Guan Qing followed Li Qinghe’s gaze for a glance and instinctively pulled his hand back slightly.
“My apologies. In my youth, I was fond of seal carving, but unfortunately lacked the skill—so the marks left on my hands outnumbered those on actual seals.”
Ah, that explained it!
Li Qinghe hastily averted his eyes, took a sip of tea, and nearly spat it out immediately.
The water tasted terrible, and the tea was of the lowest quality—mostly tea stems and powder. The tea infusion was thin, bland, and sour, making it quite difficult to swallow.
Guan Qing apologized, “I’m not good at socializing, and never expected any guests… Brother Li, please make yourself comfortable. I’ll go ask the shopkeeper if they have more water for sale.”
Kaifeng had many waterways, but objectively speaking, most of the water quality was only average. The better-tasting water sources were mostly monopolized by aristocratic families across generations, leaving ordinary people little hope of accessing them.
Local residents had grown up drinking such water and were used to it. If they had spare money, they could pay three copper coins per jar for mountain spring water delivered daily by carts.
Li Qinghe had successively passed the provincial examinations in recent years, and his purse had grown heavier. Naturally, he could no longer endure such hardship.
On the day he arrived in Kaifeng, he had already arranged with the water delivery man to purchase five jars of spring water daily for regular use.
Now suddenly drinking well water again, he naturally found it hard to tolerate.
“No need for trouble,” Li Qinghe struggled to swallow the tea, “I’m ashamed, really. Coming uninvited was already unsettling enough, and yet… sigh!”
He unfastened the money bag at his waist, “I never expected you to live so simply. I admire your detachment. However, living in the capital is expensive. After the palace examination, both of us will have to wait for official appointments. Whether half a year or several years, expenses are inevitable. Living like this long-term isn’t advisable. Given our status, there’s no need to suffer unnecessarily. I happen to have a bit of silver here—if you don’t mind, please accept it.”
Guan Qing was stunned, his lips tightly pressed, staring at the money bag for a long time without speaking.
Li Qinghe inwardly groaned, thinking, “Oh no, this is bad!”
“Yes, yes, I was indeed too hasty.”
He had been so eager to quickly build rapport that he forgot Gua Qinghe was also a juren. If he truly wanted to manage his affairs, wouldn’t he be able to secure funds? Yet he chose to live so frugally, clearly by design. He had acted too mundanely.
“Ah, well, this was indeed my rashness,” Li Qinghe, who had never encountered someone like Guan Qinghe before, clasped his hands awkwardly, “After all, we are essentially of the same root. When away from home, we should be like blood relatives despite different surnames…”
Guan Qing slowly exhaled, looking at him with a complex expression, “I appreciate your kind intentions, but I don’t lack money. It’s just your sincerity that moves me.”
It was common among scholars for those with better financial backgrounds to support their less fortunate peers, especially among fellow townspeople. Senior scholars often formed hometown associations specifically to sponsor younger, less affluent members, so that mutual support could help them advance further in officialdom.
However, people’s aspirations varied, and some preferred to go their own way.
Li Qinghe naturally didn’t know whether Guan Qing truly didn’t need money or was simply being overly proud. But since the other had said so, he didn’t insist further, and instead took the opportunity to gracefully withdraw, “Ah, excellent! Excellent! Come, come, let’s have tea and some snacks.”
During their subsequent conversation, Li Qinghe discovered that Guan Qing was indeed poor at socializing, and most of the time, Li ended up talking to himself.
But Guan Qing was an excellent listener. He always made small affirming sounds like “Hmm” or “Yes” at just the right moments, which made one feel compelled to keep talking.
Eventually, they inevitably discussed hometown customs and local conditions. Guan Qing spoke accurately and even offered some obscure details that even locals rarely knew, greatly impressing Li Qinghe.
“I had no idea there was such a place behind the Biyun Temple! I went there every year to burn incense before, but never noticed!” Li Qinghe laughed, slapping his thigh, “If I ever have the chance to return home, I must definitely go see it.”
Guan Qing smiled slightly and nodded.
However, both knew such an opportunity would likely remain distant.
The palace examination results came out quickly, and as long as the emperor was pleased, the top three candidates could be announced on the spot, provided there were no objections from ministers.
But then the new jinshi faced the final and biggest hurdle before entering officialdom:
Waiting. Long, endless waiting.
Except for the top three candidates—the zhuangyuan, bangyan, and tanhua—and a few others ranked high in the second class, who could be immediately appointed to official posts, the rest had to wait.
Official positions were limited, each with its own designated occupant. Senior officials often held their posts for decades, and the vacancies that opened up each year were few, coveted by countless hopefuls.
They could only wait.
And there was no time limit on this waiting.
If one was lucky, perhaps a position that aristocratic scions disdained might open up in a few months, allowing one to take office. But if unlucky, one might wait seven or eight years.
During this time, one naturally had ample opportunity to travel elsewhere, but what if just after you left, a vacancy opened up?
Thus, few were willing to take such a risk.
And once one finally filled a vacancy, one had to immediately take up the post in a distant location. Unless one arranged to bring one’s family, or one was exceptionally capable and held the emperor’s favor, allowing special permission to pass through one’s hometown during the transfer.
Otherwise, the next chance to return home would be only for mourning or retirement.
“Bo Ming,” Li Qinghe said with regret at their belated meeting, “We are originally from the same hometown. How come we only met today!”
They exchanged courtesy names and compared ages, discovering that Li Qinghe was several years older than Guan Qing, thus formally deciding on their form of address.
Guan Qing, however, claimed his scholarship was mediocre, having barely passed every exam, so naturally drew little attention.
Li Qinghe felt something was off with this statement.
Well enough when they were xiucai—those were annual exams. In their hometown, the large Taizhou Prefecture had thousands, if not five thousand, registered xiucai, so nothing special there.
But juren were different—truly one in a hundred. Each session produced only a handful of successful candidates. Even the last one—wasn’t that someone everyone knew?
But then he thought again, realizing he was nearly nine years older than Guan Qing. If they had started taking exams around the same age, there would have been a three-exam gap between them. After he passed the juren, he had been traveling and studying elsewhere, so perhaps he had simply missed some news.
Guan Qing stared at him expressionlessly for a while, then suddenly asked, “Brother Cui Feng, did you come to the capital alone? Where are you staying now? I must definitely pay you a visit another day.”
Li Qinghe’s courtesy name was Cui Feng.
“Eh?” Li Qinghe snapped back to attention, “Ah, I usually prefer traveling and sightseeing, so it’s inconvenient to travel with others. Later, I just went alone. However, after arriving in Kaifeng, I reunited with several friends and now we’re all staying on Qinglong Street. I arrived late, so I’m at Jixiongzhai by myself.”
With the palace examination approaching, all kinds of auspicious items were selling like hotcakes throughout the city. Things like “Step-by-Step Promotion Cake,” “Zhuangyuan Pastries,” and “Ruyi Stew” were naturally in high demand. Because of the old saying “carp leaping through the dragon gate,” Qinglong Street would inevitably become extremely popular every three years, with rents far exceeding those of the other three streets.
Looking around, one could see names like “Jixiongzhai,” “Ruyiguan,” and “Shunfengju” everywhere, as if shops couldn’t even feel comfortable opening there without a similar-sounding name.
As it grew late, Li Qinghe stood to take his leave.
He originally wanted to invite the other to walk together the next day, but since their residences were completely in opposite directions, he gave up.
“By the way, we still have a few fellow townspeople. How about we gather together after the palace examination?”
Li Qinghe asked.
Guan Qing immediately declined politely, citing his poor social skills.
Li Qinghe didn’t insist, turned around, and headed back to Jixiongzhai for lunch.
Guan Qing personally saw him off for quite a distance. Despite Li Qinghe’s repeated attempts to stop him, he continued, leaving Li no choice but to accept.
Only after Li Qinghe’s figure completely disappeared around the street corner did Guan Qing go upstairs and close the door.
They were both on Qinglong Street, huh…
At the same time, in Kaifeng.
Before lunch, Xie Yu and Huo Ping arrived as agreed, followed by Yuan Pei, who was eager for revenge.
Thirteen coins! That little brat cheated me out of thirteen coins that day! I must get it back somehow!
“Hmm, smells good,” Huo Ping sniffed.
This Ma girl was not only skilled in medicine but also surprisingly adept at cooking, like Yi Ya.
Wang Heng, another physician in Kaifeng, was also present. As soon as the three saw him, their ears automatically recalled his endless nagging, making their heads buzz momentarily.
As they approached, Wang Heng chuckled and scrutinized them, “Good, good, you don’t seem to have lost weight. But Lord Huo has dark circles under his eyes—likely from lack of sleep. Have you been experiencing any chest tightness, abdominal bloating, or a heavy head recently? Lord Yuan’s face is flushed—have you felt irritable or had night sweats? Come, come, let me check your pulses.”
Huo Ping: “…”
Yuan Pei: “…”
Xie Yu subtly relaxed.
Huo Ping forced a laugh, “It’s nothing really. We martial artists have thick skin, strong bones. We’ve just been a bit busy lately. After the palace exam, everything will be fine. No need to trouble you, really no need…”
Yuan Pei nodded furiously.
Doctor Wang was great in many ways, but he was also extremely talkative, and his prescriptions were somewhat rigid.
The worst part was, he firmly believed in the saying, “Good medicine tastes bitter!”
Every time he prescribed medicine, it felt like going through a near-death experience.
Wang Heng changed posture, about to speak again, when Ma Bing inside shouted, “Lunch is ready! Who’s coming to carry the steamed buns?”
Huo Ping and Yuan Pei first froze, then exchanged glances, rushing in like the wind.
“Let me do it!”
“No no no, I’ll do it!”
Wang Heng chuckled, stroking his beard, “Ah, youth is wonderful.”
They looked quite energetic.
Chef Ma Bing stood empty-handed while Huo Ping and Yuan Pei each carried a large steaming basket behind him, chopsticks and bowls clutched in their hands, squeezing every opportunity to show off their strength.
“Old man,” Ma Bing smiled, “Medicinal supplements can’t compare to dietary nourishment. Spring is the time to eat spring vegetables, which is in harmony with the five elements. Besides, they’ve always been strong and healthy. These minor issues aren’t worth worrying about. Rather than wasting resources on them, it’s better to give the food to poor families outside.”
Huo Ping and Yuan Pei: “…”
The logic made sense, but why did it sound so wrong?
Why were we considered a waste?!
Everyone took their seats, and Wang Heng nodded in agreement, “Alright, we’ll go on a free medical tour in a couple of days.”
The lunch was simple: pork and egg shepherd’s purse steamed buns, cold mixed artemisia vegetables, and a Chinese toon omelet pancake, somewhat humble.
But Xie Yu was someone who could eat from a large wooden bowl in the wilderness. He didn’t mind, and neither did the others.
Ma Bing had strong hands, and the bun dough was well-kneaded—soft, fluffy, and puffed up high, round and plump like inflated balls, very cute.
As soon as they were served, the aroma of wild vegetables mixed with meat juice burst out, oily and juicy, fresh and tender.
Xie Yu’s dining manner was very elegant. Sitting at the small wooden table, he chewed on buns in a pleasing way. But probably due to his background in the imperial guards, his speed was quite impressive—he silently devoured four buns in no time.
Before leaving, he specially asked Ma Bing for some toona shoots, expressing his rare delight that he would have his men go out and find similar ones to send back for his parents to taste.
Even when going to sleep at night, Ma Bing vaguely felt like she had probably forgotten some very important information.
Ah, did I remind the young prince about the toona fei, which looks very similar to the fragrant toona…?
(Note 1: Dingyou: According to Confucian traditional concepts of filial piety, government officials must resign and return to their ancestral hometowns upon learning of their parents’ deaths, regardless of their current positions. The specific mourning period varies by dynasty and specific circumstances.)
(Note 2: Yi Ya’s Culinary Art: Yi Ya was a chef who specialized in preparing food for Duke Huan of Qi. He was renowned for his exceptional cooking skills and was historically recorded as the first person to open a private restaurant. He was revered as the patron saint by chefs, and the term “Yi Ya” was often used in later generations to refer to cooking.)
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