”

Xu Fenggu looked at her and reached out to gently stroke her head.

“No one can make you leave,” Xu Fenggu declared firmly, “as long as you don’t want to go.”

Xu Fenggu stood up and looked at Lin Ruo’an. “Ruo’an, your policy paper needs specific details about the flood in Qingjiang Prefecture, doesn’t it?”

Lin Ruo’an was taken aback and nodded. “Yes…”

“Blind Liu used to run the canal transport in the Qingjiang Prefecture area when he was young,” Xu Fenggu said calmly. “He only came back after he lost his sight. He has a good memory and knows a lot of old stories. Tomorrow, take some wine and food to visit him.”

Lin Ruo’an instantly understood Xu Fenggu’s plan. This was a proactive move to find a breakthrough for her policy paper, and likely to gather more information from Blind Liu about those two men with “northern accents,” as well as the “private chef” and “Lord” they mentioned.

“As for our home,” Xu Fenggu’s gaze swept over the small kitchen before landing on Xu Wangyou, “Wangyou, starting tomorrow, we need to change our menu. Your seasoning recipes should become a bit more ‘ordinary’.”

Xu Wangyou seemed to only half-understand, but seeing Xu Fenggu’s steady gaze, the anxiety in her eyes gradually faded. She nodded vigorously. “Mm!”

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