Chapter 35

Song Ying had decided to divorce, and with her grandmother and parents supporting her, nothing could warm her heart more.

The only thing she still worried about was her two children. She suspected that Mother-in-law Cheng had deliberately hidden them. When her parents went to the Cheng household to bring her back, they hadn’t seen the girls. Most likely, Aunt Cheng had sent them early in the morning to one of her married daughters.

For now, Song Ying needed to recover her health. Later, she would confront Cheng Du, divorce him, and bring her daughters back.

“Yingzi, don’t think too much. Rest well and heal your injuries. Don’t ever think of ending your life. We’ll handle the rest, understand?” Zhao said.

Song Ying nodded. “I know, don’t worry, mother. I won’t seek death.”

Only a few days ago, she had indeed thought of ending it all.

But now she no longer did. She had two children to care for, and her family stood behind her. Life would surely get better.

Song Sheng added: “Cousin, you’re still young, only in your twenties. You have a long life ahead. Don’t be so pessimistic. If others don’t see your worth, that’s their loss. One day, you’ll meet the right person.”

In the countryside, marriages happened early. Though Song Ying was already the mother of two, she was only twenty years old—barely an adult by modern standards. In Song Sheng’s previous life, she wouldn’t even have graduated college yet.

Hearing his words, Song Ying felt a faint confidence rise. Her cousin was well‑read and knowledgeable. If he said so, it must be true.

The day had been exhausting. Song Ying had been devastated, her spirit broken, unable to sleep.

Now, with her heart eased, drowsiness overcame her.

When she finally drifted into sleep, the family quietly left her room.

Since the house had few rooms, Song Ying was settled in Zhang Xinghua’s quarters.

Zhang Xinghua had previously shared a room with Song Xia, but now, with Song Ying back, she and Song Xia had no place to sleep.

Before bringing Song Ying home, Zhang Xinghua had asked Zhao to tidy up the firewood shed beside the kitchen. A bed was set up there temporarily. They would make do for now, and when money came in, they would rebuild the house.

Once everyone left Song Ying’s room, Song Cheng asked quietly under the eaves: “Father, Mother, Grandmother, are we just going to let this go?”

“Of course not,” Song Sheng replied.

Everyone was surprised. They hadn’t expected the frail scholar to be the first to say such words.

Song Lao’er added: “When we find him, I’ll break one of his legs!”

All the Song family shared the same thought. This matter could not be left unresolved.

A good daughter had been married into the Cheng family, bore them children, and ended up beaten like this. Worse, Cheng Du had another woman outside. It was his fault, yet he had the audacity to beat Yingzi. What kind of logic was that?

Song Feng said: “That dog Cheng Du! Too bad we didn’t catch him today. Who knows where he’s hiding. When we do, I’ll thrash him myself!”

Song Ping added: “That Cheng Du, beast in human form. He looks honest, but secretly keeps another woman outside!”

“Stop talking here. Let’s go inside,” Zhang Xinghua said.

Speaking in the courtyard risked being overheard, especially by the Wang family next door. Aunt Wang would surely spread malicious gossip.

Besides, this was not a matter of honor. Better to keep it quiet, or the whole village would chatter.

To avoid disturbing Song Ying’s rest, the family gathered in Zhao’s room.

Inside, Song Cheng said: “But right now we can’t even find that dog Cheng Du. Even if we want to beat him, we can’t.”

“I don’t believe he won’t return. If he dares, let him never come back. Otherwise, every time I see him, I’ll beat him!” Song Lao’er said.

“Sanlang, do you have a way to find him?”

Song Sheng shook his head. “No need to search. Let him enjoy himself outside for a few days. When he relaxes and comes back, we’ll settle both old and new accounts. For now, the most important thing is for Sister Ying to recover.”

“That’s true. We can’t waste time chasing him.”

“Eldest Uncle, Second Uncle, tomorrow continue burning charcoal. Use the method we discussed before. I’ve thought it over again. Last time, the cooling time was too long, so we didn’t get much gray‑flower charcoal. This time, shorten the covering with ash from two and a half hours to two hours. Then we’ll see the results.” Song Sheng explained.

His plan was clear: burn more charcoal to sell, add the silver he had saved, and by spring rebuild the house.

The method for producing white charcoal still needed careful study, but in the coming days there was no time. The end of the month was near, and the academy’s major exam was about to begin. Song Sheng was busy reviewing and had no spare time for anything else.

The work of burning charcoal had to be handed over to Eldest Uncle, Second Uncle, and Father.

Fortunately, they had already done it once before and knew the process. This time, they only needed to shorten the cooling period, and it should be fine.

Song Laoda replied: “Alright, Eldest Uncle remembers.”

“Yes, then I’ll trouble you with the charcoal work. After my academy exam, I’ll check the results.”

“Sanlang, just focus on your studies. Don’t worry about the household. Your two uncles and father are here. Nothing will be delayed.”

Song Sheng nodded in agreement.

Song Feng, who had been silent, spoke: “Sanlang, this method of burning charcoal isn’t too difficult. If someone secretly watched once and then copied it, wouldn’t everyone be able to make charcoal? Then ours wouldn’t sell for a good price.”

Song Laoda didn’t understand at first, but Song Lao’er quickly responded: “Er Lang’s worry makes sense. Next time, I’ll cover the outside with burlap, tightly sealed so no one can see.”

Song Sheng said: “It’s fine, Eldest Uncle, Second Uncle. Even if they watch, it’s hard to succeed.”

“Why is that?”

Song Sheng explained: “To produce charcoal successfully, the choice of wood is crucial. Not just any wood will do. The lengths and sizes must vary, and when filling the pit, the placement must be strict. If gaps remain, charcoal won’t form.”

“So that’s why you asked us to prepare wood of three chi and three‑and‑a‑half chi. That detail is key.”

Song Laoda added: “Then we don’t fear villagers watching. They may know the process, but not the wood dimensions.”

Song Sheng continued: “Not only the wood size, but also the timing of each step must be strictly controlled. If one step goes wrong, the result is only a pile of scorched ash.”

“That may be true, but what if? We must guard against sabotage. Better to cover part with burlap. Not the whole, just the east side where people gather.”

The next day, Song Ping and Song Feng followed their father and uncles to cut wood in the mountains.

They didn’t need much. The woodshed was full, and they needed space for Zhang Xinghua and Song Xia to sleep, so moving wood out was convenient.

Following Song Sheng’s instructions from the first burn, they split the wood to the required sizes. By the time preparations were complete, three days had passed.

On the fourth morning, the three Song brothers and the younger men carried wood to the earthen pit.

Villagers had been watching for days. Since the first successful burn, many wanted to “steal the craft.” They planned to observe from afar and then try at home.

Neighbor Aunt Wang had this idea. Living next door, she heard every movement quickly.

When Song Laoda and the others carried wood out, she followed at a distance.

Song Laoda asked Lin, the eldest aunt, to wrap burlap around the pit. This prevented spying and blocked cold wind.

News of the second burn spread quickly. Many villagers came to watch from a distance.

They only covered half the pit. Covering all would offend neighbors, who would accuse the Song family of being sly.

Though such talk didn’t matter much, it would damage their reputation. Living in the same village, they couldn’t afford that.

So Song Lao’er covered only half, claiming it was to block the cold wind. The other half remained visible but unclear.

Aunt Wang, taking advantage of her proximity, chose a clear spot to spy. She watched carefully.

She noted the burning lasted from morning to night without pause. The cold was harsh, and she eventually left to sleep.

At dawn she returned, finding the burn had lasted two days and nights before showing results.

After watching two days, Aunt Wang believed she had learned the method. She told her husband and Mother-in-law to hire Uncle Chen San to build a pit. She claimed she knew how to burn charcoal.

Her family was doubtful, unsure if she spoke truth.

But if it worked, they too could prosper.

So the Wang family invested money and effort, hired Chen San to build a pit, and began burning charcoal.

Meanwhile, the Song family’s second pit was still burning when rumors spread that Aunt Wang’s household was preparing to burn charcoal too.

That evening, when Song Sheng returned, Lu Qing told him the news and asked worriedly: “Husband, do you think they can really make charcoal?”

Song Sheng shook his head and said: “It’s unlikely. When burning charcoal, though the fire seems constant, the heat before, during, and after is different. Watching once from the side makes it hard to imitate, unless someone observed very carefully. Still, it’s possible they might hit crookedly but strike true and succeed. Like my first attempt, I aimed to make white charcoal, but by hidden differences and wrong turns ended up producing stove charcoal and gray‑flower charcoal.”

Following Song Sheng’s improvement, they shortened the cooling time by half an hour, but the gray‑flower charcoal produced was about the same as the first time.

After reporting this, Song Sheng had them try other methods, burning two more pits, but the gray‑flower charcoal remained scarce.

Even so, Song Laoda and the others were happy. Though the amount was small, repeated burns would accumulate.

With Aunt Wang’s example, villagers began a craze for charcoal burning.

Every time Song Laoda burned charcoal, villagers came to watch. They weren’t allowed close, so they stood at a distance, spying. Thinking they had learned the trick, they tried at home.

Days passed, but none succeeded.

Then good news came from the Song household. Using Song Sheng’s new method, they improved the process. This time, the proportion of gray‑flower charcoal was very high.

One pit yielded about 130 jin, nearly 90 jin of gray‑flower charcoal.

The Song family was overjoyed!

Ninety jin sold at fifty wen per jin brought 4,500 wen, equal to four taels and a half of silver. The remaining forty jin of stove charcoal at five wen per jin added 200 wen, totaling 4,700 wen.

Song Laoda calculated silently, smiling so wide he couldn’t close his mouth. In just a few days, they had earned nearly five taels of silver. Averaging one burn every seven or eight days, three burns a month meant fifteen taels.

“Oh heavens, our Song family is truly going to prosper!”

Song Sheng wasn’t overly excited. Producing so much gray‑flower charcoal didn’t surprise him. He was still pondering how to make silver‑bone charcoal.

The whole family devoted themselves to charcoal burning, leaving Song Sheng free to focus on his studies. Only two days remained before the big exam.

Meanwhile, Li Hongyun, who had bet against him, was unsettled. Though not in the same class, he kept watching Song Sheng.

When he learned the teacher had praised Song Sheng in class and even tutored him afterward, his jealousy deepened.

To him, Song Sheng was a petty schemer. He believed Song Sheng’s earlier talk of quitting school was a trick to make him relax.

Li Hongyun thought himself foolish for believing it.

As days passed, he saw Song Sheng still attending regularly. Asking a classmate, he discovered Song Sheng had no intention of quitting, even planning to sit for exams next year.

Li Hongyun thought: “Such despicable tactics!”

Fear crept in. He hadn’t reviewed properly before admission, wasting time with He Rong and Chen Yan. Hearing that Song Sheng had advanced quickly and earned praise, he panicked.

“What if I score worse than him?”

He worried silently, unwilling to confess to his friends lest they mock him.

“Forget it. I’ll use the last days to study. Even if Song Sheng improves fast, he can’t leap dozens of ranks.”

Comforting himself, he felt better.

At the Song household, no one knew of the wager except Lu Qing.

On the eve of the exam, Lu Qing was more anxious than Song Sheng.

That night he reminded: “Husband, don’t forget anything. I checked your brush, ink, paper, and inkstone. And the gloves you mentioned, I sewed a pair from the cloak scraps. If it’s too cold tomorrow, wear them.”

The gloves were thick, lined with silk cotton, which Lu Qing had bought despite its high price. He remembered Song Sheng’s hands turning red from cold while writing.

Though the house was warm with stoves and gray‑flower charcoal, outside was bitterly cold.

He had secretly followed Song Sheng’s sketch to make the gloves.

Song Sheng was astonished. He had only doodled casually, yet Lu Qing had crafted real gloves. They looked a bit plump without tendon lining, but were sturdy.

He hugged Lu Qing, kissed his cheek, and praised: “Our Qingqing’s hands are truly skillful. I just mentioned it once, and you made them. Amazing!”

Usually Lu Qing praised Song Sheng, but now being praised himself, he blushed.

“Tomorrow I’ll wear Qingqing’s handmade love gloves to the exam. Surely I’ll achieve a fine result.”

Lu Qing blushed even more at his words.

“Husband!”

“Alright, alright, I won’t tease you. I’ll go read a bit more.”

When Lu Qing heard he wanted to read again, he prepared to move the stove closer to the desk.

But Song Sheng stopped him: “No need, leave it there. Just move the oil lamp. I’ll lean by the bed to read, and later I can blow out the lamp and sleep easily.”

“Alright, I’ll move the oil lamp closer.”

That night, Song Sheng read until he grew drowsy, then slept. The next morning he had to rise early.

The first exam began in the morning and lasted a day and a half. The subjects were Mingjing (classics), Jinshi, Mingfa (law), and Mingsuan (mathematics).

Mingjing and Jinshi covered much content, considered major subjects, requiring a full day. The next morning was Mingfa and Mingsuan, with a half‑day rest in the afternoon.

On the second day, Song Sheng rose early to prepare. Lu Qing had risen even earlier to cook a hearty breakfast: two boiled eggs, a golden fried pancake, fresh radish shreds, and porridge made with wheat flour mixed with rice. He wanted Song Sheng to eat well before the exam.

After Song Sheng left, Lu Qing busied himself with household chores. Each morning he cleaned the pigsty, collected eggs from the chicken coop, fed the chickens and ducks, then carried a basin to wash clothes.

The weather was cold, so no one went to the river. They fetched water to wash at home.

Song Sheng, caring for him, didn’t want him to use cold water. While cooking, he boiled a pot of hot water, and after washing dishes, he scooped half a basin, mixed it with cool water, and tested the temperature—warm, not cold.

Lu Qing sat down to wash, when Cousin Song Ying appeared.

She had been recovering at home for days. The bruises on her face had faded, leaving only faint marks.

“Yingzi, why not sleep longer? Why wake so early?”

Song Ying had been restless, worrying about her children. At the Cheng household she had always risen early to cook breakfast.

“I couldn’t sleep. I came to see what chores needed doing. I’ll lend a hand,” she said.

Though welcomed home, she couldn’t bear to be idle.

Seeing Lu Qing washing, she fetched another basin and joined him.

Though winter, the warm water kept their hands from freezing.

Cheng Du was still hiding, gone for days. Song Ying waited at home, determined to divorce him when he returned.

She had wanted to bring her children back, but when she and her mother visited, Mother-in-law Cheng was absent. Cheng’s second son said she had taken the girls to her daughter’s house.

Mother-in-law Cheng feared Song Ying would take them away. Though granddaughters were of little value, they were still Cheng blood. Raising them until marriage would bring bride price, which could later be used for a grandson’s wedding.

She thought her daughter‑in‑law was only angry. “Husband and wife have no overnight grudge.” Even if furious, surely she wouldn’t dare divorce.

But Cheng never imagined Song Ying had truly resolved to divorce.

Lu Qing, seeing Song Ying’s improved complexion, said: “Yingzi, the weather is fine. Later I’ll go to the back mountain to gather wild mushrooms. Want to come?”

Song Ying, heavy‑hearted, agreed quickly: “Alright, call me when you go. We’ll go together.”

After washing clothes, Song Ying cooked for the whole household. Lu Qing usually cooked separately for Song Sheng, then ate with him.

Later, Lu Qing did needlework. He had spent nearly two taels of silver on silk cotton. After making gloves for Song Sheng, some remained. He planned to make a pair for his grandmother, who was frail and often cold.

He worried about her health.

After breakfast, Song Ying and Lu Qing carried baskets to the mountain to gather mushrooms.

Meanwhile, Song Sheng sat in the academy, answering exam questions.

The first subject was Jingyi (classics interpretation). For him, it wasn’t difficult—it tested memory.

The examiner opened the Four Books or Five Classics at random, covered part of a line, leaving half a sentence, and asked the student to complete it. It was like a fill‑in‑the‑blank exercise.

Then they chose a sentence from any text and asked for explanation, like translation.

Reciting was easy for Song Sheng. As for explanation, having read thoroughly, he knew the general meaning.

To pass, one had to memorize the entire Four Books and Five Classics. This subject tested true ability; relying on luck was impossible.

But with his eyes pass once, never forget memory, this was the easiest subject for him.

After lunch, there was half an hour of rest before the afternoon exam began: Jinshi. Jinshi mainly tested policy essays, poetry and fu, and prose.

Earlier, the teacher had assigned him several policy essays, and he wrote them like having form and likeness. Especially the last one on military strategy, where he borrowed the method of argument from “Six States Essay,” earning praise from the teacher.

Song Sheng opened the exam paper. This time the topic was not about the suffering of livelihood nor military strategy, but the Salt and Iron Debate.

In Jing dynasty, salt and iron circulation was controlled by the court. Before the dynasty was founded, salt mines and iron mines were in the hands of great clans, so salt and iron were cheaper.

Because they were private salt and private iron, many sold them, lowering the price.

But since such power was in the hands of clans, the treasury was empty, finances insufficient, and the court had to look up at the breath of great clans. The previous dynasty, weak in state, fell step by step.

After the court took over, salt and iron were unified under supervision. No one sold private salt anymore. Commoners had to buy from official merchants, so prices rose.

After the court took over, salt and iron were unified under supervision. No one sold private salt anymore. Commoners had to buy from official merchants, so prices rose.

Thus, court control of salt and iron had both benefits and harms.

For finances, it was greatly beneficial. Annual revenue from salt and iron was large, supporting the army and infrastructure.

But for commoners, salt and iron cost doubled or more, making life harder. That was the harm.

So the topic was clever: whichever side one argued, it was easy to write poorly.

Song Sheng recalled the teacher’s lesson: most essays should emphasize livelihood. Salt and iron were economic arteries, but also tied to livelihood.

As the saying goes: first there is the great family, then the small family; without the state, how can there be home? In the previous dynasty, salt and iron in clan hands led to decline in two generations, the state broken, commoners tossed about without fixed abode. That was cruel livelihood.

Thinking thus, he began writing.

After the policy essay came poetry and fu.

Here, Song Sheng was powerless. In his past life as a science student, writing poetry was difficult.

Even after a month of teacher’s urging, he hadn’t opened the aperture. Compared to clan children raised with culture, he was far behind.

The topic was simple: “snow.” In deep winter, it was fitting.

He thought of the well‑known line from his past life: Fishing alone in cold river snow.

But he paused. He didn’t know if this dynasty had such classics. If it did, writing it would be cheating. Better to be honest, even if poor in poetry, he could make up in other subjects.

So he improvised a poem.

Next was prose. The topic was drawn from Confucian classics, like an essay exam in his past life, but self‑titled based on the theme.

It had to be in classical style, imitating diction of the Four Books and Five Classics. Not easy.

Besides poetry, prose was his second hardest subject.

He searched his memory for relevant phrases, and after much effort, barely pieced together an essay.

As he wrote, he sighed at past life essays that could craft lines like rosy clouds fly with lone wild ducks, autumn waters share one color with long sky. That was truly skillful.

By afternoon, the exam ended. He returned home early, as he had told Lu Qing.

At dinner, Zhang Xinghua began, placing food in his bowl: “Sanlang has studied hard, eat more to replenish.”

He couldn’t refuse, accepting each offering.

He ate until full, only stopping when he said he couldn’t eat more, otherwise his father and uncle would keep adding.

That night, he didn’t study. Tomorrow’s exam was mathematics and law, which he felt confident in. Better to rest and nourish essence and store vigor.

Lu Qing, knowing his fatigue, brought hot water and prepared a warm cloth to soothe his eyes.

Song Sheng lay back, enjoying his little husband’s care.

Lu Qing massaged his temples, saying: “Husband, today Yingzi and I went to the mountain to pick wild mushrooms.”

Song Sheng replied: “In such cold, be careful. Cold sky frozen earth, the ground is slippery. If you fall, it will be bad.”

Lu Qing nodded: “Don’t worry, we took the main road.”

Song Sheng asked: “How is Yingzi’s spirit these days?”

“Much better. Today we went up the mountain together to clear our minds, but she’s still worried about her two children.”

“Aunt Cheng hasn’t returned yet?”

“Grandmother asked acquaintances in another village, they said she hasn’t come back. Cheng Du hasn’t returned either.”

“Comfort Yingzi often, tell her not to be anxious. Once they return, we’ll confront them. This matter will not be left unsettled.”

Lu Qing nodded, then said: “There are still plenty of wild mushrooms in the mountains during winter, but the time is short. We went in the morning and it was already noon. Tomorrow Yingzi and I will pick more.”

“Alright, but be careful when you go out. Watch your step so you don’t slip,” Song Sheng reminded.

The two chatted a while longer, speaking softly as husbands do. After pouring out the water, they went to sleep.

The next morning Song Sheng sat for the law and mathematics exams. The law exam began with fill‑in‑the‑blank questions, then short answers, and finally case studies requiring analysis of how to judge.

When Song Sheng saw a question about a corpse found by the river, soaked in water for three days, he wondered if it came from a real case in the Court of Justice.

Wasn’t this supposed to be law? Why did it feel like solving a crime?

Still, the questions weren’t difficult, only requiring extra reasoning.

The mathematics exam was even simpler. Problems like “chickens and rabbits in one cage” were rare. Most were pure calculations, with only the final problem being an applied question of some difficulty.

Song Sheng answered quickly, finishing both subjects early and handing in his paper.

Finishing early meant he could eat lunch. He could choose the academy dining hall or outside. From then until afternoon, there were no more classes, only free time.

As he left the exam hall, Liang Youming followed.

Song Sheng saw him and asked: “You handed in early too?”

He estimated he had finished half an hour ahead, so seeing Liang Youming surprised him.

Liang Youming nodded: “I couldn’t solve the last few questions. Staying inside was a waste of time, better to come out and wander.”

Liang Youming was naturally sociable. Since Song Sheng had once asked him about military systems, he often came to chat, as if they were closer friends.

They were about the same height, walking side by side. Liang Youming slung an arm over his shoulder: “Don’t eat at the academy today. Let’s go out. I found a new place, the food is great. Come try it. My treat! Don’t dawdle, or we’ll miss the private rooms.”

Song Sheng was helplessly dragged along. Liang Youming talked nonstop: “Didn’t expect you to be so capable. That thing you drew was useful. My cousin’s husband even praised you. Is it true?”

“Yes.”

“I heard he had craftsmen improve it, using only half the design to make a larger version. Now they use it to move stones, saving half the effort.”

Song Sheng looked up: “Moving stones? From low ground to high?”

“Seems so. I haven’t seen it myself, just heard from my father.”

Song Sheng thought the county magistrate’s improvement must be a movable pulley. Using it to lift from low to high would indeed save half the effort.

The Lu clan of Fanyang truly lived up to their reputation. From his simple sketch, they had deduced the application of a pulley for transport.

Talking, they arrived at the restaurant.

Song Sheng saw the signboard: “Yingchun Fang.” Music drifted faintly from inside.

He immediately felt it wasn’t a proper place, more like a brothel. He turned to leave, but Liang Youming pulled him back.

“Don’t go yet. It looks questionable, but it’s a music house, not what you think. Listening to strings and flutes while eating fine food, isn’t that one of life’s pleasures?”

“I’m not going.” Song Sheng frowned, unwilling to enter.

Though called a music house, the women inside wore revealing clothes. It didn’t look respectable.

He had no interest in such things. He’d rather finish quickly and return to hold his soft, fragrant husband.

Liang Youming saw his expression and knew he was unwilling. He was about to persuade again when Song Sheng suddenly walked inside, as if something caught his eye.

At the door, Song Sheng saw a familiar face. Searching his memory, he realized it resembled Cheng Du.

So Cheng Du, afraid of the Song family’s reckoning, had been hiding here?

And the lover Yingzi mentioned, could it be someone from Yingchun Fang?

Wanting to confirm, he stepped inside.

Liang Youming assumed he was drawn to one of the women, laughing: “Brother Song, didn’t expect you to be two‑faced. Just now you swore you wouldn’t enter, and now one glance at a girl and you can’t look away?”